Author: Sam

Story: Full Circle: 2 of 4

Series: Phases

Characters & Ages: Bobby- 17, Diana- 23, Eric- 23, Hank- 24, Presto- 21, Sheila- 22, Terri- 16, Varla- 22, Uni-17, James Sr. - 42

Feedback: Yes, please? Especially constructive. samwise_baggins@yahoo.co.uk

Webpage: http://www.oocities.org/samwise_baggins/index.html

Finally, they arrived at the house and slid from the Jeep, leaving it idling. Hank checked the vehicle, eyeing water and mud markings and calculating how the road would effect the others due to arrive soon. Diana, on the other hand, unlocked the one-story house and took a quick run-through of the building. Finally, the two slid back into their Jeep.

Hank turned in the driver's seat to look at Diana. "Well, they're traversable, barely. If any of them are driving a small car, however, they might get stuck. We may need to give someone a ride to the camp. Does Sheila still drive that Bug?"

The pretty dark-skinned woman nodded, smiling despite the poor condition of the rain-washed road. The house she'd borrowed from her mother for two weeks was in fine condition and well stocked. It was only the rutted lane that gave them pause. "I think so. If we turn around and greet them at the end of the road, we should be able to judge if they'll need a lift. It shouldn't be too much of a problem with a couple days of sunshine." She turned a practiced eye towards the leaden sky and sighed.

"Right. When did you say the others were supposed to be heading out?" Hank turned further in his seat to back the Jeep out of the tree-lined clearing in front of the house. He steadied the sturdy vehicle back onto the weather-damaged road and didn't look at his wife as he drove.

Diana tilted her head, thinking. "About five o'clock... but that means they could arrive any time. It's only a couple of hours from the city." Pausing for a moment, the woman turned in her seat to check on their own supplies. "Should we drop things off in case we need to transfer someone into the Jeep, Hank?"

He smiled and shrugged one shoulder as he concentrated on the jarring road, saying "Might be a good idea, but I'd feel better meeting them before they attempted this nightmare, especially with Sheila six months along. I don't want her worrying." With a soft smile, he felt his wife slip her hand onto his knee and leave it there.

"Good idea, Oh Leader." The pair laughed at their own private joke, eager to see the other friends who would have understood it, too. She turned her face to watch the pretty scenery as the slow moving vehicle rambled on. Trees and mountains as far as the eye could see had Diana sighing in delight. "I'm glad Sheila suggested this get-together, Hank. It'll be especially nice if Eric could show. I haven't seen him for a good three years... ever since he started globe-trotting for his father."

The blond in the driver's seat nodded and glanced at his wife then back to the road. "I haven't seen Presto in ages, either. He failed to invite anyone to his wedding." Hank couldn't help still feeling a bit left out about that; after all, he'd invited everyone to his own wedding, even if only the O'Neils had made it... and they had been in the wedding party. "Do you know if he's bringing his wife? Or if he even told us her name?"

"Valeria." Diana's answer had been very prompt. She tore her eyes from the pretty view and smiled at her husband. "And he said he's bringing her and her sister, but he wouldn't say anything more." After a moment, Diana moved her hand upwards, squeezed Hank's thigh, and softly said, "And he got married in Las Vegas, Hank."

Surprise washed over the man's features, then he broke into a laugh. "Is that what happened?" Suddenly, two years of petty bitterness seemed to wash away and he shook his head ruefully. "I can't believe I got so upset..." the blond quickly shut his mouth, too used to bottling up his personal feelings to easily let them out, even with the woman he loved.

She laughed softly. "Yeah, I know. I was angry with him, too. I got the announcement and called in a fury that he would care so little for us that he'd not invite us. When he told me, sounding extremely happy, Hank, that he'd eloped to Las Vegas with Valeria, I couldn't stay angry. He sounded so very happy... and it was the kind of stunt I think he needed to pull to relax a bit before going back to university." Diana stretched, removing her hand temporarily then replacing it as she settled once more. "It couldn't be easy to start such intense work at sixteen, even for a genius like Presto."

"Hmm." Hank nodded his agreement; however, his attention was taken by the severely rutted, muddy road.

"Thanks, Mom, and I promise: not a scratch!" Bobby brandished the keys in one hand as he pulled a varsity jacket on over the other arm. With a wide grin for Terri, the seventeen-year-old jumped the three porch steps and headed to the Station Wagon parked behind his father's sedan.

Opening the door, still grinning as the black-haired girl imitated him in smiling and entering the large, blue vehicle, the blond boy nodded. "They said I could borrow mom's car for the trip." With that, Bobby slid happily behind the wheel and sighed in pure bliss. "I knew packing it first would work."

Terri shook her head, still smiling. "You're incorrigible, Bobby."

"Yeah, but smart, Terr." He guided the car into the flow of traffic and started flipping through radio channels. "Sheila's coming up a little later, I think, and Hank and Diana went on ahead to check on the house. They said they'd come back to the end of the road to wave on anyone who can't find it." Settling on an Eighty's station, the blond smiled and checked his rearview mirror. "Presto knows to look for this car, so he should be following us up... if he managed to leave on time. No clue if he's bringing his wife, though."

Terri turned in her seat, still trying to get the seatbelt fastened, despite having been told it might not work properly. "You told him to look for the Station Wagon? But, Bobby, you had no idea we'd even be allowed to borrow the car. What if..." Her friend's snort cut the girl off.

"Didn't happen, so stop worrying... Sheila." He threw a wide grin at the exasperated girl, teasing her with his sister, Sheila's, infamous habit of worrying over nothing. "And I have no idea if Eric's going to make it to this reunion thing." Suddenly he let out a whoop, startling his companion. "This promises to be better than any graduation party I could have gone to, though."

The sixteen-year-old felt her friend's infectious enthusiasm, but still couldn't help a slight niggling apprehension. Something felt... off. With a determined shake of her head and a forced smile, Terri decided she was thinking things would go badly because the entire reunion might get rained on... the weather wasn't supposed to stay clear and warm, especially in the mountains.

The winter storms had lasted well into April, forcing spring to come late to the Northeast. As a result, despite the city temperatures of high seventies, the mountains were still chilly for mid-June. Terri absently wondered if there would still be snow in some of the more shaded areas of the camp they were going to. A smile tugged at her lips; snow in June was a rather amusing thought.

"Holy mobsters, Batman, I think the Riddler's on our tail!"

Bobby's laughing voice drew Terri from her reminisces and she tossed him a puzzled frown. "What are you talking about?" She glanced behind her, more as reflex than to play along, and noticed a battered yellow Pinto following them. With a curious look, she turned to her best friend.

He grinned and merely shrugged, hands still steady on the wheel. "That's Presto's hunk of junk, I'm sure of it. There's a goofy looking redhead at the wheel, too. Can you see if he's alone? I can't get a good look with all this traffic." Bobby glanced over his left shoulder to ease into the passing lane.

The teenaged girl gave up on the uncooperative belt to turn and stare at the car behind them. It wasn't easy to make out much as that driver was keeping a safe distance from them, but it did move to the passing lane in imitation of the Station Wagon. Finally, Terri turned around and shrugged. "There's two or three people in there... unless the backseat contains a large dog, Bobby; it's restless enough. But I didn't see any of them wearing glasses." Of course, Presto could be wearing contacts, but Terri didn't add that obvious thought.

Her friend chuckled. "Well, not only are we being followed by the stupidest car in town, but it's being navigated by a blind man with a seeing-eye-dog in the back. Think we'll get there in one piece? Damn!"

The sky had opened in a torrential downpour, instantly forcing dozens of rush hour drivers to resort to full windshield wiper mode. Due to the heavy deluge, the road became just as quickly wet, the oil accumulated from hundreds of cars making it slick. Bobby's smile changed to a look of intense concentration and he slowed the Station Wagon down to avoid any hydroplaning hazard. He flipped on the signal to move back into the regular traffic lane, absently noting that their tail did the same.

As he saw the small car behind them swerve on the oily pavement, Bobby drew in his breath with a hiss. "Keep an eye on that Pinto, Terr. I'm going to pull over in a minute." He managed to slip into the slower traffic on the right, finally, but was thwarted by the fact that there was no shoulder on that stretch of interstate, just the heavy guardrails blocking a sudden drop.

Terri, clutching her seat in fright, watched intently in the side mirror, too afraid to turn in her seat to get a better view. The few seconds she watched their friend trying to control his unsteady vehicle felt like nerve-wracking minutes. Finally, it straightened out and she slumped, throwing an exhausted grin at her friend. "They're back in control, Bobby. Maybe we should just take the next exit and wait out the storm?"

Her only answer was a brief nod from the driver as he continued to watch the rain-soaked cars. The teen wondered if perhaps the near miss on the interstate was what her earlier 'premonition' had been about. She fervently hoped so.

With a cheerful slam to the old Pinto's trunk, Andrew called out merrily to his two female passengers; "Everything set!" He frowned temporarily as the trunk popped back open. It required two more attempts, and Uni sitting on it, to finally get the worn latch to click. The auburn haired twenty-one-year-old tugged her ponytail and moved around the car. "Thanks, kiddo."

The young redhead laughed as she slid from the small vehicle's miniscule trunk and headed for the back seat, scrambling inside as the man got behind the driver's wheel. "Not a problem, Presto." With a sudden frown, she tried to rearrange her long limbs in the confined quarters.

Varla turned around, belted into the front passenger seat, and made sure Uni was equally belted. "There are snacks in the small cooler, Uni, if you get hungry. Once we're on the road, pass both of us a soda." At the annoyed glare on the teen's face, the young woman laughed. "I know it's cramped, but you have the entire seat, Uni, so stop looking at me like that."

"Yeah, the whole seat, but absolutely no floor space! I can't even put my legs down!" True to her words, the girl had her legs crossed and on the seat, the floor of the vehicle crammed with extra pillows, blankets, and a medium-sized cooler. A smaller cooler sat on the seat next to the seventeen-year-old, as well, limiting her space even more and giving lie to their words about how much room she really had.

Glancing back in his rearview mirror, Andrew gave his ward a fleeting smile, then turned it on his wife, her foster sister. "It's only a couple of... ah! There's the Station Wagon we're supposed to follow. Diana said it was a teal blue with darker spots on the rear door. There can't be any two like it in the entire city!" And, forgetting his earlier attempts to placate the teen, Andrew started following the oddly painted car bound for the city limits.

The man fiddled with the makeshift repairs to the old radio, a screwdriver carefully inserted in the broken dash to provide a connection between two wires, which were a tiny bit too short. He'd been meaning to get that radio repaired, as it was dangerous that way, but hadn't found time or money to do so.

It wasn't long before Uni became frustrated with the set up in the tiny backseat. Without a word, she unfastened her belt and started maneuvering things around, adjusting the pillows and blankets around her while slipping the small cooler onto the floor behind the driver's seat. Finally content she settled back in a more prone position, legs still folded but her body being jolted by soft cushions instead of the hard cooler. She decided not to refasten her belt; it just made trying to get comfortable impossible... and it'd only be a few short hours.

Varla seemed unaware of what her sister was doing in the back seat, instead reaching over to smooth her hand through her husband's auburn bangs. She returned his quick grin and looked ahead at the Station Wagon they had followed into the passing lane. "Did Diana say who was in the Wagon, Presto? It looks like a couple... I was sure you said they owned a Jeep."

The man shrugged and opened his mouth, but was suddenly distracted by the unexpected storm. "Hold on!" was all he said as he felt the Pinto sliding on the slick pavement. He kept golden eyes glued to the traffic around him and signaling that he wanted back in the slower moving lane to the right. Right before they could make it over, however, control of the car pulled from the driver's grasp, hydroplaning. Insanely, a large Park Avenue sped up and passed the spinning car as other vehicles tried to swerve out of the way.

Uni's eyes opened wide in sudden terror and she gripped the pillows around her, trying to lie as flat as possible. Cars were something that had taken her a long time to adjust to when she'd arrived on Earth, and they still made her nervous at times despite driving lessons. It was nerve wracking to merely lie there, not seeing what was going on, but to hear the sounds of traffic and heavy breathing. The former unicorn closed her eyes tightly, praying.

As the young man got the car back under control, Varla let her hand slip from her mouth to her chest. She wanted to touch her husband, to reassure herself, but was afraid of disturbing his intense concentration. Thus, the red-haired woman had to content herself with watching him, instead, silently willing things to remain in control.

Finally, Andrew managed to pull his vehicle into the traffic of the right lane. He let out a nervous laugh, hearing an answering anxious chuckle from the backseat. With a very brief smile for his wife, the university student softly said, "We can always try tomorrow instead, if you'd rather? I think the weather's supposed to be less... surprising."

Varla shook her head and finally put her trembling hand on the man's arm, eyes quickly glancing out of the window then returning to his youthful face. "No. The storm is actually gone now, Presto." She sighed, her trembling lessening. "I'd rather have this trip done so we can laugh about it with the others. Let's just watch for anymore large... puddles... and get there soon." She deliberately was trying to avoid the subject of the car which had nearly caused a worse catastrophe than the sickening spin.

"Yeah, don't want to wind up playing Dukes of Hazard like Uni, huh?"

The nervous quip referred to Andrew's first attempt at trying to teach the teen to drive. She had taken a rather sharp curve at forty-five miles an hour, sending the unsteady little car onto the two right wheels. Her foster sister had subsequently refused to ride with Uni behind the wheel ever again, despite how quickly the younger woman had recovered the road with the Pinto still undamaged.

No one responded to Andrew's joke, though the tension seemed to ease a bit as they continued on their trip. Puzzled, he watched the Station Wagon they'd been following signal a turn-off, but that driver seemed to change his mind, as well. With a shrug, Andrew continued following the mysterious driver towards their mountainous camp retreat.

Checking his watch for what must have been the third time in five minutes, Eric glared impatiently at the empty road. What could be keeping his driver? Belatedly registering the actual time his watch had said, the business executive made a command decision. He would leave a message for his normal driver and hire a temporary one for this trip. He really didn't want to be late to the reunion he, himself, had suggested.

Eric turned and headed into the agency he'd been dropped at when he returned from the airport. He started forcefully bargaining, using his influence in the city to get what he wanted. For a small extra fee, which actually came to a large sum, he was immediately able to get a Park Avenue and a driver for the trip to the camp house. His own driver could come and retrieve him when the vacation ended. The rental company was actually willing to take the message for this favorable client.

He was disgusted but had to accept the situation for what it was. Within two minutes, surprising the man quite a bit, the rental pulled around and the driver got out and opened the rear door for his temporary employer. He was familiar looking, but the businessman merely accepted the fact, without bothering to check the nametag. Eric nodded, slid in, and recorded a margin note about the service in his daily planner. If he was pleased with the rest of this man's performance, he could expect a glowing report... if not, then this man would be lucky to ever drive again. Soon they were on the road, headed out of the city several cars behind a very odd looking Station Wagon and a battered old Pinto which probably should have been retired in the Seventy's.

It didn't take long for Eric to determine that the glowing report would not be coming into being. The fool behind the wheel was riding the passing lane as if he owned the interstate. In fact, when a sudden deluge of rain crashed down around them, Eric could feel the expensive luxury car slipping on the slick roadway. He called out but cut himself off short as he became aware of the Pinto nearby starting into a skid. The executive's heart leapt to his throat at the abject terror he glanced in the redheaded driver's eyes.

Then they were past the spinning man and the chauffeur merely shook his head as if disgusted with the carelessness of other drivers.

Eric's anger instantly surfaced. "Hey, jerk, that guy could have been killed. What were you thinking passing him while he was spinning?" He wanted to add that their own lives had been in danger, but was too angry to speak further. That agency better expect to refund his money, at the very least, and to have his lawyers breathing down their collective necks.

Finally, as his heart eased its hammering, the raven-haired man unfastened his belt and leaned forward, tapping the man on the shoulder and shooting a glare directly to the rearview mirror. "You realize that unless your driving or my sobriety drastically changes in the next few seconds, I will be your very last customer." His voice was low, intensely angry, but nothing like the arrogant whine he'd used back as a teenager. He'd learned in the last few years just which buttons to push and how to push them.

The man's eyes widened and he smoothly pulled to the regular lane, slowing down to just under the speed limit. Apparently the threat to his career had taken root, as he seemed to be very conscientious of what he was doing from then on. It was in completed tense silence, in fact, that they left the interstate a couple of hours later, heading for the back roads and Diana's place.

With a snort of distrust, Eric sat back in his seat and pulled the planner over, making several more notes. He forgot all about his own safety as he realized the man had sped back up, but as there was no real traffic around them, the executive merely ignored it. He gestured towards a gas station and commanded, "Stop. I need a break from your fumbling attempts at bumper cars. We'll get back on the road in ten minutes."

As the younger man slid out of the back seat, not bothering to wait for assistance, he threw the driver a superior look. "I would suggest you study the maps or a driving manual. I want to arrive soon... and in one piece." He headed towards the small rundown building, not caring that it was far from his habitual pit stop. He needed a place to wind down from the harrowing interstate drive he'd had to live through.

Nervously, Sheila put her last bag in the back seat of the tiny Volkswagen Beetle. Soon, in just a few hours, she would be seeing everyone again. True, she'd actually kept in touch with all of them except Presto, more than the others probably could say, but still she couldn't help worrying. She got in the car and pulled it out of the driveway of her apartment building.

Her pregnancy made her extremely self-conscious, despite the gang knowing about the rape and her friends wanting to adopt the baby. Would there be questions she couldn't answer, stares, or even unwanted pity? Sheila could handle just about anything but pity. She hated being any kind of burden on her friends and family, hated being meek little Sheila.

Counseling had helped a great deal, giving her a vent for her fears and anger, but it didn't solve everything. It hadn't helped her with anything that had happened in the Realm... not for lack of talking about it, but because her counselor just couldn't understand what it was like. She often told the woman that it was a story she'd fantasized during her greatest stress, and the woman thought it had to do with the war in the Persian Gulf which was winding down. Sheila, however, knew the truth: that despite being only able to turn invisible, the Realm was the only place she'd truly had any purpose... and even that had been sorely limited.

With a shake of her head, frowning at herself for letting the morose thoughts get to her, the petite redhead joined the flow of traffic leaving the city. She'd thought she'd be late to the camp, but her last class at the University had been cancelled due to an ill instructor. Instead, she'd been able to leave a bit earlier than five o'clock, meaning she could take her time and still show up with the others. Sheila was truly looking forward to seeing everyone again... until, of course, her fears once again surfaced.

This wouldn't do! Sheila tried to tune in her radio, noting the leaden sky and wondering if they'd get rain before she could get to the camp. The thoughts did, at least, distract her from her feelings of helplessness, and the young mother-to-be bit her lip in concentration. She didn't like the look of that sky one bit.

Sheila finally made the decision to pull off at a rest stop to see if the clerk might know the forecast, since her old radio had apparently decided to quit. Slipping out of the Beetle, the pregnant redhead took one step and was suddenly washed in a downpour. Having her question answered in such an unpleasant way, she slipped back into the car to wait it out, wondering just how the others were fairing with that heavy rain.

It was sometime before she finally felt confident enough to get back on the road, not caring that waiting long after the deluge had stopped had made her later than she'd hoped. She would find the side road that lead to the camp and make her way to the house she recalled from a summer trip as a child. With any luck, her heater might even start working so she could be reasonably comfortable before arriving.

With a sickening screech, tires ripped over loose dirt and gravel. Brakes locked and the Station Wagon skidded out of control towards the steep embankment. The steering wheel was ripped from the petrified grip of the driver. The car careened over the edge, into the rushing waters of the river twenty feet below, smashing into the large boulders as it slid down the muddy slope. It came to rest upside-down, windows submerged completely by the rain-swollen waters of the rushing river. Fear froze the occupants as much as the early summer snowmelt from the mountains above them.

She screamed as the Station Wagon in front of them suddenly lunged to the right, heading directly for the river below. Shooting her arms out straight, bracing herself against the dashboard, something in the back of her mind insisted she was doing something dreadfully wrong. She couldn't pull her thoughts together, however, even to check on the others in the old Pinto, as their vehicle got caught in the deep grooves made by their predecessor. They were helpless as the unsteady car followed the other over the riverbank and slammed into the larger car, scraping horrifically. Her screams continued as the pain was underscored by the grating, tearing sound the vehicles made with each other and the water-washed boulders.

Hearing the sound of metal ripping and grinding, the driver of the old Jeep tensed his hands on the wheel, not even glancing at his companion. He kept his eyes sharp, looking for any signs of what could only have been an accident involving at least two cars. Fear filled him as the driver thought of whom would be traversing this little used backwoods road. He came around a corner and remembered to slow down for the large water-cut washout in the road. Expecting to find the accident still didn't prepare him for the sight of the deep grooves cut in the dirt road and coursing over the steep riverbank. Pulling the Jeep to a halt, motor still running, the driver stepped from his vehicle only to become belatedly aware that another motorist was approaching too fast around the rain-washed curves. He had no time to jump for cover, hearing screams, as the Park Avenue ripped out of control and slammed right into him.

He had told the man to be careful, to slow down, but had been blatantly ignored again. Growing in frustration, the passenger jotted down some more quick notes in his ever-present daily planner, marking his plans to ruin the chauffeur as soon as possible. He sent another glare towards his temporary driver, but before he could again comment, his eyes widened, animosity replaced instantly with abject horror as he felt the car slipping. It slammed out of control around a curve and headed inexorably for an idling Jeep and the man standing in the road beside it. As the two vehicles, and the figure, collided, his pen scratched uselessly across the paper, a silent, unintelligible testimony to the tragedy.

Humming along to the upbeat music of her finally working radio, carefully steering her tiny Beetle, the driver shook her head at yet another rut in the muddy gravel of the country lane. Winter storms and spring floods had prepared this hilly woodland for disaster, and the recent rains had finished setting the stage. In fact, around more than one curve, she'd discovered deep water nearly washing-out the road before her low slung vehicle. If it got any worse, she'd have to stop and either turn back or risk trying to walk the rest of the way. As she slowly rounded a sharp bend, however, all other concerns became moot. Before her were the signs of a large accident. She tried to hit her breaks, but the vintage VW only succeed in getting caught in the slick muddy gravel and sliding towards the already horrifying sight of the two-car accident. No sound came from the driver as her tiny car rear-ended the Park Avenue before her. With the ensuing darkness came the fleeting awareness of pain in her head and across her abdomen and back, then she knew no more.

Every second seemed to move in slow motion as the teenager tried to force open the door latch. It wouldn't budge and the icy water was starting to seep in. Terri turned painfully to Bobby, but before she could even register her companion's condition, a horrendous crunching, wrenching wracked the half-submerged Station Wagon.

Something large had slammed into them, tearing the roof along the boulder-lined river as it twisted the under carriage with the force. The boulders surrounding them held them from sinking fully into the freezing depths, but that refuge was precarious and made more so as whatever had landed on them teetered. Terri screamed as she felt the vehicle shift a second time, water rising, as the object rocked over into the waters below. A glimpse of yellow caught the corner of her eye but was gone so quickly under the roiling current, the girl couldn't register what it had been. The sound of grating metal and rock was loud enough to cover her cries of panic.

A hand flailing against her face broke through Terri's fear momentarily. The girl forced herself to turn, relief washing over her as she saw that Bobby was trying to release his seatbelt. He was bent double, trying to keep his head above water, but the teens both knew his well-trained muscles couldn't hold out for long in the freezing confines. The sixteen-year-old started helping the older boy fumble with his seatbelt as the Station Wagon shifted once more. Terri was becoming frantic as she felt herself slowing with the onset of numbness. Her eyes desperately sought and held Bobby's. His determination seemed to shine through and helped booster her flagging reserves.

The pair finally managed to get the belt unhooked and the blond teen unceremoniously slid into the icy water submerging the top of the car. Everything rocked again at his weight shift, but by some miracle they remained balancing on the water-smooth boulders. Twisting, Bobby came up for air and tried to grab a few quick breaths before he gripped Terri's arm to gain her attention. Both were now thoroughly soaked and shivering almost uncontrollably. With a nod, the young man signaled he was as recuperated from his extending hanging and sudden dunking as he'd allow himself time for.

"Cover... face... Terr..." His teeth were chattering, breath coming in painful gasps, making his words nearly impossible to understand. With relief, he saw Terri wrap her arms around her head in compliance. Pulling back his muscled arm, Bobby let loose with an elbow slam at the window, using as much strength as he could muster. The window shattered, spraying painful glass shards in every direction. A deluge of icy, muddy river water rushed in to start quickly filling the car. It wouldn't be long before the two ran out of air completely.

Bobby tugged Terri towards his broken window and she obeyed more out of instinct than actual thought. "Hold... breath... Go!" He gave her a shove and she was rammed into the door, glass cutting into her hands and face. Ignoring the pain, the girl wriggled from the car and started trying to scramble over the slippery, smooth boulders. Bobby, being of a far stockier build, was having trouble fighting the current and the tight opening. Pain lacerated his sides as he twisted and forced himself through, slamming his face against one of the large rocks and nearly passing out. It was Terri's grip on his hair that brought him round before he could submit completely. The couple scrambled, slipped, and crawled their way towards the riverbank, collapsing as they made it to relative safety.

The accident and escape, which felt as if it had lasted hours, had been over within a matter of minutes.

The Pinto came to a crashing, grinding landing on top of the undercarriage of the Station Wagon. Windows shattered from the impact, though they had thankfully landed upright. Varla's screams cut off with the sickening stop. She renewed her terrified noises, this time a pitiful mewling whimper, as both vehicles precariously rocked on the slippery boulders. Then, with a sudden shift, the Pinto grated across the Station Wagon and slid into the churning, rushing river. It sunk quickly, starting to fill with water through the windowless doors.

Uni gasped in air and swam for the opening closest to her. She didn't think, going on sheer instinct. The teen made her way out of the car and was swept downstream in a rage of icy water. Bleating in terrified protest, the former unicorn could only do one thing: swim with the current to wherever it would take her. The journey lasted only a moment or two as she was suddenly, and very painfully, rammed into a jam of debris washed there by the rains. She felt herself blacking out and had to shake her head forcefully before she could regain enough intelligence to crawl as high on the makeshift dam as possible. There, she passed out, one hand floating limply in the water surrounding her refuge.

Quickly fumbling with his belt, Andrew could feel the cold seeping into his very bones. He couldn't get out. In desperation, the man reached over to the radio and yanked the screwdriver from its position, jamming it into the belt and ripping. Under normal circumstances his strength, which wasn't the greatest, and the durability of the belt would have made the stunt impossible, but adrenaline had leant the man the extra bit he needed to actually impale the heavy fabric. He managed to get it cut through, but was unable to do anything remotely heroic for his wife and Uni. With a twist, the assistant professor slid his thin frame through the window only to be buffeted against the side of his battered car... a car that was being forced downstream by the rushing rain-swollen river.

The red-haired twenty-two-year-old's belt came undone as soon as she attempted it. In relief, fighting her fears, Varla tried to turn to help her husband but felt the insistent waters tugging at her, pushing her against her shattered window. Her back was sliced in numerous little places, but the woman felt nothing. Loosing strength quickly in the icy waters, she finally gave up and shifted so her body would be taken along with the water out of the tiny vehicle. As she fought to surface in the roiling water, Varla became aware of a looming shape: the Pinto was starting to roll over, heading right for her.

As she fought the urge to scream once more, an action that would have surely drown her, the young woman tried to duck under the shifting vehicle. She was unsure just how deep the river went, but took the chance that she could find protection further down. It didn't occur to her that the car might sink right on top of her, the lack of foresight a boon for the frightened medical student, and she actually temporarily defeated her fears and found her ploy had worked. The car moved over and away in seconds, leaving a tired and waterlogged Varla trying to fight her way back to the surface, her terror resurging instantly. She bumped into another person and wrapped her arms tightly around the figure, dragging the form with her without thinking of the consequences.

Her captive struggled, but not against her panicked grip. Instead, it worked at lifting them both to the surface, giving a mighty effort to rescue itself and the one dragging it down. As their heads came over the top of the water, Varla felt the arm of her victim-turned-rescuer slide around her waist and haul her against a slim, wiry body. She blinked in surprise, then relief, when she realized that Andrew had been the one she'd found in the blurry water. He didn't look at her as he hauled them both towards the shoreline, still relying on the adrenaline rush that had seen him through the ordeal thus far.

When they made it to shore, Varla broke into sobs but willingly started helping her husband crawl further up the muddy bank; he was trembling in exhaustion. With *terra firma* below her icy feet, however, the redheaded woman felt safer, more secure. Andrew looked up and gave her a cock-eyed grin, right before passing out. It was only then that Varla became aware of the fiery pain in her arms, but that concern faded compared to what had happened to her family. She was too tired to recall Uni at the moment and let the darkness envelop her before she could.

The first thing that became known, with his returning awareness, was the pain in his lungs. He was having trouble breathing, the breath having been literally knocked out of him with the force of the accident. Hank brought a trembling, bleeding hand up to his chest, gasping as the pain intensified to include his entire upper body. Gingerly, he moved his head, experimenting. When he saw that the impact had forced him up and over the hood of the oncoming Park Avenue, the officer was more stunned than thankful. He'd been sure, in those last few seconds, that he would be pinned between the cars, at the very least.

With an involuntary groan of pain, the twenty-four-year-old slowly pushed to his hands and knees. He glanced around, seeing a dark-haired man lying facedown next to him. That man was covered in blood and looked as limp as... Hank shook himself mentally, not wanting to think about just what that man resembled. Instead, he reached a hand, as bloody as his companion's, over to try to locate a pulse in the man's neck. It was there and surprisingly strong.

His touch apparently awakened the man from his unconscious state. He coughed, gasped, and moaned. Suddenly, he was scrabbling at the hood of the car, belatedly caught in the throes of the memory of those last few seconds before blessed unconsciousness. With a soft whoosh of air, he once more collapsed in a faint, though his pulse remained strong under the officer's fingers.

Hank, satisfied for the moment that the man would live, gingerly climbed from the car, still having trouble catching his breath. He saw a figure slumped over the wheel of the Park Avenue, but selfishly worked his way back to his Jeep to check on Diana, instead. He needed to reassure himself that she had made it through the head-on collision.

For her part, the dark-skinned woman was struggling with her belt, amazingly calm for someone who'd just watched her husband become nearly sandwiched between two vehicles. She was actually working on automatic, shock settling quickly over her automatically moving body. The young physical trainer go her belt unstrapped, but found her door wouldn't budge. The Jeep had been plowed into so hard that the sturdy vehicle had been pushed forcefully into a small copse of trees on the left side of the road. Diana was stunned that she had actually survived, surveying the crumpled metal surrounding her... the force required to have done that would certainly have caused whiplash or a broken neck in most cases.

Climbing carefully from the wreckage, thankful for the open-topped vehicle Hank so adored, the raven-haired woman made her way over the roll-bar and onto the crumpled hood. Shock prevented the horror from touching her as she was able to pick up her pace and slide to the ground beside her gasping husband. The accident had been so severe that, even with the different paint jobs, it was hard to tell where the Jeep ended and the Park Avenue began.

Hank ignored his own bruised lungs, and probably broken ribs, to lean his forehead against that of his wife. They stood for a long moment thus, each giving silent support to the other. Their ordeal was far from over, but the couple was prepared to face it together.

Coming out of the darkness, Eric was only aware of a haze of dark red light. Pain lacerated his entire body and he was certain that if he hadn't already died, he would shortly. He couldn't see how anyone could live through such a fate.

As the cars had hit, he'd felt his body forced towards the front of the rental. With a horrific tearing pain, the executive felt his belt give way and his flight was unimpeded, until he hit the windshield head on. He'd blacked out then, and only recalled briefly that he'd felt cold and hot and horribly pained all at once. The touch of someone's fingers had brought him round for about a second, but he'd blacked out again... and now he wondered if he'd only imagined that human contact.

Blinking to try to clear the haze, the dark-haired man brought a shaking hand up to wipe at his sticky face. He managed to get the blood and ground glass, for that was what he was covered in, from his eyes and mouth. Slowly, sure at least half, if not all, of his bones were broken, Eric turned onto his back, nearly falling off the hot surface of the car hood. He gulped and used pain-filled muscles to ease himself to the ground.

Nausea hit with the realization that the Park Avenue had been heading directly for a pedestrian. If he, the passenger, felt this bad, what of the man that had been in the road? The wave of nausea passed and, with a groan, Eric pulled himself to his feet, trembling in the aftershocks. He turned to survey the damage and was horrified to spot his driver slumped over the wheel.

Sliding in the mud, unsteady and in constant painful torment, the young executive pulled himself to the back door and wrenched it open. The front of the car was badly crumpled, but the driver seemed to have escaped a good deal of the injuries Eric was sure he, himself, had. The man leaned in and touched the cold neck of his employee then caught his breath. Fumbling, desperation filling him, Eric sought a pulse that wasn't there. The man was dead, and it took a few agonizing moments for the young man to let that sink in and pull back.

He put his head against the door and gulped, fighting a new wave of nausea. This couldn't be happening. Not when he was so close to seeing the others. Not when he'd just taken his first real vacation in years. Not when he was responsible for bringing this man out on these rain-soaked roads. He had to remind himself that it was this guy's crazy driving that had caused the accident in the first place, but the thought brought no consolation to the horror-stricken young man.

Pain. There was nothing else in her world: just pain. Sheila blinked open her eyes, shielding them from the extremely bright glow of sun through trees. She rather wished the sky had stayed leaden and gray, rather than this cheery sunny brightness. It hurt. As the redhead blinked again, she became slowly aware of more than just a throbbing headache. Her belly hurt, as well.

Horror filled the woman and she scrambled to run bleeding hands over her rounded tummy, hoping against hope that the infant she carried would be okay. Yes, it was a product of a horrible beginning, but over the months, Sheila had come to care about it for itself... and had learned to bury the fear and pain that had started this tiny life. Now, she desperately wanted to make sure her infant hadn't been hurt when the Beetle had plowed into the back of the car in front of her.

It was a long, very tense, moment before she felt a healthy kick. Amazed, crying in relief and the after-effects of her fear, the woman slowly made her way from her totaled vehicle to lean against its side for support. Her trembling legs didn't want to hold her. She took a few steadying breaths before lifting her hazel eyes to the sight of, not two cars, but three crumpled together.

Sheila was horrified at the sight. She'd had no idea a third car had been involved at all. Had she caused that? Or had she happened upon an accident already in progress? She wanted to break down and cry at the thought of hurting anyone, no matter how unintentionally, but resisted.

Pushing away from her car, the young woman carefully slipped her way around the back of her vehicle. Upon reaching the passenger side, she became aware of several tire tracks leading off the road and over the bank. They looked fresh and she was drawn by a sense of morbid curiosity, mixed with a faint hope, to see if anyone had survived such a terrible trip into the river. When she got there, and looked over, she noted a blue car upside-down and pretty smashed up lying among the large boulders. Its familiarity threatened her nerves once again, but she pushed back relentlessly and started to look around for a safe way down.

Perhaps an hour after the catastrophe, the survivors of the five-car accident were painfully, slowly trudging up the long road. None of them had spoken to one another yet, nor even had taken the energy to try to figure out who was who. Through the blood, mud, and debris, it wasn't too clear just who one's neighbor was on the slippery road. All they knew was that ahead lie a newly opened camp house with beds, old clothes, and a phone. They could rest... and call emergency services... and deal with their injuries and the death of their tenth person.

The end of the road came slowly to them, but eventually it was there. Soon, one of the females was opening the still unlocked door and stepping inside. No one protested this seemingly rude action; they were too tired and achy to really care who got inside first. After mere minutes, the nine were standing in the middle of a family room, dazed looks mixing with gasps, moans, and painful panting. Finally, slowly, the woman who'd entered first lifted a hand to massage the back of her neck, gesturing slowly with her other hand towards a closed door.

"Showers are in there, Guys, maybe three of them. Phone's on the wall. I'll check for first aid supplies." She took a step towards the open doorway of the kitchen but stopped and turned. "There are about four bedrooms, too... so, just claim one if you wanna..." fumbling, as if trying to replace a word she had been going to use, the dark-eyed woman softly said, "rest." She moved into the other room, followed by a harsh-breathing man.

No one spoke a word as they made their slow way into various rooms to clean up and recover.