Play@YSDC

Jeff is having no luck finding the path and continues to backtrack. Maybe if the others were here, he belongs in an office not the woods...

"I'm sure,' says Stanley. "He's hurt, but he's still ambulatory. Maybe I'd better check the tents while you check the perimeter. Jeff will probably run away if he notices me coming, and he can't do that if he's in a tent."

Stanley and Harry,The two investigators search the camp. They don't find Jeff, but inside the equipment tent, there are used bandages, gauze, blood. The generator is running, and the radio's lights are blinking.

Jeff,Jeff takes to the upward slope again, tracing his way back. His whole body aches and burns, and when he checks, he sees that his bandages are soaked in blood. Apart from the physical pain and tiredness, he is extremely stressed, psychologically. He is here, alone in the wilderness, lost, hurt... --- Roll [color=#FF0000][b]SAN (0/1)[/b][/color]! Roll [b]CON[/b]! --- Finally, Jeff reaches a place in the forest which he thinks he recognizes. There is a beaten path leading down - this must be the one they perused today several times. But Jeff lost a lot of time. It is now 4:30.

Jeff gathers his wits and fires one of the flares up into the sky. Even if it isn't seen by the rescue team yet at least it might show which way he went to any of the others if they survived. Then he hurries on along the path as quickly as he can go.

"That way," says Stanley, pointing toward where the flare has been fired. "It looks like he's treated his own wound."

Harry Miller

"Ok, let's go! You first Stanley. Sorry, but I still gotta keep an eye on you."

Stanley nods and leads the way towards the flare.

Jeff,Jeff makes his way through the forest. He is slowed by his wounds, but holding up all right. And he doesn't want to risk getting lost again, so checks his surroundings often. Suddenly, Jeff notices a ray of light shining from behind. He turns around, and sees [b]Stanley [/b]coming down the same path. [b]Harry [/b]follows a few steps behind the insane Trooper. They are a a couple of dozen yards behind him.

Harry and Stanley,The two investigators go towards the flare, following the path to the riverside landing area. After about fifteen minutes, they notice a slowly moving figure - Jeff, making his way down the path.

Harry Miller

"It's ok Jeff. I got him covered. How you holding up? Think you can last out for the rescue?"

Harry keeps the shotgun aimed at Stanley, not taking any chances, while still keeping one eye on the trees.

"Boy am I glad at least one of you is still sane," Jeff replies. "Come on, we gotta hurry. We have about half an hour to make it to the landing site. Why don't we let the trooper lead the way so we can keep an eye on him."

"All right," says Stanley. "I want you to know I'm sorry. I didn't want to shoot you, but I wasn't in control any more." He leads the way towards the landing site.

The Investigators cover the remaining distance in silence... Total, complete silence. Once more, the forest at the foot of Mt. Sukakpak is breathless and numb. Dawn breaks, but there are no birds singing. Even the mosquitoes (a constant presence during yesterday's hike) are absent.

Stanley,Although it isn't marked by anything in particular, Stanley recognizes the place where he shot the fox (and first encountered the Voice) as they pass it by. The metallic taste of blood fills his mouth, but he remains calm.

Finally, the group reaches the riverside landing spot. Jeff checks his watch: it's 5:10. The wreckage of the old Cessna is still there, a memento of the anger and fearful capabilities of the force that haunts Sukakpak.

The sky is covered in gray clouds. The Investigators hear the faint sound of an aircraft's engine.

Jeff fires another flare up above them. "We need to clear the landing site of this wreckage." He glances around nervously as he speaks, perturbed by the lack of animal noises.

Around here, the "landing strip" is actually the Koyukon river itself.

OOC,[img]https://i.pinimg.com/236x/1e/e1/c6/1ee1c623af2647b0b816a70a6b42f809--vintage-airplanes-cessna.jpg[/img]

Most of the wreckage is on the shore, however there are several parts of the plane's metallic carcass protruding from the water too. These are definitely something the Investigators should clean up, as they pose a risk to the incoming aircraft. The task is not impossible, but it does include most of you going into the water, tying ropes to the remains, and wrestling them ashore.

Stanley helps to clear the wreckage out of the water, lending his considerable strength to the task.

The Investigators do away with the most dangerous parts of the wreckage, and, wet and tired, await the rescue team... Soon a small craft appears over the treeline, and splashes down on the river. Stanley Kramer observes the touchdown procedure: maybe it's just his tiredness, but he gets a sense of indecisiveness from the unknown pilot's handling of the craft.

The plane is similar to the Cessna 206 the Investigators used to fly in yesterday, only with the insignia of the Division of Homeland Security and Emergency Management, Fairbanks division. It slowly pulls up to the riverbank, the engine now running on a low speed. Currently it is occupied by a pilot (hidden behind oversized aviator sunglasses) and a second person, who hops out as the door slides open. He is a middle-aged man clad in coveralls, carrying a medkit. He walks straight up to the group of Investigators. He assesses them, his gaze stopping at the shotgun Harry is still toting.

"Drake Humphreys," he introduces himself. "Uh... What a mess, gentlemen! Let me take a look at that injury, then we're out of here," he says, pointing at Jeff's blood-soaked bandages.

"Mr. Humphreys, that's the best thing I've heard all day," Jeff says in relief, stepping forward. "This place is hell. Everyone else is dead and we very nearly came a cropper, too. Let's get on board before that damned freakish wind rises again. Look what it did to the other plane."

"Thank you, Mr. Humphreys," says Stanley. "I'm glad you're here."

"Some weather in these parts," Humphreys says, surveying the wreckage. "We didn't pick up any signs of such activity at the Center either."

He removes Jeff's old bandages. He realizes the nature of the wounds, and stands up. "Hold it, folks. Who shot this man? Was it you?" he asks, pointing at Harry who has the shotgun. "Sir, put down that weapon immediately!"

"And everyone else is dead? The whole survey team?"

"He didn't shoot him," says Stanley. "I did, unintentionally. And yes, everyone else is dead."