Clay left the cafeteria, headed for his barracks - those were his orders and he would obey them. He tried not to limp, tried to avoid an uneven gait, but he was sore - no, he hurt - and not even a hot shower or a bath with Epsom salts had eased his aching muscles. He was tired, so tired he hadn't even felt the need or want to eat, yet knew he had to, because tomorrow, he was hiking up a hill - mountain - cliff. Punishment - along with shoveling snow, chopping ice, splitting wood and patrolling for three straight days - for openly questioning Jason while on the mission in Mexico. He'd had a brief respite, the week - four days - they'd been home, but now he was paying for it.

The walk across base was not a long one, but he was forced to take his time, his back aching into his hips from the cold. His coat was zipped, the hood up, but it was inadequate for the temperature. Davis had supplied him with a hat, gloves, even a scarf, but he couldn't recall where he'd left them. He wore long-johns though, he didn't leave the cabin without them.

He hunched his shoulders, lowered his head against the wind and trudged on. When he was in the desert, he wished he were somewhere cold. When he was somewhere cold, he wished for the warmth of the desert. Sigh, seemed nothing made him happy or content these days. Well, maybe dinner. It had been soup and chicken pot pie - comfort food on a cold night. He only wished he'd had more of an appetite.

Barracks this mission was a large cabin; two bedrooms on either side of a large room with a sofa, several comfy chairs, a table, a TV and a fireplace. He couldn't wait to add wood to the fire Trent had lit several hours ago, snag a blanket and crash on the sofa. Finally, he'd be alone and allowed to sulk.

Sonny and Brock were out on snowmobiles – for whatever reason, they found that activity fun. Clay might too, if he weren't so tired and sore. Trent was with the doc, doing God knew what, probably something to do with him. Ray was in the room he shared with Jason, face-timing the wife and kids, he'd be there for hours, and Jason was holed-up with Eric and Mandy. He'd have the cabin to himself. Summer was with them on this mission, but had opted to bunk with support rather than occupy the sofa. Clay was okay with that. He liked lying on the sofa with the fire.

He rather dreaded the mission ending and having to go home. His back spasmed to remind him this mission was not fun. Okay, he dreaded going home. Maybe he wouldn't. They'd be off for several days once they landed in Virginia. Nothing and no one was there to make him stay. He could join some buddies, take a trip, he still had friends. Jason wouldn't like it, but right about now, Clay didn't give a damn what Jason liked or wanted.

They'd been home not quite a week after Mexico when they'd deployed here - wherever here was; Alaska? Russia? Sweden? Switzerland? Iceland? One of the Poles? He knew where he was, he did, somewhere with a lot of snow and extreme cold temperatures at night. It did warm up during the day, once the sun was out. And by warm up, he meant the other side of zero, though not double digits.

They wouldn't be here long, a week tops, and the mission wasn't dangerous. They were searching for camps, hideouts of known associates of some terrorist on Mandy's list. Why here in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, he hadn't been told. Or maybe he had. Didn't matter and he didn't care. He supposed, if he asked, someone would remind him, but he didn't intend to ask. He went where he was told, did what he was told. He'd received the message in Mexico, loud and clear. Do as your told, don't question orders. Done.

This time, when they got home, he doubted Jason would leave him alone like he had after they'd left Mexico. Jason's mom was with the kids, the kids were adjusting well, Jason wasn't as distant and preoccupied with home issues any more. After Mexico...Clay sighed. He was so sick of Mexico. Yes, he was off. Yes, his head space wasn't in the best place right now. Yes, he'd questioned his leader, doubted his ability to lead the team with a clear head of his own, but not once, had Clay ignored an order or disobeyed one. That wasn't what he expected Jason to get on him about, it would be about Stella and it would happen. He was surprised Jason hadn't yet done so.

He avoided a pile of snow, thought it shouldn't be in his way, figured he'd be shoveling it off the path in the morning before his hike. He just lowered his head, trudged on.

() () ()

Jason stood between Trent and Doc, watched Clay limp across the base from the warmth of command. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Yeah, he'd been hard on the kid, had him out daily for the last three days either working or hiking or tracking or running surveillance with support, physical activity, but he'd ordered Clay to the barracks after dinner. Kid probably thought it was further punishment, but Jason was ready to ease up on the kid.

"He's not hiking that hill tomorrow." Trent told his boss. "You proved your point Jason. It's too cold here for anyone to be in this weather daily for the hours you've had him outside. Yeah, its zero, but you still sweat, and then it dries, and you don't shower and..."

Jason waved him off. He got it, but the kid worried him. He was taking the break-up from Stella hard, very hard - to hard. The kid had a habit of getting attached and he didn't let go easily. Jason hadn't cared for Stella. He knew Clay thought she was strong enough to be a Seal wife, but he hadn't seen it. Stella thought she was, gave it a good shot, but Jason had gone through this. His wife had made it by convincing herself Jason would retire after 25 years in the military - and he'd never had any intentions of doing any such thing and look what had happened.

"He's feeling the cold." Doc commented.

"We'll make hot toddies later." Trent said. "Jay?"

"I heard you Trent." Jason snapped. "Trying to keep him busy, don't want him pulling a Sonny and going to bed with a bottle."

"Set him to chopping down a tree." The doc said. "Keep him close to base. No hiking. He needs a break."

"He went back to barracks." Trent turned away from the window, the cold air coming off the glass panes made him shiver. Soon, they would be coming around, closing the outside shutters to block the cold air. Why that wasn't done at sundown was beyond him, but whatever. "He's going to sleep. By the time he wakes up, we'll be in for the night. He won't find a bottle tonight."

"Sonny took him drinking in..." Jason began. Sonny was still on his shit list too.

"Clay took himself drinking. Sonny diverted his intent the first time, went the second time to make sure the kid got back okay." Trent corrected. "Would you rather Clay had gone off on his own?"

"I'd rather he talk about it."

"To who? You? Hell Jason, you were wrapped up in your feud with Mandy."

Jason put a hand up to stop him. "She never comes before one of you."

"You didn't see his pain Jay. Sonny did. Ray did."

That was true and Jason couldn't deny it. "She ever comes near him again..."

Trent hesitated. Stella. Yeah, Jason had never taken to her. Trent was afraid Stella wasn't done with Clay. Oh, not to jerk the kid around or play with his affections. No, Trent truly believed Clay would offer to leave the team, finish out his current enrollment and leave the Navy for her. And Stella would accept his offer, his sacrifice...making the kid even more miserable and unhappy than he already was. It hadn't been discussed among the team yet, but he knew Jason thought the same thing.

If Jason had his way, Clay would never see Stella again, would never spend time alone with her, would move on and find someone else. It'd been done...both Trent and Brock were on second marriages and Jason wouldn't be alone for long.

"He's lost a lot this year Jay. Brian, Adam, Stella...his dad is an ass."

"He found us." Jason didn't want to think about Ash Spenser. The time would come when the two of them would meet and he didn't expect it to go well. He didn't intend to even attempt to make it go well.

"And he's holding it together. Back off."

Before Jason could answer, Summer popped in. He was looking for Jason, stopped in surprise when he saw the doc and Trent in command rather than in the infirmary or wherever it was the doctor had quarters.

"Kairos." Jason didn't even turn. "Not a good time."

"Shipment of ammo is in." Summer said hesitantly. He was still the outsider, not yet fully accepted by everyone on Bravo, not privy to all of what the team shared with one another. "Davis said you only allow Bravo to unload and inventory."

Jason nodded. A job regulated to support but wouldn't hurt Summer to experience the job, they'd all done it one time or another, would again. "Get one of the guys to lend you a hand."

Summer waved at doc and Trent, turned and left. Davis had said Bravo, Jason had said one of the guys - to Summer, that meant one of six guys, so he headed to Bravo's barracks to get one.

() () ()

Clay entered the cabin, felt the warmth hit him in the face, rubbed his hands together in front of the fire. Someone had recently added logs – probably Ray - so he simply stoked them then went to his room to change into comfy clothes and warm socks. Ray heard the door, peeked around the doorway, saw Clay sprawled on the couch, returned to his conversation with his wife.

"Everything okay?" Naima asked, jouncing a drooling, cranky baby on her hip who was tired and up past his bedtime.

"Yeah, just one of the guys coming in."

"Clay?" She guessed, Ray wouldn't have gotten up to check on anyone else. "He still down in the dumps?"

"Yeah, rather he be here than out drinking."

He sent Jason a text: Kid's in, crashed on the sofa.
Jason replied: Keep him in.
Ray: He grounded?
Jason: Trent says so.
Ray: Roger that.

"How's it going with Summer and Sonny?"

"Separate quarters." He grinned, put the phone down. "It'll blow over. You know Sonny."

She gave her husband a smile. Oh yeah, she knew Sonny. "Time to read your daughter a story while I put this one down,"

Mmmmm, she would put his son to bed, he would put Clay to bed.

No one else came 'home'. Ray didn't worry, it was still early, not even 8 o'clock and yet Clay slept soundly on the sofa. How the hell could the kid possibly be comfortable sprawled like he was? Mostly on his belly, one foot on the floor, the other against the back of the sofa, one hand tucked beneath his chin, other arm flung over his head, wrist on the sofa arm, blanket twisted around his waist. Good thing he wore a long-sleeved Henley, pants and socks or he'd be cold. The blanket did nothing in the way of offering him warmth, just comfort.

"Okay kid, you look too comfy to move." Ray added another log to the fire, decided to let him stay on the sofa, dragged the comforter off Clay's bunk, tossed it over him. "Just going to the head, don't move, don't leave this cabin, you hear me?"

Of course Clay didn't and he didn't respond. Ray grabbed his jacket. He was going to the bathroom, he wasn't going far or for long. The kid looked tired, was sleeping, no alcohol was in the cabin, he'd be fine until Ray got back.

Summer knocked on the door to Bravo's barracks. He didn't have to, not really, he was allowed to be here, could sleep here if he wanted to, but with the current animosity between him and Sonny, he felt more comfortable sleeping with the support team. Man, he just didn't get that guy. Sonny was only tolerable as long as Jason was around, and then, just barely.

When no one told him to come in, he tried the knob, opened the door. He didn't linger outside, stepped in and closed the door. The room was toasty and warm, the fire licked merrily at fresh logs in the hearth and he stepped over to warm his backside. Huh, no one appeared to be in but someone had just been there, the logs had just been added. He called out hello, then yo, then anyone. Checked the room with bunk beds, then the room Jason and Ray shared. No one. Great, looked like he'd be unloading the truck on his own. Oh, Davis would be there, and she wouldn't shirk from carrying boxes, but Summer felt the bigger, heavier boxes should be unloaded by someone with a stronger set of shoulders.

"Hey."

What Summer had thought was a mound of blankets on the sofa moved and a hand dug its way out, pushed the fluffy blanket away from a face. Clay yawned, snuggling deeper into the depths of the sofa, the comforter warm, the fire soothing...the chill had finally eased from his bones. His toes didn't sting from cold, his fingers weren't chapped...he was feeling warm and content.

"All alone?" Summer asked. He didn't get this arrogant, cocky 'kid' either. Clay was stand-offish. He didn't warm up to anyone, kept to himself but whenever there was a situation, he didn't hesitate to get in the middle of it. A good guy to have on the team, but there was something about him Summer just couldn't figure out. He wondered why everyone just tip-toed around him, let him do what he wanted. And he sure as hell didn't get why everyone referred to him as kid, or why Clay tolerated it. He was an adult the other side of twenty-five, not a kid.

"Ray's here." Clay eased onto his back. He hadn't seen Ray, but someone had tended the fire, added a blanket, so he assumed Ray was around somewhere. He was sure he had a babysitter.

Summer didn't want to ask Ray to help him unload ammo, didn't matter anyway, because Ray wasn't in the cabin.

"Jason sent me to get help unloading an ammo truck." Summer said.

Clay let his eyes close, turned to face the back of the sofa. Sure, of course he did. Still not off the shit list. Couldn't have one night of peace. Oh, no. He took a minute, calmed his ire, plastered an 'I'm okay with helping' look on his face and climbed out of the cozy cocoon. He gave the blankets and pillow one last, longing look then headed for his room. He needed boots and his coat.

() () ()

Ray returned to the cabin. Damn, it was cold outside. He was in for the night, if he had to pee again, he'd find a coffee can. He hung up his coat, stoked the fire, added another log - they'd have to carry more in. Let Sonny chop more in the morning, he loved to swing an ax - quickest way to get him to do it without too much bitching was to say that Clay wasn't feeling good and enjoyed the warmth of a fire.

Speaking of Clay...Ray turned, eyed the sofa, saw the blankets and pillows but no Clay and assumed the kid had taken himself off to bed. Ray headed to his room, undressed, changed into the warm clothes he slept in, crawled into bed with a book because the warmest spot in the cabin, other than right in front of the fire, was bed.

He read one page, turned it and paused. Why would Clay have gone to bed without his pillow and blankets? Ray shrugged it off. The kid had probably gone to bed, realized he'd left his blankets behind, stole Trent's. He nodded, yes, that's what happened.

He read the same page three times. No, this was Clay. Anyone else that is what would have happened, but not Clay. It bothered him but he shook it off. Turned the page, couldn't recall what he'd just read three times, turned the page back. Nope, something was still bothering him. Did it bother him enough to get out of his warm, cozy, comfy bed and go check? No. Clay was an adult. He tried a fourth time to read the same god-damn page. Nothing for it. He wouldn't be content until he saw the kid with his own eyes.

Getting up, he recalled smirking at the thick socks Clay had worn when he'd crashed on the sofa. Yeah, now he understood. The floors were cold on his bare feet as he padded softly out of his room, crossed the room behind the sofa to the door of the second bedroom. The door was open to get the heat from the fireplace so he popped his head around.

Clay's bunk was empty. Ray couldn't believe it. Climbed the ladder, patted and poked with both hands. Maybe the kid hadn't felt like climbing the ladder once he realized he had neither pillow nor blanket, had crashed in Trent's bunk. Ray climbed down, checked first Trent's bunk, then Sonny's. Climbed up, checked Brock's bunk then Clay's again. He was on his knees, ass to the ceiling, peering under Sonny's bunk when a foot kicked him in the ass, sent his nose to the floor with a grunt.

"Wha'cha doin' there Ray-Ban." Sonny chuckled, expecting Ray to come back at him, but Ray simply sat on his ankles, didn't move off the floor.

"Looking for Spenser." He said distractedly. "You seen him?"

"I don't think he'd be down there." Brock was shedding his wet clothes.

It occurred to Ray how ridiculous he was being, searching in places Clay couldn't possibly be. He got to his feet, hands on his hips, a perfect imitation of Jason.

"He was sleeping on the sofa." Ray began. "Was there when I left."

"How long were you gone?" Sonny joked, sitting on his bed to take off his boots.

"Maybe five minutes."

Both Sonny and Brock stopped what they were doing: Sonny's foot hung in the air, shoelaces in his fingers, Brock had his hands crossed over the hem of his shirt.

"You sure about that?" Brock asked.

"I went to take a leak." Ray said.

Both he and Brock were spurred into prompt action. Pillows were thrown, blankets were tossed, all four mattresses were upended. The ridiculous search moved into the main room, ended in Ray and Jason's room.

"Maybe he went to the head." Brock said for the fifth time.

"I would have passed him." Ray answered for the fifth time.

"Maybe he went to eat." Sonny said for the third time.

And Ray answered for the third time. "Cafeteria is closed." He retrieved his cell phone, dialed Jason.

"Ray? What's up?" Jason asked.

"Where are you?"

"Command."

"Spenser by any chance with you?"

"No. Should he be? Thought he was with you."

Ray sighed. "Okay, let me ring Trent."

"Don't bother." Jason replied. "He's right here."

"Doc too?" Ray guessed. Shit. Well, that left Davis and Blackburn. If Clay wasn't with either of them, then they could panic. Where else would he have gone?

"Yeah, call Davis, ping his phone." Jason ordered. "Blackburn's in the next room with Mandy, he's not with them." He motioned to Trent to get his coat on, took his own when doc handed it to him, worked his arm into one sleeve, phone held to his ear with the other, switched. "Why are we looking for him?"

"He was sleep when I left to hit the head, I came back, he was gone. His coat and boots are gone, but his ski pants are here. And NO! I didn't miss him in the bathroom, going to it or from it."

"We'll check there on our way back." Jason hung up. Trent and doc were just staring at him.

"Don't say he's gone missing again." The doc peered over his glasses. "No? Really? Well, I'll be darned. That kid just finds trouble to get into, huh?"

"Dunno. Maybe." Jason zipped his coat, pulled his knit hat from a pocket. "You end up with him, call me."

Doc nodded. The base was small, not too many places anyone could go for entertainment. At most, he guessed young Spenser had gone to the quarters of one group or another for a game of cards. They'd find him soon, warm and cozy and everyone could relax.

Yeah, right. He didn't believe that for a minute.

() () ()

Clay was miserable. He hadn't bothered to dress warmly - no hat, just the hood on his jacket, no scarf, no ski pants - because all he expected to do was unload an ammo truck in the 'hangar' on the base. No, it wasn't heated, but it was a covered shelter so he'd be out of the wind and standing on a concrete floor that wasn't covered by ice or snow. Half an hour tops.

It had taken twenty minutes, but then they got word the second ammo truck was either broken down or stuck some five miles from base and he, Summer and Seth loaded up on the first truck with the driver and headed out to meet it. Seth, because he was the mechanic, he and Summer because the truck was loaded with ammo and had only the soldier driving it, to protect it.

The four of them were jammed into the cab, too cold for anyone to ride in the back. Seth, the lightest sat on Summer's lap, Clay squashed between the driver and Summer. He didn't mind so much, the heat in the cab was meager, so he was glad for the body warmth. He swallowed, tried to keep his teeth from chattering, happy he wore long johns and thermal socks. Hoped Seth could easily and quickly fix the truck. If not, he hoped there were chains to tow it, because there was no way in hell they'd survive the night out here and they couldn't leave the truck.

Because of course, that truck was the one with the heavy armor. Damn his luck.

Five miles wasn't all that far when you drove 30 miles an hour to get there. They came to a stop and Summer and Seth climbed out. The driver and Clay stayed in the cab. Clay had been tired and sore before he'd unloaded heavy boxes off the truck. Now, he was flat-out exhausted. He'd found his limit and he was at it.

It didn't take Seth long to announce the truck couldn't be repaired. Did Clay want to transfer the load or attempt to tow it? Did Clay want to do what? Why make him decide? Oh right, out of the five men, he had the highest rank. Did he out-rank Summer? He didn't know. Didn't seem to matter, Summer waited for him to make a decision.

"Tow it?" He suggested, the men nodded. No one wanted to unload the truck if they didn't have to.

Clay sighed, picked up his gloves, climbed down out of the cab. He wasn't armed, hadn't expected to leave base. He was gonna hear about that tomorrow - would pay for it. 'Cause yeah, not only had he left base, he'd left base unarmed. Way to go dumbass, come out here to protect the shipment and come without a weapon. Duh.

He tromped through knee-high snow alongside the truck, rounded the back to lower the tailgate, slipped, caught his hand on the wheel-well, leg sliding behind the tire. Sighed. Ow, sure, just had to cut his palm. Of course he did. Had he had his gloves on, he wouldn't have done that. Now he'd be reprimanded for that along with his lack of rifle and gun. As it was, he was lucky all he did was cut his hand. It was cold enough for frost-bite and grabbing bare metal with warm skin might have made his hand stick to the truck.

Oh yeah, he was gonna get reamed out by everyone: by Ray for leaving the cabin, by Jason for going off base unarmed, by Trent for going out dressed as he was, by Sonny for going with Summer.

Ignoring the sting of pain in his hand, he gained his feet and nimbly hopped the tailgate, crawled on his knees to the bench with the flip-up lid and dragged out the heavy chains. His shoulders shook, the strain taxing his already over-taxed strength. Three days out in the cold - no matter the reason - barely eating, hiking and sitting in the snow had taken too large a toll.

Scootching on his butt, he inched to the end of the truck, dropped his legs over the edge, sat for a minute. Seth came over, took the chains, moved off. Clay just sat while the truck he sat in moved, turned around, backed up, back bumper-to-front bumper with the other truck. Seth and Summer set about connecting the chains. Clay just prayed the other truck wasn't stuck as well as broken down.

He was wet, he was cold, he was tired. He ached, he hurt, he throbbed and if one more thing went wrong this night, he very much thought he'd cry.

A yell and a hup and the truck jerked forward. Clay pulled his legs in, sat and watched the chains pull taut, willed it to work. He wanted to return to base and curl up on the sofa in front of the fire. But no, of course not. The broken down truck of course, was stuck. Using his palms flat against the truck floor, he pushed off his ass and jumped to the ground.

Clay didn't want to make the guys on support come out in the cold, so they'd try and free the truck before he sent the other one back to base to get help to come out and transer the cargo. Armed with shovels, rock salt, rubber mats, collected pine branches, they began to dig the truck free, but despite their best efforts, the truck didn't budge and it was too large and too heavy to rock or push. It wasn't going anywhere.

Clay sat on his ass in the snow, threw his shovel in a fit. The only thing that kept him from having a full-blown tantrum was he knew enough time had passed that help would be there any moment; as soon as Bravo couldn't account for his whereabouts, they'd be hot on his trail and would come after him.

Woot-woot.

This would be one time he'd be happy to be yelled at because Bravo would come with blankets and hot coffee and battery-operated heaters for his hands and feet. He'd be man-handled and scolded, but bundled and tucked into the cab of whatever transport they came in and given chicken broth to drink.

He wouldn't have to send the truck back to get help, help would be on its way.

"Should we unload?" Summer asked. They'd tried the radio, couldn't raise base. Cell phones connected with one another, but no call made from any phone got through to base or anyone else they tried to call. "Can't leave it out here."

Clay sighed, numb and beyond cold. He hated to order the men to unload the truck when he expected Bravo any moment. He could barely concentrate and put two words together, no way would he be capable of helping transfer the truck's cargo.

"No need." He slurred. Seth looked at him in alarm. "Bravo's coming."

Summer stared. How the hell would Clay know that?

"Clay? Hey man, you good?" Seth stomped his feet, noticed for the first time how Clay was dressed, extended his hand. "Oh man, oh man, Christ, you trying to get me beat up? Trent's gonna kill me. Get in the cab."

"Uh, Seth. Shouldn't we send someone back, start moving the cargo?" Summer asked.

"You can start moving it, but Bravo will be here any minute."

"Clay said the same thing. How do you know that?"

Seth pointed to Clay who finally reached for Seth's hand and allowed Bravo's mechanic to pull him to his feet. "Cause we have him with us and they don't like it when he's outta their sight."

() () ()

"Yeah Ray, what's up?" Lisa answered her cell. She was in her quarters, dressed in pajamas and fuzzy slippers, sipping a mug of hot cocoa topped with mini-marshmallows. She had a small room off the ammo supply storage room, heated by an electric radiator, so she was quite cozy. "Need something?"

"The whereabouts of Spenser. Can you ping his phone?"

"Mmmm. No need." She stirred her cocoa with a peppermint stick. "He went with Summer to unload the ammo truck. The second one broke down, they went out with Seth to see if they can get it running."

"Spenser?" Ray repeated, stunned. "Did what? Why?"

"Summer said Jason told him..." Lisa began but Ray cut her off.

"Where did it break down?"

"Was coming from the South, main road." She said. "Five or so miles out. Ray? What's wrong?" She heard Sonny erupt in the background. "Am I on speaker?"

"He's off base?" Sonny bellowed.

"Jay, did you tell Summer to get Clay to help him unload the ammo trucks?" Ray asked.

"Really boss?" Trent frowned. "After our talk?"

"What? NO!" He punched Trent in the arm. They both still wore their coats, so Trent didn't even feel it.

"If that hemp-loving hippie..." Sonny was saying.

"I told him to get one of the guys..." Jason was saying.

"Get them on the radio!" said Eric. Lisa choked on a way-ward marshmallow. Eric was in Bravo's barracks? Or was Bravo in Eric's?

"Um, okay." Lisa went out to the ammo room, switched the CB on. Nothing. Tried Clay's cell, then Seth's, finally Summer's.

"Let's go get him." Brock said. He stepped into his ski pants that were drying by the fire. He and Sonny had returned because even with a fire, it had been too cold to stay out after complete darkness, not because they'd gotten bored racing snowmobiles. He donned his knit hat, his gloves, slung his scarf over his neck, wrapped it and tucked inside his coat. "He shouldn't be out there."

"My fault." Everyone said at the same time.

"I shouldn't have left him alone." Ray added.

"I knew he was hurting, should have been on him." Trent added.

"I banished him to the barracks, should have made it clear he wasn't supposed to leave." Jason cursed. "Why the hell would Summer think I meant the kid."

"I shudda kicked that flip-flop wearing..." Sonny shut up when Eric dug an elbow into his side. "Just sayin'."

"Guys, I got nothing. No signals are transmitting." Lisa said. "I'll order an off-road Humvee ready. Gimme five."

"Load up." Jason ordered, was out the door, Trent on his heels, Ray's cell in his hand as he told Lisa what supplies he wanted to take with them.