The Longest Night Author: Suz72350 Email: suzanne.moore8@verizon.net Rating: PG-13 Lots of Nick angst Summary: Nick's business trip to Telluride, Colorado goes horribly wrong. Author's Notes: Mega-thanks to Romantique, a great friend and fanfic mentor who encouraged me to write and edited my efforts. Thanks to Mary and Charlene, Guardian compadres who are Nick-savvy and beta- read this piece. The Western design store in this story does not exist; the Anasazi Heritage Center does, and is a wonderful place to spend a day or two. The unguarded pullout and rocky ravine is real, located between Lizard Head Pass and Telluride. In doing research for this story, I discovered that many unusual things can be used in creating splints, including pillows and magazines. Check out this web site: http://www.utahmountainbiking.com/firstaid/index.htm. __________________________________________________________ "New Sheridan Hotel, this is Connie. How can I help you?" "Connie? Hi, it's Sidney." "Hey, Sid, what's up?" "Well, I'm still at Heritage Center, and I`m running late." Known for its collection of artifacts and educational interactive displays, the Anasazi Heritage Center in Delores, Colorado was the largest museum in the Four Corners area. Dr. Sidney Hunter was the Center's part-time director of exhibits. "Listen, Connie, I'm supposed to meet a lawyer named Nicholas Fallin it the lobby in an hour. I'm going to be late, so would you let him know? Give him what ever he wants — a drink, a late lunch. . .whatever. Put it on my tab. Just try to keep him corralled, and tell him I'm on my way." "Will do. Be careful, Sid, a new storm`s on its way ." ******** The connecting flight into Telluride had Nick sitting on pins and needles. The ride was ridiculously bumpy; violent turbulence shook the small puddle jumper every way possible. Not normally a white- knuckle flyer, Nick gripped the arm rests of his window seat. He studied his ankle boots and tried to remain calm. He had been glad to get permission to come to Telluride on business for a few days, but now he wasn't so sure. Nick's seat mate, a well-heeled college student named Randy, looked at him with amusement. "First time flying to Telluride?" he asked. "Yes," Nick mumbled as he smoothed down his blue tie. He was trying his best to ignore both Randy and the snow-covered mountains looming outside the window. "Oh, man, flying to Telluride is like being on an amusement park ride — except the scenery's real and the mountains are close enough to touch," Randy commented. "Landing here freaked me out the first few times," said Randy. "Look, there's the runway." He pointed out the window to a tiny ribbon of concrete. "See how it is surrounded by mountains?" Nick quickly glanced out the window. The runway, positioned on top of a mesa, was flanked by severe vertical drops on both sides. The San Juan Mountains loomed all around the landing strip. When the plane landed, Nick thought it would roll straight into the mountains and crash. But, amazingly — no. The plane landed without incident and taxied to its gate. As they walked off the plane, Nick put on his "game face" and calmly said, "That wasn't bad, Randy. It was. . . entertaining." Nick quickly strode through the terminal, rented a car and drove down the mountain into town. He parked his car on a side street. Beautifully restored Victorian houses and funky miners' shacks stood side-by-side in the quiet neighborhood. As Nick walked toward Colorado Avenue, he noticed that the snow felt different somehow. It seemed lighter, drier, and more consistent than the Pittsburgh flakes he knew. Nick found the New Sheridan Hotel and walked to the front desk. "Hello, I'm Nicholas Fallin. I'm looking for Dr. Sidney Hunter?" "Yes, Mr. Fallin. Dr. Hunter has been detained at the Heritage Center. In the mean time, she wants you to make yourself at home. Would you like a drink or a late lunch, perhaps?" "Not at the moment, thanks." Nick found an overstuffed chair in the corner of the small lobby, set his brief case on the coffee table and opened it. He pulled out a folder labeled "Triple Y" and began to study it. Triple Y was Dr. Hunter's company. She split her time between the Heritage Center and her small chain of Western design stores. Larry Barton, an old client of Burton Fallin, desperately wanted to acquire the stores. Larry had founded Three Rivers Furniture Group in the late 70's. After visiting Telluride last year, Larry became convinced that acquiring Dr. Hunter's upscale stores would boost his company's lackluster earnings. He knew that the acquisition would generate gobs of revenue for Three Rivers and open up a new caliber of clientele his company was eager to attract. Sid had been genuinely surprised when Larry approached her with an interest in her company. "I'm not really in the market to sell, but I'm open," she said. "Who knows? Make me the right offer and you've got a deal. " Burton had passed Larry Barton to Nick, not wanting to fool with this simple transaction. All Nick had needed to do was review Triple Y's financials so he would know what offer to recommend. And that's when he learned how challenging contacting Dr. Hunter could be. Nick flipped through his notes. He'd found it hard to keep track of where she would be. Dr. Hunter's schedule was irritatingly unpredictable. Some days she was dealing with museum issues. Other days she was helping clients at her store. And some days she was unavailable because she was snowtubing near Lizard Head Pass. Snowtubing! Nick shook his head. How could someone as seemingly scattered as Sidney Hunter build a successful company in the highly competitive world of retail? Nick had repeatedly left messages with Dr. Hunter's employees in Telluride and in Delores. She had been given the messages; Nick knew because he'd asked. He'd gotten the distinct impression she was either ignoring or avoiding him. But why? Were her financials as scattered as she was? Truth be told, Nick was curious about the irritatingly unpredictable Dr. Hunter and her financial records. After several rounds of phone tag, Nick had finally reached Dr. Hunter after-hours at her store. "I know you need to review my books," she had said in a happy Southern accent. "Give me your address. I'll overnight them." After review, Nick found nothing wrong with Triple Y's books. Her four stores were in the black and the revenue stream was way up. Dr. Hunter's attention to detail was impressive, as was her financial forecast for the next year. But Dr. Hunter was far from impressive when Nick phoned last week. She'd just about snapped his head off. He'd called to arrange the first face-to-face meeting. Would she and her representatives consider meeting in Pittsburgh? "No way," she'd said testily, cutting Nick off. "I'm not going to Pittsburgh. This is ski season, Mr. Fallin — my peak sales period. If you're ready to negotiate, you'll have to come here." That's why he was in Telluride: to deliver Larry Barton's first offer and begin negotiations. And to actually set eyes on Dr. Sidney Hunter. ******** "Shit! I'm late to meet that lawyer, and now this!" A flat tire had forced Sid to pull her station wagon across the highway to a tiny scenic view pullout. The narrow island of snow-covered gravel between the road and the drop off was barely big enough for her old tank of a car. Below was a steep rock-covered slope, dropping into a snow- obscured canyon. She punched her cell phone, hoping that the connection gods would give her a break. No such luck! Sid sighed and pulled a thermos out of her red backpack. She poured a sip of hot cocoa into her cup and squinted at the sky. Dark clouds announced the arrival of a mean and nasty snow storm. Fat flakes were just beginning to fall. Sid popped the lid back on the thermos, sat it on the passenger seat and prepared herself for a round of cold-weather tire-changing. She tucked her dark red curls behind her ears and tied her parka's hood as snugly as she could. The muffler was tightly around her freckled nose and lower face. Mittens were donned last. Dr. Sidney Hunter opened her car door and stepped outside looking like a world-weary Bedouin let loose in a snow storm. "Hooray for long johns!" she shouted to the sky, arms waving above her head. She trudged to the back of her car, opened the rear door of her station wagon and began to unload the mess in the back so she could get to her spare tire. ******** Nick was tired of waiting. He'd finally agreed to the offer of a late lunch at the New Sheridan. Then he walked up and down snow- covered Colorado Avenue, visiting Telluride's chic shops. He stepped into Yippie-Yi-Yo, Dr. Hunter's flagship store. The unique and appealing shop was filled to the rafters with a mix of true Western collectibles, 1950's television cowboy kitch, Western-oriented art, toys, and furniture. It was obvious that the store had been put together with love, care, and a great sense of humor. He was unable to withstand the lure of the store's merchandise and bought a silver Western-style belt buckle for his Dad. "Excuse, me, Miss?" Nick was back at the front desk of The New Sheridan talking to Connie. "Is there some way of contacting Dr. Hunter?" "Well . . .I guess could call the Heritage Center..." "Do you know what kind of car she drives?" "An old aqua-blue station wagon — she calls it `Ethel May' — but, really, she should be here . . ." Nick turned and left Connie mid-sentence. He'd flown from Pittsburgh to begin negotiations, not to cool his heels at the New Sheridan! Nick shook his head in disbelief as he stomped through heavy snowfall to his car. He found his rent car and drove south toward Delores, looking for the elusive Dr. Hunter and her aqua station wagon. Driving out of town, Nick's irritation faded. He found himself gazing at the Christmas-card scenery with a new level of appreciation. With the snow falling heavily now, the natural landscape was truly magical. He found himself thinking of his mother. She loved winter. Every year she celebrated the first snow of the season with gusto. "Nicky, snow makes everything look so fresh," she'd say. He relaxed, letting warm memories of his mother wash over him. The steep two-lane highway wound its way into the San Juan Mountains. Nick drove past sets of large snow gates ready to swing into place, ready to close the road when the conditions became too dangerous for driving. Blowing snow began to drift across the highway, making visibility difficult. Slick and dangerous patches of ice began to appear on the road. "This is bad," Nick said out loud. "Why am I doing this?" He decided to turn around and head back to The New Sheridan at the first opportunity. Nick squinted. He could just make out a figure waving, standing in the snow beside a station wagon. Nick stopped his car beside the station wagon and rolled down the passenger window. Cold air and snow flakes swirled into his car. "Dr. Hunter?" Sid walked over to Nick's call and pulled down the muffler covering her mouth. "Yes, I'm Dr. Hunter. Do I know you?" She met Nick's gaze with quizzical green eyes, trying to place him. Nick stared at Sid, surprised by her healthy good looks. "We`ve talked on the phone. I'm Nicholas Fallin, Fallin & Fallin, Pittsburgh," he finally said. "I was to meet you at The New Sheridan this afternoon." "God, how embarrassing! I was running late, then I had this flat tire. . ." Sid's attention turned toward the highway. A yellow truck was hurdling around the curve far too fast for the deteriorating conditions. It hit an ice patch and began to swerve. Much to Sid's horror, the truck seemed to be headed straight for Nick's car. . .and her. She ran forward, away from Nick's car, sprinting to get out of the way. A split second later she lost her footing and fell down the rock-strewn slope. The truck's brakes screamed in protest after leaving the ice patch. It began to spin. Nick looked up just before the truck broadsided his car. He lifted his left arm to protect himself, as if that act alone would stop the impending disaster. A brutal impact. The truck smashed into the back panel of Nick's car. Sheer momentum shoved it into Sid's station wagon. Now both cars were being pushed by the truck to the very edge of the unguarded pullout . . . the edge of the frozen world. Below, the desolate canyon loomed, opening its ragged jaws for the fresh kill of a car wreck. Sid's station wagon teetered for a moment and slipped over the edge. Nick's car was next. The tormented sound of metal against rock echoed through the canyon. The sickening smell of burning rubber filled the cold mountain air. The yellow truck stopped just short of the edge of the pullout. It's driver got out, peeked at the wreckage over the edge, then hopped back in the vehicle. The truck sped off toward Telluride. End Part One The Longest Night Part 2 Sid opened her eyes. She was face-up on a snow-covered ledge a good 15 feet below the road. When she tried to sit up her right arm flopped in the fresh snow. She gasped, pain shooting through her like a steel spike. Her right leg was throbbing. Sid found it splayed at an odd angle between her knee and ankle. She looked up to the highway and then down at her parka and mittens. They were in tatters, sliced by the jagged rocks as she fell down the slope. After taking a few ragged breaths, her survival training kicked in. Sid reached in the breast pocket of her parka, pulled out her emergency whistle, and began to blow. ******** Nick gradually became aware of his surroundings. Someone was tenderly cleaning his face with a cool, wet cloth. There was a sharp, stabbing pain in his left shoulder. His head hurt. His neck was ram-rod stiff. Nick tried to open his eyes. Only the right one opened completely. His left eye was partially swollen shut. Blood was dripping freely from a gash near his hairline. His seat belt cut into his neck, shoulder, and chest making it hard to breathe. Even the smallest movement induced pain across his left shoulder. Nick looked around in disbelief, trying to make sense of what he saw. But the view didn't make any sense. The interior of the car swam around him, topsy-turvy. He found himself entangled in his seatbelt, suspended above the passenger door. It was only when he peered out the broken windshield that he realized that he was strapped into a wrecked car. And the car was laying on its side, precariously pointing down the slope. Wet snow swirled through the busted windows, nursing his battered face. He heard an odd-sounding bird mournfully calling for its mate. He was apprehensive about moving. Nick did not know if motion would upset the car's position on the slope. And his shoulder hurt when he moved. But as scary as that seemed, Nick realized he couldn't stay where he was. He had to get out. The car felt like it would come unglued from its position at any moment. Nick fussed with his seatbelt trying to use his right hand, but he was unable to pop the latch. Slowly it dawned on him: As he raised his hands to remove his gloves, a shock of pain shot through him. Lifting his left arm produced a grinding sensation along his collarbone — a new and painful experience. He slowly pulled off his gloves and couldn't hold onto them, watching them fall to the passenger door. Nick grabbed the shoulder harness with his right hand and carefully reached across his lap with his left to unlatch the seatbelt. While the pain in his shoulder was excruciating, Nick discovered that his left arm had a surprising range of motion. Nick carefully eased himself onto the passenger door. His left shoulder drooped forward. It hurt like hell. He held his left arm close to his body, supporting it with his other hand. Nick waited, catching his breath, cradling his arm, and allowed his aching head to clear a bit. The odd-sounding bird continued to call over and over. ******** Sid went through a mental list of what to do for backwoods injuries. She looked for her car, but from her vantage point she was unable to see below the ledge. No Ethel May. She looked around, hoping to find tree limbs, shrubs – something to use for splints. Sid blocked her eyes from the falling snow with her good arm and resumed blowing her whistle. She tried to recall the events that led her to the ledge. Her memory slowly returned in bits and pieces. ******** Nick slowly turned his body and looked out the broken windshield. The light was low, the sky darkened by the winter storm. The car seemed to be safely wedged in the ravine. He eased his gloves back on and cautiously slipped through the windshield until the toes of his shoes touched the ground. Nick grimaced as he struggled away from the car, walking on wobbly legs. Snow was packed between the chunks of rock. Over and over, Nick found himself trying to keep his balance, one foot on a rock and the other buried in snow. It was almost impossible to balance while holding his left arm, but his shoulder was less painful that way. Just beyond the car he eased himself down to sit on a chair-sized rock. Nick took stock of his injuries. His head wound continued to bleed. He held the heel of his gloved-covered hand against the gash, hoping to stem the bleeding. A lump was forming on his forehead the size of Idaho. His collarbone was certainly broken. He realized that cradling his arm helped the pain from his collarbone injury, so he improvised a sling by sticking his left hand between the buttons on his coat. His head hurt and his neck felt strained and sore. His whole body ached from the violence of the wreck. Mercifully, the gash responded to pressure; the bleeding slowed and finally stopped. Nick turned his attention to his left eye. He scooped up a bit of snow and held it to his injury in the hope the swelling would soon go down. As he was tending to his eye, Nick became more aware of his surroundings. He noticed odd objects dusted with freshly fallen snow strewn up and down the ravine. A ski, a hiking boot, loose papers, a fly rod tube. "This is surreal," he muttered. "I've entered The Twilight Zone." Nick looked further down the slope and saw another wrecked vehicle. It had rolled down the ravine, but had landed right-side up. The front was smashed into an accordion, but the back looked relatively undamaged. The roof was dented and its rear door seemed to be bent. Beyond the car, the slope continued to the canyon floor. Looking in the opposite direction, Nick's eye followed the incline and found that it ended at a ledge some distance above him. Above the ledge was a steeper slope stretching up to the road. Nick listened as the bird's noise continued, seeming to originate from the ledge. As he sat on the boulder pondering the noise, a gust of wind pushed some papers toward him. He grabbed one and discovered it was a blank sales receipt from Yippee-Yi-Yo. Nick's memory began to return. He looked up and down the ravine, dreading the thought of finding her injured — or worse – among the debris on the slope. He looked back down the ravine at the bashed-up car, this time with recognition. "Dr. Hunter?" he called down to her car, his voice echoing in waves across the ravine. The bird's noise suddenly stopped. "I'm up here." Sid's shaky voice came from the ledge above. "Up here!" It dawned on Nick that the bird's incessant calling was actually a whistle. "Keep blowing that whistle," Nick shouted. He slowly rose, turned toward the ledge, and started working his way up. End Part Two The Longest Night Part 3 Scott Harding peered out of Yippee-Yi-Yo's display window and glanced at his watch. She was supposed to bring the attorney to the store about 4:30, introduce him to Scott and his wife, Nancy, and then take a tour of the space. After that, they'd all planned a quiet "get to know you" dinner at The Chop House. Clayton Griffin, Triple Y's attorney, would join them afterward for the first round of negotiations. Scott and Nancy had been Sid's first friends in Telluride, helping her to renovate the 1880's brick building, transforming it into the store. Scott was the company's general manager, and Nancy did the books; Sid chose all the merchandise, designed the interior, and arranged all the displays. They were a good team; their friendship and trust grew along with the business. After 11 years, Sid still owned 100% of the small company, but she made certain that Scott and Nancy reaped the rewards of their hard work. Now, Sid and that lawyer were — where? Scott had checked in with everyone he could think of in Telluride, in Delores, and all parts in between. No one had seen Sid since she left the Heritage Center. After talking to Connie at The New Sheridan, he discovered that Sid was a no-show for the scheduled meeting; the hot-headed young lawyer had left in a huff. With the announcement that Highway 145 was now closed, Scott had an uneasy feeling that Ethel May might have given Sid problems. He picked up the phone and called Derek Claussen, Telluride's police chief. Scott quickly briefed him about the seemingly missing store owner. "Oh, Sid's probably staying in Rico or Clear Lake — with someone we don't even know she knows," replied Derek. "But I'll alert my guys and the DOT road crew chief to be on the lookout for Sid and Ethel May in the morning, just in case." ******** Nick followed the trail of scattered objects up the ravine. First the lone ski, then a hiking boot. The incline became progressively steeper, the footing less dependable. It was tough. Nick's collarbone protested with every movement, the pain letting him know he should be still. Just below the ledge, Nick saw a round object. He shook his head in amusement and chuckled to himself. Nearby he saw a king-sized pillow tossed against a red backpack. It was an eerie sight. The three items looked to be left there by someone who'd come out for a fun day playing in the snow. He heard Dr. Hunter's whistle calling him to the ledge. He studied the pillow and backpack for a moment, catching his breath, thinking. Then he shrugged, plucked them from the rocks and made the final assault on the steepest part of the slope, toward the whistle's shrill pitch and Dr. Hunter. ******** At last. Nick ungracefully slung the pillow, the backpack, and then himself over the ledge. He lay on the ground a few feet behind the red-headed businesswoman, trying to catch his breath. "Dr. Hunter, are you alright?" Nick managed to call out. Breathless, he winced in pain. "No," Sid said calmly, putting away her whistle. "My ski poles are in my car. Can you see my car? Where`s my car?" With a great deal of effort, Nick sat up and then stood. He walked over to Sid and studied her with his uninjured eye. She was lying face-up, holding her right arm in a protective fashion on top of her chest. "Dr. Hunter. . ." he began, with a look of concern on his face. Sid recognized Nick and everything fell into place. "That yellow truck! It was so scary . . . " Sid took a second look at Nick, saw the blood covering his face, and realized he had been injured. "Mr. Fallin, how badly are you hurt?" Nick looked at his drooping shoulder. "I think my collarbone is broken. My head hurts like hell, but I'll live." Nick quickly glanced at Sid's injuries. "Your arm, it looks, uh. . ." he stopped talking and redirected his nervous gaze toward her injured leg. Sid interrupted before Nick could continue. "You need to immobilize your shoulder." Despite Nick's protests, she lifted her head and began to pull the muffler from her neck. By following Sid's hand movements and sparse directions, a quick sling was made. As he eased his left arm into it, Nick shivered. He quickly turned up the collar on his overcoat, beginning to regret not being properly dressed. Standing still caused his teeth to chatter; his toes ached from the cold. Sid pointed to a pocket on her tattered blue parka. "There should be an extra ski cap in here, " she said evenly. "Put it on. You're losing heat from your head." Nick gently pulled the South American-style ski cap from her pocket. "My head's been bleeding a little. I'll get blood all over it," he said apologetically. He was wrong. The deep gash along Nick's hairline had bled profusely. His face was covered with blood; a bit of the red substance was still oozing out of the wound. "You've been bleeding a lot, " Sid commented as she looked at the young attorney's blood-covered face. "Don`t worry, just slip it on." Nick flinched as he pulled the primitive hat across his head wound, but it felt good to have his head and ears protected from the cold. He stomped his feet and hugged his body as best he could to get warm again. Sid watched the ill-clad man's attempt to warm himself. "After it stops snowing, it's going to get a lot colder." She paused and then asked in a quiet, off-handed manner, "Does my leg look broken?" Nick looked at her oddly angled appendage. A bloody piece of bone stuck out the side of her jeans below her knee. He nodded, silently confirming Sid's worst fear. Sid closed her eyes. Stay calm. "Well, then, I'm going to need splints," she said. She was studying her arm, squeezing her right wrist with her left hand in an effort to help control the pain and to keep it as still as possible as she spoke. "There's nothing here for a splint," Nick said, glancing around the area. "But I think I found your backpack and a pillow." Nick brought the found items to Sid and described the odds and ends scattered down the ravine. "You might be more comfortable with the pillow under your head." Sid's eyes lit up when she saw the pillow and pack. "No, no. This is good. This is really good." She put the pillow down beside her and began to fumble with the pack, trying to unzip its top pocket. "The pillow's perfect for a leg splint . . . " "That pillow's no good for a splint," he said soothingly, shaking his head. He leaned over and unzipped the backpack's pocket. "Yes, it is, when —" Nick stood and dismissed the injured woman`s suggestion. "No, a pillow won't work, Dr. Hunter, it`s too flimsy." "But —– " "We'll need something rigid. Like a tree branch, or. . ." Nick started slowly walking up and down the ledge hoping to spy something — anything under the snow that would serve as a splint. He stopped for a moment and grimaced, holding his left arm. The pain of his injured collarbone was unrelenting. Nick repositioned the make- shift sling in hopes it might feel better, but a hidden lump was making the whole contraption decidedly uncomfortable. He groped under the sling, determined to find the object causing so much discomfort. He pulled it from his suit coat, and quickly dialed 9-1-1. He continued to re-dial, changing his location on the ledge in hopes of making a connection. Sid fell silent and watched the man walking back and forth with mindful eyes. While Nick fooled with his phone, Sid churned the backpack's contents, blindly feeling for something. She finally pulled a fuzzy green muffler and a water color pad from her pack. Nick walked back to Sid. He could already feel the temperature dropping. "There's not a signal out here, Mr. Fallin." Sid took a deep breath and tried to hand him the pillow. "This is a good splint. Just last year my friend —– " "Dr. Hunter, you're obviously hurt, and that splint thing. . . well, you're just not making any sense right now. I'm trying to get some help so we can get out of here." "I am hurt, " Sid said briskly, "but I am making sense. Yes, we need help. But right now the only help we'll get is from each other. And yes, we'll be rescued . . . tomorrow morning when they scrape the road." Nick was stunned. "Surely help is on the way. Somebody has to know we`re down here!" "Have you heard any vehicles pass by? Be quiet and listen." Nick listened and heard only fat snowflakes hitting Sid's Gore-Tex parka. "Drifting snow, ice on the road, no visibility. Lizard Head Pass must already be closed. It will be dark soon." Nick shrugged. "I haven't heard any cars, but I haven't been listening for them, either." He shifted his sling again. Sid handed Nick the fuzzy muffler. "Put this between your sling and chest. It'll feel more comfortable." Nick followed her directions, artfully arranging the scarf between his arm and his chest. He paused and looked directly at Sid. "Okay. Tell me your idea about the splint." "Do you know how to make a backwoods splint? Have you had any wilderness survival training?" Nick didn't like these kind of questions. He shrugged and shook his head. He felt an overwhelming urge to run from this situation, to escape, to leave this redhead with her broken bones lying on the ledge. But of course, he couldn't. There was no place to run. And Dr. Sidney Hunter and her broken bones needed his help. Nick forced himself to really look at her broken leg. Then he glanced up, his eyes meeting Sid's steady gaze with heightened alarm. Nick's face registered true fear and concern. Nick quickly looked away. "I know it sounds unreasonable, but a pillow really can be used for a splint. A friend of mine used one just last year to splint his broken leg after he fell ice climbing. The doctors at the hospital gave him a big thumbs up for his ingenuity. All you have to do is wrap it tightly above and below the break. Splinting my arm`s easy. Just curl this around it." Sid nodded her head toward the water color pad. It was a dubious plan that held little promise in Nick's opinion. "How will they stay on?" "Oh! I almost forgot. Bind them tight with this." She pulled something silver out of her pack and handed it to Nick. "Duct tape?" Nick asked incredulously. Sid nodded. "A great invention. Sometimes I think the stuff holds the whole world together." Nick held up the large pillow and bent the two long sides toward each other, trying to get a sense of the splint the injured woman was describing. "Okay. Okay. I see what you're talking about." Sid seemed to read his mind. "It's okay. You can do this," she said confidently. "You can. It just needs to be splinted. Honestly, I`ll be fine." The tiny beads of sweat forming on her face were Nick's only clue that Sid was as nervous as he. His face was grim as he contemplated what he was about to do. Nick finally gave the smallest nod of agreement. He tentatively touched Sid's knee. Her whole body tensed, every well-toned muscle straining. The echo of Sid's painful cry resonated throughout the canyon. Mercifully, the young woman fainted soon after he started. Nick carefully constructed the make-shift splints, praying she would remain knocked out long enough to figure out what in the world he was doing. As Nick stood watch over Sid, he stomped his feet in a continued effort to warm them. His mind was racing. He began to pace, first looking up toward the inaccessible highway and then down the snow-covered ravine. Slowly, as his body re-warmed, the spark of a possible solution ignited his imagination. End Part Three The Longest Night Part 4 Night came quickly in the mountains. Rapidly moving clouds danced across the winter sky, playing hide-and-seek with the moon. The heavy snowfall had finally come to an end, only to be replaced by an icy wind, piercing Nick in a way he had not experienced before — not even during the coldest winters in Pittsburgh. The temperature was quickly dropping, and he found himself shivering again. Nick checked on Sid again, hoping that she had awakened — but no. At least she was breathing in a natural rhythm, although her pale, limp body made her look too much like a corpse. Nick turned away from Sid and gingerly walked the few steps to edge of the ledge. He eyed the debris field and the slope leading to his car. His jaw tightened. He crouched and then carefully lowered himself onto the slope, muffling a tortured cry. The young man's body was indignant, insulted that he had started another trek through the snow. he told himself, His body answered unpleasantly: Nick quickly discovered that going down the slope was much more challenging than climbing up. The legendary Rocky Mountain snow was very soft, very light, and extremely slick. He found it difficult to go very far without sliding, his collarbone shrieking an excruciating complaint with every step he took. Although the sling and padding helped, Nick was barely able to contain the ever-present pain. As he made his way down, Nick thought about the mess he was in. God! He shook his head in disbelief. He wanted to be back in Pittsburgh, back at home, away from the Rocky Mountains, away from the pain. His vision blurred as he thought of his Dad. He quickly dismissed these thoughts; they were depressing and counterproductive. Nick took a deep breath and refocused his attention on the problems at hand: finding shelter and getting rescued. ******** A short time later, Nick was back on the ledge. He was exhausted. He sat on the ground next to Sid, sucking the thin air, waiting for his breathing to return to normal. Nick studied the store owner's face. Freckles danced across Sid's nose and cheeks in a nonsensical pattern. Red curls leapt from her hood in helter-skelter spirals. The laugh lines around her eyes and mouth told a lot about her perspective on life. Nick noticed that Sid's hood was no longer tight, inviting snowflakes to hit her face and melt into her curls. When he began to reposition her hood, she stirred. Her green eyes were clouded, but finally cleared enough to focus on Nick's face. "How do you feel?" "I'm fine, just fine," she lied, in a thick, slurry voice. Sid checked out her new splints and nodded in approval. "I've been thinking about what to do. We can't go up." Nick cradled his arm in a futile attempt to stop the throbbing in his shoulder. "Help me sit up?" "Sure, okay." Sid's world began to spin as she came to a sitting position. She grabbed Nick's right shoulder, grateful he was there to keep her grounded in reality. "What is it?" he asked urgently. "What?" Sid paused. "Oh. . . I'm just woozy. Give me a minute, Mr. Fallin." "Nick. I'm Nick." A moment or two later, Sid's head began to clear. Her arm and leg seemed less painful. The splints were definitely helping. Sid willed herself to speak. "I`m Sid. Now, what were you saying?" "We're going to head down the ravine and get out of the weather." "Okay. Where will we go?" Nick's lips curled into a tiny smile. "To your car." A look of absolute surprise crossed Sid's face. "Ethel May?" she asked in a stronger voice. "She's not completely totaled. I –- I saw her. There's room for both of us in the back." For a moment his excited eyes lingered on hers. "I'm taking you for a ride, Sid. We're going down to Ethel May." Sid tried to absorb what Nick Fallin had just said, and then turned her attention to the object beside him. It was her snow tube. ******** Getting two people on a one-person snow tube was challenging, but Nick and Sid were desperate to get out of the cold. Nick pushed the tube to the brink of the ledge. He sat down in the hole in the middle of the thing, his legs comfortably dangling over its fat, black side. He grabbed Sid's outstretched hand. She bent her good leg behind her, the splinted leg sticking out straight and stiff, and balanced on her knee. With a burst of strength, Nick hauled her onto his lap. It was weird. It was awkward. It wasn't really safe. But it was the only way Nick could think of to get Sidney Hunter and himself down the slope. "What do we do?" "Scoot forward and let gravity work." Nick wrapped his arm around Sid's waist, wiggled forward, and sent the tube over the edge. Under different circumstances, the trip down the steepest part of the slope would have been exhilarating. As it was, the ride was hair- raising. They sped downhill quickly, much faster than Nick thought possible. He held onto Sid for dear life, now unsure that this was the right thing to do. The snow tube skimmed effortlessly downhill, swiftly carrying its injured passengers toward the bottom of the ravine. But the rocks on the slope had other plans for the tube. What began as a smooth ride was now a horribly bumpy one; pain skewered Nick's shoulder with every jolt the rocks gave. The tube was slowing down, thanks to the chunks of stone. Nick was secretly relieved. Without the rocks, they would have hurdled down the ravine at breakneck speed. Their ride continued to decrease in speed until it came to a complete stop —- but not where Nick had planned. Ethel May was a bit further down the slope. Nick gently lifted Sid out of his lap, leaving her on the edge of the tube. He knew he would have to pull the tube the rest of the way to the car. Because he had retrieved the snow tube earlier, he was familiar with the hazards of walking down slope. Nick now knew more about how to position his body and stay vertical. He still fought to maintain his balance with every slippery step he took, but this time knew to take it slow. Operating on sheer adrenaline, Nick grappled with the tube's tow rope and began pulling it toward the car. He pressed his lips together to keep from screaming. His body was letting him know: An intense bolt of pain shot through his collarbone and down his arm, spreading through his entire body. Despite his agony, Nick Fallin was determined to get them both to the shelter of Sid's car. With a final burst of energy, he pulled the tube toward the back of the wrecked station wagon. The rear door was bent partially open, its rear window cracked but not shattered. He leaned over the dented bumper and peered into the car. Everything was a-tumble inside, but it seemed that Sid had been well- prepared for winter travel in the Rockies. Blankets, sleeping bags and other camping paraphernalia littered the back of the station wagon. Nick hastily pushed the mess aside, clearing a space for them to sit and helped Sid to the open tailgate. He then spread out a sleeping bag and assisted her into the back of the car. She grimaced as she slowly scooted herself toward the back of the space. While the splints helped immensely, her injuries were still throbbing. If Sid allowed herself to think about it, she'd admit they were really hurting. Even so, she was happy to be out of the wind, grateful to Nick for his quick thinking, and pleased to no end that Ethel May was their shelter for the night. She gingerly situated herself in a sitting position and learned against the back seat. Before Nick could crawl in, Sid threw him a lightweight red windbreaker she had extracted from the mess in the car. "Tie this to the handle," she shouted. Nick wondered why, but didn't bother to ask. It felt awkward tying a good, strong knot while one arm was in a sling. But he was able to use both hands, tightly knotting the hood's string around the handle. The red cloth flapped wildly in the wind, yet the knot was secure and held fast. Nick helped himself into the car and struggled with the bent door. He finally managed to close it. Bone weary, his heart was racing and his lungs were working overtime. The last of his strength had been tapped. We made it. End Part Four The Longest Night Part 5 The wind howled down the ravine without mercy. The red windbreaker, yet another hapless victim of the weather, snapped to attention again and again. Each time it hit the cracked rear window, it seemed to be knocking, begging to come in from the cold. A winded Nick closed his eyes and tried to consciously slow his breathing. It hurt to breathe this hard and the sound of his labored respiration filled the car. His mind reviewed the events of this horrible day. He had worn his corporate uniform because he was in Telluride for negotiations, not to lollygag in the Colorado snow. His hot-headed anger had led him to the San Juan Skyway and a horrible car wreck. He had ignored his injuries to rescue Sid and get the car. Everything was screwed up - as usual. ******** Sid was completely oblivious to Nick's labored breathing. The ride to Ethel May had not been kind to her injuries, either, and she, too, was trying to settle down. She sat motionless, cradling her broken arm, lost in her own frosty, throbbing thoughts. Her mind was reeling: there were things to do. Soon she'd have to locate her first aid kit and her stash of energy bars. Soon she'd have to find the blankets and the extra bottles of water. Soon she'd have to elevate her leg to keep the swelling down - that thought was the worst. But Sid didn't want to think about any of that just yet. She sat still, pushing everything out of her mind, and parked her brain in neutral. She knew they were going to be all right; it was just going to be a long, cold night. She listened to the rapid pounding of her own heart and gave herself quite an enthusiastic pep talk. In a few minutes, Sid plugged her mind back in and began to make a mental list of Ethel May's provisions. Somewhere in the car were most of the things they'd need to survive the night, but the supplies were all jumbled up. The night's ambient light cast such a dim light in the car that it was hard to tell what was what. She blindly ran her good hand across the items closest to her, hoping to recognize something — anything — by feel alone. She tried not to cry out as she twisted her waist to get a better reach, but she wasn't successful. Her body just plain hurt all over. ******** Nick's breathing began to return to normal. He heard Sid's cry and felt her moving about, but he didn't speak. He couldn't; he was too busy listening to his own body. It told him it was hurting, cold, and tired. It told him not to move anymore. But then the young man's body, chilled to the core, had other ideas. He was cold, and getting colder. Nick felt his shoulders shudder involuntarily; an icy wave traveled down his spine. He began to shiver. He pulled his knees to his chest, wrapped his good arm around his legs and tucked his head in an attempt to warm himself. That position didn't help; he was still cold. Very cold. Nick was shivering harder now and his teeth began to chatter. He released his legs and cradled his arm instead. All this quaking was certainly doing a number on his collarbone. There was a lot of pain. He began to rock forward and back, hoping that some sort of movement might provide his body with warmth. Icy tremors rocked his body from the lump on his forehead to his numb toes. He felt badly frozen. It hurt to be this cold. Nick's mind began to slow, to freeze. And with the freeze, his clarity went, too. ******** Sid felt the ill-clad attorney shivering. This stranger who now sat beside her was showing beginning signs of hypothermia. She searched through the mangled gear with new-found urgency. Somewhere, hidden in the mess, were some old wool blankets. She finally touched something recognizable: her battery-operated lantern. She flicked it on and quickly glanced at Nick. "Nick? Nick. Hold on." Nick did not respond. He was too busy shaking. His eyes were squeezed shut and his mouth was twisted into a painful grimace. His body shivered without remorse, taking its revenge the only way it knew how. The car seemed colder than Nick had thought. Seemed? What did he know? He was so skewed, nothing could be taken for what it was. The lantern's soft glow made it easy for Sid to locate a couple of ratty, worn-out blankets. What was hard was reaching for them, pulling them out of the mess, and trying to wrap them around Nick. As Sid fooled with the blankets, she tried to take her mind off her own injuries, especially that throbbing leg. She silently thanked Scott Harding. He had pestered her into taking those winter survival courses and basic wilderness medicine classes long ago. He had pestered her into stocking Ethel May with updated emergency gear just last week. Sid covered Nick's head with the first gray blanket; it cascaded around his shoulders and down his back. He winced as she draped the second blanket around his shoulders, encasing him in the warmth of the tattered wool. Sid spied a tangled sleeping bag just to her right. As she yanked at the twisted bag, her thermos of hot chocolate fell from the jumbled mess. "I can't believe it. I had this in the front seat." After Sid liberated the bag and covered Nick's legs, she fumbled with its cap. She wrestled with it for a while, and finally twisted it off. On the edge of his frozen consciousness, Nick heard Sid whisper calmly, "Drink this, Nick. It`s hot chocolate. Drink as much as you can. You need to get warmed up. Fast." Sid tried to hold the thermos steady while the quaking man sipped the warm, sugary liquid. Nick drank as much as he was able, hot chocolate streaming down his throat, trickling over his cheeks, dribbling down his chin. A great gush of warmth spread inside his body. After a few hefty drinks Nick turned his head away and said, "Enough." The thermos found Sid's lips next; she was grateful for the warmth the cocoa provided. She looked at Nick a little closer. He was still shivering, and what she could see of his face seemed pale, almost waxy. She put the thermos away, located the last of her extra blankets, and arranged it over both of them as best she could. Sid gently eased her left arm around Nick and drew him close. He wordlessly accepted her offer of body heat, clinging to her, desperate to soak up any warmth her body might give. The two huddled and shivered together, waiting for Nick's overriding need for warmth to subside. ******** The shivering gradually stopped and Nick finally settled down. He dozed fitfully, his dreams filled with nightmarish scenes of snow storms, yellow trucks and broken bones. Sid did not sleep. She monitored Nick, paying close attention to his respiration and coloring. From what she could tell, the man was quite handsome and in very good shape. He would recover, although at the moment the reddish curly hair that poked out of the borrowed ski cap seemed almost too healthy in contrast to his pale, blood-covered face. She shifted her body to get a bit more comfortable. Nick followed automatically, pressing himself to the contours of Sid's athletic body. Some time later he stirred. Nick was still hurting, but he felt a bit warmer. He opened his good eye and found himself nestled in the hollow of Sid's shoulder. He drew back, embarrassed, eager to regain his personal space. Nick moaned as he moved away from Sid. Trying to rearrange his body position was agonizing. He took a deep breath and shook his head, eyeing Sid shyly. "Th- thanks," he said quietly. "No. No. Thank you. You got us down here." Sid gave the young man such a long, curious look that it made Nick squirm. "What?" he groaned. "Why are you here, Nick? Why aren't you in your suite at The New Sheridan right now?" Now it was Nick's turn to stare. "You were late," he answered flatly. "I thought you stood me up. I was angry, and I came to find you." Sid was horrified. She looked around the car's interior, thinking about what Nick said. This guy was now hurt, nearly frozen, and stuck in the back of her car at the bottom of a ravine because of her tardiness. "This is dreadful," she said meeting Nick's continued stare. "I'm — I'm so sorry. I was working out a contract problem for a rotating exhibit, and I was running late. Then Ethel May had a flat tire, and then you showed up . . ." "and then the yellow truck, " Nick whispered. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. "Nick, you should of just stayed in Telluride." An awkward silence filled the car. Nick bowed his head, and then glanced back up at Sid. Then he shrugged. "Well, I'm here now." Sid nodded wordlessly. What else was there to say? Nick looked at the pile of camping supplies surrounding them. "You've got a lot of stuff here," he commented. "Well, I do keep Ethel May stocked for travel emergencies, but I don't usually carry around this much." Sid paused, looking at all the equipment shoved to the sides of the car. Then she looked over her shoulder toward the bashed front end. Nick thought she might start to cry. "What is it?" "Ethel May," she said softly, "Ethel May." Sid teared up as she surveyed the damage to her beloved car. She brushed the tears away, sniffling. "I've had Ethel May for seven years. Took me three just to get her restored. To see her like this...it's just so awful. I know she`s totaled. Now I'll have to start all over again with another car." "I'm sorry." Nick nodded, not knowing what else to say. What do you say to someone who is mourning . . .a car? Nick tried to steer the topic back to Sid's equipment. "So. Why do you have all this camping equipment in here?" Sid took a deep breath and wiped more tears away. "Just last week I played hooky." She smiled weakly. "Went cross-country skiing and camping with some friends outside of Pagosa. The next morning, we came back to town and sat in the hot springs. Do you ski?" Nick nodded. "Sure. I hit the slopes when I was a student." "That's good. Do you like to camp? Fish?" Nick looked down and shook his head. "I'm a lawyer." There was another pause in the conversation. Then Nick continued. "You think we'll be rescued in the morning? Does anyone know we're missing?" "Oh, yes, we're official no-shows by now. I had people lined up for you to meet. Dinner. Negotiations. They'll know something's wrong when we don`t show up. I really wanted you to see Yippee-Yi-Yo." "I did see it." "You did?" Sid was surprised. "Did you tell anyone there who you were?" "No, I was incognito . . . just another customer." "How did you like it?" "It was great. Very nice. Now I know why Larry Barton was so adamant." Sid nodded. "That's my baby, my first store," Sid said. She smiled proudly, reflecting pride of ownership, pride of a job well done. "The other three stores are cool — don't get me wrong — but there nothing like my first. I love it. You know, I live there during ski season." "Why?" Nick shifted to yet another uncomfortable position. What she said was troubling. "Why would you do that? Why don't you just go home? You do have a home, don`t you?" "Of course I do, I`m not homeless!" It hurt when Sid laughed, but she couldn't help it. Her deep, rich laugh was infectious; Nick chuckled, too, laughing through his own pain. "I have a fabulous home just off Colorado Avenue. A nice Victorian number that I had renovated a couple of years ago. I rent it out during ski season and sleep in the back of the store or stay in my cabin down in Delores. That extra rent money has gotten me through lean times." "Lean times?" "Yeah, like a couple of years ago . . .no snow. When there's no snow, there's not a lot of income generated in Telluride. So I like to make the bucks when I can. And that's during a good ski season. Living in the back of the store isn't bad. When I need a real bed and a real bath, I just overnight in Delores. After all, I do have to work at the Heritage Center, too." Nick was incredulous but impressed. He changed his line of questioning. "If you love your stores so much, why do you want to sell?" Nick found himself curious, and not just because Larry Barton was his client. This woman was interesting. "Well, I'm not sure that I do, Nick." Sid grinned. "Remember, I said I'd sell for the right offer." Nick considered Sid's statement. "Perhaps I could include a new car as part of Larry's offer. Maybe that would spur you to sell?" "A new car? Why would I need a new car?" Sid asked innocently as she looked at the interior of her totaled car. She winced and laughed again. Nick smiled too, and realized that her fabulous laugh came very easily. "I think I can afford a new car, Mr. Fallin, without selling my company." "Well, that may be true, but Larry Barton is very serious about acquiring your stores. I'm sure he'd throw in the new car of your choice," Nick said smoothly. He had mentally switched gears. He was now being a professional. Representing his client. Doing business. Nick was trying to make Larry Barton's deal. Sid recognized the change in Nick's voice and recognized the sounds of a lawyer working. She snuggled under the dingy blanket and eyed Nick suspiciously. "Uh – are we negotiating now?" "No, no, not really. Just an idea." Sid waited. "If I do sell, Larry must keep Scott and Nancy Harding at the company for at least three years. They've worked far too hard to be kicked out." That was a reasonable request. Larry would need people in the know to keep these specialty stores running. Nick nodded. "All right. Done. Who buys all the merchandise for the stores — Scott?" "No, I do." "Who plans the displays?" "Oh, just me." "For all four stores?" Nick was surprised, but kept his feelings well hidden. "Yes, I visit each store at least once a quarter, sometimes more. It just depends." Nick did not reply right away. The charm of the chain was the merchandise and how it was displayed. < I wonder if Larry knew that Sid was the sole buyer. > He carefully thought through what he would say next. "Sid, would you consider selling your company to Larry and then going to work for Three Rivers? You would be President of the Triple Y Division. You could still order all the merchandise and design the displays without having to bother with the problems of sole ownership." Nick relished pushing and prodding until he won. Sid thought for a second or two and then shook her head. "No, that would be too frustrating." Nick watched as Sid shivered and drew her single blanket closer. He didn't respond. That would have to be the end of negotiations for now, or at least until he could think about this new development. End Part 5 The Longest Night Part 6 Sid pulled the blanket over her nose and closed her eyes. She was cold, tired, hurting, and now feeling stuck. Very stuck. Stuck with a shark who wanted to negotiate under these horrible circumstances. Nick was quiet, deep in thought. Lightly stroking the tender lump on his forehead with his gloved fingers, he decided to work out a solution to the monkey wrench Sid had just thrown into the Larry Barton deal. But it was hard to concentrate. His mind wandered. Looking at his watch was automatic for Nick Fallin. So automatic that he'd tried to lift his arm, twist his wrist, and check the time over and over since the wreck. But he would not be checking his watch this evening. It hurt to move that arm. Besides, it was now in a sling, buried under blankets, a sleeping bag, an overcoat, a suit coat and a shirt. It certainly felt odd to be denied the time of day. . .or night. It also felt odd to wait. Nick was not used to that. These days he spent his life in a stressful rush. These days he just felt screwed. He'd gotten caught and then sentenced by the justice system. With all those community service hours he had to fulfill, his life was now spent eternally on the run. And being a partner at Fallin and Fallin added a great deal of stress. But what was worst was sitting still. Doing nothing. Nick did not like waiting. Waiting minded him of the long evenings spent alone with his mother. Waiting for his father to come home. Waiting for the doctors to visit. Waiting for his mother to feel better. Waiting at the boarding school for his dad to pick him up and being the last kid left. No, Nick did not like waiting. To take his mind off waiting, his thoughts returned to the Larry Barton deal. Negotiation ideas went round and round in his head, but his solutions always came back to Sid's answer: "No, that would be too frustrating." Her answer frustrated him, but he was determined it would not be her final one. Now he was totally focused on finding a winning solution for his client. Some time later, his concentration was interrupted when a shivering Sid held up the lantern. "It's gotten colder," she chattered. Nick hadn't noticed. He had been too preoccupied with Larry`s deal. Sid looked around the car's interior, trying to make sense of the jumble of equipment, but the night, combined with the dark interior, made everything hard to identify. The lantern's low light threw odd shadows into the corners of the car. Nick didn't mention Larry Barton or the sale of Yippee-Yi-Yo, much to Sid's relief. "Are you looking for something in particular?" He noticed his breath made an icy cloud. "No, not really, but it would be nice to find my first aid kit. I could take care of that cut on your forehead." Placing the lamp between them, Sid cradled her arm broken protectively and shivered again. Then, she saw something on the other side of Nick's leg that caught her attention. "Nick, can you reach that red plaid picnic bag?" Nick spied the zippered bag. It didn't cause that much pain in his shoulder to pull it free. The two worked together to unzip it, one holding the bag still while the other unzipped, and ultimately they succeeded. "Candy bars, high energy drinks and water," Nick commented unenthusiastically as he looked into the bag. He was hoping for something more, like a GPS transponder. Sid picked up a candy bar and handed it to Nick. "Eat." He looked at Sid warily, shook his head. "No thanks." Nick wasn't really hungry. He drew his blankets closer, ignoring the candy bar she offered. "You've used a ton of energy today, Nick. Going up and down the ravine, pulling the snow tube, shivering. . . even breathing cold air's contributed to your heat loss. You have to eat and rehydrate now. Believe me, I won't take no for an answer." She was insistent, her breath producing frosty clouds. Sid tore the wrapper off the candy bar with her teeth, spit the paper out, and crunched on the chocolate-covered peanut bar with gusto. Then she handed it to Nick. He was reluctant, but this time Nick took it. She really did sound like an expert, and that chocolate smelled good. Before he could take the first sip of his sugary energy drink, Sid held up her bottle for a toast. "To you, Nick," she said, making eye contact. "Cheers." "And to you," Nick responded with an small, uncomfortable smile. "Cheers." They clinked bottles. Nick wondered how Sid knew so much about cold weather preparedness. "Did you take a survival course or something?" He shifted again. His collarbone let him know not to do that. "Oh, yes, several. One lasted for four long days." She took a long swig from the bottle. "It was necessary, driving up and down the mountains as much as I do. It's part of my job, just like knowing what to do in a courtroom is your job." Nick nodded. A person would have to be familiar with survival skills to live here. He'd driven a very small portion of the winding, mountainous San Juan Skyway and had felt the need to return to Telluride because of the foul weather. He tried to imagine making the trip over and over, ignoring the weather for the sake of a job. . .or two. Sid's sense of humor prevailed. "We're in Mother Nature's courtroom right now, and I think she's going to give us time off for good behavior." Nick held his arm close to his body, wincing as he chuckled. "Are we behaving "good" right now?" He finished off his candy bar and was now working on his energy drink. "We're safe and out of the wind, thanks to you. We've got food and water. We've defrosted fairly well. We'll be found in the morning. Life is good." They fell silent, grateful for what they had. ******** Time passed. Nick dozed. It was still dark outside when he awakened. Nick tried to look at his watch again. He was feeling better. The candy and sugared drinks had replenished his spent energy. Nick's mind felt clearer, but he could not escape the cold. The temperature in the car was continuing to drop. Nick glanced at Sid. She was fumbling with the strings on a nylon stuff sack that held a tent. "What are you doing now?" Nick asked, moaning as he shifted positions for the umpteenth time. Sid did not answer right away. Just a little while ago she had felt in control and confident. But right now she was feeling kind of fragile. She shivered and slipped her hand back under her blanket. "I'm really, really cold, Nick," she finally said in a shaky voice, "and my leg is really hurting." Her lower lip trembled slightly and her pain-rimmed eyes began to fill with tears. Nick was surprised to now see Sid so vulnerable, her raw emotions bubbling so easily to the surface. He looked away, feeling uncomfortable, wishing that he'd said nothing. Sid wiped away her stinging tears, and sternly told herself to calm down and get back in control. "Sorry. Don't mind me." Then she spoke quickly, her voice quivering in frustration and pain. "It's just that my leg hurts, and I'm not left-handed, and my mitten is split, and my fingers are so cold that I just can't seem to open this." She caught a ragged breath. "We can use the tent as an extra blanket." Nick thought her idea might be a good one. "Okay. . . " While he did not know how to console this tearful woman, Nick did know what to do about her need for warmth. Sid watched as he pulled off the blankets that she had wrapped around his body earlier in the evening. As he moved to spread them over Sid and himself, the pain in his collarbone reasserted itself. He grimaced, convinced that this torment would never end. Sid furrowed her brows and shook her head. "No, no, Nick, you need them." "It's alright," he said lightly, dismissing her objection. Next the two set about to open the stuff sack. They removed the tent and then spread it out on top of the stack of blankets. Sid's idea was a good one. The tent seemed to insulate the warmth of the blankets and keep the cold at bay. They huddled together, the blankets and tent covering all but their faces. "Tell me about yourself, Nick." There was no response, just a sigh and a shrug. "Tell me about Pittsburgh?" Nick wasn't sure if Sid's voice was shaking because she was freezing or because she was still a bit tearful. He shook his head. "Nothing much to tell. I work with my father. He's a great lawyer. I'm busy. Very busy. I work. I just. . .work." Nick wasn't about to reveal anything personal. He wasn't about to tell her what his fractured life was really like. Sid digested his response. "A workaholic, huh?" she commented with a calmer voice. She took a deep breath of cold air. "I guess some folks would say I am, too. But I do take time to have fun." "Like snowtubing." Nick smiled to himself. He knew all he ever wanted or needed to know about snowtubing. "And cross-country skiing. That's something I probably won't do again for a long, long time." She glanced down at the lump under the covers that was her broken leg and then looked at Nick, weary-eyed. Her body continued to tremble. "You run a very successful business, Sid. Think about that. And what about your ground-breaking work at the Heritage Center? I read that your interactive displays have received recognition from major museums across the country." Nick was astounded that as hurt and as cold as he was, he could recall such inane trivia, although it was something that held growing interest for him. Sid just nodded her head. There was nothing else to say. She was cold and tired. Her leg hurt. She didn't want to talk anymore. It took too much energy. She just wanted to go to sleep. Sid shivered again. Nick knew she was cold, because he was, too. Their eyes met briefly. He looked away and turned off the lantern; the batteries were just about spent. Nick wrapped his arm around Sid's shoulder, gently pulled her upper body to his and held her protectively. No more words were spoken; none were needed. Nick absent-mindedly caressed Sid's shoulder with his gloved hand. He felt her gradually relax. Her breathing finally slowed to the rhythm of sleep. He thought about how gracefully Sid had held herself together. Even her tears were a natural response to this very unnatural situation. She was certainly strong, but there was something vulnerable about Sid, too. Nick realized she was not a woman easily categorized. Nick found himself wanting to know more about her; her interests were so different from his own. He found himself wanting to spend more time with Dr. Sidney Hunter. He continued to hold her, slowly stroking her shoulder. It felt right. Really, really right. End Part 6 The Longest Night Part 7 The overnight temperature in the car continued its downward spiral. Some time later Nick pulled the covers over their heads. The blankets, topped by the tent, now enclosed the entirety of their bodies. Huddled with their heads close together, the warmth of their exhaled breath was captured in this improvised cocoon. Their combined exhalations were warmer than the air in the car and brought welcomed relief to their painfully cold faces. As he took in the minute warmth their breaths provided, Nick's irritation with waiting gradually faded. It didn't really matter what time it was. Eventually the sun would rise. Eventually they'd be rescued. Eventually. It was perpetually night under the covers. The dark blended into a kind of haze in which Nick's memories of Pittsburgh dimmed, replaced by this new life in the back of a frozen car in Colorado. Though the pain in his shoulder was inescapable, after a time Nick realized he was not uncomfortable. All sense of time faded away. Exhaustion overcame him. He slept. ******** The new day was a long time coming. Jimmy Holmes, head of DOT road maintenance alerted the crew before sun up to be on the lookout for Ethel May and Sid. They all nodded, having already heard about the missing store owner through the small town grapevine. Anxious to help, each man promised to keep his eyes peeled. At first light, the scrapers and sanding crew had already made their way up the first steep curve that wound into the mountains. Randy Jenkins sat in the driver's seat of the scraper, amazed at the mess the storm had made on the highway. He had wanted to get back to Telluride in time to advantage of the new snowfall and hit the slopes. Now he wasn't so sure he'd make it back in time. He'd been on the lookout for Ethel May, hoping to find Sid and the old station wagon stranded by the side of the road. So far, nothing. At the next hairpin curve Jim surveyed the rock-covered ravine. Nothing but snow. As he passed a small unguarded pullout, Jim looked down slope again. He saw something red flash out of the corner of his eye. < A cardinal?> He stopped the scraper and pulled out his binoculars, just to double check. Through the lenses, he saw the flash of red again. It was a red windbreaker flapping, its color a recognized signal for help. It was tied to the back end of a familiar aqua station wagon half buried in snow. ******** Voices woke Nick with a start. "Anybody in there? Sid, are you in there?" "Yes," Nick cried loudly, "we're in here!" He slipped the blankets off their heads, forcing the two to shield their eyes from the morning's bright light. Their breaths made icy clouds in the car's interior. They could hear people hustling to shovel snow away from Ethel May's rear door. "Hey, sounds like we found our other missing person." Squinting, Nick and Sid shook the cobwebs out of their minds and sat up a little straighter. They both realized they had lived through the longest night of their lives. Sid looked at Nick's weary face. His cheeks were raw and wind- burned. He was sporting a doozy of a shiner and his forehead was a massive lump of purple. Pale and bleary eyed, he looked tired, spent, and in need of a good shave. "We made it, " she said softly. "We're going to be okay." Nick nodded wordlessly, his eyes meeting Sid`s. The rescuers began to pry open the door, the door to warmth and freedom from pain. "You should be very proud of yourself, Nick. You've got excellent survival instincts. You're my hero." Nick looked away and bowed his head. "No. . .no. . .I didn't do anything. You...you knew exactly what to do, not me." "I couldn't have gotten to Ethel May without you. I was stuck up there on that ledge." Sid pushed the hood from her head; a tumble of red curls fell around her freckled face. "It's been a very memorable romp, Nick," she giggled, wincing with the pain that seemed now to always accompany her sense of humor. The music of that small laugh was a delight, one that Nick would never forget. He shook his head. It was hard to believe that after all they'd been through, Sid could be this upbeat. "A memorable romp?" he repeated. He caught Sid's eye and smiled a delicious, crooked grin. The rescue team finally got the door off Ethel May and quickly began to assess and stabilize their patients. Nick was glad this ordeal was over. He was looking forward to getting warm. Looking forward to having his collarbone fixed. Looking forward to sleeping in a real bed. Looking forward to returning to Telluride. He smiled to himself. Continued in Suzanne Moore's Story "The Need To Know"