High Hopes

High Hopes Chapter 7

Chapter Seven​

Monday morning dawned all too early, all too brightly and all too cold.
Sam was roused roughly by his bunkmate, Ritchie, who informed him rather too enthusiastically that it was time for breakfast, and that Hank was expecting them to be ready for practice in an hour.

Sam rose reluctantly. He hadn?t slept well, and the morning had rolled round all too soon. He stretched, trying to ease the kinks in his back.
?How?s the wrist?? Ritchie nodded toward Sam?s still bandaged hand, making him remember the previous day?s ruse, and his reason for perpetrating it. Practice in an hour was an alarming prospect.
?Uh, a bit sore.? Sam replied, shrugging with mock stoicism.

Having skipped dinner the previous night, it was the rumbling in his stomach that finally provided the impetus to get him going, dragging himself to the bathroom for his morning ablutions.

While the rest of the group chatted excitedly about the possibility of a full day on the slopes, and bustled around getting themselves ready, and made comments on the relative merits of the pretty girls they had met from other teams, Sam concentrated on making hard work of getting dressed, exaggerating his ?disability? whilst trying to look like he was putting a brave face on a painful injury.

His act was very convincing. As with Hank, he had to decline the offer of assistance in changing, assuring his friends that though it may take him a little longer than usual, he hadn?t needed help dressing himself since he was two years old, and wasn?t about to start being babied again now.
?You sure, pal?? a boy whom Sam had learned was called Tommy asked him jovially, clapping him heartily on the back, ?I can go and get Becky-Lou for you if you?d like. Maybe she?d have fun dressing up her ?dreamboat?!?

This comment, made in a suitably mocking tone - with exaggerated fluttering of eyelids - elicited hoots of laughter from B-J?s buddies. Sam colored, then threw his pillow one handed at his tormentor, and exhorted the group to ?get outa here and give a guy some room to move!? laughing with them in the spirit in which the tease had been intended.
Thankfully, they obliged, leaving Sam to finish dressing, and to confer with a recently arrived Observer, to whit one Admiral Albert Calavicci.
?How?s Becky?? demanded the Leaper curtly, as soon as he was free to speak openly.
 
High Hopes Chapter 7 cont

Concern for her well-being had been a contributing factor to his restless night. After Al had left, and he had answered countless questions from his team-mates, whom Tammy had rounded up into a posse, Sam had finally sunk exhausted into his bed and lay there reviewing the day?s events. At first relieved that he had successfully saved the young girl?s life; Sam suddenly realized that according to Al?s foretelling of the original history, her life had not been in danger before his altercation with her. Though he had acted in good faith, and could not possibly have predicted how Becky-Lou was going to over-react to his little tumble and his attempt at reassurance, he still felt bad for having put her life in danger. Had she died, he would never have forgiven himself.

?Relax, Sam, she?s fine.? Al reassured him, not needing to be told that Sam?s worry and guilty conscience had kept him awake. He could read it in the lines round the leaper?s tired eyes.
Sam looked at his partner, searching his face for any sign of deception or false reassurance; his expression asking ?you?re sure??
?Zig says to make sure she isn?t late for breakfast, but other than that, her physical prognosis is excellent, pal. Honest.?
Sam?s shoulders visibly shed their tension.
?That just leaves how to get her skiing again, when I haven?t a clue how to ski myself!? Mused the time-traveler as he gathered his things and set off to escort Becky-Lou to breakfast.
?I?ll see if B-J has any ideas on that score for you, pal.? Al promised as he disappeared.

Becky-Lou greeted Sam warmly, or rather exuberantly. She had obviously slept a whole lot better than he had, and was bright eyed and bushy tailed as she bounded out to hug him tight.
?Oh, Bobby-Joe, isn?t it a beautiful morning?? she enthused.
?All the more beautiful now I see your smiling face!? He responded, partly saying what he felt his host would say, partly expressing his relief that she seemed none the worse for her close call.

She flushed slightly at the compliment, and looked up at him shyly. The way she looked at him told Sam that despite the warmth of her greeting, something from yesterday still hung between them. Though she seemed to have restored him to hero status last night, their relationship was not quite back on track.
Sam wasn?t sure what she expected from him. B-J obviously knew her moods and her quirks far better than he could hope to. She had a tendency to over-react; he?d seen that up close and personal, so he would have to make sure he trod carefully and watched what he said.

He hated having to tread on eggshells so as not to make things worse, and he decided to try something that may help him to negotiate the twists and turns of their path to true love.
?Listen, Becky, I feel really bad about last night,? he was telling the truth thus far,
?and I gotta say that of my favorite things to do, arguing with you comes about 574th on my list.?
 
High Hopes Chapter 7 cont

Becky-Lou laughed at him for that, as he hoped she would, even as he wondered privately if he could be sued for breach of copyright, or plagiarism, or whatever, when he was quoting Vila some 20 years or more before Michael Keating spoke the line in the Blake?s 7 episode ?City at the Edge of the World?. Come to think of it, he could use his unique position to start a few law suits of his own, if only he weren?t too honorable, and quite frankly too busy, to pursue the matter. The idea would probably amuse Al, though, and Sam resolved to tease him about it at the next opportune moment.

?Don?t let?s ever fight like that again.? Becky suggested, and Sam hoped they wouldn?t.
?A fresh start.? He agreed, which was precisely where he had been leading. Sam gave her his most disarming smile. ?Tell you what, let?s play a little game.?
?Oooh, I love games,? she grinned back at him, playing right into his strategy.
?Let?s pretend we?ve only just met,? backing up a little, he turned to face her square on, and held out his hand, ?Hello, my name is Robert Joseph Parnell, pleased to meet you???
?Rebecca-Louise,? she supplied, taking his hand and shaking it warmly, her bunches bobbing as she tossed her head with glee, ?Carter; but you can call me Becky-Lou.?
?And my friends all call me B-J,? Sam retorted, ?I hope I shall soon be able to count you one of them!?
Becky gave him a playful punch on the arm, ?Count on it, B-J!? she giggled, and stood on tiptoe to give him a swift peck on the cheek.
?Now, steady on, young lady!? Sam protested, ?We?ve only just met, I hardly know you! What will people say??
?Oh, B-J! You are funny!? Becky-Lou gave him another little punch, and Sam hoped it wouldn?t become a habit. He seemed to remember another leap into a teenager where people kept doing that to him, and it had soon become a sore point, in more than one sense of the phrase.

Sam crooked his elbow, and inclined his head to suggest that she should take his arm, ?Might I accompany you to breakfast, so that I may get to know you better over a pleasant meal?? He kept his demeanor very formal and upright.
She slipped her arm in his, and looked up at him:
?Certainly, kind sir,? she smiled, her eyes twinkling as they headed off down the corridor.

Sam smiled a trifle smugly. Now, if he put his foot in it and said the wrong thing, he had the perfect get out clause ? I?m so sorry, I didn?t realize, we?ve only known each other a few? minutes, hours, whatever. It was a good ruse to cover the gaps in his knowledge when he supplanted another in their lives. He hoped he could remember to use it again if the situation permitted, but suspected that once he leaped, his Swiss cheese memory would rob him of the advantage.
For the moment, though, it was working like a charm, and Becky-Lou was putty in his hands, telling him lots of trivial things that could well prove invaluable.
 
High Hopes Chapter 7 cont

Breakfast was nearly over when things started getting hairy again.
The rest of the Beersheba Springs group had chatted at their separate table just as carefree as before, and now got up; exhorting the pair in passing to get their tails on up to the practice slopes before Hank had THEM for breakfast.
Sam held up his bandaged hand, and said that he didn?t think it?d stand the strain of wielding a ski pole, but he rose to accompany his ?new friend? to her practice, saying that he looked forward to watching Becky-Lou, as he?d heard she was rather good.

For an anxious moment, Sam thought she was about to go for an encore and rush off in a fit of histrionics. Her whole expression darkened, and she glared daggers at him.
Taking a deep breath, and praying he didn?t make matters worse, he took her lightly by the hand and enquired of her gently what was wrong.
Something in his tone must have calmed her, for she took a deep breath, and told him that nothing was the matter, she simply didn?t feel up to the exertion either, following her malady of the previous evening.
Sam relented, seeing the partial truth of her excuse.
He knew that there had to be more to it, though, for Al had told him she hung up her skis in the original history, and that time round there had been no hypoglycemia in the equation.
However, he decided this was neither the time nor the place to challenge her on the matter. He still had a lot more trust winning to do before he could safely broach that subject.

Sam just hoped that Hank would be as understanding of her ?playing hooky?, and when he said words to that very effect; Becky-Lou looked worried, and then prevailed upon her B-J to somehow get her off the hook.
?B-J? had been very convincing with the Coach, and Hank had agreed that the young man should see to it that Becky-Lou took it easy today, so that she was properly rested and ready for action the next day.
She had looked sour at that, but quickly banished the expression from her face ? she would worry about tomorrow when it came.

And so Sam and Becky-Lou spent a pleasant day ?getting to know each other?, going for walks in the pine groves, wandering through the Lodges, sitting in the sunshine or by the fireside, chatting amicably, laughing and generally behaving like a couple of teenagers enjoying each other?s company.

Sam found that when she wasn?t being a drama queen, Becky-Lou was smart and witty and remarkably fun to be with. He could tell that she and B-J were a perfect match for each other, and would make a lovely couple. He was her anchor, and kept her from letting her emotions run riot. She helped him make sure he retained his inner child. There was the distinct possibility of a happy ever after here ? if only he could get her to open up and face whatever it was that was making her throw away her career.

Al popped in mid-afternoon, looking strained. He confirmed Sam?s hunch that B-J had married Becky-Lou in the original history, and that he had helped her weather the storms of her regrets and disappointments, but that both had felt the cloud of her unfulfilled dreams hanging over them as they muddled their way through a humdrum life.

Sam determined that he would find some way to make sure Becky-Lou reached her true potential. As yet, he had no clue as to how he might achieve this goal, and any attempt or hint to try and get Becky onto the subject met with a distinct chilling of the atmosphere between them. Little did he know that the atmosphere would get a whole lot frostier before things could finally be resolved.
 
High Hopes Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Project Quantum Leap Headquar
[/b]

Relieved that Becky-Lou was safe thanks to Sam?s quick thinking and medical knowledge, Al had returned to base nonetheless still rattled by thoughts of Maggie Dawson. He glowered at Gushie as he returned his hand-link to its recharging station, but Gushie seemed even more preoccupied than usual and didn?t notice.

Al ignored Tina?s cheery greeting as if he hadn?t heard it, which in truth he hadn?t. He was too lost in his own maudlin thoughts.
Automatic footsteps carried him mechanically back to his quarters.
Routine rummaging produced his card-key and gained him admittance.
Habitual fingers triggered his answer-phone, which droned banalities heedlessly into the ether, until a message, stark in its shocking solemnity, penetrated his moping mind, and further sank his spirits.

~~~***~~~​

?Yes, this is Albert Calavicci, returning your call.? Al sighed. The number that had been left on his machine had been drilling the ?busy? tone into his brain for the past hour and more.
Finally, he had a connection.
The official on the other end sought to confirm some details with him.
?Yes, that?s right, though not for some years??
?You are still listed as the next of kin, sir.? He was informed.
?I am?? He wasn?t sure why he was so surprised at that, but it saddened him that she hadn?t found anyone else close enough to fulfill that role.
?I?m surprised she even has a contact number for me.? Al was more or less thinking aloud.
?Really?? eyebrows arched, Al wasn?t sure whether to be annoyed or impressed. ?You tracked me down through our respective divorce attorneys, huh? How very resourceful!?
The voice at the other end continued to interrogate.
?No, no I haven?t. I don?t have a lot of time for luxuries like watching television.?
Then came the crux of the matter.
?Oh, I see. Of course.? He found himself nodding as he was brought up to speed. Then he found himself pacing. The familiar, subconscious, four-step pace that surfaced whenever the Admiral felt stressed.
?Can you tell me how she is??
Al?s frown deepened, and a look of great sorrow crossed his face as he listened to the particulars of her condition.
After a time, he requested: ?Please keep me informed of any change, either way??
?What was that??
The other party repeated their query.
?No, I?m afraid that won?t be possible at this time.?
They remonstrated with him.
?I appreciate that, but I?m afraid there?s no way I can get away from here at the moment. I?m sorry.?
A further attempt was made to persuade him to change his mind.
?I know all that, and I am concerned, believe me?? He stopped pacing, and rubbed his forehead.
?It?s out of the question, completely. But please, keep me informed.?
One last thing was asked of him.
?Uh, yes. Yes, of course?? he paused, while he considered how best to phrase the specifics, ?um, tell her?? he drew in a deep breath, ?tell her?ah?? he began pacing again, his mind in a whirl. ?If, that is uh when?when she wakes up, tell her?? he shrugged his shoulders in defeat, ?Just uh, just tell her I?m thinking of her, and I wish her well.?

When the line went dead, Al stared at the receiver for a long time, before placing it carefully back in its cradle. Then he sank down in his huge leather armchair, and buried his head in his hands, staring mournfully and unseeing at a tiny scorched patch in the carpet at his feet, where he had dropped a lighted cigar a few days before.

&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp
~~~***~~~​
&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp
 
High Hopes Chapter 8 cont

How long he remained that way, he couldn?t have guessed, but when Ziggy informed him that Dr Beeks wanted to talk to him about their visitor, he arose stiffly, and rubbed at an aching back. No amount of massage could ease the ache that had settled in his heart, however.

Going through the motions, Al consulted with Verbena, and interviewed young B-J again. He seemed to be adapting well to his incarceration, and bore his reluctant jailors no ill will. He repeatedly showed concern for Becky-Lou, though, and kept asking when he could see her. Both the Admiral and the Psychiatrist re-assured him that they would be reunited at the earliest possible moment.
Hearing the teenager speak of his love for Becky, a pang of regret stabbed at Al?s heart, but he buried it deep, and went about his business, ever the professional.

Verbena looked at him closely, sensing something personal was troubling her boss, but that he was in no mood to open up about it. She made herself a mental note to keep an eye on him, and to be on hand in the unlikely event he should decide he needed her sympathetic ear.
Though he had nothing momentous to report, and Ziggy assured him that Sam was managing the leap quite well, Al dropped into the Imaging Chamber, where he was able to reassure Sam once more that BJ would stand by Becky-Lou no matter what, and all scenarios pointed to their having a long and loving marriage, though to what degree of happiness was relative, and conditional on Sam?s successful completion of the Leap. Al tried to appear as though nothing was wrong, but he could tell by Sam?s expression that the leaper saw through his fa?ade. If challenged, he?d make up some technical mumbo jumbo to explain his stress, but lucky Becky-Lou?s presence meant Sam could listen, but wasn?t free to cross examine.
Seeing Becky?s doe-eyed adoration of her dreamboat was more than Al could stomach, and before long he?d made his excuses and left, retreating once more to the solitude of his private B.O.Q.

~~~***~~~​
 
High Hopes Chapter 8 cont

In the Project canteen, Rusty?s TV had become the focal point for all off-duty personnel. Reports continued to trickle in from City Place Station, and the viewers here, along with the nation at large, still cheered each new emerging survivor, and said silent prayers for those cocooned in body bags, taking their final journey.

A few workers were just now learning of the tragedy, having recently come away from busy shifts at their workstations or wherever, and wandered along to the canteen in the hopes of unwinding. Soon, they too became engrossed in the awful events as they unfolded, picking up the full extent of the disaster from the reruns of earlier footage, which played over and over, with commentary from experts in this and that, while the reporters, like every one else, waited for something else to happen. Debates both on and off the screen covered every aspect of the situation ? political, social, humanitarian, moral, religious ? you name it; they raised it. Nothing else was on any agenda. Neither work or relationships or the weather or whatever in the canteen; nor the latest outrageous behavior of some footballer or movie star on the screen. Other world news normally reported at length and in depth, was relegated to a tickertape bar across the bottom of the screen, and a redirection to the text pages for further details, should anyone care enough to divert their attention.

One employee at Project Quantum Leap had seen far more than he cared to of the carnage. He avoided the canteen, returning from his shift to his lonely quarters, where, mirroring Al?s actions, he spent the next couple of hours on the telephone.

Again like Al, a good part of that time was spent getting ?busy line?.
His first call was to his cousin?s house, where eventually he raised his aunt.
She confirmed his worst suspicions, that Miriam had indeed been one of the helpers of the group mentioned on the news. The line had been tied up as Aunt Muriel had been trying to get information from the authorities as to whether or not her daughter had been accounted for. So far, nothing definite was forthcoming, other than the confirmation that Miriam had booked her ticket for that journey.
He talked with his aunt for a while, not daring to give her the longed for reassurance that Miriam would soon be home safe and sound, since it would be too rash to assume that to be the case. Nevertheless, he offered his sympathy and support, and promised to use whatever professional contacts he may have to cut through the red tape and get the answers they sought.
?Ziggy?? He cleared his throat nervously.
?There is no need to ask, Gushie.? Ziggy?s vocal settings were currently in the female range, and ?she? sounded almost caring. ?I have been monitoring your communications, and I am already interfacing with the computers in all the Dallas hospitals, as well as those of the rescue services. As soon as your Cousin Miriam?s identity is confirmed as one of those to have been brought out of the disaster area, whether dead or alive, I will know it, and shall inform you instantly. Naturally, it would be preferable if I could report the latter to be the case.?
?Amen to that,? responded Gushie, ?Amen to that, indeed.?

While he awaited the promised bulletin from Ziggy, Gushie made several more calls to relatives whom he knew would be sharing his concerns. It sometimes took something of this magnitude to remind one how much you took family for granted. It was good to talk with some of them again, to catch up with people he?d not spoken to in months, maybe even years. Yet the conversations were strained, marred by the uncertainty of Miriam?s fate.

Sometime later, Gushie stretched out wearily on his couch. Too drained both emotionally and physically to bother to take himself off to bed, he soon drifted into an uneasy slumber.
 
High Hopes Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Monday evening

Sam and Becky-Lou rounded off their ?getting to know you Monday? with supper in the canteen in the company of their team-mates, who obligingly joined in B-J?s crazy game and treated him like a complete stranger that needed to become acquainted with them all over again. They were used to his practical jokes and way out ways, and found this every bit as amusing as the time last year when he?d pretended he was a foreign exchange student who couldn?t understand a word of English.

After the meal, which Sam made sure Becky tucked into heartily, they all adjourned to one of the social areas: a huge bar room with open fire, thick pile carpet on the floor and oak beams on the ceiling, lots of easy chairs and a warm friendly atmosphere.

Becky-Lou fetched her Appalachian dulcimer, and B-J?s guitar. Ritchie had a guitar of his own. One or two members of other ski teams had instruments too.
Before long, by mutual unspoken consent, a sizeable group had gathered around the fireplace, and began a spontaneous jamming session.

First to emerge were some classic ballads from the thirties and forties, to which most of the room joined in ? crooning the familiar lyrics their parents had raised them on. Songs like ?Smoke gets in your eyes? brought smiles all round as the log-fire crackled and blazed in their midst. ?Thanks for the memory? had them all nostalgic about the experience of being at the try-outs, while, ?The way you look tonight? had the desired effect of getting the girls snuggling up to their boyfriends.
Most of the girls did indeed look stunningly attractive, in the simple, innocent way girls did in those days. Soft baby pink, lemon, mint green and sky blue, peach and lavender ? delicate pastel shades that wouldn?t look out of place in a nursery - adorned their willowy frames. Sweaters buttoned over thin white figure hugging tops, or were tied over the shoulders by the sleeves like something from the chorus line of Grease, while matching colored knee-length circular skirts with yards of net petticoats emphasized their femininity.
Bobby socks and sneakers adorned their shapely ankles, and pony tails and bunches tied up with flimsy chiffon scarves bobbed rhythmically as the girls moved their heads in time to the music.

Some wag from another team had them in stitches when he and his girlfriend insisted on serenading them with the supremely appropriate ?Baby, its cold outside?,
 
High Hopes Chapter 9 cont

Sam was surprised at how many of the lyrics he knew, since the songs were mostly ?before his time?, and even more amazed at how many he seemed to remember despite his Swiss-cheesed memory. Though his right wrist was still bandaged against his supposed ?injury?, he slipped his arm out of the sling and managed to play along with the others, strumming left-handed and adopting with ease B-J?s rare style of playing ?finger guitar?.
He smiled at Becky-Lou, and he smiled to himself. He was having fun. These were as companionable a bunch of teenagers as you could hope to meet and off-piste all hint of rivalry was gone. They were just a bunch of wholesome kids having a great time.

Hank and the other coaches watched from the bar, supping beers and joining in with the singing, or chatting about the competition, and which kids they admired from each others teams, and generally being sociable.
It was a thoroughly pleasant evening.

After a while, the influence of the Tennessee crowd, who were by far the most melodious of the teams, won through over the rest, and a Country and Western flavor crept into the song choices.
Sam knew from B-J?s diary that he and Becky-Lou had been brought up on a diet of Grand Ole Opry. Trips to the Ryman Auditorium in Nashville on special selected Saturday nights were the highlight of their social calendar. When one of the less rural lads dared to suggest good naturedly that Country music was dying out, and that the new rock and roll would soon relegate it to obscurity, Sam told him that Country would always have a ?grass-roots? following, and would in fact enjoy repeated revivals in popularity as time passed. He wouldn?t mind betting, he attested, that by the turn of the millennium, not only would Country music still be going strong, not just in America but throughout Europe too, but that a whole channel of television would be dedicated to it! Naturally, this prediction met with some skepticism. Though programs like ?The Lone Ranger? were popular with audiences nationwide, they could not conceive of the demand for Country songs to that extent, nor would they have believed, if told, in the proliferation of specialist satellite channels to come.
Sam just smiled, not pressing the point. CMT would have its day.

The Tennessee Waltz had given way to the Yellow Rose of Texas, and that in its turn faded into Rosemary Clooney?s ?This Old House?. Tammy did a more than fair impersonation of that good lady, and the whole room applauded her performance.
Very few of those assembled failed to join in the encore.

Thus the evening wore on, through ?Island in the Sun? and beyond ?Vaya Con Dios?, and Sam had so completely relaxed and let his guard down that when things blew up in his face he was taken totally by surprise.
 
High Hopes Chapter 9 cont

It was getting late, and one or two people were starting to drift away from the homespun concert. Conversations gradually took over among small groups, and inevitably the talk turned to the dramatic events of the previous day. Someone asked a member of the Bishop team if there was any news of Jill Kinmont, and at once Becky-Lou stopped singing to listen, even though she and B-J were currently regaling those still gathered with ?their song?, the ever-popular ?Too Young?.
The only news was that there was as yet no news to report, though rumors varied from her having no more than a broken leg to the expectation that she would not live through the night.

Becky-Lou looked horrified, let out a gasp and turned to B-J for reassurance. She grabbed him tightly by the arm.
?She isn?t going to die, is she B-J? Jill can?t die, she just can?t.? Tears sprung to Becky?s eyes, and she chewed her lip. Then she shook her head vehemently in denial. ?She?ll be back on the slopes in no time, won?t she.? It was a statement, not a question, said with such conviction that it was as if saying it could make it so.
Sam knew exactly what the prognosis was, though of course he couldn?t admit it.
?I?m sure she?s not about to die.? He comforted her confidently, and her face lit up at the proclamation, until he qualified his statement with the addendum, ?but she was badly hurt. We have to face the possibility that she may not be able to ski again.?
He thought he was gently preparing her for the harsh reality of what was to come, but he had forgotten for a moment how intense Becky-Lou could be, and how much she took things to heart.

?Don?t say that!? she shrieked, standing up and swiping him with a flailing arm, ?Don?t you dare say that. It?s not true. It?s not true. It can?t be true.? She stamped her foot petulantly and then turned on her heel, storming across the room and out the door, tears streaming down her face, leaving Sam staring incredulously after her, his jaw hanging, his hand rubbing a red and stinging cheek.

?Here we go again!? he thought to himself with a sigh, getting up to follow her. He remembered all too well the drastic consequences of leaving her to cool off alone last time, and he had no intention of repeating the error.
Passing his guitar to Ritchie, he headed for the door, telling Tammy he could manage when she offered to come along. The others just rolled their eyes and raised their eyebrows at him, as much as to say that they wondered why B-J put up with her. At times like this, Sam wondered too. She was certainly what you could call a ?high maintenance? partner.

On his way past, Sam had the forethought to grab their padded jackets from the hooks in the porch. It was late, it was dark, and it was very, very cold outside. As soon as he crossed the threshold, Sam could see his breath billowing out in great steaming clouds as he called out after his errant ?girlfriend?.
 
High Hopes Chapter 9 cont

Becky-Lou had managed to get a big head start on him, her temper fuelling her limbs to haste; he could barely discern her retreating figure in the distance as she charged up the hill. If she heard him calling, she gave no sign of it. She neither paused nor turned her head, but continued to widen the gap between them. Sam found himself running to catch up, struggling into his jacket without breaking stride, then tucking hers under his arm.
?Becky-Lou, wait! Come back!? he yelled again, but soon realized that he was wasting his breath, and that he needed all of that in abundance for the mountaineering he?d have to undertake if he was to retrieve her. For someone who less than 24hours ago had been almost at death?s door, she was exhibiting plenty of stamina. Sam started thinking that he must be getting old, if she could be giving him such a run for his money.

After a while, Sam?s pace slowed. Firstly, he was well and truly out of breath, his lungs aching as he gulped in the icy air. Secondly, they were now way off the trail, and with no lighting of any sort to guide him, Sam had to lower his eyes frequently to confirm his footing. The snow felt strange underfoot up here, and Sam found himself stumbling and struggling to keep on his feet. He alternated between looking down at his pathway, keeping his head low on his chest against the bitter wind, and looking up ahead for some sign of Becky-Lou, who had by now completely vanished from sight.

The night was cloudy, starless, and oppressive in its darkness. Sam soon lost all sense of direction and distance. He felt as if he had been climbing for miles - for hours.
The wind intensified, whisking up the fresh top layer of snow and forming spindrift, which swirled around, whipping up to a waist high frenzy. The airborne powder snow made him feel as if he were suffocating. The rush of cold air in his face brought tears to his eyes, further hindering his progress. It was like being in a sandstorm in the desert, only much, much colder.

He was chilled to the bone, despite having donned the gloves from his pocket. In the absence of a scarf he wrapped his sling like a robber?s mask around his lower face to filter the cold dusty air that hurt the back of his throat as he breathed. He ached with weariness, and the temptation was strong to slip into a thick part of the forest, curl up against a tree and sleep till daylight. Nevertheless he determinedly kept going, knowing that Becky-Lou would be feeling even colder and more tired without even her coat to protect her.

Every now and then, he called her again, though his voice was thin and weak, and his throat felt dry and constricted. The sound of his voice was carried back to him on the eddying wind, and when it finally subsided, his cry was swallowed in the dull acoustics of the snowy surround. ?Where are you, Al?? he wondered to himself, needing the comfort of company almost as much as he needed the hologram?s wisdom and the light the hand-link could afford him.

~~~***~~~​
 
High Hopes Chapter 9 cont

?Admiral?? Ziggy?s velvety tones intruded on Al?s maudlin musings. He had returned to his leather armchair, and was sitting staring as earlier, his mind dwelling on thoughts of the past and concerns of the present.
?Not now, Zig.? He mumbled. ?I told Tina I?d talk to her tomorrow. You try and make her see reason will you? I can?t deal with her snit tonight.? He made a dismissive gesture with his hand.
?Admiral Calavicci!? The voice was more insistent, and the tone slightly critical.
?What? Can?t it wait, you inconsiderate bucket of bolts?? Al snapped.
?Why of course, Admiral. I can see that you are extremely busy with matters of great urgency and vital importance.? Ziggy was not programmed with sarcasm, but she exuded it nonetheless.
Al merely snorted in response.
?Of course, if your silent sulk is more pressing than the fact that I am currently predicting Doctor Beckett to have a life expectancy of less than ten minutes???
?Whaaat?? Al was on his feet at once, and out of the door in 3 steps. ?Why the hell didn?t you say so in the first place?? he shot at the ether, knowing that Ziggy could hear and respond wherever he was.
?As you are well aware, Admiral, protocol demands that I normally wait until I am asked. However, since that seemed unlikely in this instance and my father does not have the luxury of waiting upon your mood swings??
?Can it, Zig! Just tell me what?s going on, and what we have to do to save Sam.?
Ziggy had apprised him of the situation by the time he arrived at Control, and once more Gushie passed him the hand-link as he made his way up the ramp to the Imaging Chamber door?

~~~***~~~​
 
High Hopes Chapter 9 cont

In the Project canteen, the crowd was thinning out as the news slowed to a virtual standstill. The same few bits of footage was being shown over and over again, and all that was changing were the figures in the corner of the screen showing the numbers of confirmed dead and injured, which continued to rise as more were pulled from the depths of the disaster zone. Most of those who?d gathered to watch had stuck it out for a couple of hours, hoping to see something new, something encouraging, but there came a limit to how many times they could witness the same scenes of carnage, the same bloodstained bodies and shocked faces.

When the happier group had been watching Robyn?s hilarious performance, they had piled a dish high with chocolate ?clairs, donuts, biscuits, sweets and treats of all kinds, which they had dipped into as they watched engrossed. Though there were still a few delicacies left it had been totally forgotten, as the larger crowd had been riveted to the screen with its horrific images of death and destruction and suffering. Only now, as the majority moved away, Patti instinctively reached for some comfort food, and was about to close her fingers around a chocolate glazed donut when Rusty stopped her, putting a gently restraining hand of his own over hers.
?I know you?re upset by all this hon, but it?s no excuse to slip off the wagon now??
Patti looked up at him, and then stared at the offending item almost in her grasp, as if surprised to see it there.
?Oh, sorry, I wasn?t thinking.? She squirmed a little at how close she had come to cheating on her diet, to giving in to her chocoholic cravings. Rusty had been helping her to give up chocolate, and so far she had been doing really well. His support and encouragement had made it relatively easy to resist temptation, and the steady, visible weight loss had spurred her on to continued effort. She was feeling fitter, more energetic already, and the thought of being able to order her wedding dress a size or two smaller was enough to keep her well motivated.
?I think we need a break from this doom and gloom too.? Rusty decided, rising to his feet. ?I?ll leave the set here in case anyone wants to drop in for an update.?
The one or two still left nodded their thanks, and assured him his property would be safe.

?C?mon Patti,? Rusty leaned in and whispered in her ear, ?let?s see if I can find a substitute comforter for you to wrap your tonsils round, one that isn?t fattening!?
?Ralph Kincaid!? Patti pretended to be shocked at his blatant hint, and swiped him playfully on the arm. ?Hush your mouth, somebody might hear you!?
Far from complying with her request for tact, Rusty led her out whispering further suggestions, such as wondering if she was up for a workout to burn off a few calories. She knew full well he wasn?t suggesting several laps on her exercise bike. A part of her felt guilty for even thinking of being so self-indulgent when so many people were dead and dying and suffering. Yet there was nothing to be gained for those poor souls in her making herself more miserable, and a romp with Rusty was too tempting a prospect to pass up. Sad yet true was the saying that life went on?

~~~***~~~​
 
High Hopes Chapter 9 cont

For the second time this leap, Al appeared like a genii from a bottle in response to Sam?s silent summons, and for the second time, it startled him.
?How do you do that?? Sam hissed.
?What?? Al looked about him innocently, though he guessed exactly what Sam was referring to. Another time, he?d have strung it out, made a big play, done some heavy duty teasing about being a mind reader and all that. But time - as Ziggy had so bluntly pointed out - was a luxury they did not have.

?Listen, Sam?? Al started to warn his friend of the impending danger, but Sam interrupted him, not heeding his urgent tone.
?However you got here so fast, Al, I?m glad you showed up. Have Gushie centre you on Becky-Lou. She?s run off again and?? Sam was gabbling in his haste to seek help.
?No need Sam, she?s right over there.? Al retorted instantly, shining a light from his hand link as he had once done in a Church, pinpointing the runaway?s location a short distance away.

Immediately, Sam was off, stumbling over the snow to reach her.

?Careful Sam!? Al called after him; mindful of Ziggy?s dreadful prediction, and the impending deadline, but Sam wasn?t listening. Having spotted his quarry, Sam had got his second wind and he dashed away, calling to Becky-Lou at the top of his lungs.
She heard his call and turned around, torn between her continued anger and her relief not to be alone out here. She was not yet ready to confess the latter, however.

?GO AWAY B-J? she yelled even louder than he had - though by now he was right next to her - and stamping her foot again. ?LEAVE ME ALONE!?
?No Sam!? Al was yelling too, all too aware that he was the only one safe to do so.
Sam ignored her request, and hurriedly helped her into her jacket, fastening the front against the cold despite her attempts to fight him off.
?SAM! Will you listen to me a minute?? Al shouted desperately, trying to make himself heard above the noise of Becky?s renewed tirade, ?You have to tell her to be quiet, Sam! She?s gonna start an?.?

Too late - the warning came too late.
 
High Hopes Chapter 9 cont

As Al spoke the words, the echoes of her yells split and loosened the weakened layer of sugar snow beneath the recent heavy fall, thus shifting the top layer from its resting place, causing huge slabs to break away from somewhere way above them and slide downhill. An ominous rumble reached their ears ?
??AVALANCHE!!!!? Al finished, somewhat redundantly, as Sam - picking up on clues both natural and holographic - reached out and grabbed Becky-Lou by the arm, ducked his head under her shoulder to hoist her into a fireman?s lift and began to run with her back down the mountain as fast as his weary legs could carry him.

Becky-Lou, as yet ignorant of the reason for Bobby-Joe?s sudden action, pounded on his back and protested loudly in his ear ?
?Put? me? down!? each word accompanied by a sharp blow with her fist to his kidneys, while her legs continued her protest, kicking as if running away from him, feet flying in the air, striking him in the groin and all but felling him in their vehemence. Sam winced, and hitched her up higher to lessen the impact of her blows. The shift in equilibrium nearly toppled them both over backward, and Sam found himself slipping and stumbling in the snow, fighting to maintain his forward momentum. He gripped her tightly around the back of the knees, and begged her to trust him.

Becky-Lou raised her head to complain again, and in so doing looked back over his shoulder whereupon she shrieked in terror. The pitch-black night seemed to illuminate suddenly as huge chunks of brilliant white snow began careering down the slope toward them, descending upon them in a cloud of billowing powder, awesome in its power and speed. Sam ploughed onward, exhorting her in a rough whisper to make as little noise as possible lest they dislodge more slabs.
?You can?t outrun it Sam! Head for the trees!? advised Al, leading off in the suggested direction and shining his hand-link for Sam to follow.

?The weather conditions have resulted in the soft slab avalanche pulverizing into a powder avalanche.? Ziggy informed, as if she were giving a lecture to the meteorological society. ?This type of avalanche is normally accompanied by an intense shock-wave, can travel at speeds of up to 45 meters per second - or 162kph - and carries with it a high risk of suffocation by anyone overtaken by it. Dr. Beckett?s best defense is to grab and hug a tree.?
Al relayed this last information to Sam, minus the irrelevant technical details.
Sam nodded to signify that he had heard and understood, and scrambled the last few feet to the tree line, still hefting the now compliant Becky-Lou on his shoulder.
It was with some relief that he lowered her having finally reached his destination. She may have been slight of frame, but the effort had tired him nonetheless. He put her down as close as he could get her to the first aspen tree he came upon, and in one move turned her to face it.

?Hold tight!? he instructed, having to raise his voice more than he was comfortable with to make himself heard above the roar of the snowy tidal wave that was hurtling ever nearer.
 
High Hopes Chapter 9 cont

Trusting in her dreamboat, Becky-Lou did as she was bid, and clasped her hands around the trunk of the tree, which she could just manage to girdle. Sam positioned himself directly behind her to protect her from the chilly blast, and encircled the tree with his own arms just below hers.
?Keep your head down.? Sam advised, bracing himself for the impending impact.
Though it was indeed imminent, Sam would have done better to take a few precious extra seconds to choose a heftier tree a little deeper into the woods. As it was, the preceding shock wave Ziggy had mentioned but Al had failed to warn about, hit them with an intensity they would not have believed, rocking their anchor alarmingly and all but uprooting it.

Becky-Lou panicked and let go of the wildly swaying tree, her hands flying behind her and her body following the impetus of her limbs. The shock of yet another slap in the face, coupled with the pressure of her torso slamming against his were enough to prize Sam?s own hands from the lifeline he had been clinging to, and together their two bodies were flung backward to the ground, Becky-Lou on top of Sam - the wind knocked out of both of them.
?Sam!!!? cried Al in alarm. Then, seeing the avalanche was descending ever nearer, he switched into autopilot, and - hitting his hand link - sought instant advice on how best to retrieve the situation.
?Roll Sam!? Al bent close to his fallen comrade and gesticulated wildly to make his meaning and the direction clear.
Sam reacted instinctively, grabbing Becky-Lou round the waist to keep them from being separated, and rolling in the direction indicated.
Thus the two went tumbling helter-skelter down the slope, Sam barely in control of steering them along their desperate flight path, until Al drew his attention to an outcropping they were about to slide over.
?It?s just a short drop at the end, Sam,? Al informed him, ?then you?ll have to reverse sharply and get into the hollow before the snow overtakes you. I?ll warn you when, but you?ll only get one chance??
Sam was too busy to reply, or even nod this time, but Al knew he understood. In any case, there was no more time for further discussion, as their destination was upon them.

?Here we go, Sam, drop and roll ? NOW!?

Gravity took care of the drop without any assistance from Sam or Becky-Lou. As soon as they hit the ground, Sam altered course as instructed, and they rolled back along the lower level, into a small natural cavern.
Even before their inward momentum had ceased, the tumultuous snow-chute cascaded over the precipice down which they themselves had plummeted a mere moment ago, and continued on its inexorable way down the mountain, leaving behind enough of itself to effectively seal them in.
 
High Hopes Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Al followed them inside, unhindered by the closing of the aperture. He had to crouch so that his head didn?t vanish through the ?roof? since the cavern was not quite high enough to stand upright in.
?Everyone okay in here?? he asked cheerily, pleased with himself that he had managed to prevent the pair from being buried alive, and fully expecting an affirmative answer once they got their breath back. He moved the handlink round from side to side until its gaudy lights illuminated the pair, for the benefit of the leaper and himself.

Sam loosed his hold on Becky-Lou and disentangled their limbs, then proceeded to check them both over for injuries. He pulled off his gloves for greater dexterity and stuffed them back in his pockets.
Becky-Lou let out a little whimper.
?Are you hurt?? Sam was instantly alarmed and attentive, kneeling up to one side of her and leaning over to look closer at her prostrate form.
?I ? I don?t think so, not really.? She sniveled. Rolling onto her back, she sat up and pulled her knees up in front of her. They were both grazed, but not deeply, as were her palms. ?They sting a bit.? She flinched as Sam examined her legs for further damage.
?Nothing broken.? He decided, and then turned his attention to the top end of his patient, looking in her eyes for signs of concussion or any other undesirable conditions. ?Does your head hurt at all, or your neck?? He put his hand gently round behind her head to feel for swelling and/or knotted muscles.
?Nah-uh.? Becky shook her head, ?I?m fine, thanks to you. Again!? She looked into his eyes adoringly, and then suddenly mirrored his move by grabbing his neck both sides with her fingertips and pulling down his bandana, then locking him into a passionate full-on-the-lips kiss.
?Ahh, the gallant knight gets his reward from the rescued damsel!? chuckled Al, lighting a celebratory cigar.

Sam couldn?t have replied if he?d wanted to, he could barely breathe. He tried to pull away before she brought him tumbling down on top of her, and ended up rocking back to sit on his haunches.
?Aaarrhh!? A hasty readjustment had him sliding sideways, shifting his weight onto his posterior and reaching down to grab his left foot.
?-Sam what is it?? questioned Al in chorus with Becky-Lou?s
?-B-J, what?s wrong??
?Must have happened when we fell,? Sam replied, almost to himself. The injury had passed unnoticed at first, numbed by the cold and blotted out by the adrenaline rush of the narrow escape and his concern for Becky-Lou. He was all too aware of it now though.

It was poetic justice he supposed ? it served him right for his earlier deceit. His ankle was badly sprained, and swelling up rapidly. Before long, his shoe was unbearably tight, and although he knew it was probably a bad idea, he gingerly removed it, and the thick sock he wore beneath. His discolored ankle throbbed painfully.
 
High Hopes Chapter 10 cont

Becky-Lou gasped at how much it had ballooned in size.
Al frowned. ?Oowwie buddy, I bet that smarts.?
Ignoring his friends trite comment Sam deftly unbound his wrist, and with Becky-Lou?s help he tightly re-applied the bandage to support his injured foot.
Having consulted his hand link, Al confirmed Doctor Beckett?s self-diagnosis.
?Ziggy says it?s just a nasty sprain, Sam, not a break, thank God.? Al drew deeply on his cigar to help steady his nerves.

There was no way he was going to able to fit into his shoe again, but Sam carefully eased the sock back on, though it made him wince with pain to do it. It was better than exposing his toes to almost certain frostbite, which was still a distinct possibility in any case.
So was hypothermia - especially since their clothes were damp through from their tumble in the snow (conducting 250 times as much heat away from their bodies than if their clothes had been dry) - and with it the risk of dehydration. They needed to drink; to replace lost fluids. He was worried about Becky-Lou?s sugar levels too. He remembered that during the day she had stashed some candy bars in her coat pocket, and he encouraged her to turn them out so that they could take stock of supplies. She had three and a half bars, all high in sugar content. Not knowing how long it would take him to dig them out, he decided to ration them, but broke a chunk off the half bar and made her nibble on it. Though their helter-skelter ride down the mountainside had burned up a lot of Sam?s energy, he declined to join her in her snack.
She needed no prompting to don the mitts that had also come from her pockets.

Ramming his hands into the pockets of his own parka Sam felt B-J?s cigarette lighter, the one Becky-Lou had bought him for Christmas. Raising himself up as far as his bad foot and the low ceiling of the overhang would allow, Sam picked out a large stalactite and gently applied the flame to its tip, catching the precious drops of liquid in the cup of his other hand.
?Here, drink.? He instructed Becky-Lou. She obeyed unquestioningly.
He took the next dose for himself.

?Best preserve this for later.? He declared, putting the lighter off, unsure how much fuel remained. After the brief welcome glow from the tiny flame, the cavern seemed darker still.
?I?m scared, B-J,? Becky confessed, snuggling up to Sam, trembling like an aspen tree in a strong breeze. Sam knew that cold, as much as fear, was making her shake. He removed his padded jacket, and wrapped it snugly round her bare legs.
?Don?t worry,? he reassured her, rubbing her arms to improve the circulation, ?the worst is over now.?
He looked to Al for confirmation, even as he crawled back to the entrance to ascertain how thoroughly they had been entombed. His foot throbbed with every inch he moved, but he resolutely disregarded the pain.

Al obligingly lit his way with the beam from the hand link.
 
High Hopes Chapter 10 cont

Becky-Lou called after him, not wanting to be separated in the pitch dark of her perspective. He told her to follow, but not to get too close to where he would be working, as he didn?t want to accidentally bury her!
Whilst Al attempted to coax the relevant information from a predictably uncooperative Ziggy, Sam began digging at the snow wall. He?d barely penetrated a couple of inches when his fingers began to ache with the cold and damp. He cupped them together and blew into them to try and warm his hands, but his breath was turning to ice as fast as it escaped his lips.
?Becky-Lou, throw me my gloves, please,? he called back over his shoulder, and she obliged, aiming at where she thought his voice had come from. She was a remarkably accurate shot, as one of them caught him on the back of the head.
?Thanks, hon.? He offered, his tongue only slightly in his cheek.
Once he?d put them back on, Sam began scooping the snow vigorously, like a dog digging for a particularly succulent bone. The exercise helped to warm his chilled bones. Al tapped his cigar, and ash fell from the end, vanishing into the snow Sam was shoveling.

?Let me help, B-J,? suggested Becky-Lou after a few minutes. Sam hesitated, and then decided it may help to warm her too.
?Okay, but if you get tired or dizzy, you stop and have some more candy, understand??
?Surely.? She conceded.
?Don?t call him Shirley!? Al responded automatically with a chuckle, remembering the standing joke from one of his favorite comedy films. Sam shot him a confused look, but didn?t bother waiting for the explanation, instead returning to the task at hand. Soon the two of them had settled into a rhythm, and the hole grew deeper and wider. Sam expected at any second to break through to the surface, but the further they dug, the more unending the barrier appeared to be.
After a while, Becky was having obvious trouble keeping up with him, though to her credit she didn?t complain. He called a snack break, once again declining to join her. She protested that he needed to keep his strength up too, but the last thing Sam needed was her slipping into a diabetic coma half way down the slope. He didn?t think that he had the energy to carry her, especially not with how his foot was throbbing. He?d have enough trouble walking as it was.
He decided it was best for her to retreat back into the main chamber of the cavern, and told her to shore up the entrance of their escape chute by packing the snow he was shifting into a tight wall. She was unlikely to manage a very thorough job, but it was a precautionary measure rather than an essential, and it gave her something to do where she could feel useful and work at her own pace.

Sam had disappeared waist deep into the blockade, and his digging slowed as weariness crept upon him. He continued valiantly though, vanishing further within his tunnel, inch by inch. He kept talking to Becky and making sure that her answers were coherent. So far, he was content that they were each holding up pretty well, though to Al, both were starting to sound ever so slightly slurred in their speech.
 
High Hopes Chapter 10 cont

Sam?s gloved hands, saturated by snow, were too uncoordinated. He pulled off the gloves with his teeth, but working with bare hands, his circulation soon failed. Pausing to ram his hands under his armpits in an attempt to warm them helped to return the circulation, but with the blood flow came excruciating pain.
If he could just break out of this icehouse and get them down the rest of the mountain side, they could go back to that lovely blazing fire and get their chilled hands round some nice big steaming mugs of hot cocoa. The thought spurred Sam on to renewed effort.

?That?ll do for now, Sam.? Al instructed him suddenly, much to his relief. He ached all over from his efforts, and the numbing cold. Nevertheless, he was puzzled that his friend should tell him to stop.
?I know I?m close, I can feel it.? Sam enthused. ?Just give me a minute or two more; I?ll have us on our way in no time.? Sam continued to shovel slowly.
?Best not, Sam.? Cautioned Al. ?Ziggy says it?s well below zero out there now, and the wind is so bitter you?d both freeze to death before you got fifty paces. You?d most likely get lost in the dark too. Ziggy gives odds of 93% that you should wait it out until morning. Your instinct is good; you?re within a couple of inches of the surface. Enough to keep the wind out for the night, but not so much that it?ll be hard work to finish tomorrow when the rescue team are outside to guide you back.? Al looked away for a moment. Then he turned back and grinned at the leaper with practiced joviality.

?Hey, buddy, it?ll be just like the old days, when we were carving out the Imaging Chamber, remember? You know, how we?d work half the night in that cavern, and then sleep where we dropped, ?cos we were too tired to haul our butts back to bed??
Sam shook his head. He couldn?t remember much about the Project due to the Swiss cheese effects of leaping, but more than that, he was having trouble remembering anything at all. He was so tired. It had been a very long day.
The penetrating cold had helped to deaden the pain from his foot, but it was still a nagging ache.

Reversing out of his tunnel, Sam wriggled over to where Becky-Lou had been working. She wasn?t working now; she was eating the last piece of the last bar of candy.
?Time to go?? she mumbled.
?Not yet, hon.? Sam contradicted. ?I don?t know about you, but I?m too bushed to hike down the mountain right now. Time for a quick rest first.?
?Good thinking, Sam. No need to worry her with the dangers out there.?
?Huh?? Sam looked bewildered, not comprehending what his holographic friend was babbling about.
?Sure, if you say so.? Becky-Lou didn?t seem bothered either way. She had snuggled back under Sam?s jacket, and now pulled it tighter round her legs.

She shivered violently.
Sam was shivering too.
 
High Hopes Chapter 10 cont

Now they had stopped the physical exertion, the chill of the wee small hours was seeping into their bones, despite the windbreak that was still in place.
Becky-Lou?s teeth started to chatter.
Sam rubbed at her arms and legs again, getting the blood flowing to warm her up. He rubbed vigorously at her stomach and back too, to make sure her core temperature kept pace.
When he?d rubbed her torso and thighs until he was breathless from the effort, he asked, ?H-how does th-that f-feel? Any w-w-warmer??
?A- a- a little,? her teeth were still chattering, though not as loudly.

Sam?s own hands were trembling uncontrollably like a drunk with the DT?s.
Sam was a good enough doctor to realize that it was no longer a question of whether or not they would succumb to hypothermia, but how badly. He calculated they were already in the mild stage, deep-body temperatures of between 34 and 350 C. He had to do everything in his power to minimize the dangers of deterioration.
?T-t-t-time t-to ap-ply s-s-s-some SB-B-W, I th-th-think? he declared through his own chattering teeth.
?SBW? Wh-what on-n earth is th-that?? Becky-Lou wondered aloud.
?ESS?B-B-B?Double...W. Sh-shared b-bodily w-warmth.? Sam explained. ?We s-sort of ins-sulate each other from th-the c-c-cold. Reduce the s-surface area for the cold air to at-attack. Here, y-y-you lie d-down near the snow bank we?ve cre-created. Tight p-packed like that, it?s quite a g-good insulator ? th-think of igloos. Okay, now I?ll lie d-down b-behind you in a sp-spoon hu-hug.?
?Spoon hug?? Becky-Lou knew the cold was muddling her thoughts, but she swore she?d never heard Bobby-Joe talk so weird before.
?Yeah, we sn-snuggle t-together with our bodies curled up, like th-this, like spoons in a cutlery tr-tray.? Sam cinched his body in behind Becky?s, encouraging her to bring her knees up towards her chest and curl up as tight as possible, covering her legs with his jacket again. He matched his position as closely as he could to hers, and curled his arm around her waist.

?Cosy.? She giggled, and grabbed his wrist, planting his hand further north, up under her coat, and giving it a squeeze, so that he was forced to knead her round breast.
?That?s better.? She breathed, almost seductively, twisting her head round to kiss his nose.
?Oooh boy!? Sam hastily removed his hand from her soft and yielding bosom, though not before he?d felt her firm, erect nipple (whether from arousal or from the cold he couldn?t say.) He was perturbed at his own body?s reaction to her closeness, and her willingness - nay eagerness to encourage him, and the sensual smell of her hair?
?Ooooh boy!? he repeated, torn between the desire to retreat, and the desire to respond, and the self loathing that he should even think of desiring to respond.
 
High Hopes Chapter 10 cont

?Back off B-J!? he silently told the leapee within him. ?I can do without your rampaging hormones right now, I?ve got enough to worry about.?
?This is n-neither the t-t-time, nor the p-place, honey.? He told Becky-Lou firmly, soothing her hurt expression with a peck on the cheek. He didn?t want another attack of her histrionics.
?But? but what if this is the?the only time we have, B-J? What if we die - here, t-tonight? I wanna? make love to you. I want you? to make love? to me. I want to be yours - completely. I don?t wanna d-die without knowing what it is like to make love with you.?
All the time she spoke, she was planting kisses on his face, and had slipped a hand down behind her back to explore his inner thigh, and squeeze his buttocks, whilst gyrating her own to rub against and tantalize his instinctively swelling manhood.
?Oooooh b-boy!? Sam hadn?t felt this disturbed by a leapee?s influence since Lee Harvey. If he hadn?t known the importance of maintaining their body temperatures, he?d have scuttled as far away as their little prison would allow. Despite his loins urging him to go ahead, he had no intention of taking advantage of her.

?C?mon, Bobby-Joe. I?m sure it?d warm us up real g-good.? She purred, ?In fact, I?m already getting heated.? Becky-Lou started unfastening her jacket, and trying to rip off her clothes, kicking off his jacket from round her legs.
?She?s really got the ?hots? for you, Sam.? Teased Al.
Sam realized with dread that she had already slipped into the moderate hypothermic stage, where victims often become convinced they are too warm instead of too cold, and behave irrationally - hence her wantonness. Every incidence of hypothermia was unique, and consequently it was virtually impossible to gauge or predict its progress accurately.
?M-maybe so, but we?d c-cool d-down a lot f-f-faster afterwards,? he told her.
That was a fact. Skin to skin contact at chest level may be the most efficient way of sharing body heat, but the loss of heat from removing their clothes was liable to more than counter it here, as would the natural heat loss that followed the activity she was promiscuously proposing, particularly for the male in the partnership.

Sam fought to get Becky-Lou bundled up in her clothes again, despite her abusive objections. Though still damp, they were better than exposing her to the cold air of their cavern. She struggled and protested, but feebly, pouting when he won the fight and had her cocooned again.
?Besides,? Sam insisted, ?we?re not gonna die. I?m gonna get you out of here, I promise. And when the t-time is right we?ll f-find someplace more romantic for our f-first time. I want it to be sp-special, n-not like th-this.?
?And I want it to be you and the real B-J - preferably on your wedding night.? He added to himself.
During this exchange, Al had been struggling to control his amusement at Sam?s discomfort, whilst feeling real sympathy for his dilemma. Lucky for Becky-Lou she was coming on to the ultimate Boy Scout. And boy was she coming on strong. The real B-J would probably have had less self-control, and run with his urges, which they would most likely both have regretted in the morning. Except of course that they never got in this fix in the original history; but had they done so, chances are Becky-Lou would have been right and this would have been their last night together.

Al had read Sam?s changing expression as his friend glanced at him; a pleading ?how do I get out of this one?? look, followed by a ?don?t you dare make any lewd comments? reproaching look. Though she was undoubtedly a ?looker?, and Al was rarely one to pass up the opportunity of a romantic encounter, he knew that in Sam?s place, he too would have declined the tempting invitation.
?Change the subject, Sam. Play charades or something,? was the best he could offer.
 
High Hopes Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven


??Gushie?? the voice was uncharacteristically soft and gentle, almost apologetic.
Gushie stirred and mumbled, obviously dreaming of happier times with his cousin Miriam. A slight smile creased the corners of his mouth, making his moustache twitch.
?Gushie?I?? still soft; the voice, normally official to the point of officiousness was hesitant.
?Hnuh?? Gushie rolled over on his couch, but didn?t fully waken.
In a moment of uncommon, distinctly human sensitivity, the parallel hybrid computer whispered ?
?Never mind, my friend, what I have to tell you will keep a while longer. Sleep now; sleep and dream your sweet naive dreams.?

~~~***~~~​

?Thirsty,? mumbled Becky listlessly - not for the first time. Sam melted a little more ice, and poured it gently into her mouth. She needed food, but the candy wrappers had long ago been licked clean.

She had thankfully not had a repeat vision of her ?angel?, which gave Sam hope that she was not yet beyond help. She hadn?t even shown any awareness of the beam of light Al had emanating from the handlink - which was resting on his knee - and shining upward and outward in an eerie fan.
?What more can I do, Al?? Sam whispered, though she was too far out of it to notice anyway.
?Nothing, buddy.? Al wished he could be more constructive.
Sam looked horrified, he?d expected? he didn?t really know what he expected, but this sounded frighteningly negative. ?Is she? is she going to???

Sam was suddenly dreadfully afraid he was going to lose her.
He daren?t voice his worst fear. He didn?t need to, Al understood.
?Not necessarily. But Ziggy says if you keep trying to keep both of you awake, you?ll certainly fail, and you?ll both die. Let her sleep. If you can stay with-it for the next few hours, I can tell you when the rescue team gets close; then you can dig through and get their attention. Ziggy puts pretty good odds on the paramedics being able to revive her.?
?Pretty good odds?? Sam knew that if they weren?t stated categorically, they were way lower than he wanted to hear.

Al squirmed and avoided Sam?s penetrating gaze. Then he stated firmly:
?A whole lot better odds than the alternative, buddy. Sorry, that?s the best I can give you.?
It tore him up to see just how little chance the super-computer was giving them of success on this one. Yet, however fragile the hope, he?d cling to it, and ensure that Sam did the same. After all the odds had been as bad on his last leap, when Sam was being tossed around in that huge cement mixer, and yet Al had got him out then. The Observer had every intention of making sure Sam made it this time too, whatever it took.
 
High Hopes Chapter 11 cont

Sam continued to sip water at intervals, as much to help him stay alert as to assuage his thirst. He snuggled up to Becky-Lou in-between times; trying to use what meager body heat he had left to lend her vital warmth.
?Talk to me, Al ? h-help me stay awake. I?m so-o t-t-tired.?
?I know, buddy, but you gotta stay with me, okay? What do you want to talk about?? Al had made himself comfortable sitting cross-legged on a level with Sam?s floor, since stooping over had been giving him a crick in the neck.
?Dunno. How?s things with Tina?? Sam picked on the first thing that came to mind.

?Not so good, she?s sulking with me cos of Ruthie.? Al replied, without thinking.
?Ruthie? Is she on the project? Should I remember her? When will you learn, Al??
?No, no. I am not cheating on Tina, honest!? Al hastened to defend himself. For all sorts of reasons, including Sam?s own rules on not revealing anything from Project time that he didn?t already know, Al was normally very strict about keeping details from Sam. Minor details like the fact that he had a wife waiting for him back home. There was usually a very good reason for his silence, too. Even if Donna hadn?t insisted that Al keep her presence a secret, Al doubted if he would have tormented his friend with the knowledge. It would have hampered him in his Leaps, and increased his yearning to be home to even more unbearable proportions.

There were times when Al?s compassion (which ran just as deep as Dr Beckett?s, but was better hidden) got the better of him, and he let something slip. Like Sam?s last name. But that was generally for a very good reason too and always had Sam?s best interests at heart.
Now, Al?s slip could easily have been covered with one of his colorful stories, but a tiny voice inside him said that he was entitled to be a little bit selfish, that Sam owed him that much. He was always there for Sam, did his best to offer assistance, advice and support. He was glad to do it. He had so much to be grateful to Sam for. Yet he really missed having Sam there for him in his times of trouble, like now. Despite the Leaping, and the Swiss-cheesing of his brain, Sam still tried to help, when he knew help was needed, like suggesting how Al could deal with his noisy neighbor, but it wasn?t the same, and the need for secrecy and discretion meant that Al had to shoulder many a burden alone.
The small voice in him now whispered seductively: ?what would it hurt to tell Sam what?s on your mind? What harm could it do??

Al couldn?t think of an answer to that. Besides, not only would Sam probably forget all about it when he Leapt, he was so addled by the cold, that he most likely wouldn?t remember any of it in the morning anyway.
Sam could see Al was struggling to decide whether or not he should elaborate. ?I?m not gonna push, Al, but I can tell something?s eating you. So if and when you wanna talk about it, you know where to find me, okay? I?m sure not g-going anywhere!?
 
High Hopes Chapter 11 cont

Al decided that giving Sam another problem to focus on would probably be doing him a favor. So he really wasn?t being selfish at all.
?Ruthie was my third wife, Sam? he began, softly, having trouble finding the words to explain.
?Was? Oh, Al, has she died?? Sam jumped to the obvious conclusion.
?No, no? I don?t think so? at least uh not yet?? Al was speaking fast, trying to think faster. ??I should have said Ruthie is my third ex-wife.?

?But, she?s ill, maybe dying?? Sam could see his friend was troubled, and his heart went out to him. ?What is it, cancer?? he asked sympathetically.
?No - nothing like that. She is a voluntary worker for B?nai B?rith Women, a Jewish organization. Sorry, they?re called Jewish Women International now, I keep forgetting. Don?t hold with all this changing names, myself. B?nai B?rith was good enough for the men and for the women too for nearly a hundred years??

?Ruthie?? Sam reminded Al, trying to get him back on track.
?Oh, yeah, sorry. Just one of my pet peeves.? Al countered.
?Anyway, she does a lot of charity work with kids, making up for not having any of her own, I guess?? Al tailed off, musing.
?I thought? I was starting to remember something?? Sam?s brow furrowed in concentration. ?Yeah, I was a Rabbi? hey, I was a Rabbi!? Sam smiled at the image. ?You said?y-you said? Ruthie made great gefilte fish. No, that wasn?t it??
?But she did ? does!? Al caught himself using the past tense again. Though he and Ruthie were most definitely in the past, he couldn?t bear to think that she may not have a future.
?I remember now, you said something like ?I never realized how much family meant to me until after Ruthie was gone.? I guess I assumed you guys had children and I just didn?t recall.?
?I?ve never had a kid, Sam.? Al stated, wistfully. ?Time was, I thought that was a good thing, what with me on tour of duty, or off in space or whatever. Now, I?m starting to wonder what I?ve been missing out on. It was the breaking of me and Ruthie, that?s for sure.? Al hadn?t intended to open up in quite so much detail, but having started, he found that he couldn?t stop.

?She wanted children, and you didn?t?? Sam?s words were still slurring, but getting caught up in Al?s tale was certainly helping him to focus.
?Well, yeah, but it wasn?t as simple as that. You see she eventually wore me down, talked me into trying. She?d have made a wonderful mother?? Al drifted into reverie again. Sam could tell that his friend still had strong feelings for this woman, although he would probably never admit it, not even to himself, not in a million years.
?I think you?d have made a pretty neat father, too, Al. I?ve seen you with little ones, like?? he took another sip of water as he struggled to remember. There had been a baby once, something about sock puppets? And a little girl, what was her name? ??Teresa??
?Don?t know about that? rejoined Al, modestly. ?But I?m beginning to wish I?d had a chance to find out. Guess I?m mellowing in my old age, eh??

?What happened, Al, you chicken out??
 
High Hopes Chapter 11 cont

?Not at all!? Al was offended by the suggestion. He?d never ducked a challenge in his life. ?We tried. And tried. And tried. At first, we had a lot of fun trying?? Al waggled his eyebrows Groucho Marx style.
?Al!? cautioned Sam, not wanting him to pursue that particular line of reminiscence.
Al sniggered, then ?Long story short. It just didn?t happen.?
?She blamed you??
?At first. She said that sub-consciously I didn?t want it to happen, so I wasn?t putting my all into it.? Al looked hurt at the memory. ?We had some real doozy rows over it. Ruthie was never one to mince her words!?

?Must?ve been horrible.? Sympathized Sam.
?Yeah. Got worse though. We finally went to the quacks. Turned out after all their tests and stuff, it wasn?t me firing blanks at all. As if it would have been, I mean I?ve been in the military, I?ve been an astronaut, how much more manly can you get? Anyway, Ruthie had some problem in her uh tissue or - or, tubes or something. Never did understand all that medical mumbo jumbo. Upshot was - she couldn?t ever have kids. Not with me or with anybody else.? Al looked like he was about to tear up at the painful memories, and was fighting for control, but Sam realized that he had never really addressed these issues, and needed to get this out of his system.

?So she didn?t leave you to start a family elsewhere, then. Were you against adoption??
?Pretty much, But she could probably have talked me into that too, if she?d tried a bit harder. What split us up was that I couldn?t see the tragedy in us not having kids, not like she did. I was happy with just the two of us. She said I was relieved it hadn?t happened, and I guess at the time I was. Called me heartless, she did, and I probably was. I never stopped to appreciate how much it meant to her, not until it was way too late. I was too busy with my own selfish desires and ambitions??
?Don?t Al, you?re not??
?You didn?t know me back then, Sam. Don?t make excuses for me. I know I made mistakes. Bad ones.? Al fell to musing again. He got up to stretch his legs, not bothering to align his image with the confines of the cave. He paced backward and forward a few times, muttering under his breath.
Al shook his head, and then shrugged, ?It?s all a long time ago.?

Sam left him for a while with his thoughts. Then he felt himself nodding off, and remembered that they were supposed to be talking to keep him awake. He sipped some more water, and would have splashed some on his face, were it not for the risk of frostbite. He also realized that Al hadn?t reached the punch line of his story. Something was happening with Ruthie back in Al?s present. Something bad.
 
High Hopes Chapter 11 cont

?Al,? he breathed gently. ?Al??
?Sorry, Sam, you okay?? Al turned around guiltily; cursing himself when he saw how close his friend was to drifting off to sleep.
?It?s okay, Sam, I?m here. Talk to me, buddy.? He knelt by Sam?s side.
?I?m awake, Al.? Sam assured him, though he yawned widely, and his eyelids were drooping. ?Go back to your story, Ruthie?s charity work??
?Oh, yeah. Well, it seems she and some of her friends from the JWI were taking a group of some thirty odd disabled kids on a cross-country holiday. Riding the Texas Eagle train from their home in St Louis all the way to LA, taking in all sorts of things on the way?

~~~***~~~​

? Sam listened with mounting horror to the tale of death and destruction, and how Al had been oblivious to it until he returned the ominous phone call.
Sam expressed his loathing for the perpetrators of such an atrocious deed, and his heart went out to the victims and their families. Al told him in a few choice words what he would like to do to the members of the Fifth Reich if he were ever to find himself in their company. As a military man, Al could not exactly be described as being a pacifist by nature, but he believed passionately in the concept of a fair fight. Terrorist tactics were as abhorrent to him as to the next man.

?When did all this happen, Al??
?Not long after you leapt in.?
?Why didn?t you tell me? Al, you have to go to her, be with her, talk to her.?
?How can I, Sam? I can?t just up sticks and take off, I have - responsibilities.? He gave Sam a telling look.
?And I appreciate how seriously you take them,? replied Sam sincerely, ?but she was your wife. You must go. Think how you?ll feel if she dies and you didn?t go.?
?Think how I?ll feel if you die and I didn?t stay!? retorted Al. ?It?s academic, Sam. I can?t go and that?s an end to it. You need me here ? and don?t tell me you don?t. If it comes down to a choice as to which of you means more to me right now , no contest, buddy. You win hands down. It?s all water under the bridge with Ruthie. I wouldn?t even know what to say to her. What could I say? We haven?t spoken for years. Besides, she?s in a coma; she probably wouldn?t even know I was there.?
?She?ll know, Al. Trust me, She?ll hear you, she?ll know. Book a flight. Go.? Sam made a shooing gesture. ?Be there for her, Al.?
?Maybe when you lea?? Al started to compromise.

Suddenly, without any hint of warning, Sam broke away from the slumbering form of Becky-Lou, and rolled over with a groan, his face screwed up in obvious agony.
?Gnaaargh!? He writhed on the ground, clutching his mid-section with both arms.
?What is it, Sam?? Al bent over him, his face and voice reflecting his concern for his friend. ?What?s the matter, buddy?? Even the remotest thought of going to Ruthie was instantly banished.
 
High Hopes Chapter 11 cont

Sam continued to contort, doubled over by pain, vainly seeking a position that would offer some relief. For a while, he was unable to speak, but merely grunted and cried out alternately as wave upon wave of pain washed over him.
?Own?gnh? stupid? fault.? He finally managed through gritted teeth.
Al gave him a puzzled expression, and began poking the hand link, hoping it would provide a more coherent response as to what ailed his companion.
?Overdosed?on t-the ice w-water? Aaaargh!? more twisting and groaning, his knees almost under his chin one moment, legs in a sort of running pose the next.
?Chilled? m-my gut.? He panted, ?Stomach c-cramps. Ooufff.? He had broken out in a cold sweat.

Ziggy squealed her diagnosis, in agreement with her father?s. Dr Beckett had drunk too much cold water; overcooled his stomach, and was paying for it now in the crippling cramping of his stomach muscles.
?Aargh, Jeez, Al, help me!? Sam grimaced. He hugged himself still tighter, unable to find any respite from the sharp spasms of pain.
?What can I do, pal?? asked Al, feeling frustrated at his helplessness, hating to see his friend suffering such violent symptoms.
?D-don?t s?pose you could?oooowww? rustle up another d-dog, could ya?? Sam asked, referring to the curious version of the cavalry Al had summoned to such good effect during his last Leap.

Al looked at Sam like he?d lost his mind.
?They?ll probably be bringing dogs to help dig you out in the morning, buddy. I?ll make sure they find you. You know that, Sam.?
?N-no? N-now. I could u-use one?gnuh?now.? Sam fleetingly fretted that his agonized cries would wake and worry Becky-Lou, but one glance told him she was still way out of it. He thought that that should trouble him, but somehow he hadn?t the energy. He tried to explain himself to Al.
?Dogs are among the b-best animals at? aargh? cons-serving body heat.? His breathing was really labored now. ?N-next b-best? t-thing to a? h-hot w-water bottle. M-might? just? h-help? t-to ease the? uh p-pain too! Gnaaaargh! ?
?Sorry, pal.? Al responded with genuine regret, ?No canines currently on the horizon. Best I can suggest is to think warm thoughts.?
Sam glared at his friend, clearly less than impressed with Al?s idea of help. Then he screwed up his eyes again as the pain gripped him in it?s vice.
 
High Hopes Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Over an hour went by before the pains subsided completely. Sam was utterly done in, and feeling weak as a near drowned kitten.
?How? much? longer?? he wanted to know. The cold was creeping insidiously deeper and deeper, biting into the very marrow of his bones, turning his blood to ice in his veins.
Al consulted his hand-link, frowning and pelting it with the heel of his hand as if he could get the clock to count down faster.
?You just gotta wait a coupla hours more Sam.? Al replied, keeping it vague. ?Hang in there, buddy.?

Al realized that in his present condition it would take Sam a long time to retrace his way to the end of his tunnel to finish breaking through the barrier. He didn?t want Sam exposed to the elements any longer than necessary, but neither did he want the team to miss him. Time to relocate, he decided.
?You better get in position, Sam.?
Sam frowned, uncomprehending. Al explained slowly and patiently that he was suggesting Sam make his way back to the outer barrier, so that he would be ready to break through the last inch or so when the team approached.
Sam looked back at Becky-Lou.
?I don?t? think? she?ll? make it, Al.? In truth, the distance wasn?t that great, but it may as well have been a marathon.
Al nodded in confirmation. It would be tough enough for Sam to summon the energy. Becky-Lou?s diabetes made her more susceptible to the negative effects of the cold. She was out for the count and liable to remain so until she received medical attention.

Sam reached over and tried to get a hold of the comatose teenager to drag her along with him. He was surprised at how slow his arms were to obey his brain?s instructions. He fumbled, un-coordinated for a few moments, until he finally managed to grab the shoulder of her coat. Although he heaved and heaved with all his might, he failed to move her more than a few centimeters. Eventually, he gave up, fatigued, and looked plaintively at his friend. His hands no longer held Becky?s coat, but his fingers were still curled.
?I?m? starting? to? get? stiff.? Sam complained his voice hoarse and weak.
Al looked at Becky-Lou, and opened his mouth as if he was about to make a vulgar comment, but Sam forestalled him with a look that clearly said, ?Don?t even think it!? coupled with ?I couldn?t manage anything if I wanted to!?
?I?d lend you a hand if I could, pal.? Al apologized, ?You?ll have to leave her here. It is more important that the team spots you, and then they can drag her out. Get going buddy, you got some ground to cover.?

Inch by inch, Sam gradually clawed and crawled his way back along the tunnel he had sensibly dug earlier, until after what felt like hours of exhaustive effort he arrived back at the remaining blockage. Most of the way, he was on autopilot, barely aware of what he was doing, much less how he was managing to achieve it. Every slight move took its toll on his waning energy reserves.
 
High Hopes Chapter 12 cont

Sam was way beyond shivering now, Ziggy silently reported to Al through the hand-link that Sam?s body temperature was currently at 310 C and dropping as hypothermia took a firm hold. A profound numbness crept throughout his body, slowing reactions of body and mind alike. The blood flow to his extremities slowed due to vaso-constriction, sacrificed by his body?s natural defenses to allow the flow to remain stronger through his midsection, protecting his vital organs for as long as possible against the relentless assault of the cold. His heart rate and respiration were weakening and his blood pressure was plummeting.
Icy fingers gripped Sam?s heart and tried to squeeze the life out of him.

Sam found himself wishing he were a Tower-trained Darkovan Matrix technician, or a Tibetan monk skilled in the art of tummo yoga - the yoga of ?vital heat?. Either person, fictional or real, had the mental discipline to will an increase in their body heat, enabling them to endure and survive unscathed the bleakest of deep freeze conditions. Though he had studied various meditative techniques and knew the power of a positive mental attitude, the precise skills of tummo were not a part of his repertoire, and so he felt himself slipping ever closer toward loss of consciousness and impending death. His eyes pleaded with Al ? ?Get me out of this ice-box??
?Keep talking to me buddy. You gotta keep that noggin in gear,? urged Al. ?I know, explain the string theory to me.?
?Huh?? Sam?s normally razor sharp brain was dulled to the point that it more resembled shaving foam. His thought processes were sluggish, as if his synapses were wearing thick rubber galoshes instead of their usual sprinting shoes, and wading through molasses to boot.
?Too tough, eh?? conceded Al. ?Okay, let?s start simple and work our way up. How about Pythagoras? theorem? Come on, Sam, what does Pythagoras say about triangles??
Sam pondered for a moment, struggling to remember.
?The squ-hair on?on the? hi-hip-hop-pop-potamus is? equal? to the? sum of? the h-hairs? on? the other? two hides?? Sam frowned as he tried to work out what the heck he had just said. Al was trying to work it out too. Was Sam trying to be funny, or was he really that addled? Al very much hoped it was the former, but knew the latter was more likely.

Ziggy once more surreptitiously updated the observer on Dr Beckett?s core temperature, displaying the fact that it was slipping beyond the 300 lower limit of moderate hypothermia, and into the far more dangerous severe hypothermic stage. 29.70 C flashed on the hand-link, and was almost immediately replaced ?
29.60 Ziggy warned Al that a further drop of 20 would result in coma and almost certain death. As it was, his recent exertions had drained far more body heat than they?d produced, exacerbating his condition.
Even now, it would take more than ten hours of gradual warming to safely restore Sam?s core temperature to an acceptable level. Any faster, and the vaso-constriction would be reversed. His extremities would warm at the expense of his core, and the blood would rush away from his vital organs, causing a further deep body temperature drop that would quickly prove fatal.
Al?s face could not mask his horror at this prognosis, but thankfully Sam didn?t notice. Not only did the darkness of the cavern make discerning such an expression difficult, even with the aid of the holographic glow, but also Sam was becoming increasingly lethargic, withdrawn and apathetic. It was getting harder and harder for Al to get any sort of a reaction from his friend. He was not about to give up though, not while there was breath left in Sam?s body. Even if it was so shallow as to be almost down to ten breaths per minute. According to Ziggy, Sam?s pulse rate was severely reduced and weak too.