Chapter Five
By two o’clock the activity in and around the Possible residence had reached its crescendo. In the eight hours since the first police officer and chaplain had arrived on scene, the once quiet house had become host to more government officials than Washington DC. Representatives from the FAA (Federal Aviation Administration), NTSB (National Transportation Safety Board), CAP, US Air Force, NPS, and local law enforcement occupied every room in the lower level of the house while news media organizations camped out front; waiting for a chance to interview the family members of what was quickly becoming the nation’s top story.
The Stoppable Family was there, Margaret and John, as well as Rufus who had missed out on the mission due to a routine appointment at the local veterinarian. Josh and Tara were in attendance as well.
Having heard the news during lunch, Josh had alerted the blonde cheerleader and both teens quickly rushed over to provide comfort and support for the families as well as each other.
Josh, being the levelheaded quiet type that he was, sat silently on the arm of the couch watching the search’s progress on Headline News along with the Stoppables. At last report SAR teams had located two unmarked crash sites within Death Valley, however neither of them were recent; one was a civilian Mooney lost in 1997, and the other was a Navy bomber that was thought to have gone down in the Pacific shortly after World War II. So far his girlfriend, Tara’s boyfriend, and the Possible/Stoppable’s eldest/only children were still missing.
Being the emotionally weakest person present, Tara had spent the entire time since receiving the news latched onto the closest arm she could find for comfort; all the while crying, sniffling, and telling anyone who would listen how Ron could handle himself and was going to be ok. On the ride over it had been Josh’s arm she had clung to, upon arriving at the Possible Residence it was Mrs. Dr. Possible who became the ‘comfort blanket’ for the blonde. Currently, the target of her emotional insecurity was an unfortunate young NTSB representative who, having seated himself next to the girl for a moment of rest, was now acting as grief counselor for the sniffling teen.
Though she and Ron had only been dating for about three months, it was by no means a new relationship. Tara had first developed feelings for the goofy blond during the Wannaweep incident two years earlier but hadn’t mustered up the courage to ask him out until recently. Since then their relationship, as well as Kim and Josh’s, had developed far beyond what anyone would have expected. This was mainly thanks to her and Josh’s ability to trust and honor Team Possible’s relationship.
While most boyfriends and girlfriends would have attempted to separate the two teens for fear of a romantic bond developing, Josh and Tara had not. They had, instead, allowed Kim and Ron to continue their work/personal relationship unhindered with the trust that they were good friends to one another, as well and loyal boyfriends and girlfriends to their respective partners.
Everyone who saw them together outside of missions thought Kim and Ron loved each other…and this was true, but Josh and Tara understood that Team Possible’s relationship transcended that of physical love and romance. Kim and Ron were best friends, they loved each other and either one of them would willingly give his or her life in order to protect their partner from harm. They were, however, not in love with each other. They had never harbored any sexual thoughts about one another, even during the height of puberty. The bottom line was that they just didn’t see each other in that way. Josh and Tara were, of course, aware of this.
Perhaps due to the tremendous volume of officials coming and going, nobody noticed the newest addition to the crowd. The man standing in the entryway to the living room appeared to be in his early-to-mid-twenties and was dressed in a typical dark business suit. He was approximately 5’11” and had a strong, yet not overly muscular build. With his neatly combed brown hair styled in a conservative manner, he could easily be mistaken for a Wall Street banker at first glance. As he stood surveying the room, three other similarly dressed men appeared behind him.
Finally spotting the two individuals he was looking for, he and his associates casually approached the adult Possible’s who were seated with their two remaining children next to the coffee table discussing the search with Dr. Betty Director, the head of Global Justice.
“Excuse me…” Dr. Director attempted to intercept the brown-haired man, but was instantaneously stopped by hostile glares from his three associates. Approaching the worried couple, the man spoke in a strong authoritative voice.
“Are you James andAnn Possible?” They nodded and, in one well-practiced motion, he withdrew a leather billfold from his coat pocket and flipped it open to display the well-polished badge mounted inside. “I’m Special Agent Pollard, FBI.”
His introduction was returned in the form of two shocked and confused stares. Having now attracted the attention of nearly everyone in the room, the agent skipped right to the point.
“I’m sorry to have to do this to you right now,” He reached into his coat and withdrew a folded piece of yellow-tinted triplicate paper. “But we have a federal warrant to search your daughter Kimberly Ann Possible’s room and to remove any and all items that we deem necessary to further our investigation into this disappearance.” The agent held out his hand and presented the grieving parents with the copy of the warrant.
With the exception of the television, nothing in the room made a sound. After a few secondsAnn broke down and began to sob into her husband’s shoulder while James stared up at the agent with a look of rage.
“What does this have to do with my daughter and her friend’s plane going down?” The rocket scientist asked dumbfounded as he snatched the warrant from the man’s hand.
Agent Pollard just shook his head. “I’m sorry but I can’t disclose that information at this time.” He sidestepped and gestured toward the three men standing behind him. “What I need from one of you is to show Agents Marks, Olmo, and Johansson here where your daughter’s room is so we can get this over with and allow everyone to concentrate on getting her back safe and sound.”
James wanted to do something, argue or threaten to contact a lawyer, but the scientist knew you just couldn’t argue with a federal warrant. After a few more seconds of silence he stood slowly and headed toward the stairs that lead to Kim’s room.
As he passed the waiting agents he growled, “This way gentleman…” followed by a string of barely audible obscenities.
Turning his attention back to the still-shocked occupants of the room, Agent Pollard took a moment to straighten his tie before withdrawing a second warrant from his pocket and examining the name printed on it.
In a voice eerily devoid of emotion, he asked, “Are the parents or legal guardians of Ronald Andrew Stoppable here by any chance?” The sudden outburst of sobbing to his right quickly zeroed him in on his target.
Now that the team was up and running again, Kim decided that they had to calmly inventory their current supplies. As the stress-relieving laughter died down, she walked over and sat down next to her friend and the survival kit.
“Ok, depression and despair aside, what do we have in here?” She looked to Ron who let out a brief sigh. For a moment Kim was afraid that she had reverted her friend back into hopelessness, but when he began to speak, she could clearly detect a hint of the usual ‘Ron-ness’ in his voice.
“Well, food aside, we do have some useful stuff.” The blond reached into the kit and began removing items, identifying them as he placed them on the granite boulder between himself and Kim. “We’ve got a basic first-aid kit, a container of windproof matches, an empty canteen, some primitive fishing gear,” He pulled out a coil of what looked like small, tightly wound barbed wire. “I think this is some kind of wire saw… and that’s it…oh yeah,” Ron reached behind the boulder and picked up the rifle stock he had discarded earlier. “We have this thing too, but I still don’t get what purpose it serves.”
“Beats me.” Kim agreed. She was just as confused of its usefulness as her friend.
He examined the stock for a few more seconds before he tossed it to the ground between them. With a hollow ‘thud’ the device hit the granite surface and the end cap popped open: dumping a small rifle receiver, barrel, magazine, and a box of twenty-five .22 caliber bullets at the teens’ feet.
“Uh…” Ron glanced from the disassembled rifle to Kim and blushed. “I knew those were in there.”
“Sure you did.” Kim retorted with a smirk.
Ron picked up the components and began to reassemble the survival rifle into working order.
“What are you doing?” Kim frowned.
“I’m trying to put this thing together so we can actually use it.” Ron looked up at Kim and gave her an innocent ‘no duh’ look.
“Ron, just don’t mess with it.” Kim scolded. “The last thing we need is for you to accidentally fire it off and hit yourself, or me.”
The blond felt hurt by Kim’s comments. “I know what I’m doing Kim, I’ve used a gun before.” He informed her casually.
Kim’s jaw dropped. “What?” This was news to her; she had never used a gun before, when had Ron used one?
The blond continued working to assemble the rifle as he spoke. “Yeah, with graduation approaching the ‘rents have been on my case about what I want to do with ‘the rest of my life’ as they put it. ‘Cause I help you with the freak fighting so often my dad got the idea to have me spend a day with my cousin Reuben to see what his job is like.” Kim gave him a blank stare. “He’s a cop in Denver, remember?”
“Oh right, he’s the one who just got married?” The wedding had been a month ago, during the course of which Ron had had a run-in with his ‘bad self’ as it were. Kim had never learned the man’s profession.
“Yup, two weeks before the wedding I did a ride-along with him during his shift. After work he took me to a shooting range and taught me some of the basics.” Having screwed the barrel in, Ron seated the receiver into the stock and held the assembled rifle up for Kim to see.
“Why didn’t I know about this?” Kim was rather unsettled, not about the shooting, but about Ron not telling her; they told each other everything!
“This was right around the time you and Josh began going steady.” Ron grinned.
“Oh…right…” He didn’t need to explain any further. Her head had been so high in the clouds that week Ron could have told her he was moving to Norway and she wouldn’t have noticed. It was an event he, Tara, and Monique had handled well, but nevertheless still teased her about.
“Yeah…” Ron chuckled.
“So…” She pointed at the small rifle in his hands. “You promise you know how to handle that?”
He held up his right hand in a Boy Scout-type salute. “Promise.”
“Alright.” She really didn’t have reason to doubt him; his klutzy tendencies had seemed to be waning as of recently.
Standing up, Kim took a moment to look around once more at their surroundings. They were currently resting on the upper slope of a large granite basin; down the valley, about a quarter mile away to the northeast, she could see a small lake and a stream that ran downhill out of the valley. Detecting a presence behind her, she turned and found that Ron had left the gun lying on his rock and joined her in surveying their surroundings.
“I don’t see any wildlife.” He commented.
“We may have to get a bit lower in elevation before we find anything.” She gestured toward the lower end of the basin. “I’m thinking if we still don’t see any sign of rescuers by tomorrow morning, we start heading downhill until we find help.”
“Sounds like as good a plan as any,” Ron nodded. “Though we may want to relocate camp down to the lake today so we’ve got an adequate supply of water.”
“Good idea, maybe we can use that fishing gear and some of the expired rations to try and catch some fish, if there are any.” It was a long shot, but worth a try at least.
Ron looked around nervously, suddenly becoming aware of the building pressure on his bladder. “Cool, let me just, uh…take care of some business, and then we can pack this stuff up and head down.” He turned and headed toward the privacy of some large rocks.
“Don’t forget to check wind-direction!” Kim yelled, causing Ron to groan.
“That was one time and I was in a hurry!” She just laughed.
About half an hour into his hike up the Copper Creek Trail Danny came across Michael Jacobson, or ‘Mountain Mike’ as the locals knew him.
Mountain Mike was a long time packer who spent the spring and summer months leading mule-trains into the backcountry to restock the countless log cabins that dotted the isolated landscape. At first glance you would think he was still living in the nineteenth century; his worn overalls, plaid button-down shirt, and grizzled beard gave him the look of a man pulled straight out of the California Gold Rush of 1848.
“Danny!” Mike pulled his mule to a stop and bellowed the ranger’s name in a deep, yet warm voice. “You on your way to Simpson Meadows?”
“You know it Mike.” Danny dropped his pack and took hold of the man’s leathered hand, giving it a strong shake. “I’m gonna have food when I get there…right?”
“Son, have I ever let you down before? I just left there yesterday morning. Most of the food was still good, so all I did was add to it. You’ve got about double the usual amount of food when you get there.”
Danny grinned and rubbed his stomach. “Excellent, double portions!” This elicited a laugh from Mountain Mike.
“Now don’t eat too much down there, wouldn’t want to get fat and not be able to make the hike out.” Mike cautioned.
“Well…alright, but only ‘cause you say so. I gotta get going, see you later Mike.” Danny hefted the pack back onto his back and turned to leave, but then remembered his conversation with the backpackers back at the trailhead. “Hey Mike?” He turned to face the packer, who was preparing his mule-train to resume its trek.
“Yeah?”
“Where’d you stay last night?”
Mountain Mike pulled out a worn and weathered topographic map and traced a path with his finger. “Lake of the Fallen Moon, why?”
Lake of the Fallen Moon was just north of Granite Pass, on the way to Simpson Meadows.
“You didn’t hear a plane making strange noises by any chance did you?”
The man’s eyes widened slightly. “You know, I did actually…yeah, a little before seven thirty last night. It was high pitched, like a fighter jet, and then it just stopped all of a sudden. I didn’t hear a crash or anything though…”
“Where did the noise stop?” Maybe the couple’s story had more merit to it than Danny had originally thought.
“Not sure exactly,” Mike thought for a moment. “Definitely south of Fallen Moon…uh, maybe around Dusy Basin? That’d be my best guess.”
“Do me a favor Mike, when you get back to Cedar Grove Village tell em…”
Danny’s sentence was cut off as a massive red object buzzed the treetops overhead, it’s twin turbine engines and rotor blades literally shook the pine needles from the surrounding trees. Danny dove to the ground as Mike tugged furiously on the reigns of his mule, which was braying and kicking out of fear. As soon as it had appeared, the helicopter was gone, leaving both men and the mule-train in silence.
“Damn it Herb!” Danny growled as he stood up and dusted himself off. “Crazy bastard!”
“You know that gung-ho flyboy?” Mike asked, having successfully calmed his mule.
“Yeah, that was Herbert Whittier.” Danny replied as he brushed the dust off of his dark green uniform pants.
Herbert Whittier was a local helicopter pilot who made a living giving aerial tours of the park to tourists who were too lazy to hike it themselves. Herbert, or Herb, was also known for his often-reckless piloting skills and somewhat shady business practices.
“Herb? Isn’t he the one you guys think shuttles growers out into the backcountry?”
Though never proven, it was believed by most of the park employees that Herb was the main source of transportation for poachers and drug harvesters into and out of the park. On several occasions Danny had heard eyewitness accounts from backpackers of Whittier landing within the boundaries. This was, of course, in violation of numerous FAA regulations. So far, however, they had been unable to catch him in the act.
“Yeah, that’s him.”
“You think he’s giving a tour, or acting as an air-taxi?”
Danny let out a long sigh and shook his head. “As long as I don’t have to deal with it, I don’t really care.”
“Hey Kim, come here quick!” Ron called out from behind the rocks
“Why, what’s wrong?” Given the fact that he had been using the bathroom last she heard Kim was a bit reluctant to go rushing to Ron’s side.
“Just come here!” The blond yelled back. “I found something interesting…”
