A third in sequence, even more remotely based on Reality than the others.

"I don't want to drive anymore," Beth was driving. "I'd like to stop now and walk around, then one of you other bozos can drive for awhile."

"But we were just beginning to have fun back here," Suzanne complained, placing a Jack, then a Queen and a King on a precariously balanced pile. She scooped the pile up and handed it to Terry, "Besides, it's your mom we're going to visit."

"Yeah, it's my mom we're going to inundate and run out of food," Beth pulled to the side of the road. It looked almost like a desert scene from the movies; the road was straight forward for miles, disappearing into a slight rise. "You sods should be kissing my FEET, not treating me like slave labor here." She opened the driver side door letting a gust of real air into the suburban, releasing their carefully stored and rareified atmosphere out to nowhere. "I think it's time for lunch anyway. Let's have a picnic," she slammed the door shut.

Mike moaned his way into consciousness in the far back. "Have we stopped? Wh... Why have we stopped?"

"Time to eat, laughing boy," David said, prodding Mike with his cards. "You're familiar with eating, aren't you?"

The back hatch opened and the passenger doors opened. While everyone piled out in their own stylized manner, Beth rummaged through the coolers in the back. "Spam? Who the hell brought SPAM?! And why is it in a fucking cooler? Fer gossake. Like it won't withstand a nuclear holocaust or something."

"It's mine," Mike foolishly admitted. And before he could stop himself he completed his damnation, "I like it."

Amidst the various gagging and horking noises, Rachel said to Beth, "Let me help you with that." Pause. To all those present, "Do you feel like a hot lunch or a cold lunch?" Beth shrugged, Terry and Suzanne looked pensive, David was off in his own little world of noise-making, and Mike was crunched up in an attitude of guilt. "Mike gets the Spam," Rachel concluded.

They'd set up a picnic at the side of the road. Beth, the don't-cross-me Irish redhead, had insisted as if to spite the fact that felt like winter. Their conversation had been revolving around Mike's question "Why shouldn't I like Spam?" Mike was a 'tall guy of Arian descent' who had fallen in with their group quite by the accident of his generally good nature. He didn't really have the appearance about him which seemed required to associate with this pack of occult throw-ins. Not that the strange array of talents and fates couldn't handle his down-to-earth common sense, just that he had somehow not yet acquired that 'edged and edgey' look the rest of them had in degrees on a perpetual basis.

David had cast runes only to discover that he'd left his reference book in Ohio. Suzanne offered to do a Tarot reading for Mike, but they decided not to use the standard decks of cards they had; they would wait until they got home and Really Investigate The Matter Proper-Like. It was becoming quite a joke for them to determine creative ways to divine the answer to Mike's question.

"We could get a stick and Rachel could dowse for the answer," Suzanne suggested.

"What, I'd find the answer to Spam in the water table??" Rachel asked incredulously.

"Then we'd have water, at least," Terry commented. It had been determined that the water jug must be sitting right beside David's book on the coffee table in Beth and Rachel's apartment.

"Or we could change the subject," Rachel mentioned.

"I like the idea of gutting a Barney doll, casting its entrails to the wind, having David read portents in the floating grease of our effigy Can o'Tripe, making Suzanne dance naked under the moon with Beth and Rachel calling quarters, and then fasting in prayer for three days," Terry snickered and leered at Suzanne.

Mike visually gave up, putting his hand on his forehead and sat back on the tire of the truck, "How in the world did I get me inta dis mess?!"

"Road trip," Rachel reminded him. "Beth was going to drive by herself, and I couldn't have that."

"And it's never been a good idea for Beth and Rachel to travel together," Suzanne chimed in.

"I had the time off already," Terry added.

"So we decided to go along," Suzanne finished.

"My mom thinks David's pretty cool, too, in spite of all his ASSets," Beth stated.

"And we needed a 'reluctant driver' to complete the picture," David said, slapping together two pieces of bread which appeared to have gone through a cuisinart on their way to being peanut-buttered and jellied. "Soup's up. Wolf it down while it's still unconscious." He finished putting sandwiches together while Terry and Suzanne distributed sodas. Beth handed out paper towels.

"How much farther do we have to go today?" Mike asked, taking a bite.

"Only another five hundred or so miles. ... With you driving, it should be a cinch."

"I knew this would happen when your mom moved to Montana," Mike shook his head slowly, examining his sandwich for the next most tasty spot. "How did I ever get suckered into this?"

"Road trip. I told you," Rachel responded. In the three years and some that they had known him, Mike had proven to be reluctant about almost everything. But --and this was important-- give him an insurmountable mental puzzle ... boggle the mind ... and he'd somehow manage to come up with a solution which just might work. Most times he seemed to wish to be thought of as dull or unimaginative, but he had the tendency to get carried away when it came to things he could do with just his mind.

"Yeah. Road trip," Mike reiterated, popping open his soda.

"We should be in Rapid City by nightfall," Beth said, turning a road atlas in every conceivable direction. "Then we could stop and still get to Helena tomorrow." She set the atlas down and sipped her soda, washing her mouth with the taste of it, "I think."

"Do we feel like camping tonight? Or are we going to spend millions of dollars on hotel accomodations ?" David asked.

"If we TAKE TURNS driving and watch the gas gage, we could drive most of it tonight, depending on how late it gets and if there's likely to be a station open or on our way... ." Beth thought aloud to the group.

"Do you really think there'll be a campground open this time of year?" Suzanne asked David.

"I should imagine not," Terry answered. "Well, maybe for RVs and such like, but not for tents. They wouldn't want everyone freezing to death."

"I hear it gets cold in the midwest states at night, no matter what time of year it is," Rachel commented.

"It does," Mike confirmed, but had nothing to add when they all looked at him questioningly.

Somewhere near the far end of Montana they were awakened by Mike's "Oh shit" of consternation. Or maybe it was the sudden sliding, or maybe it was the bouncing as the suburban went off the side of the road.

"What the hell?!" David asked, wrenching himself out of the rock-and-hard (but very small) place between the seat and the door.

"Uh," Mike tried to answer the question.

"When did it start to snow?!" Beth asked sharply.

"Uh," Mike tried again, visibly shaken.

"And where are we, afterall?" Rachel asked as well.

"You look awful," Suzanne said from the front passenger seat, reaching over to touch Mike. "Are you ill?"

Mike just sat there, looking awful, recovering from the knowledge that he'd been driving when they all could have gotten killed. Terry placed himself between the two, leaning over the front seat to examine Mike.

"He's okay. He'll be fine. He's just been driving way too long. That's all."

"You all fell asleep and I didn't want to wake you," Mike began. "I thought we could get all the way there by morning if I drove as long as I could. Then it started snowing. I think I might have taken a wrong turn... too."

"This ain't snow, kiddies," David announced. "What we have here is a blizzard." He paused while that information sunk in. "Do you have ANY idea where we are, Mike?" David's tone was not angry or sarcastic; it held a faint current of concern and genuine need-to-know counterbalanced with a businesslike get-information urgency.

Mike didn't speak for a few seconds. There might have been an invisible object about two feet in front of his throat -- or not. He scowled at his thought, "I saw a sign for Livingston, I think, and there was one for Dozerman... or something like that. I think I went the wrong way the last time I stopped for gas." He paused, "I don't know where I stopped for gas." He practically threw his face into his hands, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Mike. We'll get it figured out." Suzanne comforted him. "It's not that bad. Really."

Terry cleared his throat. "But first I suggest we get this car back on the road. Before the snow is too deep for us to do anything."

They heaved themselves out of the suburban, and, following tradition, walked around the vehicle in small circles waving their arms and smacking themselves as they sized up the situation.

"Gods it's cold!" Rachel stated the obvious. The truck was not so bad off as it could have been. Mike was lucky that way. "Who's going to drive this bucket while the rest of us push and shove like we know what we're doing?"

"Not me," Mike said sheepishly under his breath.

"I can't drive this dinosaur."

"What do we have that we can shove under the tires for traction?"

"I have no idea how to get out of this mess, except to gun it. I'm pretty sure that's the wrong way to do it."

"Terry?" Rachel asked. He was the only one who had not said anything. He stood with his gloved hand on his chin, looking contemplatively at the position of the rear tires in relation to the roadway.

"Yes," he answered, nodding slightly. "I'll do it."

Terry took charge and had them back on the road within what seemed to only be half a millennium, instead of the requisite forever that any of the rest of them would have anticipated. They sat in the suburban re-warming themselves and had snacks before they began the task of discovering where they might be going. It was Suzanne's idea.

"Now, you said something about a Livingston?" Beth looked up from her trusty atlas while Terry juggled a map of Idaho-Montana-Wyoming with his flashlight and his lump of cheese. Somehow they had all thought to bring flashlights.

"Was that BEFORE or AFTER you stopped for gas?" David prodded. They were trying to be careful to not sound accusing or disdainful. Mike was one of those who never let using his head get in the way of doing a good deed, but he could be extremely sensitive if things backfired in any way.

"It was before," Mike stated firmly. "And right before it started snowing. It hit all at once. I was near an exit... . I don't think that'll help us much. But then I stopped for gas, and I remember being on an odd-numbered route, so I thought I'd just go back the way I came instead of going on. But... I'm pretty sure I didn't."

"Odd-numbered route? What's that got to do with it?" Beth asked in genuine curiousity.

"It's odd to go North or South when the country is so wide," Rachel said. "So, the North-South routes have odd numbers." She smiled at Beth, "I figured that out all by myself." The mock-pride in the atmosphere of the truck made it difficult not to cough.

"Anyway," David said, "You also mentioned Dozerman?" He looked over Beth's shoulder at the atlas, using his own flashlight as a scanner beam.

"Yes." Mike paused, "But that was around the same time I saw the sign for Livingston. And it was farther. And I'm sure I was still on 90." The game of finding their location made Mike bright and cheery-seeming. That would last only a few seconds, though, before he would remember that HE was supposedly to blame for them being lost and would suddenly become angrily depressed again.

"No, wait. If it was Bozeman that helps alot!" Terry said 'eureka' fashion. "Does the number 89 ring any bells?"

"Yeah. Bozeman, Bozerman, something like that." Something clicked. "YEAH, 89. We must be on route 89!" Mike was pleased again.

"But what does this Mean?" Suzanne asked, rubbing her hands together.

Terry put down his map and gave her his gloves as he said, "We're on 89 going North; it's the only way 89 goes, heading from 90. If you stopped at Clyde Park for gas then we could be near a place called Wilsall, or if you stopped at Wilsall we could be near Ringling. Unless there's other towns not on the map. But I've heard of Ringling." He barely paused, "Must be a comparatively big town. And I seriously doubt Mike would have driven THAT far before stopping for gas or knowing he was on... a digression."

"How far is it?" Beth asked, still holding the atlas, then realizing she could check for herself. They were quiet. "I have Clyde Park on here, but no... Wislaw? And here's Ringling. Where do they come up with these names, anyway?"

Terry had his map again. "Hmm... Maybe 20 or so miles to Clyde Park, another 10 or 15 to Wilsall. Uh," he paused. "Another,..." measuring with his thumb, "35 or 40 miles to Ringling, depending on where we are."

"I might have passed another little town after I left the gas station. It's been real hard to see anything." They waited while he went through his thinking/staring ritual. "Yes, it must have been another town. Because that's when I knew I'd gone the wrong way, though I wasn't sure how I knew it."

"You're POSitive?" Rachel asked, expecting him to lapse back into scowling. He didn't.

"Yes." He stopped suddenly, leaned back and smacked his forehead, "DUH! How STUPID. I should've realized it right then!"

"It's okay," Suzanne said at the same time David asked,

"So where does that put us?"

"A little less than six of one, but a full half dozen of the other," Beth answered. "Unless you want to head back to Wil-sall or Clyde Park, that is. ... We seem to be headed to Ringling."

"Unless the car got turned around again," David mentioned and immediately regretted it.

"I'm sorry!" Mike whined and fell into a moody silence from which they all knew he would not return for at least an hour.

"YEEE-hah!" Rachel yowled, "Four-Wheel-Drive Skiin'! The only way to drive!" The storm had gotten progressively worse as they went what they hoped would be North. Rachel had been unanimously chosen to pilot the vehicle. Some of them were really beginning to question that decision now, but they didn't dare stop long enough to switch.

"Could you stop that please, dear?" Beth asked, grabbing the Jesus-bar above the passenger-side door.

"Oh, you wound me to the quick," was Rachel's response. In prolonged crisis, it seemed, Rachel became delirious, often resorting to extremes in verbalization, "I doubt I shall ever recover." The truck bounced and slid crazily with the wind on the ice and snow. They had not been travelling faster than 10 miles an hour since they started out again. You wouldn't know it, though, to hear Rachel.

"I know how to shut her up," David offered from the back seat. He was quiet, the tension in the truck screaming DO IT THEN! while they waited for him. "Hypothetical question, Rachel... ."

"Yes?--" She turned the wheel sharply, "-- AWright! You can let me stay on the road ANY ol' time, Mister Wind, sir!"

David grabbed the back of her seat, "If you were given a choice between saving the world--" The truck lurched again "--and saving the one person you love most truly [assuming there could ever BE such a person], which would it be?"

"Oh, come on, David," Terry interjected.

"Wait, wait," Rachel chided. "Am I alive during all of this? Or is this really a question of whether I would leave my one true love completely alone in all the world or whether I would sacrifice everyone else for us ?"

"You can't be serious, Rachel?!" Suzanne asked.

"Now wait, Suzanne; I want the question clarified, that's all."

"If I weren't such a warm and wonderful person, I could take great exception to this question, David." Beth commented.

"He said TRUE love, Beth, not undying passionate intellectual love. Duh." They were the first words Mike chose to speak.

Those in the back seat turned to stare at him.

"WOO-hoo, Mikey! Get harsh!" Rachel bellowed.

"I mean that ... well." An idea struck him, "Say you DIDN'T know if you would live, but that you might." David clarified.

Only a split-second pause, "Well, fuck the idealized, possesion-you're-mine, can't be a rational human without you true love crap anyway, David. You should know better than that. Forever will bring us together once more. Eeba-deeba. Where's your head?"

"AND." Mike stated-asked from the back back seat. There was bite to his word. It was obvious he was peeved by something, and just as obvious that he wouldn't tell. He'd be mean for awhile, centering it on Rachel, as usual, then pretend nothing untoward had gone on when the mood wore off.

"Aaaand, Mikey," It was these times when Rachel warped right back at him. If the friends had not gotten used to this behaviour by now they would all be getting out of the truck to walk instead of sitting through the warlike catharsis. "I would not be the person I am should I ever choose to sacrifice a world full of people, or to quite possibly abandon my only love alone. Thus my love would not have me anymore, on the outside chance I did survive. And my love would again be alone, or worse, have an obsessive homicidal lunatic as the only possibility for companionship. TA and DA. Is this sufficient answer, David?"

"Yes. Your question."

It took Rachel almost a minute -- during which time she was quiet -- to think of her question. "Okay, got one. Hypothetical question, Terry -- " The truck spun and swerved, bounced off the road and then wormed its way back on only because Rachel seemed to have forgotten where the brakes were, "SHIT!!! Is that a person out there?!!" The others had been busily trying not to sustain bodily damage. "LOOK! Tell me!! Is that a PERSON?!!" All the faces except Rachel's pressed against windows, some hands scratched at frost and fog which had accumulated. The truck moved dangerously slow. They all eventually saw the wrap-around Toyota on the tree and the person, yes it was a person, trying to climb back out of the gully.

"Get them!" Rachel commanded amid the comments of the others,

"Oh no, that looks bad."

"Do you think there's anyone else in that car?"

"Oh god, what do we do?"

Terry was out the side door, David jumped out too. Suzanne and Beth leaned out their doors, watching and ready to help pull people in again.

"They've got the one out of the gully," Mike did the play-by-play report. "They're talking. They're trying to run. I don't think there's anyone else in the car. They're falling. Oof, that hurt. They're helping each other up. I think the one is panicking -- maybe they should knock him out -- they're trying to run again. Can we go any slower here? It's getting hard to see them. ..."

"I see them too, Rache. They're going to do okay. Don't worry about slowing down," Suzanne took over commentary.

And finally, after what seemed to be twenty thousand minutes, "Here they are. Mike, grab my feet."

Something not unlike a human chain formed out of the three available bodies in the truck. Beth had closed her door and crawled over the seat. She was now braced by a strange arrangement of seatbelts. Terry was first to be yanked back in the truck with the stranger firmly attached to his pantleg and boot. Then David, who had to try twice since he apparently didn't feel it was appropriate to affix himself to the stranger.

"Howdy." Mike stated from inside the heap of snowy bodies in the back seat.

"Uh... 'Howdy.'" Someone else inside the writhing mass said.

"I'm Mike. Pleased to meetcha!"

"Uh, yeah. Hi Mike. ..." Movement, the sound of winter jackets sliding across each other, seatbelts unbuckling, "I'm Dierdre."

Beth threw herself back over the front seat, "I'm Beth." The others began the serious business of sorting and straightening themselves out, "This is Suzanne. That's Terry, and there's David."

"Take off your coat, Dierdre," Rachel demanded from the front seat.

"Excuse me?"

"That's Rachel. You'll have to forgive her; she's driving." Beth told her.

"I mean Take Off Your Coat, Dierdre. You must've been out there awhile, and the cold's got inside your coat by now. You're probably soaked, too. If you don't take it off you're going to stay cold alot longer... ." The others were heeding her advice because they knew better. "There's plenty of bodies in here. You'll be warm."

Dierdre looked cautiously around, "Um. Okay. Thanks,... Rachel."

"Oh damn; I was about to say something REALLY motherly like, 'Don't make me stop this car, young lady.' You ARE a girl, aren't you? I hope that's not too personal a question."

Beth looked at Dierdre sympathetically and mouthed, "She's driving," as the explanation.

"Last time I checked I was," Dierdre answered. "A girl, that is."

"When was that?" Mike asked sans venom.

"When was what?" Dierdre seemed to be having a bit of difficulty removing her jacket.

"The last time you checked?"

"Uh... . Yesterday. I can get a doctor's note if you'd like."

Terry and Suzanne smiled. Apparently Dierdre was going to do well among their group -- especially nice since right now she didn't have much of a choice.