"Yeah. Just don't know what they're gonna - well, do."

"I won't let them do anything to you."

"Thanks, but - other than avoiding them I'm not sure what we can do."

"I'll figure it out."

"The offer's appreciated, though, thanks."

"We're in this together, right?"

"Heh. Yeah."

Ahhhhhh Jenn has a nice smile.

Bina is suddenly grateful for the mud hiding her blush.

Jenn turns her attention back to wading through the mud - they can't be that much further from the camp?

It's a few minutes, and the camp's deserted when they get there, except for a sound Bina identifies as an industrial sump-pump. Probably for getting the water out from behind the sandbags surrounding the camp.

Jenn nods, and climbs carefully over the sandbags, scanning the area for anything useful.

Bina has to move even more carefully, curling her toes in to keep her shoes from coming off in the mud. The ground inside is wet and silty.

The lights are on, still, but it's quiet. The camp is large - either set up quickly, in force, or it's been here a while. There's a bunch of tables covered in assorted things under a square tent to their right, a truck on its side ahead of them, a hazmat shower ahead and to the left outside another tent, a gondola lift straight ahead, next to an electrical tower that seems to hold the controls - except the wire is cut through and sparking. There's a small note stuck to the controls. An assortment of more tents is behind the gondola.

Jenn eyes the sparking wire, and swears - not in French or English, but her tone probably gets the meaning across. She goes to look at the note on the controls anyway - just in case.

Bina goes to peer at the tables (random junk, labeled with where it's from).

The note reads:

To whoever has been leaving bubblegum stuck to the buttons of the crane controls, PLEASE STOP, it not funny and it is gross and unhygienic.

We're all qualified professionals here and, I think, if we all pull together, REALLY stretch ourselves, and try our HARDEST, it is just possible that we might be able to reach the maturity level of third graders. Thank you.

-Dr. K

Jenn snorts a little, and then goes to join Bina, eyes lingering briefly on the shower - something is off, but it's not quite processing just yet.

"What'd the note say?" Bina asks. "Also I think I can see a phone over there, nearish the controls. I'd rather not have to try it, but..."

"Apparently they have a problem with gum chewers," Jenn explains. "Nothing useful. But the wire was cut - probably by a knife."

"Ugh. Do you think it's fixable?"

"It's still live. And the power source is from upstairs." She points up at the hole. "No way to do it safely."

"Maybe we could do something with the thermos and blanket? As insulation?"

"No," Jenn states emphatically. "That would- The concept is good, but- No. It would end up with one, or both of us dead."

"Alright." She trudges over to the column, avoiding the sparks. "Looks like the phone line isn't cut at least?"

"Wild guess: it's point-to-point telephone? Not one with a keypad?"

"Yup. Just the phone itself. It's mostly plastic. I don't think I should touch it though, electronics don't behave well around my arm. It might explode. Or attempt to possess us."

Jenn nods, and after a moment of thought, picks up the phone.

It rings, and then clicks, and then a recording is playing. The quality's bad, but the voice - feminine, with a thick Quebecois accents - is still audible.

"Hey! Josh and Kate!

"You know how you're supposed to check in every half hour you're down in the work area? Maybe you should consider doing that hmm? You said you were almost done with the sandbags like an hour ago and I want to go home.

"Anyway, as you are still -shoveling dirt- I have decided to take my break and I'm heading out to grab a drink from the twenty four hour place around the corner. I am bringing back one of the boxes of tiny doughnuts as well, so please be done by the time I am back. Then we can have doughnuts and maybe get some sleep tonight. You realize we have to be back here in, like, five hours anyway? I, personally, would like to spend as much of that intervening time unconscious in my own bed as I possibly can.

There is the muffled clinking noise, and a rustle, as though the speaker were standing up from a chair. "OK. I am going now. If you guys have seriously decided that 4:00am, in the middle of a thunderstorm, was the right time to go exploring down there I am going to punch you. Both of you. Right in the nose."

A tinny, electric, sigh.

"Ok. I am gone."

And then a click, followed by a cheerful voice, perky and corporate. "After the tone, please record your message. When you have finished recording, hang up, or press pound for more options."