They walked for half an hour before they found a driveway.  Not a single car had passed yet, despite it being a fine spring day and the middle of the afternoon.  Neal decided that they should go up the driveway, figuring that there would be a house.

            And there was.  It was large, two stories of wooden logs for a rustic feel, but it was no mere log cabin.  The second story had a balcony all the way around, and there were big, beautiful windows.  Someone very rich lived here.

            They knocked on the door and heard loud musical chimes inside.

            “Fancy doorbell,” Owen said.

            The big doors opened, and a man stood there.  He was casually dressed, in perfectly tailored khaki pants and a light, breezy shirt.  The man was somewhat portly, with tanned skin and a big smile.

            “Hello!  Come in, come in!  It looks like you’ve had quite the misadventure.  Enter my home, and tell me why you’re here!”  He said amiably, ushering them inside.  He led them through a marble tiled hallway with a grand staircase to a dining room.  He rang a bell, and the butler that arrived was ordered to bring lemonade and water for the “guests.”

            “Friendly fellow, isn’t he?”  Owen whispered to Neal conspiratorially.

            “Shh!”  Neal hushed his friend. 

            “So, tell me, what brings you here, and what’s happened to you all?” The man asked. 

            “Well sir,” Neal began, “We were on this plane, and it crashed…”

            “You’re kidding!”  The man said, “I’d have taken you for survivors on a desert island first.”  He grinned at them, trying to make them feel at home.

            “Yes, I see your point.”  Neal said, taking him seriously and looking at their sunburnt skin.  “Well, we’ve been on the mountain for a long time.”

            “I should say so.  No crashes have been reported on the news for awhile, not since February, anyway…”  The man said.  He sat up in his chair quite suddenly, a look of surprise on his face.

            “You’re not from that plane, are you?  Fancy that, and arriving on my doorstep two months later!”  He looked quite pleased at the idea.  “Why, it’s incredible!  Who’d have thought of it?”

            “Which plane, sir?”  Jason asked.

            “The one the hurricane crashed.  They found it last month, and said that there was no way anyone could have survived the crash, yet there were bodies missing.  The only bodies not identified were seven young college students.  There was a huge search, but everyone feared the worst because the storm did so much damage to the whole province.”  He smiled and banged his fist on the table, “But here you are, nonetheless!”

            “Could you tell us where we are, sir?”  Neal asked politely.

            “Oh, I’m sorry!  I forgot to introduce myself.  I am Simon Lamb, at your service.  This is my home.  Well, one of them, anyway.”  He grinned.

            “Oh man, you’re Simon Lamb?”  Dan said.  “Guys, this guy’s one of the richest men in the world!  He’s got oil companies, and factories, and software companies, and he’s a huge movie mogul in Hollywood…”

            “So you’ve heard of me?”  Lamb said, smiling again.  “How splendid!  Now, who are all of you?”

            “I’m Neal Osborne, and this is Owen Truman, my cousins Alex and Jason, that’s Dan Calhoun and Evan Kimball’s beside him.  That’s Genevieve Pitney, and her brother, Ethan.”

            Lamb grinned at them all, and received nods, quiet hellos and some smiles in return.  Genevieve, however, kept quiet.  There was something about Lamb and his easy smile that she didn’t like.

            “Well, consider yourselves my guests!  I’ll see to informing the local authorities of your whereabouts – in the meantime, you may use the three showers upstairs to clean up.  I’ll have the maids provide bathrobes, and the chef will make you a late lunch.  Welcome!”

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