This is perhaps the last chance Hildon has of seeing Christian Charles alive again. The boy went missing without proper winter clothes- only a lightweight waterproof windbreaker and tracksuits. A search party was organised three days ago, but now with the storm closing in, Sheriff Mercer has made one last stab at finding the high school's missing star. Flurries of snow fly about around the crowd that's been gathered just outside Jeremy's Groceries, where the young man was last seen. Through a slightly malfunctioning megaphone, the sheriff's office had organised folks together, provided cheap gloves and hats to those who had come without, and even given out a few of the sheriff's office's spare winter jackets, albeit with the patches cut off.
"He-" A squeal as the megaphone hiccupped and gave a shot of audio feedback. Hammering the side of it a few times, the steel-haired woman tried again. "Hello everyone! Ah, great, this thing is working. For now, anyway." A smattering of polite, quiet laughs from the crowd. "I'm so glad to see not only locals, but out of towners turn up as well here. I can assure you, the town really appreciates your help. Let me tell you folks of the plan here." She paused for a moment to clear her throat.
"It's twenty past two in the afternoon right now. With the weather as... Strange as it is recently, we don't think we'll be out past about five o clock in the afternoon. The rangers can be out there for a lot longer, and we've got two on the case should anyone find any trails. So! We'll split up into groups and head out, covering as much land as they can. If you're getting too cold or if you think you might be lost, stop, turn around, and head back here. We don't need to be looking for more people here." Another small smattering of laughter.
"Everyone should split into groups now with a walkie-talkie so you can report in. Remember, we'll be on channel two, so keep yourselves tuned to that frequency. Once we're done, it's back here, and Jeremy has generously offered us free hot drinks for our efforts. Once again, thank you all. Stay safe, stay warm, and let's find our boy, shall we?" There were a few cheers and shouts of agreement, and then figures slowly shuffled themselves into small groups, stopping by the sheriff's patrol car to grab themselves a walkie talkie.
In the end, there were only a small handful of people left up unpaired. A seventeen-year-old local, a heavily pierced Japanese woman, a photographer, a writer in an oversized puffy pink coat, an older woman, and a local man who had taken the last of the walkie talkies. Turning to the motley crew that was left, he held a gloved hand out towards the others, his lower faced masked by a balaclava. "Name's Jake." He said, voice tinted with the roughness that only came about from a pack-a-day habit. "Let's go find this kid."