"Paulie...where are ya?" George partially asked his surroundings and partially himself. He stopped to rest and checked his watch.

"*Sigh*...It's three o'clock, and I have exactly two hours to find Paul before I hike on back to meet the others," George said to himself. "Where are ya Paul!! Stop messin' about!" He got back up and continued to look around. The clear afternoon made it much easier to see. There was a gentle breeze, perhaps the offspring of the wind that blew the night before. The sun was beaming and seeping into George's eyes, so in response, George donned on his fab gear shades.

"Still no Paul. What am I to do, wander off even further and have meself get lost? That's wouldn't be right. Oh please, someone, anyone, just give me a sign and point me in the right direction!"

At that moment, a snowball struck one side of his head.

"Ahh! Cold! That's not very nice, mates! I told ya a thousand times before, I am not your live target!" George said as he wiped the snow off his head. He looked around for the culprit.

No one was there.

"If John and Ringo aren't here...and Paul's nowhere in sight...who the hell threw that??" He looked around, left and right, up and down. He didn't find the snowball launcher, but he did notice something...maybe this was the sign he was looking for?

Perhaps that last statement should be rephrased to "the sign came looking for him instead..."

Another snowball coming from the same direction smacked him again.

"Ah! Ok ok! Enough! I can take a hint..." said George. "Sheesh, I'll walk this way then..." He began to walk in the direction opposite of the oncoming snowballs.

Three more snow missiles pelted his back, and more followed.

"Aiie! Fine! Fine! I'll run this way!" George cried out.

~~~***~~~

Meanwhile, Ringo also couldn't find Paul. He checked under rocks, hollow logs, and he even climbed trees, but no Paul. He sat down on a large rock to rest and just think about the missing mate.

"Ok Paul, this isn't funny anymore...John nearly scared the crap out of us with his nightmare; I wouldn't want that happening for real..." Ringo picked up a twig and began to scribble and doodle drawings and designs in the paper-white snow.

"Oh well, if you can hear me Paul, please, don't leave us, you can't...we need ya, we really do...we wouldn't have anyone to pick on...besides, who's going to be the one to keep us in line when me, George and especially John go potty during a press conference? *Sigh*...I don't know..."

After Ringo trailed off, silence grew and surrounded him like a transparent shield. Seeing that he was simply wasting valuable time, he got back up and once again, was searching for that Paul McCartney. But as he was walking around...

...something or someone was following him. There was a presence there that he could feel.

Ringo quickly accelerated the speed at which he was walking. Something from behind followed his lead. He then slowed down to normal. Something from behind did the same, mimicking every little thing he did.

Ringo stopped. All was silent again. He didn't dare look back...but he knew he had to confront whatever was following him.

This scared the crap out of him too.

His eyes met the eyes of a rare, white tiger.

Little did he know that in a year, he would have to encounter one that was orange. But that is then, and this is now, and now, this tiger is white and glaring at him.

As if on cue, Ringo then sprinted away like a maniac.

The tiger failed to follow him after seeing his reaction...seeing the desired reaction, that is.

~~~***~~~

George ran and ran, until he felt that his legs would fall off. But this didn't stop him; he kept on going and going. Adrenaline helped, but something else was keeping him from stopping. Although the snowballs no longer pelted him, he couldn't be sure that anymore would follow, so occasionally he would glance back and see if anything was coming after or at him.

Ringo also ran furiously, and like George, occasionally looked back to see if that tiger was following him. He couldn't see it, cos the snow was white and so was the bloody tiger, but he didn't care, he didn't want it catching up to him. The farther away he was, it was all for the better, right?

But, as the both of them concurrently looked behind them, they both crashed into something...

...each other. The both of them also simultaneously landed on their bums.

"Ow, Ringo, watch where yer...going...?" George slowly said, adjusting his glasses.

"You!!" Ringo and George exclaimed.

"What are you doing here??" Ringo asked.

"I was being used as target practice for snowballs! And no one was throwing them at me, they just came out and hit me!"

"George, don't be soft. How could snowballs just get up and come careening towards you, huh?" Ringo said, helping George to his feet.

"They were! I swear it! How come you're here then??"

"George, you don't want to know."

"Fine fine! Your reason for being 'ere is probably more daft than mine! *Sigh* C'mon mate, let's go find Paul now, shall we?" George asked. The two of them were about to walk their separate ways when...

They both fell flat on their faces, in the snow.

"Ahh! Me nose is all cold!" Ringo said, getting up.

"Ringo, what did you do!"

"What do you mean, what did I do? I thought you did it luv!"

"No, I didn't do a thing!" George retorted. He struggled while trying to get back up. "Something's pulling at me boot...Ringo!"

"What now??"

"You tied our boot laces together!"

"No Geo, I didn't even touch them! You probably did it to blame it on me, you bugger!"

"Oh, shut it, maybe we're supposed to look for Paul together then... something's not letting the two of us go it alone anyway."

"All right, I wanna find Paulie too, y'know Johnny's probably worried about 'im too," Ringo finished as he untied the boot laces. "C'mon Geo, let's go."

The pair then searched for Paul together.

~~~***~~~

"His friends have not found him yet...what is keeping them?" The spirit wondered to herself. She then grew serious. "My older brother, just because he is older, believes that he can order me to use my power to do harm...toying with mortal's lives...if I don't do as I am told, then I shall be punished. I'd rather take the blame than have this innocent one die when it is not his time to leave...it is not even my brother's decision..."

She had been watching over the tranquil Beatle ever since morning. "He's going to die soon, and I don't want that to happen. But I don't know how much longer he has..."

She placed her marble white hands on his forehead and then on his icy cheeks.

"From this point on, he has now and tomorrow to be saved. If the sun sinks below the horizon tomorrow, he sleeps forever. I don't want him to slip away...I want his friends to come and save him soon...pull through and hang on..." she whispered.

Her figure melted away and dissolved into the night.

~~~***~~~

"Ok, this isn't good, where is he??" George asked the sky this time.

"I told you, Paul isn't anywhere!" Ringo answered back.

"No no, not Paul, John!! It's nearly six o' clock, and he even said to meet here, right here, at five. Now where is he??"

"How am I s'pposed to know, I was with you the entire time! Maybe he just lost track while looking for Paul, ya know that we should really continue doing that..."

"But Ring! He said to meet here! What 'appens if he comes 'ere, and we're not? We'll just be looking around for each other, and that will waste time, and we won't find Paul!"

"Yeh, but at this moment, Paul could be freezing or starving, or whatever to death!"

"He could be dead for all we know!!!!" George exclaimed with such passion his glasses fell from his face. He quietly picked them up and put them in his pocket because there was no need for them anymore.

"Geo...ok, a lit'le compromise: we'll stay here, for now. If it gets any later than usual, you have to understand that we'll have to go look for them anyway..."

"All right, all right," George mumbled. "What do you want to do now while we're waitin'?"

"I don't know, I have some cards 'ere. A game of poker?"

"Sure, whatever," George agreed unenthusiastically. "Now I'm getting worried about the both of them..."

"Don't worry 'bout them mate, they'll get here soon, just stay positive."

"Well then, I hope you're right! I don't want his nightmare comin' true!"

And that was exactly what John was thinking.

~~~***~~~

Dammit, he can't do this to me! No he can't! It's all his fault! He has to let me find him or else! John's thoughts rocketed through his mind. "Crap, it's almost 7:30 p.m., and I told them to meet me more than two hours ago! But screw it, I'm not going back until I find Paul!"

John trudged forward, not noticing the gray fog thickening around him. It was getting rather dark in addition to it getting rather cold. Totally positive about checking everywhere he could, the weary, stressed out Beatle sat down in the snow, cross legged, to rest. Finding a fellow Beatle in the snow was as difficult as finding a ruby among garnets, a diamond among cubic zirconias, and all those other analogies that could appropriately fit. John rested his elbows on his knees and held his head in his gloved hands. His candy-caned striped scarf, once stationary, came alive and felt it should act as one of those windcatchers seen at airports, the ones used to see how much wind and what direction it was blowing in.

The scarf picked up the wind's movement. Sensing this, the loyal piece of red and white cloth gently patted his owner's face, to warn or advise him to do something before the wind became anymore worse. John responded to this by getting up, securing his scarf and trekking off to find Paul once again. He did not know where he was wandering off to, or where he was going, where he was heading, he just walked because the view in front of him was clear for some strange reason. It was strange because...

His side and back were still covered in fog...but in front of him it was clear...just like in his dream.

John refused to think about his dream, no matter how similar it paralleled his present situation. He scolded his imagination for coming up with such unbelievable crap, no matter how real it seemed to be. Continuing forward against the cold, he searched in vain for Paul. Time either had no more meaning or was shot dead, according to the solitary Beatle. Seconds, minutes passed... and he ended up back at the same place he had started from. John sighed and sat down to rest.

"Oh, this is just great, this is just so bloody daft of me...I can't find Paul, and he's probably dead, but I'll be dead soon if I don't get back to Ring and Geo...damn, for the first time in me life, I have no clue what the hell to do next!!" Imitating what he did earlier, he laid down in the snow, causing his back to soak up the wet snow. Since he had no hat on, his hair became a bit damp as well. He took his hands and placed them under his head, while he crossed one knee over the other. His eyes glanced up and he could see the stars twinlking back at him. The view in front of him, indifferent to which way he would look, would always

remain clear, for some reason.

Journeying along the galaxy of diamonds above, with his sound mind following each glimmering speck closely, his eyes molded and created new constellations, rode upon brilliant speeding comets, and swirled various colors of the night: indigo, violet, navy and black, together and concocted new colors all unfamilar to prisms and rainbows.

Suddenly, something kicked him on his left side...hard. John cried out in pain, immediately sat up, and looked up. The stars and his newly invented colors no longer played in front of him; something was in his way. This so called "something" was black and looming over him. John tried to figure out what this

creature was until...

...it smiled happily at him. It flashed one of those radiant smiles that brightens up daylight to make it more joyful.

John shook his head to make the figure disappear. He looked up again. It was still there, smiling at him.

This time, it winked.

By now, John was rather, to put it lightly, freaked out. He had been searching all over for him, and...and...

...there he was...

...smiling, winking, perhaps playfully mocking him.

"You can't catch me..." the figure gleefully whispered as it turned away and started to run.

"Paul!! Don't run, don't leave me!" John jumped to his feet and pursued the figure.

"Whatever you do, you still won't catch me..." it softly whispered. It didn't matter how softly it spoke, John could hear it as if the figure were whispering in his own ears.

"Come back, Paul! Please!! Don't go!!" John pleaded, trying to keep up. "Don't go..."

At those words, the figure began to slowly decelerate. It staggered and struggled to keep running...then...

...it collasped to the ground.

"No!!! Paul!!!" John screamed. Terror flowed through his veins in place of blood. He quickly rushed to the figure's side and held him in his arms. "Paul!! Wake up! C'mon mate, it's me! Please!!"

The figure's eyes were closed; it seemed unconscious...but then...

...its eyes opened and met John's eyes.

"Dammit Paul! I can tell that's you by your bloody eyes!" John yanked the scarf that concealed the rest of Paul's face, from the nose down, off. It truly was Paul, eyes open and in John's arms.

"Get up! C'mon, get up!!" John begged desperately.

"Hi...John...it's you..." Paul whispered slowly. Paul smiled as if nothing was really wrong.

"Paul, enough with this, get up!" John commanded.

"John...you caught me...now...you have to save me..." Paul whispered again. The smile from his face slowly melted away. His eyes closed.

Paul began to fade and literally disappeared into thin air.

John looked at his arms and hands again… there was no sign that Paul ever was there. His hands held nothing in them, absolutely nothing. Just seconds ago, John swore that Paul McCartney was there, in his arms, smiling at him, even talking to him...now, he was gone...again.

"Paul!!! No!!" John screamed again, clenching his fists. Red once again flooded his mind, the vicious color drowned his heart and stained his soul. All around, John could only see red...red was the color of his eyes, his hands, his body, the fog also joined in as it morphed into a red cloud...and the rest of the

world was turning into the evil and sadistic, hateful hue...surrounded in red, swimming in red, breathing in red...living in red...drowning in red and then...dying in red...

John gasped and tried to breathe. The color was literally choking him. He coughed to get the red out of his system. It didn't work. The crimson stung his eyes, deafened his ears...

...to become helpless...blind, deaf and mute...all by a color...

John immediately sat up and breathed.

This time, the nightmare wasn't just too real...it was too frightening.