when he was ⦠here? Wherever here was.
Worry. Panic. Terror. Emotions continued to swell inside him, and somehow he knew if he could get to his family, it would be okay. He would be okay. That he wouldnât be stuck anymore. He tried to move closer to them, but something held him back. No, it didnât just hold him back. It pulled him back.
âNo,â he said, trying to free himself to go to them.
His mom looked up. Her mouth moved as if talking, but he couldnât hear her. Then she waved him back, as if telling him to go. Not that he had a choice.
Whoever, whatever had him, kept moving him. His family was getting smaller and smaller. Why wouldnât his mom want him to come with them? He didnât want to be alone.
In the distance, he heard barking. Baxter. Thinking of Baxter brought on another wave of unexplainable panic. Why was he worried about Baxter? He squinted to see his dog was with his family. It didnât seem like it. But they were so small now, maybe he just couldnât see.
But the barking seemed to be closer than his parents and Mindy. He shifted his gaze looking for the dog. When he glanced back up at his family they were nothing but tiny specks in the surrounding light.
He could still hear the barking. âBaxter?â he called. âWhere are you?â
Then he remembered Baxter was lost. Lost. And the storm was coming. His heart suddenly swelled with another memory. The plane. The ⦠crash.
His heart pounded against his chest.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
The light disappeared. Or that light did. Another light turned the inside of his eyelids red. He tried to open them, but they felt so heavy. Crusty, as if something had glued them shut.
Before he tried again, the pain hit. Pain in his arm. In his neck. His head. But amazingly, nothing else hurt. Thatâs when it hit him. It didnât hurt because he couldnât feel anything. He couldnât feel anything below his chest. Not his legs, or his feet.
Forcing his eyes open, bits of white fell toward him. Snow. A flake fell into his eye and he blinked it away. More raw panic gripped his chest.
His parents? Mindy? Tami? He swallowed. His throat barely worked. He tried to raise his head. It hurt, but he did it anyway. âMom? Dad?â he called, but the sound barely came out.
He blinked several times and tried to focus. All he could see was a mangled piece of metal that had once been a plane. The plane his dad loved. He called it Amy, named after his mom.
âMom?â he called again and turned his head to see if he could spot anyone. He couldnât. But then he saw the snow around the mass of mangled metal. It was red. Blood red.
He remembered the light. Seeing them in the bright tunnel. âNo,â he screamed and tried to get up, but he couldnât move his legs.
He dropped his head back in the pillow of snow. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks.
A wave of dizziness hit, bringing the blackness back. He embraced it.
***
Noise. Chaseâs mind registered it. Metal scraping against metal.
He saw the red again on the back of his eyelids and forced his eyes open. Snow caught on his eyelashes, or was it ice? His face felt almost frozen, sort of half-numb.
âDamn it, Tallman. This wasnât supposed to happen,â the voice boomed out of nowhere.
Chase used every bit of his energy to lift his head. He saw two men standing beside the red snow and plane wreckage. One wore a white coat. The other wore black, all black: black jeans and a black coat.
âI should have never involved him in this,â the man in white said, as if he was looking at â¦
Is he alive?
Chase tried to speak but only air came out. Then again, he must have spoken, because the two men swung around as if heâd yelled the words.
âOne of them is alive,â the man in white said. They both rushed closer, their footsteps crunching on the snow.
One of them? Only one?
They were dead. His dad, mom,
Worry. Panic. Terror. Emotions continued to swell inside him, and somehow he knew if he could get to his family, it would be okay. He would be okay. That he wouldnât be stuck anymore. He tried to move closer to them, but something held him back. No, it didnât just hold him back. It pulled him back.
âNo,â he said, trying to free himself to go to them.
His mom looked up. Her mouth moved as if talking, but he couldnât hear her. Then she waved him back, as if telling him to go. Not that he had a choice.
Whoever, whatever had him, kept moving him. His family was getting smaller and smaller. Why wouldnât his mom want him to come with them? He didnât want to be alone.
In the distance, he heard barking. Baxter. Thinking of Baxter brought on another wave of unexplainable panic. Why was he worried about Baxter? He squinted to see his dog was with his family. It didnât seem like it. But they were so small now, maybe he just couldnât see.
But the barking seemed to be closer than his parents and Mindy. He shifted his gaze looking for the dog. When he glanced back up at his family they were nothing but tiny specks in the surrounding light.
He could still hear the barking. âBaxter?â he called. âWhere are you?â
Then he remembered Baxter was lost. Lost. And the storm was coming. His heart suddenly swelled with another memory. The plane. The ⦠crash.
His heart pounded against his chest.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
The light disappeared. Or that light did. Another light turned the inside of his eyelids red. He tried to open them, but they felt so heavy. Crusty, as if something had glued them shut.
Before he tried again, the pain hit. Pain in his arm. In his neck. His head. But amazingly, nothing else hurt. Thatâs when it hit him. It didnât hurt because he couldnât feel anything. He couldnât feel anything below his chest. Not his legs, or his feet.
Forcing his eyes open, bits of white fell toward him. Snow. A flake fell into his eye and he blinked it away. More raw panic gripped his chest.
His parents? Mindy? Tami? He swallowed. His throat barely worked. He tried to raise his head. It hurt, but he did it anyway. âMom? Dad?â he called, but the sound barely came out.
He blinked several times and tried to focus. All he could see was a mangled piece of metal that had once been a plane. The plane his dad loved. He called it Amy, named after his mom.
âMom?â he called again and turned his head to see if he could spot anyone. He couldnât. But then he saw the snow around the mass of mangled metal. It was red. Blood red.
He remembered the light. Seeing them in the bright tunnel. âNo,â he screamed and tried to get up, but he couldnât move his legs.
He dropped his head back in the pillow of snow. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks.
A wave of dizziness hit, bringing the blackness back. He embraced it.
***
Noise. Chaseâs mind registered it. Metal scraping against metal.
He saw the red again on the back of his eyelids and forced his eyes open. Snow caught on his eyelashes, or was it ice? His face felt almost frozen, sort of half-numb.
âDamn it, Tallman. This wasnât supposed to happen,â the voice boomed out of nowhere.
Chase used every bit of his energy to lift his head. He saw two men standing beside the red snow and plane wreckage. One wore a white coat. The other wore black, all black: black jeans and a black coat.
âI should have never involved him in this,â the man in white said, as if he was looking at â¦
Is he alive?
Chase tried to speak but only air came out. Then again, he must have spoken, because the two men swung around as if heâd yelled the words.
âOne of them is alive,â the man in white said. They both rushed closer, their footsteps crunching on the snow.
One of them? Only one?
They were dead. His dad, mom,
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