PROLOGUE

The Crash

With the windows rolled down, the country music station blaring, and the sun shining through the sunroof, Marcia Clemmons knew that it was going to be a good day. There were barely any cars on the road; the only one they saw was in front of them a ways. Already the scenery had changed to Traverse City's thick forests. They would be there for two weeks, away from the hustle and bustle of chaotic schedules back home. She had been looking forward to it for months and was determined to let nothing spoil it.

"Are we almost there?"

A smile spread across her face as she looked into the rearview mirror. Her three children, all under the age of fifteen, looked exceptionally bored. Her eldest, Travis, was staring out the window as if he were being exiled. And her youngest was slumped in his seat, his eyes and fingers glued to his DSW. Her daughter sat in between them, something that she was obviously not comfortable with.

"We'll be there in twenty minutes, Meg." Her husband, Dale, smiled at their daughter through the rearview mirror. "This will be great, guys."

Marcia patted her husband's arm and turned around slightly in her seat to get a better look at her kids. "You love Traverse City."

"That's when we were younger," Travis mumbled.

Sighing, Marcia's smile faded slightly. "I think you can handle being away from your friends for a few days, Travis. You won't miss anything."

"Its two weeks, Mom!" Travis protested. "There's plenty to miss."

"This is family time, Travis." Dale glanced up into the rearview mirror again. "Why not try to enjoy it for—"

A horrible screech from around the turn was enough to cut him off and grab everyone's attention. As they came around the corner, Dale slammed hard on the breaks and swerved out of the way. The car came to a stop, screeching loudly, a few ways down the road from the wreckage of two collided cars.

Marcia's eyes were wide when she looked back at her kids. "Everyone okay?"

"I think so," Travis said. His voice shook slightly as he craned his neck to see out the back window.

Dale unbuckled his seatbelt. "Stay here."

Before his wife could protest, Dale shoved open his door and climbed out of the car. The road and the trees around it had gone eerily silent. There wasn't even a breeze. Dale didn't bother to close the door and hurried toward the two collided cars. As he drew closer, the extent of the damage grew worse. Smoke billowed up into the sky and glass shards crunched under his feet.

Dale waved the smoke away and peered into the car. He could see four bodies at the most and none of them looked good. The two cars, from what he could tell, would never be able to be fixed. The one holding the most passengers was a Jeep Wrangler, the other a rather large truck. As he knelt down in front of the truck, Dale winced. There was a bottle of hard liquor lying underneath him.

He turned away toward the Jeep and felt the bile rise in his throat. There were three people inside, each held against their seat by a belt. None of them looked any better than the drunk driver. Dale forced himself to swallow, but a lump had formed in his throat. The passengers in the Jeep were young, very young.

Car doors slammed behind him, but he didn't pay them any attention. Instead, he stood and peered around the side of the Jeep. There was a fifth body lying off to the side and a sixth lying a few feet from the car. Dale was about to turn back to his family when he noticed the sixth body was moving.

He vaguely heard his wife's voice call his name as he scooted around the wreckage and ran to the sixth body. As he approached, the smoke cleared some and he was able to see that it was a young woman. A bloody gash cut along the side of her head, staining her dark hair scarlet. Her arm was twisted at an awkward angle, as were her legs.

"Miss," Dale whispered urgently. "Can you hear me?"

The woman's eyes were open, but she stared at Dale as if she were dead. They were dull, lifeless, and seemed to be slipping away. Her chest rose and fell, but slowly and her breaths were raspy.

"Oh my God!"

Dale looked over his shoulder. His family now stood near the two cars. He waved his hands to them. "CALL 911 NOW!"

His wife turned and dashed back to the car.

As he looked back to the young woman, their eyes met and he gently took her bruised and bloody hand. She felt as cold as ice, but he held on anyway. "My name is Dale Clemmons, miss. My wife is calling an ambulance. Help is on the way, just hold on."

"Hold on…"