PROLOGUE
The acrid smell of burning, smoke, metallic fuel and - is that fresh pine? - assaults her senses. Her blurry vision is just beginning to come into focus. Red. Why is there so much red? And the sting of bright light. The overhead cab lights were off, weren't they? She can't be sure, but she feels like she's stuck sideways, yet somehow floating. The pressure that's gripping her hips and compressing her waist now spreads to her stomach; it's fast becoming more than she can bear. yes, she IS stuck sideways still strapped in her assigned airline seat. What happened? Why is it snowing inside the airplane? And where is all this RED coming from?
OUCH! her head quickly answers that last question with a throb from the gash above her left temple. A gradual yowling sound rips from her mouth, as the stabbing pain in her left shoulder suddenly dominates her weak train of thought. Get a grip woman, focus. Think.. THINK! Okay… she remembers now. Paris. She was flying from JFK to Paris. But why is it so cold? Focus. She begins to remember the rapid descent, the drop of the emergency oxygen masks, the screams of the young family to her right seated across the aisle from her on the trans-atlantic flight. As the near complete terrifying memory floods back, she recalls her own panicked screeching had just begun when HIS HANDS were suddenly clicking her seatbelt in place… but where is HE? And WHO is he?
Ohhh the red, it's winning this game now. The comfort of blackness is creeping in and taking a gratifying hold of her now. She falls into peaceful unconsciousness just as she thinks she hears him screaming her name in the distance... "RACHEL!?"