Chapter 13

About two miles outside Donfield Airport, the air reeked of scorched flesh. Nelson's bloodshot eyes burned as he ran toward the wreckage, nausea clawing up his throat. He didn't pause for the masks or protective suits the staff offered. He stepped straight into the charred, bloody landscape of death. "Natalie?" His voice cracked like a broken violin string, eerily loud in the surrounding silence. All that answered him was the mournful crackle of the still-burning fires. "Sir, this should be roughly the area of the seat you provided," a local guide said in halting Chanean and handed Nelson a small clay urn. "If you collect the soil from here, you'll be able to take your loved one home." Nelson stumbled back and tripped over debris from the plane, collapsing to his knees as if all his strength had been sucked out. He clawed at the scorched earth in desperate frenzy. Nothing. There was nothing. He heard his own choked sobs escape, tasting metal on his tongue. Blackness crept in