Chapter 12 - The Race against the Clock
The mountain highway was a river of freezing fog and roaring wind.
Daniel ran through the wet pine needles, his lungs burning like open fires in his chest, his boots slipping on the muddy gravel of the shoulder.
Eighty seconds had passed since he left the SUV.
Through the mist, he saw the dark shape of his vehicle sitting parked under the pines, its yellow hazard lights flashing in rhythmic, silent distress—FLASH... FLASH... FLASH.
Daniel pulled his key fob from his pocket, hitting the unlock button as he threw himself against the driver's door.
He tore the door open.
Inside, the warm air smelled faintly of lavender and ozone.
Maya was lying across the leather passenger seat, her small body convulsing in rhythmic, violent spasms. Her eyes were rolled back into her head, white margins showing beneath her lashes, her small hands clenched into rigid, blue-tinted claws against her purple dress.
A thin trickle of dark blood was leaking from her right nostril.
"Maya! Maya, look at me!" Daniel shrieked, throwing himself across the center console.
He pulled the glass auto-injector from his jacket, ripped off the yellow safety cap with his teeth, and jammed the steel needle directly into the muscle of her left thigh, right through the lavender cotton of her dress.
He pressed the plunger all the way down until the mechanical gauge clicked EMPTY.
For five terrifying seconds, nothing happened.
The small girl’s body continued to shake, her breathing ragged, shallow, and rattling like dry paper in her throat.
Daniel pulled her small frame into his arms, pressing her head against his chest, weeping hysterically into her fine blonde hair. "Please, baby... please stay with Daddy... don't leave me... please..."
Then, Maya gave a long, violent gasp of air.
Her body went limp in his arms. The violent spasms stopped in an instant, her fingers uncurling from their rigid claws, her chest rising and falling in a deep, heavy, rhythmic breath.
Slowly, her eyelashes fluttered open.
Her pale blue eyes, clear and focused, looked up into her father’s blood-streaked face.
"Daddy?" she whispered, her voice weak and tiny, but completely coherent. "Why are you crying?"
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Daniel squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his face into her neck, his body shaking with deep, silent sobs of pure, unadulterated relief.
"I'm crying because the bad dreams are gone, baby," Daniel wept softly. "They're all gone."
