Maxwell died.

If the feeling that ripped through his heart at the sound of that scream was not a sign of sure death, he was sure it must be a sample of what death would feel like.

The sharp cry, then silence.

Unbidden images of his father’s still body flooded his mind as he rushed over and saw her lying unmoving.

The difference was that his father had been lying unmarked and peaceful-looking in bed.

She had a gash on her head, bleeding, and her legs were twisted at an odd angle.

"Reyona,” he called with his heart in his mouth.

No answer.

His haywire imagination calmed a bit when...