Private Alexander Huxley sat in the hull of the C-47. The weight of his parachute kept him hunched in his seat, and the straps of his harness and weapon case chafed raw swathes into his skin.
Melody's Honda Accord drifted off the road and into a mountain wall. She slammed on the brakes and took a long swig of lukewarm coffee.
Melody blinked a few dozen times, set her thermos back down,...