I closed my eyes as the logging truck barreled towards our small sedan. Damn Ice. I shouldn't have driven.
When the impact didn't come, I opened my eyes again. Time was stopped.
I turned and looked in the back seat. Adam, my son, had his arm over his eyes. 17 years old. 3.9 GPA. Full ride to college. Volunteer. And my daughter, Lily. 9 years old.
Mentally handicapped but so happy, had a smile on her face. She hadn't processed. Both frozen.
"Holy crap!" I said, as I turned back to the front. A dark haired teen had appeared in my front seat.
"Look's like you're about to have a bad day, dude."
"No kidding," I laughed nervously. "I assume you're...." He nodded.
"Silver lining," the teen said, gesturing to the back. "I'm only here for one of them."
"What do you mean?"
The teen sighed. "Turn left and Adam lives. Right, Lily. Whichever does, miraculous survival. No injuries. Full life ahead. The other....."
"And me?" I croaked. He shook his head.
"Sorry man. Either way you come with me."
I nodded, turning back, gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white.
"Ready dude?" the dark haired teen asked.
"Not really." I wheezed.
"Sorry man. Here we go."
As time resumed, I screamed. Clutching the wheel, I turned it sharply to the