By the time the sun was fully up, I sat inside the patrol car, watching through the window as the coroner and investigators kept moving around the SUV.

The coroner pulled off his outer gloves, his voice heavy in the cold air as he said, "Initial assessment: Cause of death is complex. Acute altitude complications are suspected—possibly sudden cardiac arrest or brain swelling. There might also be carbon monoxide poisoning or sudden hypothermia involved.

"Because people react so differently, some may have blacked out instantly, while others might've felt pain first. But their deaths all seem to have happened close together, sometime between 1 and 3 AM."

Detective Captain Alex Bell turned to me then, his eyes sharp, pinning me in place. "You were in that car, too. You must've experienced the same altitude and freezing temps."

I nodded, my throat dry and tight.

He studied me, as if he was trying to peel back layers. But instead of pushing harder on that point, he switched gears. "You're sure you went to sleep around 10 PM, and you didn't wake up once? Didn't notice anything strange?"

I tried to think, but my head throbbed, feeling as if it might split open. "I don't think so. I was dizzy from the altitude, so I took some meds. I slept like a log."

Alex squinted, clearly turning something over in his mind.

The coroner added, "The car was mostly sealed, though the front passenger window had a small crack open. That part is strange. They all seemed very calm. None of them showed signs of fighting for air. Most looked either in pain or just blank, but there were no signs of violent struggle like you'd expect with acute altitude sickness."

"Like they just drifted off," Alex murmured, his voice lower now.

The coroner nodded. "There's something else—the doors. All four doors and the trunk were locked from the inside, with the central lock engaged. The key was still in the ignition, but the car was off. Besides that one cracked window, everything was sealed."

Alex's eyes swept over the cliffs and jagged rocks around us. "So, you're saying that when it happened, that SUV was basically a sealed metal box. No one came in, and no one got out."

I tightened the blanket around me, knuckles white as I gripped the edge. The words "sealed metal box" pressed down on my chest until I could hardly breathe.

Why would they lock the doors like that? Normally, on a trip like this, you wouldn't lock up tight—it made getting out for bathroom breaks or whatever too inconvenient.

The coroner kept going. "We'll check for mechanical issues. Odds are low, but it's possible there was incomplete combustion from the heater, maybe leaking carbon monoxide. Still, altitude sickness is the stronger theory."

Alex shut his notebook and looked back at me. "On this trip, did anyone seem sick before things went bad? Especially right before you all got back in the car?"

I thought for a moment. "Mike's altitude sickness was pretty rough. He threw up when we stopped at the pass for photos. After that, he pretty much stayed out cold. Damon, the driver, mentioned chest tightness yesterday, but he said it was an old problem."

Just then, a tech officer walked over. "Detective Bell, the dashcam's memory card is missing. The slot's empty. We searched the whole car and didn't find it."

Alex's sharp gaze snapped back to me. "You know about the dashcam? Any idea where the card is?"

I shook my head fast. "No. I was sitting all the way in the back. I didn't pay attention. Honestly, I fell asleep right after I got in the car."

"Before the trip, who was in charge of checking the gear?" Alex continued.

"Usually Damon and Ken. Ken was the photographer, so he kept a close eye on the equipment."

Alex's stare cut into me. He didn't look angry, but the pressure in his gaze felt like a weight pressing on my chest.

"Strange, isn't it? You woke up and everyone else was dead. In all that time, you didn't notice anything off. The dashcam card's gone, but you have no clue where it went. It's like…" He paused, his voice flat. "It's like the only thing you know for sure is that you're alive. You draw a blank about everything else."

I stared back, scared and lost, my voice shaking when I finally spoke, "I was out cold from altitude sickness. I can't even drive. I swear I don't know where the dashcam stuff is."

Alex didn't push any further then. The bodies were taken away. There was too much work waiting.

They brought me back to the little station they'd set up in town.

The stove in the corner glowed hot, wood popping and crackling, but no matter how close I sat, the heat never seemed to reach me.

Hours later, Alex walked in again. He set a camera down on the table in front of me—Ken's DSLR. It was his baby. But now it was smeared with dirt and scratches.

"Listen to this."

He pressed play. His eyes stayed locked on me, watching for the tiniest flinch.

The audio was rough, full of static and wind, but the voices cut through.

At first, it was just gasps and choking, somebody gagging. Then Damon's voice, broken and raw, rang out.

"Argh! I can't breathe! Open the window! Open the stupid window!"

A series of dull thuds followed, like someone pounding the door controls.

Then I heard Charlie, his voice shaking, almost cracking. "It's not working! It's locked! The controls aren't responding! Damon… Damon, what's happening to you?!"

Russ's scream split the chaos. "It's his heart! He's seizing! Damon's seizing! Ken—use your phone! No signal?! Somebody, help!"

The noise swelled, but I could make out Ken's heavy breathing and the click and shuffle of him fumbling with his camera—maybe trying to use the light, or… desperate to record what was happening.

In the background, Mike's voice was barely there, a weak whisper. "So… so cold…"

And then, in the last 15 seconds—over the panic and fading breaths—Ken's voice tore through, ragged and wild, as if he'd used up every last ounce of strength just to scream.

"Hannah! Wake up! Wake up now! Look what you did!"

-

The recording cut with a buzzing sound.

Silence crashed over the room again, broken only by the steady crackle of the fire.

My mind went blank. Ken's final scream echoed in my head on repeat, as if it was carved into my bones.

"I didn't know," I whispered, shaking. "I was asleep the whole time. I didn't hear any of that."

Alex leaned in, his voice even heavier than before. "Ken's camera was on, sitting in his lap. That recording started at 1:33 AM and ended at 1:46 AM. In their final minutes, they were all calling your name."

The weight of his words pressed down on me until I couldn't breathe.

"Especially Ken," Alex said. "He seemed to believe you knew exactly what was happening, that you caused it. What do you have to say to that?"

"I don't know!" The words shot out of me, sharper than I realized, almost cutting my own throat.

"I was asleep! When I woke up, they were already gone! I don't know why he'd say that. I didn't do anything! He was yelling at me to wake up, too, wasn't he?!"

Alex must've noticed how shaken I was, because his voice softened a little. "Alright. Let me ask you another way. You said you heard someone calling your name, but you couldn't tell if it was real or a dream. Can you explain that?"

It felt as if all the strength had drained right out of me. I leaned back in the chair, my voice barely hanging on. "It was like… someone was pulling me, shaking me, telling me to wake up. Everything was loud and messy, and I felt awful. My head was heavy, like I was stuck in some dream I couldn't climb out of."

Alex picked up the camera again, his tone so low that it chilled me. "Did it ever cross your mind that maybe it wasn't a dream? That they were actually begging you to wake up, and you never did?"

A shiver ripped down my spine, cold as ice.

The blurry flashes from my dream suddenly came back, sharp and real. I saw Damon's face twisted in pain, pressed against the steering wheel. I saw Mike's skin pale as paper. I saw Ken, lifting his camera in the dark with the last bit of strength he had, pointing it at me, his eyes full of rage and accusation I couldn't understand.

"Why didn't you wake up?" Alex's words stabbed right through the fog in my head.

"They drank the same alcohol you did. They were sick from the altitude, too. And yet every single one of them woke up. Every single one—except you. You stayed under, like nothing could wake you up." His voice cut harder.

"Altitude sickness doesn't knock you out cold like that. Otherwise, you would've died of suffocation. So why? Why were they shouting your name, shaking you, desperate for you to wake up, while you slept through all of it? Why did you not realize they were dying?"

Yeah. Why didn't I wake up? Why was I the only one alive?

What really happened while I was asleep?

The questions spun in my head, heavy with a fear I couldn't push away. My chest tightened as panic rose in my heart.

"How did you get to know them?" Alex asked next. His stare hadn't softened.

I took a slow breath, trying to steady myself. "We met online, in a hiking group. We talked a bit before the trip. On the road, we got along okay. Damon was the experienced one, so we let him lead. Ken was always snapping photos. Charlie and Russ were the lively ones. Mike… he was weaker, but easygoing."

"Any conflicts? Even small ones?"

I hesitated. "Yesterday, at the checkpoint, my border pass photo had an issue. It held us up for, like, 20 minutes. Damon wasn't happy. He called me dead weight. Things were tense for a moment, but it blew over."

"And the others? How'd they react?"

"Charlie smoothed things over. Russ didn't say much. Ken was fiddling with his camera. And Mike wasn't feeling well, probably asleep. I didn't pay much attention."

Alex leaned forward. "Did they treat you differently? Like shutting you out? Maybe even isolating you?"

I went quiet.

Memories I'd pushed aside crept back. Every time I suggested a route, nobody listened. When food was handed out, my portion always came last. In group photos, I always ended up shoved to the edge. I hadn't wanted to call it isolation, but… maybe that was exactly what it was.

Alex noticed my silence and pulled out an evidence bag. Inside was Ken's phone. He swiped to a chat group named "Squad 296". It was a temporary one, just for the trip.

There, on the screen, was a message timestamped 12:15 AM.

Damon wrote, [Stay sharp. Once we get through the pass, we'll be in the clear. I'll drive the second half. If that girl's still out of it, just let her sleep through the whole thing. Can't expect her to be any help. She's dead weight.]