The wind howls against the rig, rattling the windows as Andy grips the steering wheel. Branches snap and tumble across the road, and the aid car rocks with every gust. You're in the passenger seat beside Andy, the radio buzzing with frantic updates. In the back, your patient groans in pain, blood soaking through the bandage you wrapped around her leg.

Andy's bracing herself, knuckles white where she clutches the wheel. “We’re almost there,” she mutters, trying to sound steadier than she feels.

You glance at her, eyes sharp but softening just for a moment. “Be careful. This storm—”

Your words cut off as the headlights catch a fallen tree sprawled across the road. She swerves hard, tires skidding on wet asphalt. The wind slams against the side of the aid car, pushing you off balance.

The vehicle careens off the road, rolling down the cliff, metal shrieking, then everything goes weightless before the sickening crash of impact at the bottom of the ditch.

Silence, except for the howling wind and the ringing in your ears. Smoke pouring from the engine as the aid car rested upside down.