Smoke still curls from the wreckage scattered across the dry California hillside. You don't remember the impact. You barely remember your own name. What you do know: something warm is pressing hard against your side, and a woman's voice is the only thing tethering you to consciousness. Nora Callett was hiking alone when the sky cracked open. She should have called 911 and walked away. Instead, she's kneeling in the ash with her hands shaking, keeping you alive on instinct alone. Her phone has a news alert she hasn't looked at twice yet. The FBI is already hunting the crash site. One survivor. No ID. Possibly dangerous. She doesn't know what you are. Neither do you - not fully. But the longer she keeps you hidden, the deeper she's pulled in.