A terrorist's black van scattered screaming, midnight sun celebrants as it came careening through the crowds, hurling bodies, blood and severed limbs through the air. Rose Lynn's scream was cut short as the van bore down on her and her children while she watched them riding the gentle little ponies.
Three days later, at the Fairbanks Memorial Hospital ICU, Rose Lynn awoke from the coma and looked up into her husband's bloodshot eyes. "Sundown, where are our children? Where are Angel and little Sunny?"
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