Murder on the Northwind Trail

On the Northwind Trail, just before sunrise, my flashlight cut across the inside of the SUV and landed on five lifeless bodies. My hands shook as I dialed 911.

"Hello? I'm on Route 296, the Northwind Trail. Everyone in my car… is dead."

The operator's voice was calm but quick. "Please confirm your location. Officers are on their way."

My words dropped heavy and flat, like stones hitting the ground.

"I'm on Route 296, about three miles east of the mountain pass. The plate number is NA318X. Five people inside the car are dead… and I'm the only one alive."

It took over an hour before sirens finally tore through the silence of the frozen plain.

I was crouched behind a rock, maybe 30 feet from the car, wrapped in a mud-stained parka. My hands wouldn't let go of a nearly dead power bank.

Forensics, highway patrol, and local detectives all showed up together.

Six people had come out here to the Northwind Trail for the trip. Only one of us was still breathing.

The other five were trapped in their seats by seatbelts, bodies bent at impossible angles.

Damon Snee, our leader, slumped over the steering wheel, his forehead pressed against the horn that gave no sound. Mike Hardy, in the passenger seat, had his mouth frozen half open, as if he'd been about to scream. His eyes were wide and terrified.

In the back, Charlie Field, Russ Newton, and our photographer, Ken Blanton, sat contorted, some curled up, some hanging back, faces stiff with pain or empty shock. Not one of them had visible injuries. It was as if life had just been pulled out of them in an instant.

My stomach flipped hard. I had to look away, my face pale as a sheet.

A police officer in a thick winter coat shone his flashlight on me. "You said you all planned to reach Glacier Ridge this morning to have a picnic and drink to celebrate. Then you fell asleep and woke up to find everyone dead?"

I shook all over but managed a nod. "Yes."

"What time did you fall asleep?"

I forced my frozen brain to rewind. "Around 10 PM, I think. Just after the pass. I was too tired."

"And what were they doing the last time you saw them alive?"

"Ken was taking photos of the stars. Damon was driving. Russ and Charlie were talking about trip plans. Mike… Mike seemed to have altitude sickness. He had his eyes closed."

The officer's eyes cut sharply through me. "And they all died. Why are you the only one still alive?"

My mind went blank. I didn't know.

It was true—we'd all been up there at nearly 16 thousand feet, shivering in the wind. We'd all had that barley whiskey. We were all exhausted from days on the trail.

But they were gone, and I wasn't.

When I stayed quiet, the officer's tone softened, though the weight of suspicion was still there. "Anything else you wanna add?"

I hesitated before whispering, "I'm not sure if it was real or just a dream. But after I fell asleep, I thought I heard someone calling my name… saying it was really cold."

"Did you wake up then?" he asked.

I shook my head, eyes unfocused.

The truth was, I couldn't even remember how I woke up. I couldn't remember climbing out of the SUV. I couldn't remember anything except that the next thing I knew, I had my phone in hand and was calling the police.

Seeing how weak I was, the officers didn't press me further. One of them led me to the back of a patrol car with the heater blasting.