[Baker City Oregon, March 10th, 2025, 15:00]

Approaching the stables, James looked over his shoulder. Backing a dozer through a large garage door, he turned down the throttle, engaged the brake, and shut off the massive diesel engine.

Climbing down the side, he dropped from the steel treads and onto a bed of old conveyor rubber he parked on. 

“See ya tomorrow.” James waved as he clocked out. Climbing into his dark green 90s Cherokee, he turned the starter and the engine came alive, ticking and complaining the entire drive. 

Coming to a bend in the highway, a sudden and sharp pain struck James' chest. Lurching from the attack, his head planted onto the steering wheel, his eyes drifted shut.

Regaining consciousness, the SUV collided against the guardrail, slamming his foot on the brake, James came to an abrupt stop. Luckily still upright and on asphalt.

He groaned, a ringing in his head pulsed with each heart beat. The impact into the guardrail slammed his head into the steering wheel. Blood from the fresh wound on his forehead collected at his chin, his short brown beard dripped red. 

With another pained exhale he slumped forward, his head laying into the horn. The loud blaring faded as he fell back into unconsciousness.

The “Beep” of a heart monitor, and an overwhelming antiseptic smell stirred James awake. His eyes were sealed shut, a tight wrap of gauze and adhesive tape. 

Attempting to speak, James gagged. His rightmost hand reached for his mouth, but was interrupted by a plastic tube running down his esophagus.

“You’re intubated, so please James, quit trying to talk.” A woman spoke beside him. Her hand gripped his own, forcing it back to his side.