Arrival

Being gay in a small town isn't easy. Colin Stone knew this all too well when he accepted the "proposal" from the hospital board where he had been working until now. White Shore needed a doctor, and he needed... Well, let's just say a change of scenery was strongly recommended in his case.

So, he changed it.

The small town on the west coast had supposedly always been a fishing town, but recently it had also become a tourist destination. As Colin rode the bus to his new home, he wasn't surprised why.

The climate was moderately warm (though the current astronomical summer was ending with unbearable heat). The picturesque landscape, rolling hills of green grass interwoven with the pink of beautifully blooming meadow flowers—whose names he could never remember—gave the area a romantic atmosphere. To top it off, waves crashed against the rocky, steep shore, foaming white and bringing a pleasantly restless, almost fairytale-like quality. Perhaps the town got its name from these waves. Or maybe from the shade of the rocks, so light they seemed to blend with the seafoam—at least when the sun hit them just right.

Despite its captivating beauty, Colin couldn't quite feel any admiration for this place.

He knew exactly what awaited him in this town. The prospect was, well, not particularly appealing. But it was probably better than the alternative.

Probably.

He sighed.

Dr. Stone had a one-year contract ahead of him, where, as an internist, he would be treating all the common ailments found anywhere in the world, from indigestion to pre-heart attack conditions. Older patients wouldn't trust him because of his age and, unfortunately, his appearance. He had the misfortune of looking much younger than he actually was. Yes, misfortune—because in the medical profession, where a patient's trust is crucial, looking like a teenager absolutely did not help. That was precisely why he had decided to grow a beard, even though he honestly hated having facial hair. The beard itched and irritated him. It did, however, add some years to his appearance, though he still couldn't get used to it. He would shave it off once people became convinced of his skills. Or when he simply couldn't stand it anymore.

"Final stop, White Shore," came the voice over the bus intercom. "Connection available to Gray Bay. Passengers leaving the bus, please take all personal belongings with you."

Colin instinctively glanced around the bus. Besides himself, there were three other passengers: an elderly woman with a four-year-old boy who had been misbehaving the entire ride and was now nodding off sleepily, and a gum-chewing man with a military-style buzz cut and a large backpack, giving off the impression of a soldier on leave. For a town with only one bus per day, White Shore didn't seem to attract many visitors. And it was supposed to be a tourist spot. People probably came by car.

The bus pulled into the station, and the passengers began to disembark. Colin welcomed the opportunity to stretch his legs, though the scorching heat immediately made itself known. He stepped out last, dragging his travel bag, directly into the blinding early afternoon sun. He heard a girl's excited squeal and saw out of the corner of his eye as she threw herself into the "soldier's" arms. The little boy ran past the elderly woman toward his waiting mother. Stone looked around but didn't see anyone who might be his ride to the clinic.

"Your luggage," the bus driver pulled his rather large suitcase from the storage compartment.

"Thank you," Colin replied, slowly making his way toward the small station.

The sun was far too intense for this time of year, and he didn't like wearing hats. The shade called to him invitingly, promising relief from the heat. Only now did he appreciate the bus's air conditioning.

He had barely taken a few steps when a scream of terror tore through the air. He looked up, startled, and froze. Another bus was approaching, and standing right in its path was the little boy from his bus. Colin was too far away to do anything...

Then, suddenly, another vehicle appeared. A black jeep.

BAM!

The speeding jeep crashed into the side of the oncoming bus. Both vehicles barely missed the boy. With a loud thud, they slammed into the safety railing.

Jesus Christ!

Colin didn't even realize when he started running.

The boy was crying, but he didn't seem hurt. His mother was already holding him tightly. The jeep's driver shook his head and restarted the engine, reversing about a meter. Then, he got out of his car under his own power. Colin rushed past him, quickly assessing that he likely wasn't seriously injured. But what about the bus driver and the passengers?

The doors were stuck. Through the glass, Colin saw the driver slumped over the steering wheel. He wasn't moving. Someone inside the bus was screaming.

"Move aside," a rough voice sounded next to him, and before he could react, a strong arm pushed him aside. The man who had rammed the bus started working on something under the chassis, and the bus doors twitched. But they didn't open.

"Damn it!"

A middle-aged man appeared inside the bus. He didn't look injured. He wedged his fingers into the gap between the doors. The jeep driver did the same. Together, they forced the doors open. A wave of hot air hit Colin. Without waiting, he ran to the lifeless driver.

"Are the passengers okay?" he asked.

"Yes, I think so," the middle-aged man replied. "The driver seemed to lose consciousness suddenly—he just lost control of the wheel."

Colin was already checking for a pulse. He didn't find one. He didn't like the man's color—grayish, with bluish lips.

Shit, he thought. Probably a heart attack with cardiac arrest.

"Help me get him out and lay him flat," he ordered, his tone allowing no argument.

And yet, there was resistance...