Chapter 26: Blur and Waiting
That day was a blur to me as a whirlwind of events that happened suddenly, and pushed my mind to the brink of insanity:
Jet drove Pax and me to Stockton Regional Memorial Hospital some forty miles away from Riding Ranch. I think we took the cobalt-blue Ram 1500 truck—or maybe one of the other trucks, I can’t recall exactly—and sped the entire way. Panicked but driving straight as an arrow, Jet kept prattling to Pax, who was unconscious in my lap in the back seat of the quad cab, “everything’s going to be fine, man. I’ll get you there. The doctors will know what to do. You’re going to get through this.”
Pax lay like a half-filled sack of oats in the truck’s sunny cab. His breathing was shallow and his eyes stayed closed. I told myself that he was in a safe
