Dusty Trails

Chapter One - The Start

Sirens blared right outside of the neighboring houses, everyone who was sleeping now wasn't; either covering their ears with a fluffy pillow, or now curious.
Oz arose, groggy. He had just started to fall asleep only half an hour before. He was known for his restless nights, and bags under his eyes.
He groaned, walking into the kitchen. "What the hell, guys? What ha-happened?"
He poured himself a shot of vodka to wake himself up, and walked into the living room, red and white flashing lights pouring through the blinds.
Oz rubbed his eyes, and walked over, peaking out. He had to squint, eyes burning, but could finally see the whole situation. Paramedics rushed inside the house two doors over from his, stretcher in their hands.
He wanted to sit on the porch, but the cold October wind blew, and would sting his nose.
2:34 am, his almost dead phone told him.
Oz rolled his eyes, still watching out the window. He hoped his friend across the street was alright; he knew she was a deep sleeper, though. Maybe she wouldn't wake up.
Two of the men who walked into the house suddenly ran out, obviously terrified. Oz grew more curious, but also worried.
An old, wrinkly man shuffled after them, clawing the air in front of him, as if he was trying to reach for the paramedics.
Suddenly, the door across the street slowly started to open, as Destiny opened it, wanting to see what was going on.
Oz panicked, as Destiny's expression turned to fear.

She wanted to help, but wasn't even sure what was going on. The old man still followed the two men, who were trying to compromise and talk to him.
The man wouldn't stop grabbing for them.
Destiny started to run towards the two workers, not able to control her feet, thinking to herself that that wasn't what she wanted to do at all.