Welcome to Redwood, Oregon. 54 kilometers from the city of Calhoun, population 286.
This small, quiet town is home to beautiful waterfalls, quaint cafes, enchanting phenomena like gravity hills and glowing streams, and a girl named Reagan Wallace.
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It was hot. It was the middle of June in Oregon and it was uncharacteristically hot. It made little sense for Reagan Wallace to sit by the cliffside that day of all days but there she was, sitting with her feet dangling off the precariously made banister that stood between the highway road and a 30-meter drop.
She sat there with her short but unkempt hair tied into a tight knot atop her head and a battered copy of Sam Christer's The Stonehenge Legacy in her hands. That was her reading place, the poor excuse of a barricade that stood at least two kilometers from her house, in the middle of the highway to Calhoun. She went there with every intention of finishing the book before she fully loses interest which is why it's nearing 28 degrees celsius, just a few hours after noon, and she's sitting there with no shade or umbrella.
She had one excuse for needing to read there of all places; it was peaceful. It had the view of mountains, and a stream depending on the season, and it didn't have her dog's never ceasing presence that loomed over her house.
No one ever bothered her here. A few stray animals (other dogs, mostly) have approached her but it was a welcomed presence. It was a highway and even cars scarcely pass by the area. Cars often came from Calhoun city on the way to Redwood, a small village only known for a gravity hill and a waterfall tucked away in a group of mountains, but it was Oregon. There's a page-long list of waterfalls tucked away in a group of mountains so the tourist demand within the area was little, if none at all.
In short, hardly anyone ever passed by this highway during this hot, humid season and it was quiet enough for Reagan Wallace to love.
That's why it came as a surprise when that one hot day in the middle of June, Reagan's reading was interrupted by the most godawful sound she's ever heard an enginemake.
And that was quite a statement considering her father was a self-taught engineer. She has heard many concerning and abhorrent sounds from engines within her lifetime.
She pulled her feet from the space between the two bars of the banister and walked closer to the side of the road. There she found the cause of the awful sound. A couple of meters from where she stood, a school bus was struggling to drive over a slightly uphill part of the road.
Struggling was an understatement. The entire bus looked like it had one last bolt keeping it together.
Reagan stands there, unsure of what to make out of the situation, and the most polite gesture she thought of offering was standing there until the bus was close enough to earshot so she could offer directions or the helpful suggestion to leave the goddamn vehicle before it exploded.
She thought it was quite possible.
So she stood there for what could not be less than five minutes and when the bus was at least a meter away, the front door opened.
