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Sparks Fly

The steady beeping of machines attached to his son brought reassurance and fear to his heart. Reassurance of
his son still living. Fear of the beeps stopping unnerved him. Jason Grant raised his sons to be strong and
independent. Both led Caleb off to fight fierce forest fires across the nation and ultimately to this hospital bed.

Blinking himself awake, he rose from the chair beside his son's bed.

"I'll be right back, Caleb." He touched his son's head, praying for a response, but no movement responded
other than the steady rise and fall of his son's chest.

Jason walked down the hall in search of coffee.


The sounds of beeping, the antiseptic odor, and the otherwise quiet screamed hospital. Without opening his
eyes, Caleb took a silent inventory of pain and parts. I must be on strong pain meds. He didn't experience pain or aches
anywhere. His right hand sported a heavy bandage. An indicator of severe burns, but he thought all fingers and the
thumb were accounted for. The left hand was intact, functioning, and unbandaged. A slight shift of his body
tested for other bandages. He released his breath. Neither leg sported anything. He was unsure of what lay under a
thick bandage on his right cheek. It wasn't a hole as his tongue felt nothing strange on the inside of his mouth.
Opening his eyes proved difficult. The left one opened, but a thick bandage covered his right eye. Uh-oh! What's up

with that?