The square baler appears ahead of me and I pull up beside it. Barry wasn’t lying about needing to replace this hunk of junk. The old machine is more rust than metal at this point. I’m surprised this model hasn’t been tossed out sooner, considering the massive employee discount he gets. But he’s sentimental. I’m sure there’s a story behind this dinosaur.
I grab a socket, pliers, extension bar, and ratchet. At the very least, I’ll get this piece of shit running well enough to finish the rear field. I lean inside the open front end to get an idea of what’s wrong. Debris and nameless gunk cling to every available spot. I reach further to pull out some clumps of hay.
With a loud pop, one of the springs breaks in half. A whoosh of stale air is the only warning I get. In a split second, the baler’s mouth slams shut. Two gnarly spikes latch onto my arm before I can blink. Blinding agony rips through my entire body. Raging flames erupt over every inch of me.
“Fuck!” I bellow the curse so loud my lungs burn. It’s the last thing I remember before black spots fill my vision.
9
Sutton
Happy something #131: Being able to help others, no matter how small, is a wonderful gift.
Ablood-curdling scream rips through the silence around me. I pull the phone away from my ear to listen better. Harlyn continues talking at rapid speed, unaware of the interruption that’s stealing my focus. I twist my head and wait for more shouting. A moment later, another agonizing howl shreds into my chest.
“I need to call you back.” I end the call before she has a chance to respond. After shoving the cell into my pocket, I race toward the pastures. Cries of pain roar above my pounding heartbeat. I push myself faster, each inhale becoming fire in my lungs. The desperation fuels me to find a higher gear I didn’t know existed. With each passing moment, the sounds get louder and more traumatizing. I can practically smell the horror looming just out of reach.
As I climb a small slope in the rear field, our old baler comes into view. I see a pair of booted feet wrestling to remain upright. My throat clogs with an impending sob. When Grady is finally in sight, I fear the worst. He’s practically hanging from the frontend of the machine. Two of the sharp teeth appear to be pierced straight through his forearm. From this angle, I can’t tell if the metal spikes are stabbing through bone or muscle. Grady is trapped with no conceivable way of escape. I almost crash to my knees from the visual impact.
“Shit, shit, shit. Oh my God. Hold on, Gray.”
Tears leak down my cheeks as I cover the remaining distance between us. He’s no longer crying out, which raises an enormous red flag. I slam to a halt beside him and attempt to catalogue his injuries. This type of incident usually results in the loss of a limb. I’m no stranger to farming accidents. It’s an occupational hazard around these parts. Malfunctioning equipment is far too common and one of the reasons my dad works so hard to engineer new parts. We have to plan for this. But this is completely different than anything I could prepare for.
“Gray?” I curl my hands into fists. All I want to do is hug him. That’s the last thing he needs. What should I do? The blank I’m drawing is far and wide. I try to shake off the stunned fog. “Can you, um, talk to me?”
A muscle in his jaw pops. Grady isn’t moving otherwise. He’s frozen as stone, which is exactly what we’re taught to do in these situations. Struggling can make the damage worse. His green eyes are flaring wide open, dilated and unfocused. He appears to be staring at nothing. There’s a clammy sheen to his complexion, the color pale and ghostly. My mind scrambles with the proper steps I should be completing. I can’t see past the helpless image of Grady. The daunting possibilities are fangs sinking into my neck.
A stinging slap of clarity knocks some much needed sense into me. I fumble while digging out my phone. The numbers are a blur, but I don’t need them. I press the red button with a trembling finger.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
My tongue is five times too large. “M-my friend is s-stuck in a hay b-b-baler. He n-needs help. R-right away.”
“I need you to remain calm. What’s your name?”
“Sutton.”
“Okay, Sutton. I have assistance on the way. Is your friend breathing?”
I gulp down a lungful of useless air. It does nothing to ease the flames in my chest. “Y-yes.”
“Okay, that’s a good sign. Is he able to communicate?”
Grady’s throat bobs with a forced swallow, but he doesn’t speak. I bite my tongue while trying to trap another sob. Fresh tears gather in my lashes that I can’t seem to blink away. “I’m, uh, not sure. He isn’t saying anything.”
The dispatcher hums softly. “That’s all right. Don’t force anything. Just stay with him.”
As if I could possibly leave. The thought alone is inconceivable. I reach for his free hand and almost jolt backwards. He’s cold to the touch, even though it’s nearing ninety degrees outside.
“Stay with me, Gray.” The plea drips off my quivering bottom lip.
Grady’s grip on me is weak at best. I shuffle closer to inspect his gaping wound. Rivulets of blood flow out and puddle onto the grass. A pool of bright red is collecting, too big and spreading wider. I want to collapse under the weight of it all, and this isn’t happening to me. I can only imagine the agony Grady is experiencing.
“Sutton? Are you still on the line?” Her voice is a distant buzz.
“Yes, we’re here.” I keep my gaze locked on Grady while answering her.
“Feel free to put me on speaker while tending to your friend.”
