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only a second when the driver’s door swings open.
    A young woman sits behind the wheel. She has one hand on the horn but releases it upon seeing Martin. Her other hand holds the face of a young man seemingly asleep in her lap. Upon closer examination Martin sees the man is James.
    “Are you Martin Risner?” she says above the beep, beep, beep of the open car door.
    “Yes.”
    “Your friend needs your help. I’m not sure he’s breathing.” She looks at Martin. Tears streak down her freckled cheeks. Flaming red hair tumbles over her shoulders and frames her wide, delicate face.
    Martin reaches over and pulls the keys far enough from the ignition to stop the incessant beeping.
    James suddenly opens his eyes, gasps for air and bolts upright. He sits in the passenger seat holding his right side, choking, struggling to breathe. He's very pale. His lips are purple, bordering on blue. He stares at Martin then looks back at the woman driving, glares at her actually.
    “Fuck! Why are we here, Kate? I thought you were going to drop me at a motel. This is stupid—” Then he takes a deep breath and starts coughing again.
    “I never said that. Look, I’m just trying to help you—”
    “You’re not. You’re making it complicated.” His face contorts in pain as he starts to get out of the car, but he keeps moving with only a moment’s hesitation. Moves his legs out and onto the gravel drive, and then just sits there.
    Martin goes around the car to the passenger side, and sees John coming from the clinic toward them, his white lab coat whipping around his lanky frame.
    “It’s James Logan.” Martin yells as John approaches. “Something happened to him.”
    James pulls himself out of the car, stands, almost falls. Martin moves to help, but James pushes him off. He leans against the car panting icy smoke, holding one hand out to keep distance, with the other he clutches his right side, all his attention focused on the simple act of breathing. He looks at Martin as if to speak, then his eyes roll back in his head and close as he slides against the car onto the ground.
    Martin moves to catch him but misses. Kneels next to James slumped motionless against the SUV, and shudders in sudden terror that James is dead. Second later, John kneels in front of James. Martin stands, moves out of John's way, where he so often finds himself these days. The woman James called Kate comes around the car and stands beside him.
    “Are you hurt?” John glances back at her.
    She shakes her head as John turns back to James and feels his neck for a pulse.
    “No! Get away!” James wakes, panicked, punches John in the chest with the base of his palm then slugs him in the jaw with a closed fist as he scrambles to get up.
    Martin gasps as John’s head snapped back, but then John turns back on James, grabs his wrists and pins them against the car on either side of his head.
    “ What the hell’s wrong with you! James! It’s me. John. Look at me!”
    James freezes under John’s grip. Trembles violently. Eyes are black, wide, and vacant. “Get the fuck off me or I’ll fucking kill you." He speaks in a harsh whisper but Martin hears him and is stunned. The James he knew abhorred violence, and rarely cursed.
    “James, look at me ! I’m John. You know me. Focus on me . ” John releases him, holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m trying to help you. Okay?”
    James doesn’t respond. He sits there shaking, his hands still fisted against the car, black eyes fixed on John—but not on him, more like through him, locked in some terrible place. When he blinks, tears fall. Then his eyes roll back in his head again.
    “Hey! Stay with me, James.” John stays kneeling in front of him. “Hey. Hey! Focus on me.”
    James looks at him then. Connects. His dazed gaze travels to Martin, then Kate, then back to John. He brings his arms to his sides and spreads his long fingers wide on the gravel drive. “Shit. Man. I’m sorry...I...I thought...You