Chapter 2:

Back at the logging site, the various operators and mechanics had their hands full trying to ensure their vehicles would be able to navigate the thick mud on the ground after last night’s heavy rainfall. Usually the crew of the company could get the vehicles operational and the routes to the trees in need of cutting clear in no time, but today the winds were fiercer, and the cold mountain air slowed the men’s work. While most of the company occupied their thoughts with fantasies of warmth to shield themselves from the reality of their duties outside the vehicles, the site foreman had just begun to inspect the inside of the vehicles to ensure nothing was stolen overnight.

Carl oversaw things for the entire logging assignment in the region, as acting supervisor and foreman it was his duty to ensure his men took care of their equipment and locked up at night. The last thing he wanted was another incident with some punk running off with more of the company’s gear from in the trucks, and have one of his typically quiet mornings punctuated by a yelling competition over the phone with management. As Carl fumbled with the keys to the first truck’s cabin, one of his truck operators approached him from behind.

“Hey Carl, I know you’re always tellin’ us to make sure nothing gets stolen around here, but some of the guys are saying the trucks have bouquets of flowers left inside em’. You think someone forgot Valentine’s Day ain’t for another couple of months?”

Carl wasn’t fazed, no one should have access to these vehicles except for his men, and there appeared to be no signs of forced entry into the vehicles.

“You think someone would buy gifts for you bunch of morons? Obviously, management is paying you guys more money than you need if someone here is wasting their paycheck on company pranks.”

As the truck operator left to resume his duties, Carl opened the cabin to the first truck and began to inspect the flowers seemingly left by one of the truck operators. As he fiddled with the green foil the flowers were wrapped in, Carl noticed that the bouquet had a tag attached to it. Inside the tag was a message, which simply read “If you’ve come for our lumber and logs, perhaps we could offer you a hand?”. As Carl clutched the flowers close pondering over the message, he noted a distinctly sweet smell emanating from the bouquet. Carl’s expression immediately soured as he realized that this might be some sort of protest stunt from the area’s local population; after all, this wouldn’t be the first time the company had faced opposition for operating near national parks. Carl set the flowers down and began to walk to the center of the site, so that he could warn his men of the potential threat. Once he had everyone’s attention he instructed them to gather the flowers from within their vehicles and bring them to his office, and search the site for any remaining signs of intrusion, to provide proof that a third party had tampered with the company’s equipment.

Soon enough, every man on staff had brought forth a bundle of flowers from their workstation, each bouquet marked with the same cryptic message. Carl began to worry, he’d encountered some “theatrical” forms of protest in his time, but never one in which each member of a crew was targeted. He had just started to dial the number for company management when he began to feel nauseas. Carl clutched his phone and darted towards the door of his office to reach help. As he flung open the door to his work trailer, his vison went dark and he collapsed upon the wet soil.