Sam Beckett's eyes opened, and within moments, he was aware enough to try and make sense of his new surroundings. There was a woman near him, blonde and slender. There were also two men to his left. One was tall and thin, with a large forehead and an expression of confusion on his face. The other was a strongly built middle-aged man with sandy hair and the same color mustache. They were talking with one another, asking questions, theorizing about something. A motive? A… murder? He looked down, and that's when he saw it. There was a dead man at his feet.
"Whoa!" Sam stepped backward quickly, tripping over a root and falling backward. His head hit the tree behind him, but he was fine, just a little embarrassed and disoriented. The only damage was a bit of dirt on his hands and his backside.
"Oh my gosh, Mr. Monk! Here, it's ok," the woman exclaimed as she maneuvered quickly around the dead man. The tall man in the suit was at his side just as quickly. Sam held out his hands, but they each reached for a bicep instead, pulling him up to his feet.
"Here," her voice was frantic and her eyes were caring as she began pulling out several wet wipes from her bag, "Here let me help." She reached for his hands to help wipe them off, but he took a careful step back, positioning himself just out of her reach.
"No, no, I'm fine." He laughed nervously, holding his hands up as if to surrender. "Just a little dirt. No harm done."
As he dusted his hands off on his pants, the tall man stared at him like he had grown a second head.
After exchanging a worried glance with the woman, the sandy-haired man stepped toward Sam, slowly and cautiously, as if approaching a tiger. "You feeling ok, Monk?"
Sam was so confused. "Monk?" he whispered to himself. Then he replied, "I - I think so. I..." His voice trailed off and he began to look around. He wanted to get out of this place and figure out who he was and why he was there. He spotted a gas station across the street and took his chance. "Hey, I've really got to use the restroom." He started walking backwards in the direction of the gas station. "I'm just going to go across the street and see if they've got one I can use," he smiled as he gestured toward the building with his thumb. The trio continued to stare in disbelief as he turned and walked away, each of their faces uniquely expressing exactly how they were feeling about the situation.
Without taking his gaze off of Sam (or Monk, as they called him), the sandy-haired man fretfully asked his two companions, "How hard did he hit his head?"