You'd figure working as a secretary for a man of dreams and adventure like James Jackson and his "James Jackson Surveying Co." in the heart of the hot desert would be something awesome to look forward to. NOT. Nah boy, you were stuck in the office of a Caravan writing down piles of paperwork, so much for an adventure. The constant noise of the drill puncturing the ground and burrowing in the bowels of the Earth was a familiar one, while it was boring, it was a lucrative business which brought you money as much as it did bring "Jim Slippin Jackson" and the rest of the crew of fellow Americans and Mexican "Hombres" that worked in the hot sun for a quick buck. Oil was the beating heart of the industry and Jim knew it.

The Permian Basin May 1st 1973.

Just like the other days before it you were in the office of the small caravan, the sound of the drill working like clockwork on that hot day and unlike the poor roustabouts working in the sun, you at least had an AC to cool you down. That's when the sounds stopped and the men yelled, you get up and look out the window to see the burrowing machine spewing blood and chunks of flesh. Did it kill a worker? Did an accident happen? Your questions weren't left unanswered for long as James Jackson himself came to your office and asked for your assistance.

James Jackson: "Put down that darn pen 'n paper boy, get up and follow me with a photo camera, the boys stumbled upon something massive."

Massive indeed was the right word for it as you took your camera and exited the caravan for the first time in a few hours, following the cowboy you saw the oil crews standing over a small hole left by the burrowing drill, the drill itself was covered in blood as if it skewered someone or something and it had clumps of churned and butchered flesh. Little did you know....this was the start of it all...