A bit of a change here...no, not really.  Just posting up the latest story that I've submitted to Plotstorming.com (SHAMELESS PLUG for a great writing website!!! hint, hint)  Anyway, horror was the genre and we had 3,000 to 6,000 words to scare the pants off anyone willing to read our stuff.  Read away, maybe turn a light on, and feel free to give me some feedback.

Title: Sage and Isolation
Author: Heather Langston
WC: 5798

WARNING- some minor profanity

His eyes snapped open and wildly scanned the darkened room.  He clawed at the tangle of sheets that confine him to his narrow bed.  A breath seeped into his overwhelmed lungs, allowing the young man to calm himself.  Slapping his hand across his moist face, he regarded the clock next to him.  He wasn't surprised when the soft glow told him it was 4:44 a.m., it wasn't the first time that he awoke seized by the utter panic that gripped him on the miserable night.  Sighing deeply, he rolled over and tried hard not to think. 

Blair awoke again, this time the stuttering clatter of the alarm clock roused him from his troubled slumber.  Throwing the blankets back, he ignored to obnoxious gas noises and stale breath of his crewmates.  Four years in the fire service had taught him to block out such things.  Blair shuffled his fingers through his short hair and stuffed his feet into his work boots.  That task complete, he made a beeline for the kitchen to start the coffee before he even considered using the bathroom to drain his straining bladder.  While he was no longer the probationary station bitch, he still was the lowest man on the totem pole and Blair had no desire to incur the ire of the stodgy old timers that he worked with.  Blair set four coffee cups out, the largest black Steelers cup for his officer, and filled each with the appropriate amount of cream or sugar before he finally moved towards the locker room.  His morning ritual had taken enough time to allow the rest of the crew to finish their morning habits and Blair enjoyed the few moments of silence, even in the dank tiled room.  Quiet was not a normal resident of the firehouse. 

Teeth brushed and hair combed and nature tended to, Blair emerged from the bathroom just in time to serve himself the last cup of coffee from the pot.  He refilled the coffee maker, it was unacceptable to leave an empty pot for the oncoming crew, and strolled towards the raucous voices in the station day room.  Blair marveled at the copious amount of noise that two grown men could make. 

"...so the last time I went to that dump we had that newbie.  What the hell was his name?"

"Geez, his name was Brian.  God, Phil don't you remember anything?" quipped a rotund man draped across a straining chair.

"Kyle, don't start your crap with me.  Hell, the kid doesn't even give me half as much crap as you do."  Phil gestured towards Blair with his mug, slopping the dark liquid across the floor.  Blair regarded the spill for a moment before returning to the kitchen for a mop.  He listened to the growing argument in the next room as Phil attacked the driver engineer's less than spectacular physical appearance.  He returned silently to the day room, intent on cleaning up the mess.

"Blair, you got my back, right kid?"  Kyle pleaded.  "I don't need to have bulging muscles to be an integral part of this well oiled machine."

"This only well oiled thing here is your ass, otherwise you'd never fit through the door."  Phil crossed his arms, flexing his forearms and biceps to emphasize his point.  "Fat firefighters put us all at risk."

"Blair," Kyle ignored his crewmate's barb, "what, pray tell, is your take on the fitness issue?"

"Well, fitness is important."  Blair watched as a crimson hint of annoyance crossed the engineer's face.  "But, I mean, really.  You don't go in anymore and you pump the truck just fine."  Blair had hoped to stay out of the argument.  Personally, he abhorred the fact that the driver of his truck was toting around three hundred plus pounds on his short frame.  His lowly station, however, prevented him from expressing his real opinion.

"Blair, my office for a moment.  Now." The voice boomed from the open door around the corner.  Blair righted himself immediately, leaning the mop against the wall next to Phil knowing the man wouldn't finish cleaning up his own mess.  He stepped around the corner and presented himself at the lieutenant's door.

"Yes sir." 

"Have a seat," said the lieutenant as he waved Blair inside.  The argument from the day room swelled in intensity with the profanity levels growing at an exponential rate.  "What are they yapping about now?"

"Their varying opinions on physical fitness."  Blair sipped at his coffee.  He held the mug up slightly.  "Do you need a refill, sir?"

"Nah, I've had two cups already and the missus hates when I come home all jacked up on caffeine."

"I mixed the grinds, half decaf and half full leaded."  Blair took another sip.

"Sneaky, no wonder Phil and Kyle are so grouchy.  Enough about coffee, Blair.  Lets chat about you."

"Me, sir?"

"Don't be coy; you're still having those nightmares aren't you?  Don't bother lying, I heard you rolling around in your rack this morning."  The lieutenant leaned back in his chair, tenting his fingers beneath his chin. "Its been what, three months since that call?  And you still aren't sleeping right here?"

"Lieutenant Patterson, I'm fine.  Really.  I just woke up a little rough last night."  Blair fidgeted in his seat.  He didn't want to think about the cause of his nightmares.

"Blair, at risk of sounding cliche, put yourself in my position.  I know that something is going on and I know exactly why it's happening.  If you were in charge, what would you do?" Patterson fingered his Steelers mug.

"I'd make the involved party go for the psych eval, sir," Blair admitted.

"You do a great job around here, despite the other two knuckleheads that you have to put up with.  Don't think that I don't see your efforts.  I do, believe me.  But," Patterson gulped his own coffee, "I have to consider more than your feelings."

"Yes, sir."

"I'll make you a deal," the officer reached into his desk drawer, "I'll set you up with my guy.  You give it a sincere effort and I won't get the personnel department involved."

"This won't go on my record?"  Blair reached forward and fingered the business card that his lieutenant offered.

"Not if you make an effort on your own.  You need help dealing with what happened, Blair." Patterson said.  "Obviously, I've dealt with this therapist myself and I would prefer that we keep this between us." 

"Of course, sir."

"Very good, he has a three o' clock slot open.  Address is on the card."  The lieutenant waved Blair out of his office just as another officer stepped in the door.  The younger man quickly ducked out of the office as the two leaders engaged in conversation.  He moved quickly into the bay and retrieved his fire gear from the claustrophobic rear compartment of the truck.

"Blair! Baby! Wazzup, bro?" A strong slap crashed across his shoulders as the owner of the obnoxious voice offered a manly greeting.

"Not much, Steve.  What do you want?"

"What? What do I want?  Is that all you think of me?"  Steve stepped back, clutching his chest.

"You are only nice when you want something, jerk."  Blair wrestled his gear up off the floor.

"Okay, you got me.  Whatcha doin' Friday night?"

"You want another time trade?"  Blair furrowed his brow and snorted in disgust.  "You still owe me a full twenty four hours, bro."

"Look, just cover me for five hours and I'll do forty eight hours for you," he begged.  "C'mon Blair, I got two tickets to Slaughterhouse and I even got a chic to go with me."

"Sorry, man.  I can't do it, I've got plans myself."  Blair gingerly set his gear into his locker, hanging up the jacket and helmet.  "Ask Ryan, he just broke up with his girl."

"Nah, he got back with her.  They had break-up sex and decided to get back together.  Ya sure you can't do it?"  Steve had already turned away to his own messy gear locker.

"He ain't gonna do it, Steve.  Quit harassin' our newbie, man."  Phil bullied his way into the conversation.  "Now, you want to make that deal with me?  I'll take the forty eight hours off and a hundred bucks."

"Screw that, the tickets ain't worth that much.  Never mind, I wasn't into that bimbo anyway."  Steve quipped.  The two bulky men engaged in husky talk of weight lifting and other masculine endeavors, giving Blair a prime opportunity to escape undetected.  He slipped through the station and managed to get to his vehicle without further molestation by his coworkers. 

Hours later, Blair found himself standing outside a quaint, brick office.  He had been staring at the building for about twenty minutes, trying to convince himself that seeing a therapist wasn't such a bad thing.  Hell, even the lieutenant sought professional help on occasion.  Still, Blair was rooted to the spot, too afraid of the unknown to step off that protective sidewalk.  He could still walk away, pretend that he forgot about the appointment.  The confused man jammed his hands into his pockets.  No, avoidance wasn't really an option any longer.  Lieutenant Patterson had painted him into a corner and there was no real avenue of escape.  Shoulders sagging, Blair finally pushed himself forward and entered the building. 

"Blair Mansin, I have an appointment at three."  He smiled weakly at the receptionist.  She glanced at him over her obviously expensive designer glasses before handing him a worn clipboard with several sheets attached to it. 

"Fill these out to the best of your ability.  Got insurance?"  She waited for Blair to fumble his wallet out of his back pocket.  "I need your insurance and driver's license; you can pick them back up when you've finished the packet."  She dismissed him, returning her attention to the more important computer screen in front of her.  Blair considered telling her what a bitch she was, but dismissed the idea and settled for finding a comfortable seat in the lonely waiting area.  He began shuffling through the paperwork, answering the questions that he could and mocking the ones that seemed stupid.  His irritation increased as the questions became more invasive, asking about his sexual preference and other far more embarrassing things.  Frustrated, he stood up with every intention of leaving the office.  He didn't need some psycho-babble crap, this guy couldn't help him by asking how old he was when he first masturbated. 

"Mr. Mansin?" 

"What?" Blair snapped.  He stopped long enough to turn around and face the direction that the voice came from. 

"I'm ready to see you now."  A tall, younger man stepped to the side of a previously closed office door.  "Right this way."

"Whatever."  For some inexplicable reason, Blair abandoned his escape plan and followed the doctor into his office.  He looked around and was surprised to find a few comfortable chairs, a desk, and a straining bookshelf.

"No couch, I hate that cliche.  I'm Victor Ehmein."  He offered his hand to Blair.  "Now, before you say anything, lets set the ground rules.  No bullshit in this office, on either side of the desk.  Second, I do not prescribe medications or any of that crap.  I do, however," he paused long enough to sip an unidentified liquid from a bottle on his desk, "utilize hypnosis and other natural therapeutic methods to put Humpty Dumpty back together again."

"Wow."

"And I'll apologize in advance for Stella.  She can be a bit...cranky.  Now, your turn."  Victor slid off his shoes and kicked his feet up onto the desk.  "Tell me your story, and keep in mind that your lieutenant has already filled me in on some details."

"Isn't that a HIPPA law violation?"  Blair crossed his arms, annoyed at the invasion of his privacy.

"Listen kid, I really don't care if you get your head out of your ass or not.  Jorge is a friend of mine and one of yours even if you don't realize it.  He could have just gone straight to the department and you would be right off that truck you love so much."

"Fine, where do you want me to start?"

"Lose the snotty, punk attitude and we'll go from there."  Victor snorted as he light a cigar.  "Why were you going to leave earlier?"

"Your questionnaire was stupid."  Blair felt himself blush as he thought of some of the questions.

"Okay, I'll give you that.  However, you would be surprised at how many problems in our adult lives are directly related to the screwed up things that our parents did when we were tender youngsters.  Lets skip the mumbo-jumbo and get to the heart of the matter.  What happened?"

"What?"

"The night of the accident."  Victor pulled a pen from the holder on his desk and began scratching the point across a notepad.  Blair considered his options for several minutes before finally deciding to open his mouth. 

"We got toned out for an accident with entrapment at about 4:44 in the morning."

"How do you know what the time was?" Victor glanced up from his notepad.

"I remember the time from the tone-out."  Blair coughed into his hand, suddenly annoyed by the scratchiness of his throat.  His mouth got dry and his hands grew clammy.  The events of that night bothered him so much.  "I got my gear on in the truck and we got on scene in about seven minutes."

"Is that a long time for a response?"

"Yeah, the call was pretty far away from the station.  Almost in the third district."  Blair rubbed his moist hands against his pant leg.  "Can I get a cup of coffee or something?"

"How about some water?  The caffeine really isn't going to help you right now?"  Victor stood up and ventured behind his desk.  "Did anything bother you while you were on the way to the call?"

"On the way there? No, it was pretty normal."  He took the bottle of water that Victor offered.  "I got my gear on and went through my responsibilities in my head.  I usually do that on the way."

"What were your responsibilities?" Victor asked as he settled back into his chair.

"Well, on an accident I'm supposed to initiate patient care.  Get all the EMS equipment, that kind of stuff."

"I see, and what happened when you got on scene of this accident."

"This accident," Blair unscrewed the cap from the clear plastic bottle.  He fiddled with the plastic ring around the bottle's neck for several minutes before answering.  "This one was a bit different.  I got out of the truck and everything was quiet.  Just the truck running, no one talking or screaming.  It didn't feel right."

"How so?"

"It was too still, I guess."  Blair sucked in a deep breath. "I walked around the truck and grabbed the jump bag.  I was the first one to the car, but I didn't see anyone.  There was a cop there, young guy.  I asked him where the driver was and he didn't answer me."

"And what did you do, Blair?"

"I walked around to the car. It was on it's roof.  I think it rolled a bunch of times, it was really crumpled up bad."  Blair sipped some water, swishing the refreshing fluid around his arid mouth.  "Anyway, I found the driver half in the vehicle.  Her head...her head was caught up under the roof."

"So, the vehicle rolled over onto her?"

"Yeah, trapped her head and neck between the roof and the ground.  Shitty way to go, ya know?"  Blair drank some more water, wishing that it was something much stronger that would help ease the memories that bothered him so much.  "I knelt down and felt for a pulse.  I could feel her neck muscles twitching, like she was still trying to breath."

"Was there any way that she could have still been alive?"

"Really, no.  It took us seven minutes to get there.  Probably took a few minutes for the call to get into dispatch.  All in all, it was probably ten minutes before we got there and started extrication.  It only takes about six minutes to suffocate and cause brain death."

"Okay, lets stop there for a moment, Blair.  Now, you were dispatched to a call at 4:44 and responded to an accident with a patient that you obviously could not help.  Am I right so far?"

"Yeah, you pretty much hit it on the head."

"Okay, now lets discuss why that bothers you.  Is it the failure to save the patient or the feeling of helplessness that bothers you so much?"

"Well," Blair rolled his eyes back, thinking for a moment.  "I guess I don't like being helpless.  I'm supposed to fix things, not sit on the sidelines."

"Fair enough, but was this someone who ever had a chance of survival?"  Victor tented his fingers and leaned forward on his elbows while Blair resumed his fidgeting with the now empty water bottle.  "Take your time, Blair.  I've got all afternoon free."

"Great, are you charging by the hour," joked Blair.

"Yes, stop trying to change the subject.  Remember the first rule."

"I guess...no, she wouldn't have survived.  Her head was completely crushed by the car."  Blair frowned.  "She wouldn't have made it even if we witnessed the accident and got her out right away."

"Okay, so you feel comfortable saying that the twitching you felt was just muscles flexing after death because her brain stem didn't have the courtesy to tell her body it was dead."

"Yeah...I suppose.  There was no way she was really breathing, I guess."

"Do you believe in the soul, Blair?  Spirits, residual life energy.  That sort of thing?"  Victor picked up his pen and scribbled a few notes.

"I don't really know, never thought about it.  Why?"  Blair straightened up a little, trying to read whatever Victor had written.  There was a small, insecure part of him that was certain the doctor would find him unfit for duty.

"If you don't mind, I'm going to give you a little of my theory on spirituality and life energy.  Not that I'm a religious zealot, but, I've read a lot and I think it bears on our conversation."  Victor waited for the man across from him to nod before continuing.  "There is energy within all of us.  Whatever you call it.  Spirit.  Life force.  Hell, some even believe that a small portion of a greater being resides within us all.  But," Victor tapped his notepad for emphasis, "something is in here making us tick.  And when its gone," he tossed his hands up in the air, "it has to go somewhere."

"Sounds reasonable, but I don't understand how that relates to my problem."

"I'm getting there, Blair.  Now, in your profession you are exposed to a great deal of death, right?"

"At times, yes." Blair drained the remaining drops of water from his bottle.

"After a fire, whats left?"

"Well, smoke and debris..."

"Exactly, tangible things that you have to avoid or be careful around."  Victor leaned back and crossed his legs.  "You are careful around all those fire by-products because they can hurt you, right?"

"Yeah."

"What if I told you that left over life energy is the same kind of thing?"

"You're saying that dead people can hurt me?  I don't know if I buy that, doc."

"It's a lot to wrap your head around, but bear with me."  Victor rubbed his chin, thinking deeply.  "And, by the way, don't call me ?doc'.  I hate that.  Call me Victor, okay?"

"Sure, Victor."

"Now, do you mind if I relate a story from my own experiences to you?"  He watched Blair shake his head.  "Good.  Now, I started out as a cop.  Twenty-year-old kid, college educated and bored.  That was me.   So, to spice up my life and piss off my old man I enrolled in the police academy.  Dad hated it; he wanted me to take up the family business and run the funeral home."

"I can see why you wouldn't want to, morbid."  Blair rolled the water bottle along his leg.
"Well, you can see why I have a grasp on death.  Anyway, I started working for the local police and was well on my way to making investigations.  It was entertaining and kept my butt out of trouble.  One night, I ran a tag and found a guy wanted for murder.  I turned on my lights and he took off.  Naturally, I followed."  Victor flashed a toothy grin.  "Now that, I miss.  I chased him for a few miles, but he absolutely didn't want to get caught.  He nailed a car from behind and spun it out.  I came around a corner and there was this four door red car right in my path.  There was no way I could stop in time."  Victor paused for a moment.  "I still remember the look on the driver's face right before I smashed through her car.  She died instantly, I wasn't even hurt.  I remember getting out of my car and trying to get to her."  His voice died away and the man dropped his eyes.  "After that, I started having horrible nightmares.  I could see her every time I closed my eyes; every night she asked me why I killed her."

"That sucks," offered Blair softly.

"Yeah, well after a while I sucked it up and tried to get some help through the department doctor.  Despite what every they say, the department shrinks are a waste of time.  After months of suffering with myself, I finally turned in my stuff and went back to school.  I figured I'd get my degree in psychology and fix it myself.  One of my instructors was pretty keen on Native American shamanism and she helped me out."  Victor pointed to a woven dream catcher hanging from the wall behind Blair.  "She taught me about spirits and how to appease them.  Before you cry bull, hear me out.  I didn't believe it myself.  But after my vision quest, I found the answers I needed to put my demon to rest."

"Vision quest?  What's that, besides a really bad Matthew Modine movie."

"What, you don't like mid-eighties high school wrestling movies?"  Victor grinned again.  "A vision quest is a spiritual journey, one that takes place in nature and allows the individual a chance to meditate and seek guidance from a spiritual guide."

"Don't they use peyote?"  Blair arched an eyebrow up as he asked.

"Sometimes, but not always.  Before a vision quest, the individual is prepared by a shaman and usually fasts before heading into the wild.  Natural hallucinogenics aren't always used, it depends on the tribe."  Victor pointed at the crumpled, empty plastic bottle in Blair's right hand. "You want another, or something a little stronger?"

"Alcohol in a doctor's office?  Isn't that special?"  Blair deposited the empty bottle onto Victor's desk.  "I'm not much of a drinker, actually."

"I don't always offer, this session is a little different.  Try a little Jack on the rocks, just to relax a bit."

"Hmm, is this a date then?"

"Hell, no.  I like my men taller.  Where was I?"  Victor busied himself with pouring amber liquid into two rocks glasses.  "Anyway, she helped me prepare and I was able to confront the spirit that had been haunting me."

"Haunting you?  The driver you hit?"

"Yes.  You see, Blair," he set the glass in front of Blair, "I took her life, however unintentionally.  Her spirit was violently yanked from her body and she didn't understand why.  Her spirit was left to wonder without a body, so she latched onto me.  Kind of like the way smoke and carcinogens latch onto your fire gear.  What do you do to get rid of those contaminants?" 

"Clean your gear."

"Exactly, you clean them away.  That," Victor raised his glass slightly, "is what I needed to do with my victim's spiritual energy.  Hence, the vision quest."

"I don't know if I buy that.  Anyway, how is it going to help me?  If that woman's spiritual energy was floating around, why would she cling to me?  I didn't cause her accident." Blair regarded the glass in front of him before gingerly sipping at it.  The taste burned, causing him to shudder a little. 

"You were a sympathetic soul.  Maybe you were the only one there who was receptive to a confused and angry spirit."

"So, you are saying that you think this woman's spirit is haunting me or possessing me?  Whatever, I really don't buy that line of crap."  Blair made to stand up. "Listen, I probably should go, ya know."

"Blair, sit down.  Please."  Victor hadn't moved other than to wave Blair back down in his chair.  "I am merely offering a suggestion to resolve the issue for you.  Since I've been working in this capacity, I've helped several other emergency workers resolve similar issues, including your lieutenant.  Does he seem like the type to tolerate a line of crap?"

"No," admitted Blair.  "I guess not."

"So, I'm going to suggest that we prepare you for your own vision quest."  Victor stood up and moved towards a small table in the corner of the office.  He opened a small box and withdrew a bowl and a greenish bundle of leaves, which he held up for Blair to see.  "This is sage.  The smoke from sage is reputed to cleanse negative energy from an area or a person."  Victor used a match to light one end of the bundle.  A sweet, yet acrid scent rose from the bundle and quickly filled the room.  Blair sniffed, recognizing the scent almost instantly.  He smelled it coming from the lieutenant's office every shift.

"How does that work?"

Victor shrugged and placed the smoldering bundle into the bowl.  "I honestly don't know, Blair.  But, I do believe that it works."  He picked up the bowl and placed it on the desk before Blair.  "Try to breathe that in, allow the smoke to surround your body and try to relax. This office is a safe place, I promise."

Blair settled into his chair, his eyes following the drifts of smoke that seemed to dance all around him. 

"The first step is teaching you how to relax and meditate.  It only works if you want it to."  Victor retrieved a small ring with what looked like a man-made spider web in the center.  "This is a dream catcher, like the big one over there.  Do you know what this if for?"

"No, sir." Blair's head felt just a little funny.  Maybe it was from the sage smoke, or the alcohol.  He wasn't certain.

"Native American's use these to capture negative dreams and evil spirits that invade their sleep.  Before you leave, I'm going to give you one of your own to keep with you whenever you are asleep.  Now, Blair I want you to breath in deeply through your nose and hold it while you count to ten.  Good, nice and slowly.  Now release that breath through your mouth and imagine negative energy escaping from your body in that wasted breath."  Victor waited while he followed directions.  Blair took several breaths, each time visualizing black soot escaping with each breath.  "Good, now you should be relaxed.  Just close your eyes and listen to my voice, Blair.  Your head can really screw with you, as you already know.  While you meditate, you will need to remain in control.  You may see things that may bother you.  Just remember that things you don't understand aren't necessarily bad.  You may become scared or angry, just breath like I've taught you and try to accept the lessons presented to you.  Do you understand?"

"Yeah," murmured Blair.  Victor moved quietly to a large door, carefully opening it so that the creak of old hinges wouldn't disturb his client's calm state.  Within the small area was a largish, off-white pod, which Victor opened to reveal a soft seat.  He moved stealthily back to Blair's seat.

"Okay, Blair.  Nice and easy, we are going to get into the pod here.  There is nothing to be afraid of, I'll be right here the whole time. Okay?"

"What is this?"  Blair asked as he stepped into the pod.

"This is an immersion chamber of sorts.  It excludes all light and sound, providing a calming environment not unlike your mother's womb."

"And I'll be relaxed enough to do this meditation thing?"  Blair sank into the voluminous cushions of the chamber seat.
"Eventually you will be; this is an excellent tool that I've used many times.  I promise its safe.  Settle in and start the breathing exercise again."  For the next fifteen minutes, Blair sucked in breath and tried to visualize negativity leaving his body.  It was strangely relaxing, like a laying next to a gentle creek in the middle of the woods.  Even without the pod totally closed, Blair could barely hear the sounds of normal life.  He was almost asleep when Victor whispered softly to him.

"I'm sealing the chamber for a few minutes.  I will be right outside here, so you'll be totally safe. Just remember to breath and that you might not immediately understand the messages that you find."  With that, light and sound disappeared completely and Blair was utterly alone in the dark confines of the pod.  The sudden, utter stillness was overwhelming and for several minutes, Blair fidgeted with his fingers, drumming them against the sides of the pod.  He heard nothing and initially, the game amused him.  He shifted around for several more minutes before finally settling back and beginning the breathing that Victor had so recently taught him.  He had no concept of time or reality; there was only darkness and the steady rhythm of his own heart.  After a while, he decided that it wasn't so bad.  Blair began to relish the utter peace the pod created around him.  Soon, the comforting wave of sleep passed over him and he settled into the limbo of partial consciousness. 

A ticking aroused his curiosity.  It snapped and cracked somewhere behind him.  Blair tried to move, to locate the source of the intrusive sound.  A flicker of movement snapped his head back the other way.  Had Victor opened the pod?  He could see nothing clearly, the lack of light robbing his eyes of any useful vision.  Blair felt something cold settle beside him, prompting a shudder from his body.   In an instant, the refreshing blackness of the isolation pod melted away and he stood beside his fire truck, body bathed in the flash of red and white lights.  He moved mechanically, his hands automatically grasping the nylon handles of the medical jump bag. His booted feet crossed the cool asphalt roadway, bits of glass and plastic crunching under his every step.  He knelt beside an all too familiar vehicle and found a crumpled body partially pinned underneath the roof.  His fingers dug through hair and cloth, palpating the weakest of movements along the cool muscles.  Blair knew there was no pulse, no life to save.  Yet he couldn't abandon his efforts to rescue this stranger.  His clawed at the earth, ignoring the tiny cuts the shattered car glass made along his unprotected fingers.  He wanted to dig the dirt away from the girl's face; he wanted to do something to make her breath again even though he knew the pressing weight of the vehicle had squeezed every bit of breath from her body.  Blair screamed in frustration, digging until he felt cool fingers dig into his shoulder.  The touch calmed him, soothed the anger from his muscles.  After a moment, he stood and turned towards his savior.  He froze in terror as his eyes focused on the torn, battered body that wavered before him.  He knew the girl, he recognized her twisted features as the driver that he had not been able to save.  She stepped closer, raising her right hand with its crumpled fingers and fingernails ripped off.

"Whhhhyyyyy?" the corpse rasped.

"I couldn't help you, you were already dead.  I'm sorry!" shrieked Blair.  He back peddled and promptly slammed into the overturned vehicle.

"Whhhhhyyyyy?"  She moved closer to Blair, so close that the man could smell the blood and urine that had saturated her corpse.  He looked upwards, tears streaming from his face.  Part of the girl's skull crumpled, falling away to expose the tattered remains of her brains.  "Whhhhhhhyyyyyyy, wwwhhhhhyyyyyyyy, wwwhhhhhhyyyyy."

"I don't know, please. I don't know," sobbed Blair as he buried his face in his hands.  He didn't want to see anymore.  He didn't want to know or to ask forgiveness.  He only wanted the abomination before him to leave and vacate his dreams.  Cold, angry hands closed around the back of Blair's neck.  He sobbed and swatted at the fiendish appendages even as he was wrenched to his feet.  The man vomited as those nasty fingers wrapped around his throat.  He gasped and kicked hard, yet Blair could not free himself.  Far away, a soothing voice attempted to calm him.  It sounded familiar, like Victor perhaps?  He reached out, offering up a choking scream.  Why wouldn't Victor help him?  Why couldn't he escape.  Why wouldn't this creature accept that her passing was not his fault.  His vision grew dim, the dead girls face began to swim and the stench of her already rotting corpse ceased assaulting his nostrils.  Blair tried to suck in a breath, yet nothing drew into his burning lungs.  Victor's voice was clearer now. It sounded panicked as he barked commands to someone else.  He heard the doctor yell for an ambulance.  In spite of his dire situation, Blair found a chuckle brewing in his shaking chest.  Maybe the paramedic would be able to perform an exorcism.  He tried to breathe one last time, his blurry eyes watching the body before him ask why yet again.  Blair had no answers.  His body shook violently as his spirit departed the flesh.  Suddenly free, he floated above the morbid scene below him.  Victor knelt beside the pod, in obvious shock.  Blair's spirit looked around and found no sign of the angry creature that had robbed him of his life.  He shook his ethereal head bitterly, the loss of his own life had been a bitter price to pay.  He would have dealt with the damned nightmares instead of ending up a corpse himself.  Angry, he drifted around Victor's office.  The sage bundle still burned, releasing strong smoke from its rapidly dwindling leaves.  Blair swatted at the bowl, catching the lip and sending flying across the office.  Victor bolted upright, casting wary glances around the room.  Blair smiled to himself.  Victor would pay for this.  Yes, he would.