Reese was ready to go home. She felt fine except for the odd hyper acuity she was experiencing as she recalled that day at the cemetery. Why was she remembering it all of the sudden? She tried to block it from her thoughts so she could focus on her present situation.

She was anxious for her dad to bring her a change of clothes, but he was busy making funeral arrangements for Mrs. Caldwell. He promised to come by in a couple of hours and sounded genuinely happy that Reese was doing so well.

She recalled the team of doctors who had visited with her an hour ago and had vocalized their amazement of her progress. Although they had disconnected her from the machines and the IV drip, her charge doctor wasn’t ready to release her yet. He was nervous she was having a delayed reaction to her trauma or would develop an infection at her surgical site. Reese could tell he didn’t believe that she was doing as well as she claimed. She figured by now there was a pull going in the doctors’ lounge as to how long she would be before having a medical setback. But she couldn’t be concerned with their confusion and disbelief. She had things to do. Besides it kind of freaked her out that she wasn’t in major discomfort.

She stopped pacing her hospital room long enough to call her office. She wanted to collect any voicemail messages and was surprised when Lucy answered the phone. She was touched by the girl’s kindness as Lucy explained she had rescheduled all of Reese’s appointments. They talked for a couple of minutes about each other's condition but not about what happened. Reese got the feeling that Lucy wanted to pretend it never happened. After hanging up with her, Reese tried Paul on his cell phone but he didn't answer. She was disappointed and didn't bother leaving a message. She had a horrifying thought that maybe he was in police custody for shooting Gregory. She needed to get out of the hospital and as soon as her father came with her change of clothes, she was leaving.

She was about to go for walk in the hallways when that girl Demi barged into her room with another girl about her age. The other girl seemed frazzled and kept looking behind her.

"Come on Demi," the girl said in a hushed but urgent tone.

"I know, I know," Demi answered as she held out a small black velvet bag with a drawstring toward Reese.

Reese kept her hands to her sides. She liked the girl although she didn’t really know her, but she had no desire to get caught up in whatever antics the pair was up to.

Demi grabbed Reese's wrist and shoved the bag into her hand. The look in her eyes was that of desperation. "Please take it. They are coming for me and they can't find it."

Reese looked at the bag in her hand, flipping it over to see both sides. There was an embossed pentagram on each side. "What is it?" She asked, not sure she really wanted to know.

"It's an amulet and they can't get their hands on it," Demi answered.

"Who were they?" Reese asked, looking beyond the girls, half expecting to see a throng of sentient goblin beings charging them.

"Just hide it and I will come and get it when it's safe," Demi said as she stole a quick glance behind her just as her friend was doing the same thing. Although the girls were similar in height, the friend had unkempt mousy brown hair and was a little chunky. She wore braces and her clothes were too blousy for her - probably an attempt to hide her weight. But her facial skin was flawless and bright, the kind that evil stepmother queens would kill for in fairy tales.  

"How will you know where to find me?" Reese asked Demi.

Demi looked back at Reese with the typical teenager look of "well duh.”

The other girl hurriedly patted Demi's arm and said, "I have to go. They'll know something is up if they see me here."

Demi turned to her friend and hugged her. "Thank you so much Sabina for bringing it to me."

Sabina left the room, but not before she anxiously looked both directions of the hallways.

"Look Demi, I don't know what this is about but I think its best I don't get involved." Reese tried to give the bagged amulet back to the girl, but she snatched her hands behind her back.

"You are already involved. But don't go back there. They’re waiting for you."

“There? You mean…”

“Yes,” Demi said in a low guttural voice. “Don’t talk to me about it right now. They have trackers in the area.”

“Trackers? What are you talking about?” Reese felt like she was in an episode of The Twilight Zone.

“Demi?” A woman called from the hallway. The girl’s intense black eyes beseeched Reese and she said, "Please. It's the only way. Just don't use it." She shoved Reese’s outstretched hand and the little bag away from herself.

Demi frowned apologetically and darted to the door where she hovered. She peeked around and Reese watched as she skirted across the way and slipped into a bathroom. A nurse poked her head into Reese's room a few seconds later. "Have you seen a young girl with black hair?" The nurse asked.

Reese scrunched the bag in her hand so the nurse wouldn’t notice it. It was unusually warm. "No, I haven't."

The nurse started to walk away when the bathroom door opened casually. Demi stepped out into the hallway in a composed manner and said to the nurse, "Are you looking for me?"

“Yes, there you are.”

As the pair walked by Reese's door, Demi never looked in. Reese was tempted to open the bag but heard a man's voice just outside her door. "There you are Demi. You weren’t in your room."

"Good morning, Dr. Dunham,” Demi said in a clear voice, loud enough for Reese to hear. Dr. Dunham? Wasn't he the doctor Demi had warned Reese about?

Reese hustled to her bed and shoved the small velvet bag inside one of the pillowcases.

"I'll be with you shortly, Demi. I just want to check on a new patient," Dr. Dunham said.

Reese hopped into bed and leaned against her pillows just as Dr. Dunham entered her room. He was nothing like the monster she thought he was going to be. He was young, no older than thirty with messy dirty blonde hair, thin wired glasses, and jeans under his doctor's coat. He smiled broadly as he approached Reese's bed.

"How are you doing, Ms. Caldwell?" He kept his hands in the pockets of his jacket rather than offering one in a handshake. He continued to smile but Reese had a strange feeling he was trying to read her. It felt like someone else was in her head. Her body might have been healing nicely but she was apparently losing her mind.

She lifted a hand, gesturing for a handshake, but her motive was to see what his reaction would be. Every doctor she ever encountered shook hands upon the initial meeting.

Dr. Dunham shook his head and said, "I'm a germaphobic. I apologize for my rudeness."

"Must be tough to be a doctor than," Reese said.

"It is a bit of a handicap," Dr. Dunham said, his smile widening.

It was almost grotesque how far his lips could spread in a smile. Reese got the distinct feeling it was a practiced gesture on his part. She wanted to tell him not to try so hard because he only came across as Batman’s nemesis, the Joker.

"I've already seen my doctor today," Reese said as she withdrew her hand. She felt the need to be in control of their interaction.

"Yes, I am aware of that which is why I'm here. You are doing surprisingly well for someone who was just shot and had surgery to remove the bullet. I understand that you coded." He said the last sentence more as a question and seemed to wait for Reese to react.

"Did I?" Reese said far more adept at faking emotions than this short little fake of a doctor. "So what can I do for you?"

Dr. Dunham looked down and away from Reese as in thought. His smile vanished. He walked in the direction of the window but turned back halfway there. He looked at Reese again without the pretend smile and said, "Do you remember anything while you were dead?" Apparently his good manners were exhausted.

"What kind of doctor are you?" Reese asked allowing herself to appear slightly taken aback.

"I am a neurologist."

"Kind of young to be a neurologist aren't you?" Reese said. Her lower back felt something warm against it and she realized the velvet bag that Demi had given her was heating up. For a split second she considered handing the bag over to the neurologist, but it was a quick deliberation, as if someone had planted the thought in her head.

The doctor eyed her and crept closer. "Is everything all right, Ms. Caldwell?"

There was that sensation he was in her head again. Maybe he was trying to hypnotize her. She immediately stopped thinking about the bag and envisioned her schedule, giving her mind something else to concentrate on. The look of disappointment on the doctor's face did not go unnoticed. Was the son of a bitch actually reading her mind?

"I'm fine. I'm just confused as to why you are here if you are not going to examine me," Reese said.

"I want to determine how this experience has affected you."

"Now you sound like a psychologist."

"The two have a lot in common," Dr. Dunham said with a slight smile. "Do you have any recollection when you flatlined?"

Reese tried to visualize her schedule on her monitor in hopes of not thinking about the other place. It was silly she knew, but she wanted to be cautious just in case. A lot of weird things had been happening and she no longer knew what she believed in. She had always accepted that she could speak with Luke but now suddenly she was communicating with other spirits and her intuition seemed to be highly in tune. Of course she could be hallucinating. How she wished Paul was there. In her mind's eye she focused on Paul's face. She could almost smell him and that delightful warm scent of his cologne.

Dr. Dunham watched her closely and seemed to be waiting.

"No, I'm sorry I don't. Is that what you study? Claims of people seeing a bright white light?"

Dr. Dunham’s smile grew and he shrugged slightly. "Someone has to study it. It is a recurring phenomenon that interests me."

"Do you really believe that people die and come back to tell stories about who they saw in heaven?" Reese asked genuinely curious about his response.

Before the doctor could answer, Paul walked into the room, as if answering Reese’s silent prayer. He had shaved and looked freshly showered except for dark circles under his eyes. He looked from the doctor to Reese and she could visibly see the tight muscles in his neck relax. He walked further into the room to the other side of the bed. He bent over Reese and kissed her cheek.

"I'm so glad to see you doing better. You scared me nearly to death," Paul said.

Reese inhaled deeply wanting nothing more than to wrap her arms around his neck and draw him close.

"Paul, this is Dr." Reese looked at the other man and said, "I never got your name."

Paul answered for the man and said, "Dr. Gaylord Dunham. I am familiar with your work." Reese noticed that Paul didn't put his hand out for a shake.

"And you are Paul Malloy. Your work precedes you," Dr. Dunham said. "I didn't realize you two knew each other."

Before she could think Reese said, "Why would you?"

Dr. Dunham looked at Reese and bowed his head slightly. "I will let you visit and will check on you later."

"I don't think I will be here for long," Reese said." And I don't think I can help you much with your questions. I'm sorry."

Dr. Dunham nodded. He looked at Paul and said, "It was a pleasure to meet you. I would love to meet with you sometime under other circumstances."

Paul reached into his back pocket and extracted his wallet. He pulled a business card out and held it for Dr. Dunham. The doctor took the card across Reese who said nothing about the leather glove on his hand. The doctor tucked the card into his pocket.

The doctor moved slowly to the door, glancing back at Reese. "I will be here for another hour or so if you change your mind."

Reese nodded knowing full well she had nothing to say to him.

After they were alone for a minute, Paul finally spoke up. "It didn't take him long to find you."

"What do you mean?"

"He travels everywhere trying to find legitimate stories of people who crossed over and came back with stories to tell."

"He said he is a neurologist."

"He is. The story goes he died in a drowning accident when he was fifteen and when he returned he became obsessed with finding people who had similar experiences as him. He's a bit of an oddball, but a genius. And there are rumors he works for a special division of the FBI."

"Really? Why does he wear the gloves?"

"Supposedly when he was revived he came back with the ability to read people's minds just with a touch of his hands."

"And we’re back to Stephen King."

Paul smirked. “The Dead Zone.”

"Yeah, something like that."

"So I take it from his request to talk later that you had nothing to say to him?"

"No. I had a bad feeling about him."

Paul sat down on the bed and took one of Reese's hands into his. "Well I'm reading that you are feeling ridiculously healthy for a woman who was shot not even twenty-four hours ago."

"And don't forget I also had surgery."

Paul smiled but it appeared to be forced.

"What's on your mind?" Reese said.

"Gregory is still alive, but he's in a medically induced coma. That's all the police will tell me."

"So I heard."

"I thought I killed him."

"We can always hope he won't pull through."

Paul squint his eyes at Reese. "Are you really that cold blooded?"

Reese was stunned. She thought they were on the same wavelength. She shook her head. "No, but the man killed my brother and my mother."

“I know. I’m sorry.” Paul patted her hand.

The gears in Reese’s brain started to turn. If all of this was only a day old why was her father making funeral arrangements? Her mother's body wouldn’t be released to the funeral home for at least a couple of days, possibly a week. It was plausible he was arranging now so he wouldn't have to do it later or maybe he was up to something else and didn’t want to tell Reese.

Before she could consider her father's actions further, Paul said, "How did Dr. Dunham know to come here? He got here quickly."

"I think he was already at the hospital interviewing another patient. A young hit and run victim.” As soon as she said the words Reese thought of her grandmother. Was it a coincidence or did she remember her grandmother's death in light of hearing about Demi’s accident?

The warmth at her back intensified. She considered showing Paul the little black velvet bag but a nagging feeling in the back of her head told her not to. She thought him knowing about it might put him in danger, same as she was certain she was in now.