It was the screams and smell of burning flesh all over again. He felt a hand reach for him but couldn’t and then he heard someone call out to him but the name wasn’t his. He had to move_ he had to try. Someone needed him and finally, he could move but the hand was gone. There was no one in sight but the smoke and smell of burning flesh filling his nostrils. He was filled with panic even as he made a brave attempt to open the door that wouldn’t budge.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, the fire was in his face. He raised his hands to shield himself and felt the fire burn his arm. He knew he was going to die but last minute, he felt himself pulled away and plunged into another nightmare_ this one all so familiar. There was blood all around_ so much blood. He found himself weeping as he looked down at himself covered with blood. Something was missing, he thought until he heard it. He paused scarcely daring to breathe to be sure he heard it_ there it was again, the tiny infant wail but why did it seem so far away. He forced himself to stand amidst the puddle of blood towards the sound but then he heard someone call out to him in a whisper_ another familiar voice. He turned towards it and forced his legs to carry him in a run but no matter how fast he ran, it seemed he never could make it until that whisper began to fade and he could feel himself gasping_ out of breath. What was happening? Why did he feel like he was close to dying?
He had to hold on. He had to save them all. They needed him. He had to. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, softly at first then more insistent and purposeful. Finally, they’d be getting help but why wasn’t whoever was at the door kicking it down? Couldn’t they sense the danger or was it all in his head? Finally, he heard his name_ someone was calling out to him. It was up to him to save them_ as always, it was up to him. He forced his eyes open and found himself staring up at white washed ceiling lying spread eagled on the bed.
Jack sat up in bed in a cold sweat. The sheet of the dingy motel room bed was soaked in sweat_ that damn dream again. He rubbed absently at the burn scar on his forearm concealed neatly by the angel tattoo. The rest of the burn scars on his back, he left unconcealed in lieu of a reminder of a story he couldn’t recall. It was the only thing that marred what would no doubt have being a perfect body. The knock came again and this time, he realized it hadn’t all been in his head. He wondered who it could be as he wasn’t expecting anyone. The time on the wrist watch he had pilfered from underneath the unwatchful eyes of a bored store attendant said it was eight pm. He must have been so tired after his meeting with the old man. It had been one hell of a meeting. A tiny uncertain voice called out from behind the door as if certain he was in but refusing to answer the door. He placed the gun which had been lying beside him on the bed under the bed and got up to answer the door.
Jack wasn’t one to be caught by surprise but he was surprised to find the pretty waitress outside his door, an uncertain even shy smile on her face and a bag of take out raised up in lieu of a peace offering.


The chief was on the phone when Chris got to the station and he signaled him to wait. The conversation seemed intense as could be deciphered by the emotions on the chief’s face. Whoever is on the other end of the line at the moment isn’t exactly the chief of police’s fan favorite. “Alright Sir…” the chief clicked off and motioned Chris to take a seat and settled himself in the one directly opposite the chief while the older man settled his lithe frame behind his desk. His office was moderately furnished with a huge table, a couple of office chairs and a couch. The walls hung bare as he loved them but on a shelf that stood on one side held most of his awards_ a testament to his bravery and time on the force. On his table sat his computer and a personal laptop including a framed portrait of his wife who lost her battle with cancer two years ago. There was none of his kids even though he had two but they did well to alienate themselves from their parents and hadn’t even showed up for their mother’s funeral. “That was the mayor. You look well rested Chris.”

“Just glad to be out of the house. What does the good mayor want with you?”
The chief’s mouth cracked in the workings of a smile at the sarcasm. The mayor was anything but good. A pot bellied corrupt son of a bitch that was a pain in the butt. “He wanted update on the escaped convict_ wasn’t exactly pleased when I relayed our short comings across to him.” Chris nodded absently without saying a word forcing the chief to look up at him. He stared at the cut on Chris’s palm but didn’t comment but instead reached into a drawer behind his desk and retrieved a folder which Chris instinctively knew had to do with him. He was tired of people studying him like a damn course. The chief ignored the retrieved folder and stared across at Chris.
“Anything on your mind you wish to ask me?” The answer was No. he didn’t really care. He didn’t want to be in the damn station but at the same time, he couldn’t wait to be out there. The thrill of the job beckoned. It’d also be a good way to distract him but he doubted the possibility in that. “What progress has been made with the case?” he hardly cared about the fact that another scum had managed to evade the gallows_ the old Chris would’ve undoubtedly cared but this new Chris was starting to adopt the selfish lifestyle and even loving it. It made the pain of loss easier to bear. Coincidentally, the convict had escaped alongside the slimy mob boss that had eluded the authority for years now and when finally they had him within the mighty arm of justice, he still managed to escape. The case was more or less a personal one for him_ he had gone undercover and had successfully infiltrated the camp of the mob boss_ spent roughly four years in their midst as a covert operative and fed Intel to the police. He had dined with them until he had finally gained their trust which had been no easy feat to accomplish. The crime families weren’t ones to let their guards down so easily and welcome just about anybody into their inner circle_ one had to be tested, vetted and verified before being considered truly worthy. It had taken up three years of his life as an undercover agent and his Intel had been the clincher in the mob boss arrest after a lot of failed arrests and law suits of defamation and racial discrimination against the force which he had worn several times. This was the final step and he had been lucky to have delivered.
There had been days on the case as an undercover agent that he’d wanted to give up_ just pack up and run but it was sheer wherewithal and passion for his job that had kept him from doing just that. “We are doing the best we can under the circumstances of having to keep the press at bay and deal with an impertinent mayor.” He paused briefly. “But that’s not why I sent for you…you are going to begin the mandatory psychiatry evaluation as soon as possible and receive a clean bill of health before I can be certain you are fit to be out there.” Chris had somehow seen this coming and had been in awe of it. He had hoped in earnest his case would prove the exception. It was always mandated by the force that any officer to have suffered a recent tragedy in lieu of death or extensive physical injuries be required to undergo physical rehabilitation and psychiatry evaluation before resuming his duties. He had more often than not teased his colleagues that had to undergo the imposed exercise and they hadn’t seemed all that excited about it. It hardly helps a man to talk about his feelings_ things he’d rather sort out on his own to a stranger who probably didn’t give a damn and was only putting up with you because of the paychecks. “Must I really do that? I feel great sir.” “You know better than to ask that.” He fixed him with a stare. “you know the rules and I’m not about to bend it to suit your pride because as much you cherish your pride, I cherish the million lives out there I’ve taken an oath to protect.” “But sir…” But the chief cut him off. “So until you commence the evaluation and bring me a clean bill of health from your doctor, you are sitting duck.” He turned his attention to his computer screen. “I’d get right to it if I were you.” And Chris knew he had been dismissed. He stood up rather grudgingly and headed for the door barely resisting the urge to drag his feet noisily across the floor like an impertinent child. At the door, he turned with a hand on the knob. “So I take it Dr. Freeman is expecting a visit from me? We aren’t exactly enamored of each other.” He finished drily referring to the psychiatrist that consulted with the police. He was a rather finicky old dude in his seventies that wore the armor of respect around him like a cloak and the most rigid fellow Chris had ever come in contact with_ mighty luck that he’d find himself enclosed in close quarters three hours a day, four days a week with him. Knowing the old dude, he’d probably wish to punish Chris by insisting he show up six days in a week probably ruling him as suicidal. He resisted the urge to groan out loudly and wished the chief would reconsider but knew better than that. “Try to keep up Chris. Dr Freeman passed in his sleep six months ago_ cardiac arrest. According to the medics, it had been swift. He hadn’t seen it coming.” The chief replied without taking his eyes from the screen. “How ironic that he saw every other thing but had failed to see this.” He was referring to the deceased doctor’s profession and they both knew it. This time, he looked up to stare directly at Chris. “Have empathy. I was hoping it’s something you could relate to.” And that managed to sober him up. “So who have we been working with then?” “No one definite but I get referrals for when any one of men is need of evaluation.” “So who will be working with me?” he asked impatiently “Dr Morgan. She has your files and will be contacting you as soon as I give her the okay. I was waiting to speak with you first.” Chris frowned at that. “She?” he spat it out almost distastefully in reflex causing the chief’s head to snap up so quickly it was a miracle it still stayed glued to his neck. “Have you gone sexist on me? Problems with the feminine gender?” he inquired
“Of course not chief but…” “Then I’d do best to rid myself of whatever reservations I was having if I were you before the feminists come for you. That would be all.” Chris turned back towards the door but the chief’s voice stopped him in his track. “Perhaps, this is something you’ve needed a long time now. I let you off the hook once but it was due to the circumstances and I’m thinking that might have done you more harm than good.” They both understood what the chief was referring to and the memories caused his throat to clog up. “Be open minded son is all my saying…you never know