Dream a Little Dream

The saw grass swayed in the gentle breeze of the swamp as Eric and Jason shined their spotlights across the murky depths. Red eye shine littering the placid waters.

“Look at all them there,” Jason murmurs as he points out the eyes in the dark.

“Nothing but dollar signs out there,” Eric grins as he grips the rifle in his hand. Eager to start with the killing.

“Now we cain't do nothin' now,” Jason chides as he pushes against the barrel of Eric's gun. “We gotta wait 'til morning. It's illegal what we doin' now, since we ain't got the bangstick. I shouldn'ta shown you this now. I just wanted you to know 'bout this spot just in case you needed ta get here without me.”

“Why would I get here without you? It ain't like you goin' nowhere.”

“Who knows how things turn out, ya know? Somethin' might happen. I hadda a feelin' recently that somethin' big will be happin' but I don't know what.”

“Ain't nothin' gonna happen, you're old, but ain't that old!” Eric smirks as he slaps Jason on the back with his free hand. “Now come on. You cain't tell me that all that eye shine ain't makin' you wanna grab your gun and treble and go ahead and start on our season tags.” He smiles again as he lifts his rifle, “Remember it ain't illegal unless you git caught!”

“No.” Jason reaches again and lowers Eric's rifle back down. “Ya don't git it. It don't feel right. It looks too familiar.”

“Well, no shit it looks familiar,” Eric rolls his eyes. “Ain't this your huntin' spot? So, of course it's gonna look familiar.”

Jason sits down beside Eric and drops the pole beside him that he had been using to quietly get the boat closer to the prime location. “Listen, I gotta tell you about this. It's been weighing down on me for months and I near about didn't wanna come here tonight.”

“What's wrong? You sick?”

“Nah, I ain't sick. I've been having this dream. Hell, not really a dream at'll... a nightmare is what it's been. Been making my whole wakin' life a nightmare too!”

“We all get a nightmare ev'ry now and 'gin. Ain't like it stopped anybody else. You let that sorta mumbo jumbo mess with you, ain't never gonna live your life right.”

“It's not just some old nightmare, Eric!” Jason runs his hands through his shaggy hair and sighs. “It's the same thing over an' over again! Night after night! And it ain't just happening once during the night! It's like on repeat, happening four, five times a night! It gets to the point where'n I cain't even sleep!”

Eric rubs the back of his neck. “A'ight, calm down. I get it,” he sighs and places his rifle down in the bottom of the boat. Eric never could deal with emotional situations. Sure he and Jason had talked about problems with girlfriends in the past and more recently, his upcoming divorce with his wife, but it was always after getting close to three sheets to the wind before it came to that. And right now he was just too sober for all of this. “It can be kinda rough havin' to deal with somethin' like that night after night.” He cringes inwardly before speaking the words he dreads, “Ya wanna talk about it?”

“It's stupid, I know...” Jason looks around at the swamp surrounding them. “And don't laugh after I tell you about it, or I'll throw you in with the gators!”

“I won't! I won't! Promise!”

Jason settles into the boat more with a sigh. The rocking of the boat causing some of his stress to dissipate. “I'm out here in the swamp. All by myself, tryin' to fill some tags when my boat hits a sand bar and flips over. Suddenly, all the gators in the area are on me and I'm tryin' to fight them off as much as I can while treadin' water. Then a big ole gator comes up from underneath me and takes a big bite out of me and I bleed out with them all takin' bites out of me.”

Both men are silent for what feels like ages until Jason clears his throat and continues. “It's stupid I know. I just cain't shake the dream. It's been happenin' for near on two months! I cain't really sleep unless I get stone-cold drunk. Carla's done got me sleepin' on the pull-out in the living room 'cuz I keep wakin' her up with the dream. I don't know if I'm nervous about this year's season or what, ya know? I guess we got a lot ridin' on this season. Construction work has been slow this summer and I've been tryin' to make everything work out, but I know Carla's done figured out I took a loan out from the bank to help with the bills and all. Maybe it's just everything compounding, whatcha think?”

Eric rubs his scruffy chin and sighs. “It's probably everything you done told me mixed in together causing a helluva stressful night. When you take out that loan?”

“Three months ago.”

“And you ain't ever tell Carla 'bout it? No wonder yer mind is takin' you on a roller coaster ride!” Eric slaps Jason on the back and smiles. “Now, I got the perfect medicine for this sorta problem. Take a look behind that there cooler and grab up that jar. You gonna take two shots of that white lightnin' and then we gonna hook us some gators! Go'n git yer treble, I ain't in the mood for dealin' with that stupid peg. Like I said, it ain't illegal unless ya get caught! This here is some prime real estate you done found and we can get you out yer financial troubles and hopefully these nightmares will be no more'n a distant memory!”

Jason sighs with relief as his friend does not laugh at his situation. He knew he done poured his heart out and neither one of them had even had a drop of drink in them. He grabs the mason jar beside the cooler and sputters as the liquid burns down his throat and blooms outward in his stomach. “Gah, where did you get this from? It's like drinking battery acid!”

“Oh, that's just a Riley special! Old coot had a snake problem in his pipes but not enough to pay for it, so we settled the difference with some prime mash. Hits like a pulpwood truck, don't it? Now that we got you loosened up a bit, let's get to huntin'!”

The two men start to hunt, each one trying to leave the conversation they had just had in the past as they worked in tandem. Jason throws out the hook while Eric waits patiently with his rifle at the ready. After a few throws, Jason felt the telltale pull against his own drag. “I got one!”

The ultimate fight begins. Who is stronger, man or beast. Jason strains against the pull of the predator in that water. “This one's gotta be huge!” He grunts as he feels the line burn into his palms. “Gimme a hand!”

Eric props the rifle on the edge of the boat as he reaches over to help Jason pull in the alligator. He keeps an eye on the distance the beast is from the boat as well as his position to his gun. All too aware that if he isn't quick enough they could lose a real prize at the end of the line.

“Get the gun! Get the gun!”

He is taken out of his thoughts by Jason's shouts. He knows there are so many gators in this area and he is worried about spookin' them, so he quickly grabs the gun with its bayonet attachment and plunges it deep into the back of the gator's head. Dropping the rifle back to the side, Eric help Jason bring up the beast. “One down, who knows how many more to go,” he states with a grin and slaps Jason on the back.

“Quick thinkin',” Jason grins as he wipes the sweat off his forehead. “We don't wanna scare 'em off.” He reaches down and takes the second shot of the moonshine beside him. “You know what? I think you were right. I am feelin' better!”

“Told ya you would! Now let's get us some more. There's a whole mess of 'em out here just begging to be sold!”

The sun finally starts to peek over the cypress trees when the men decide to finally call it a night. This was the biggest haul in their entire lives and it barely made a dent it seemed in the population. “I told you that it seemed like prime real estate when ya showed it to me,” Eric states as he stares at the pile of gators in the boat.

“Yeah, I stumbled across this place last year, but didn't think it would amount to anything. It was a bit early in the year and you know how they ain't gonna stay around a spot after matin' season, so I came back through here last fall just to be sure that it wasn't a fluke and sure enough there was even more then than before. That's why I thought of this plan for this season. I figured we would make it big or fail big time!” He reaches into the cooler and grabs a beer out. “I thought we would just go here tonight and set the traps and come back tomorrow, but I'm glad we did it your way. Get a jump on the season and hopefully we can break even for both of us.”

Eric nods as he guns the engine on the boat. The roar of it breaking the silence that had fell around them. He slowly edges them out from between a grove of cypresses until he reaches open water and turns up the speed. They float on down the swamp until a noise louder than the engine sounds nearby. Cutting the engine, Eric whips his head around. “You hear that?”

“Yeah, guess someone else came up with the same idea as us,” Jason says with a shrug as he raises the can of beer to his lips. “You know if you think of something, guarantee someone else has done thought it too.”

Eric grunts in agreement and turns back to start the engine again. Frustration mounts as it fails to start.

“Hey, stop rocking the boat so much!” Jason calls from his perch closest to the gators. “I don't wanna have to haul these bodies back out the water cause you done flipped us!”

“I ain't rockin' it!” Eric cries back as he pulls the ripcord again. The engine gives a halfhearted sputter before falling silent. “You bring the gas?”

“I knew I done forgot something,” Jason mutters with a frown. “I bet you can use Riley's special as fuel if'n we really run out. That outboard is old, you gotta give it some love before she'll turn over.”

Eric curses to himself as he grabs for his flashlight to double check the fuel in the tank. He frowns when he sees that they still have plenty to get them back to their truck. He slaps the cap back on and starts to pull at the ripcord again when he hears a low hiss. He shines the light at the water, looking for any eye shine close to their vessel. Seeing nothing he goes back to the motor when the boat rocks shakily. “If'n you got to throw up, do it over the rail. Those gators smell enough not to have to add your vomit smell to it!”

“T-t-that ain't me, Eric,” Jason stutters out as he looks blindly out towards the swamp. Though the sun was peeking through in places, the low-hung Spanish moss cast an eerie dusk around them.

Eric shines his light again out on the blackened waters, trying yet failing to see what could have caused the boat to shudder like it had. Another low hiss fills the early morning air with dread. Eric reaches for Jason to pull him closer to him, away from the corpses of gators. “We got a live one still!” Eric shouts as he reaches for his rifle.

Jason stumbles over the rope in the hull of the boat and cracks his head on the rail. Momentarily stunned he grabs for the back of his head and shuts his eyes from the pain. The rocking of the boat becomes almost turbulent as he tries to keep his dinner down. Suddenly, a bright hot pain starts near his groin and shoots up his body. A snapping sound in his leg followed by a loud rapport, accompanied by an even more mind-numbing feeling of someone sticking white hot needles into his entire body causes him to pass out from the shock.

Eric throws his rifle aside as he reaches his best friend whose leg is still in the mouth of the first gator they had killed of the night. He curses loudly as blood seeps from the beast's mouth. Eric grabs for the towels in the hull of the boat and wraps them around his hands to pry the gator's mouth open. Though the beast is dead, he still knows how much bacteria is lurking in the rows of teeth that are clamped around Jason's leg.

Grunting with the effort, he finally pries the mouth open enough for him to kick Jason's leg out from its mouth. Letting go of the animal, Eric curses again at the sight of his friend's mangled leg. “Think, dammit! Think!” He reaches for the moonshine that had rolled across the hull. Twisting the top off, he pours the clear liquid over Jason's thigh. A ragged scream breaks from Jason's throat as the pain rockets through his body once again. “Pain's good. Pain's good,” Eric mutters to himself as he looks around the boat for something to wrap Jason's thigh with.

Finding nothing, he takes his own shirt off and ties it around his friend's leg. Cinching it tightly with the length of rope beside him. “Just hang on,” He whispers as he pats Jason's shoulder and stumbles to the outboard motor. Praying to anyone who would listen, Eric grips the ripcord and exhales as the engines blats to life. The swamp, ever lightning as the sun slowly rises overhead, feels as if it goes on forever as he pushes the motor to its limits.

A part of him realizes that it is more than likely too late for Jason. There's no phone signal out in the swamp for miles and even when he gets to the truck, it is another forty-five minutes to the nearest hospital, but he keeps going otherwise he would blame himself. His mind keeps replaying the dream Jason had told him about. The dream where Jason died by an alligator bite. Eric never believed in coincidences, but by god, he might start now.

Three Years Later....

Eric gasps as he jerks awake. Sweat drips into his eyes forcing him to blindly reach for the alarm clock next to him. Smacking the top of the clock, he wipes his hand over his face to clear his eyesight. It's been three years since Jason died from the gator. Three years of fines and near jail time, but Eric never once complained. Barely scraping by as is, he was lucky that his uncle was the sheriff and he got off lightly though he wished every day that his friend was still alive.

Three years of the same nightmare too. A nightmare that made him relive that confounded night over and over again. He frowns as he reaches for the glass of water beside him. The dream was fading, but he still remembers it. It wasn't his standard fare of gator filled night terror.

'Headlights,' he thinks to himself as he takes large gulps from the room temp water. 'Only headlights from that night were mine. And I wouldn't see that.'

He shrugs off the remnants of the fading dream and walks to the bathroom. 'Time to go ahead and get this day over with.'

Eric hasn't went hunting in the three years after Jason's death, but that didn't mean he didn't know a thing or two about the sport. As he drove his truck down to the water's edge, he looks out on the crystal clear lake in front of him. He never set foot in the swamp lands again deciding it would be best to not even try his hand at any type of hunting, but it never stopped him from helping others. He parks his truck and jumps out, heading to the much larger pontoon boat by the docks.

Smiling at the waiting family of five, Eric lowers a homemade gangplank for them to walk across. Taking people out on Lake Blackshear for fishing trips may not make him as much money as the gator business could have made, but it was something that kept him busy and his mind clear of his thoughts.

The day passes quickly with Eric answering questions from tourists about surrounding places of interest as well as the occasional photo-ops for families who bagged a nice sized bass. As he makes the last pass towards the dock with the last customer of the day he sighs. It may not be hard work, but it is still a bit mind-numbing and he can't think of anything better than to go home, camp out in front of the TV with a beer and a dinner that he's nuked in the microwave. His stomach starts growling at the thought as he pulls the throttle back on the boat to softly glide towards the docks.

He jumps off the boat to tie it off quickly and waits as the family strolls off with their catches and head towards their vehicle. Eric quickly finishes his routine of cleaning off the hold of the boat and securing it to the dock for the night, then hops in his truck and drives away. Once home, he quickly changed into more comfortable clothing while his dinner warmed in the microwave. Once settled in for the night, Eric drops into his well-worn recliner, beer in one hand. Channel changer in the other. He flicks on the TV and relaxes for the night.

Headlights beam across the road. Coming closer faster and faster as Eric tries vainly to stay on the road yet away from the incoming vehicle. Every time he changes the other vehicle does the same. Sweat pours down his back causing his shirt to stick uncomfortably to his back. 'Who the hell is this?' he wonders to himself as he shifts lanes again, eyes steadily on the vehicle heading towards him. 'Why cain't I just stop?'

The lights in front of him suddenly brighten as the unknown driver turns on their brights. Squinting against the light, Eric lays down on his horn to try to gain the attention of the erratic driver. Nothing seemed to dissuade the other vehicle as it barrels on closer and closer to him. A sound from his right draws his attention away from the literal car crash that he was mere seconds away from and he stares at the passenger seat beside him.

“Jason?” Eric's voice is shaking as he stares at his best friend, but he does not look the way he did when he was alive. Mottled, tattered skin tinged with green hangs off his cheek as worms crawl through the leathery muscle beneath.

“I done told you these dreams ain't nothin' to take lightly,” Jason wheezes out though no air passes through over his vocal cords. A dry laugh, much like the snapping of branches on a fall day passes through desiccated lips. “You gonna find out, once they start, ain't nothin' gonna stop 'em. 'Cept for death.”

The light brightens even more causing Eric to turn back towards the road. He shifts into the other lane, growling in frustration as the other vehicle mimics his movements. “How can I...” He starts as he looks back to the passenger seat. Empty. Before he could turn back to the road, metallic grating sounds throughout the cab and an immense pain unlike anything Eric ever felt before rockets through his body.

Gasping and grabbing his head in agony, he nearly falls out of the recliner. The can of beer clangs to the hardwood floor and rolls out of reach underneath the nearby end table. A groan escapes his throat as he slowly realizes where he is. “Just a dream,” he mutters as he wipes the sleep from his eyes. “A bad dream.” Eric shudders as he remembers looking at Jason sitting beside him. Almost gags as he remembers the smell that had permeated his nose.

He glances out the living room window and sighs as he sees the sun climbing into the horizon. 'Feels like a barely slept a wink,' he thinks to himself as he climbs out of the recliner and rubs his face. He looks over at the end table and notices no other can besides the one that had fell to the floor. 'Something I ate maybe?' He guesses as he stumbles over to the bathroom sink to glance at himself in the mirror.

A rotten smell invades his nostrils and instead of his own face, Eric sees the putrid face of the three-year dead Jason. His friend's empty eye sockets stare into his soul as his mouth slowly opens to reveal a mass of wriggling maggots. Eric gags into the sink and empties his stomach of its meager contents. Steeling himself for another look into the mirror, he sighs with relief when his own haggard face stares back at him.

He hurries about his routine, well aware that if he caught himself thinking too much, flashes of Jason or the dream would sear through his mind like a white-hot poker. Grabbing his keys off their perch on the kitchen counter, Eric frowns as he stares at his truck in the driveway. Mangled beyond belief, his Ford looked like a tuna can instead of the powerful vehicle that could tow a trailer with a two-ton load. Eric blinks in surprise and rubs his eyes. Before him sits his truck in its pristine condition that he had always prided himself in keeping it. “I can't go to work like this,” he mutters to himself as he goes back inside to call in sick.

This happens again. Day in. Day out. Days bleeding into nightmare fueled nights. Eric doesn't even realize the days that passed until he gets a phone call from his boss. The one phone call that he knew would happen but still didn't know it would come. “I... Yes sir. I-i understand. I apologize for my actions, but I've been sick.”

“No sir, I don't know when I'll be better...”

“Yes, sir. I promise I will let you know when I get better. Again, I'm sorry that I caused such a problem.”

He hangs up the phone and sighs. “Welp, that's another job in four years to go down the toilet.” Eric mutters aloud. He rubs his hand across his face and walks over to his recliner. On the end table is his coffee pot daisy-chained to an extension cord to the outlet across the living room. He pours himself another steaming cup of coffee and flips through the channels on his TV. Soon, he will run out of the meager money he had saved up. 'Maybe I can get one of them work from home gigs or something,' he thinks to himself as he stares blankly at the screen in front of him.

Eric falls into an uneasy sleep. Half in sleep, half awake when he hears the phone ring, waking him fully. “Hello?”

A muffled voice rings hollowly through the receiver.

“Hello?” He tries again. His voice stronger.

Silence answers.

Eric rolls his eyes. 'A crank call,' He thinks to himself as he moves to hang the phone back up on the hook. A slight droning sound from outside causes his ears to strain to make out the noise. He moves cautiously towards his living room window to peer behind the curtains. He closes them quickly as he sees headlights hurtling towards his house. Panic builds in his chest as he presses against the wall.

“Just someone taking the curb too fast,” he mumbles aloud. He tries to will his rapid heartbeat down as he keeps muttering incoherently to himself.

The sound gets louder causing Eric to hyperventilate as he tries to press himself further into the wall. Any thought of moving has gone out the window. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees movement from the kitchen. A shuddering breath passes through is chest, out through his mouth as he watches Jason hobble out of the kitchen. The noxious smell of death fills his lungs and he retches at the fumes. “Why?” He croaks out as he stares numbly at the visage.

Jason stares blankly at his friend. His unseeing eye sockets keeping Eric rooted to the spot. As Eric continues staring at his dead friend; the vehicle's engine revs to an all time high as it barrels through the floor to ceiling window in the living room straight into the frightened man. He barely makes a sound as he is pinned between a truck and the wall behind him.

A groan comes from the cab of the truck as a sandy-haired kid barely old enough to drive comes to. He stares unseeing out the spider-webbed windshield. His eyes come into sharp focus as they zero in on Eric sprawled onto the hood of his truck.

“Shit!” He exclaims as he falls out of the driver's side door onto the floor. “Mister! Mister!” He screams as he holds up Eric's head. He gags as Eric tries to speak but a mouthful of blood leaks out.

“Hey...” Eric whispers, chest aching with every ragged breath. “Hey, kid!” He grunts out followed by a torrent of blood. His vision doubles as he tries to maintain consciousness. “Call an ambulance,” he whispers before passing out across the hood of the truck.

The kid swears loudly as he tears stream down his eyes. He looks blindly for his phone but curses again when he sees the screen is cracked. Glancing about the destroyed living room, he spots a house phone thrown against the far wall. Stumbling around in the debris, the teen grabs the receiver and calls 911.

'911 what is your emergency?'

“It's bad. Oh man, it's really bad!”

'Sir, please calm down and tell me what happened.'

“I'm gonna be in so much trouble! Oh man!I need help!”

'Please tell me what is your emergency. I can not help you if you do not tell me what is wrong.'

“I-i-i wrecked my vehicle through someone's house!” He wipes the tears from his eyes and stares at the wall in front of him. “Oh god! I wrecked my truck into someone's house!”

'Are you hurt sir? Is anyone else hurt?'

“Oh god... the man.” He retches again. “I'm never drivin' again as long as I live!”

'Sir please... what about the man? Is he hurt? Can you tell me where you are? Is this 844 Chestnut Lane?'

“I don't know! I was just drivin' an' brakes stopped working! The truck's old and I ain't had the money to get it fixed, please don't put me in jail! I didn't mean for it to happen!” A moan sounds from the hood of the kid's vehicle. “Oh god! He's still alive! He's pinned down real good! I don't wanna go to jail for no murder! Please get someone here! Hurry!” He hangs up the phone and presses his fists to his eyes, letting out a primal scream. A sharp acrid smell of copper burns his nose and he glances at his hands and sees the blood the man he had hit on them causing him to throw up again. Stumbling out of the broken home he falls to the ground; hugging his knees to his chest, softly rocking back and forth waiting for the ambulance.

The distant wailing of sirens cause the boy to open his eyes, squinting in the bright sunlight. He looks around slowly as he sees the ambulance come to a stop in the driveway. A man and a woman get out of the vehicle and cross the lawn towards him. “In there,” He mutters before passing out in the grass.

“Go ahead and see the damage inside Denise, I'll take care of him,” the male EMT states as he kneels beside the teen.

“Copy, Jerrick,” she replies as she slowly makes her way to the extensive hole in the side of the house. 'Kid's lucky he went through a huge window. Otherwise the whole house may have fell down,' she thinks to herself climbs through the passageway the vehicle had made. Her heart jumps into her throat as she spots the front of the vehicle and sees a man sprawled against the hood. Bright blood splayed against white metal.

She rushes over and checks the man's pulse. Denise is shocked to find a weak flutter, much like a butterflies wings, against her fingertips in the man's neck. She reaches for her radio clipped to her shoulder when the man lets out a phlegmy cough. Blood spattering further up the hood. “Please take it easy sir, you are in pretty bad shape.”

A pained wheeze, almost like a laugh breaks through Eric's lips. “What was your first guess Sherlock?”

Denise takes a deep breath and reaches for the man's hand. “I'm not gonna lie to you because I'm pretty sure you already know...”

“Ya move the truck, I die?” He grimaces as he tries to take in a breath. “Kinda figured that one out on my own. I was a goner anyway. Knew it would be a car to get me...” He pauses as his head lowers slightly. “Just didn't know how it would get me.”

“What do you mean?” Denise asks as she grips his hand tighter through a coughing fit.

“A dreamt it...” Eric wheezes again. His hand loosening its grip on hers. “Or I nightmared it. What ever you would prefer. For a couple months now I had this dream of a car wreck. My buddy Jason in the truck with me.” He stops and stares back towards the kitchen. “There he is right now.”

Denise glances over her shoulder and doesn't see anyone. “There's no one there.”

“Oh, he's there alright,” Eric wheezes out. “Guessin' he got bored waitin' on me to meet up with him in Heaven... or Hell. Or wherever we go when we die.”

She furrows her eyebrows but doesn't comment, knowing this is more than likely the delirium of an oxygen deprived man on his way out of this world.

“See he had a dream that he'd get ate by a gator. It happened over three years ago. He told me the story and I saw him die. Now here we are three years later and I start dreamin' up my own death. I just pray that you don't start havin' a dream about your own death.” He stares Denise dead in the eyes. “I wouldn't wish that type of terror on my worst enemy,” He whispers out. The end of his words barely stumbling over his lips.

Denise rubs her eyes with her free hand as she feels the man's hand completely loosen its grip on her. She checks his pulse again. Nothing. She stumbles out of the ram-shackled house into the bright daylight.

“How's...” Jerrick starts before Denise cuts him off with a shake of her head.

“How's the kid?”

“Has a concussion and pretty dehydrated. Must have lost his lunch quite a few times after the accident.”

“I honestly don't blame him.” Denise looks up the road when she hears more sirens in the distance.

Jerrick walks closer to her and puts a hand on her shoulder. “Look another ambulance is on the way along with the cops...” He points at the van and continues. “Why don't you take the kid back to the hospital and I catch a ride with Will? You don't need to be here for the rest of this and neither does that kid.”

She nods her head and walks over to the ambulance. Denise knows she is on auto-pilot. Has felt this only two other times in her life. The first time was her first ride out to a train accident and the second time was when had a patient code on them on the way to the emergency room. Though this was no where near as gruesome as the train accident, those four poor people never knew what hit them. As for the patient who coded. It was her first time it happened, but by far the last time. Denise backs out of the driveway and heads towards the hospital. Her mind not on the drive but on the poor teen in the back of the ambulance. 'I can only imagine what he is going to got through when he comes out of it.' she thinks to herself as she turns into the drive-thru of the hospital's emergency entrance.

She had called ahead while on the drive over and was met with a team with a crash cart. “I honestly don't think he will need it,” she states as the team unloads him from the back of the van. “Jerrick checked him over onsite. Mainly a concussion and dehydrated.”

“Will hold him overnight just to be on the safe side,” the nurse states as she follows the team back into the hospital.

Denise sighs with relief as she glances at her watch. 'Thank god it's quittin' time!' She thinks as she loads herself into the driver's side and takes the ambulance back to base. She runs her hand over her face as she drives closer to freedom. 'I definitely need a relaxin' weekend after this one!'

Later on that night, Denise tosses and turns in bed. A slight moan leaves her lips as her eyes flicker behind closed lids. She awakes with a gasp as she grabs at her throat, the feeling of drowning leaving her as the haze of the nightmare dissipates in the soft glow of the TV screen in front of her. She takes a deep ragged breath as she glances around her bedroom looking at the familiar furniture around her.

“Pity,” a voice wheezes from the corner. She glances towards her bathroom door. A scream stifled against her lips. “I had hoped you would have had as much time as I did before this started to happen.” Eric states with a frown, blood oozing out the sides of his mouth onto his plaid shirt. “Don't worry though. I will keep you company until then.”