Knight Vision

I was certain of three things regarding Eric Tyler.  The first was that he was cheating on his wife with his secretary.  The second was that he pretty sure he got the clap from her.  And the third was he was not going to give me the job I desperately needed.

         I have no idea how I knew the first two things.  I just did.  Strange alien thoughts tend to just pop into my head.  All I know is they aren’t my thoughts.  A phenomena that been happening to me for the last six months. 

         I also have strange and disturbing hallucinations at times.  That usually only happens when I touch and object.  I’m rather grateful I didn’t have a hallucination of Eric having sex when I shook his hand.  But I digress.

         Unfortunately the look on his face had told me the third fact.

         “It’s just…Well, you know how it is Alex,” he stammered.

         Yeah, I knew exactly how it was but I was planning on making him tell me.  I’m a bitch like that.

         My name’s Alexandra Knight by the way, and up until six months ago I was a paramedic.  Now I was unemployed.  I was hoping that today would prove that I wasn’t unemployable.  So far it wasn’t looking good.

         We were sitting in Eric’s small windowless office.  He was behind one of those cheap put together desks and I was sitting across from him in an equally cheap club chair that had seen better days.  I was fairly certain that I didn’t want to know where most of the stains had come from.

         Despite Life Serve being one of the larger private ambulance companies in the area, I guess they still wouldn’t spring for nicer offices for their management.

         Eric was about forty.  His hair was beginning to get a bit thinner and his waist was getting a little wider.  The harsh florescent light was making him look slight sallow.  He wore a white shirt and striped tie which he played with when he got nervous.

         “Enlighten me Eric,” I said to him.  He ran his hands through his sandy blonde hair and straightened his tie.

         I had known Eric for five years.  We had worked together at my previous job until he left to take the management job at Life Serve.  He was a good paramedic.  He was also a generally good person, the cheating on his wife notwithstanding.

         Actually I’m not sure I could blame him for cheating on his wife.  I’d met her.  She was a bitch.

         “We’re not really looking for anyone at the moment,” he said.

         “That’s not what Jim Seers said,” I replied. 

         “Um…Can I be straight with you Alex?  There’s no way I could justify hiring you to the company board, Ok?”

         “The accident was six months ago, Eric.  And it was not my fault.” 

         “It doesn‘t matter.”

         It does when you don’t have a job, at least a good job, I added silently.

         “I’m a good paramedic,” I said.  You were a good paramedic, now you’re just the woman that killed two people, a little voice in my head said.

         “I know that…I still can’t give you a job.”

         “You’re kind of my last hope here, Eric,” I told him.  I didn’t want to beg but at this point I couldn’t afford to be above begging.

         “I’m really sorry but, I can’t…”

         I can’t say I could blame old Eric.  I wouldn’t have hired me either.  In fact I’m pretty sure I would have been one of those assholes that refused to ride with me if I did get hired.

         That’s what happens when you broad side a compact car with an ambulance-you become a pariah in the emergency medical services community.

         “Thanks for seeing me, Eric,” I told him and stood up to shake his hand.  He did the same.

         “I am sorry Alex and I would go to the mat for you it’s just if anything happened…Well you know I have the wife and kids to think about,” he explained.

         “Yeah, I understand,” I said gripping his hand, “One word of advice though, you should probably see the urologist about the burning when you piss.  God only knows where Cheryl’s been.”

         His eyes grew wide.  I just smirked.

         “How’d you…I haven’t…” he sputtered.

         I let go of his hand and turned and walked out his office, leaving Eric Tyler stammering.

         I probably shouldn’t have said anything but, damn that felt good.  I understood where he was coming from but that didn’t mean I couldn’t be pissed off about it.  Besides, it’s tacky to use the well being of your family to hide behind when you‘re cheating on your wife.

         I walked out of the building as fast as I could.  I didn’t want to run into anyone I knew.  Surprisingly EMS is a small club that loves to gossip about its members.  Everyone knows everything about everyone else.  They know who’s screwing who, and whose getting fired, and who can’t get hired.  I there was probably an EMT somewhere that knew exactly what color panties I was wearing. 

         There certainly wasn’t a paramedic or EMT in the county that hadn’t heard about the accident.  And I certainly didn’t want to get any of those sympathetic looks or be asked how I was doing.  I was doing shitty, and I wasn’t in much of a mood to talk about it.

         I made it out to my car without running into anyone.  Thank God, Eric’s office had been near the exit. 

         I slipped behind the steering wheel and flipped down the visor.  I looked at myself in the mirror.  I looked like crap.  My reddish blonde hair was thankfully still neatly up in a twist but there were dark circles under my eyes.  And the weight I had lost in the last few months had made my cheek bones more prominent.  I had never been what you would call curvey.  I would more likely be described as tall and lanky but, in the last few months I had dropped fifteen pounds-fifteen pounds I hadn’t needed to loose.  I guess living on nicotine and caffeine will do that to you.

         I had worn a suit to the interview that day.  It was dark navy, because I thought black too harsh.  I guess I could have just showed up in jeans and a t-shirt and gotten the same result.

         I hated being out of work.  Actually that’s not entirely true; I did have a job of sorts.  I had to pay for the nicotine and caffeine somehow. 

         I was working in my uncle’s bar as a bartender.  The only problem was I sucked at it.  I also hated every minute of it.  I wanted exciting.  I wanted driving down the highway at sixty miles an hour to get to a three car pile up.  I wanted to have to calculate the proper dose of morphine, not the right amount of vodka.  I wanted to do what I loved, being a paramedic.

         I drove home.  My apartment is just a one bedroom on the edge of a no so great neighborhood.  Not there are a lot of great neighborhoods in the town of VanKleeck anymore.

         I had been born and raised in this town and was sad to see its present state.  The crime rate had risen of late and its poverty level had risen. 

         We were only about a hundred miles from New York City.  It was an old and historic town named for Baltus Barent van Kleeck, the town’s founder.

         I took a quick shower when I got home and drove to work.

         My uncle’s bar is pretty much a dive bar located and lonely stretch of highway.  It’s called the Blarney Stone.

         It’s not much to look at from the outside.  The parking lot isn’t paved just covered in gravel.  You can’t even really see the bar from the road, just the garish neon sign on a post.

         I got out of my car, a beat up old Jeep Cherokee.  The gravel crunched under my feet and a walked to the faded old red building. 

         I walked inside.  To tell the truth it’s not much to look at from the inside either.  Directly across from the door is the bar.  In between are tables and chairs.  To the right is a small low stage where bands played Friday and Saturday nights and in front of the stage is a small dance floor.  Actually it’s not so much a dance floor as an area where there are no chairs.

         My Uncle Vince was behind the bar when I came in.  He was my mother’s baby brother.  He was pushing forty-five and his black hair was just being to go gray at the temples.  He’s blue eyes still sparkled however.

         “Hay, Kiddo,” he called out to me as I walked in, “How’d the interview go?”

         “Not great,” I told him.  Honestly I don’t think I would have bothered ever working another night in the bar if I thought I was going to get the job.

         “You never know.  I never thought I thought I’d get the loan to open this place and look how it turned out.”

         I didn’t bother replying.  I just shrugged and walked across the room and made my way behind the bar.

         He clapped me on the shoulder when I came to stand next to him.

         “You never have to worry about a having a job as long as this is open, Alex, you understand?”

         I have to admit I got a little choked up at that.

         “Thanks, Uncle Vince,” I told him.  And it was the truth.  As much as I disliked working in the bar I was thankful to have the job.  My short term disability insurance had run out three months ago.  And I still had medical bills.  If not for the job here at the bar I would have been living out of my car, or worse, back at my parents.  There’s nothing worse then leaving the nest only to have to return.  It makes you feel like the biggest failure in the world.  Spending several weeks there after I got released from the hospital was more then enough.

         Even with working at the bar I was beginning to have trouble paying my bills.  I had to cancel my land line and cable to make ends sort of meet the prior month.  I needed to find a job that paid me at least what I was making before the accident, and I needed to find it soon.

         “Do you think you could hold down the fort for a bit,” my Uncle said, interrupting my thoughts, “I need to run a few errands before we open.”

         “Sure,” I told him.

         My uncle left and I proceeded to get the place ready for opening for the evening.

         I was concentrating on cutting limes when the front door swung open and a man walked in.

         “Sorry we’re closed,” I called out to him.

         He just stood there just inside the door as if he hadn’t heard me.  I couldn’t see the man all that clearly.  I hadn’t turned on most of the overhead lights yet and he was still in front of the door with the sun streaming in behind him leaving him in silhouette.

         “Hay, I said we’re closed.  You’ll have to find a drink someplace else, buddy,” I said as I stepped out from behind the bar.  I kept the knife I had been using to cut the limes with just in case.  I’m not sure how long I was going to fend anyone off with a paring knife but better safe then sorry.  Something felt off about this guy.

         “I’m not looking for a drink,” the man said as he moved away the door and walked to meet me half way.  We were now standing only a few feet apart.  Now that he had stepped out of the sun I could see him clearly.

         He was very good looking.  Tall, dark and handsome pretty much summed him up.

         He was probably in his late twenties.  He stood probably about five foot ten.  He had thick curly dark brown hair that just brushed his collar.  He also had dark eyes that seemed to stare right through me.  He was wearing a charcoal sport coat over a forest green polo shirt and a pair of jeans.

         “Then what are you looking for,” I asked him.

         He smiled, “I believe I’m looking for you.”

         I kind of wished I looked a little better.  I had only thrown on a pair of dark blue jeans and a tank top on after my shower.  My hair had even been slightly damp when I pulled it back in a pony tail.  It had been quite awhile since a good looking guy had come looking for me.

         “I think you have the wrong person.  If you’re looking for the owner, he’s not here,” I told him.  I assumed he was a vendor looking to talk to Vince.

         “You are Alexandra Knight, right?”

         “Yeah.” 

         “Then I’m looking for you,” he said.  He still had the smile on his face.

         “And you are,” I asked him.

         “Michael Keegan.”  He reached to his jacket pocket and handed me a business card.  I looked down and read it aloud.

         “Michael Keegan, Sterling Investigations, Private Investigator.  What do you want,” my voice turned cold.  I was beginning to think he worked for the family of the people in the accident. 

         “The question isn’t what I want, the question is, what do you want?”

         “I don’t know, I’d like world peace, a million bucks and a pony,” I said sarcastically.

         “I don’t think I can get you the pony,” he said with a laugh.

         “I’ll settle for the million bucks.”

         He laughed again.  I didn’t.

         “What are you doing here,” I asked.  I was getting tired of cryptic remarks.  “If you’re working for the Smiths then you can leave now, because I have nothing to say to you without a lawyer.”

         “I’m not working for the Smiths.  I’m here to help you Alexandra,” he said.

         I held up my hand before he could continue.

         “Alex, my name is Alex.  No one calls me ‘Alexandra.’”

         He smiled again.  “Okay, Alex.  I’m here to help you.  Actually I think we can help each other.”

         “How?”  Trying to get answers out of this guy was like trying to pull teeth.

         “I’m not sure how to put this delicately. I know about you.  I know about the visions.”

         My blood turned to ice water.  I hadn’t talked to anyone about any of the things that had been happening to me in months.

         I spent two days in ICU in a coma after the accident.  A cerebral concussion, several broken ribs and collapsed lung left me intubated and in coma for twenty four hours.

         After I was finally transferred to the progressive care unit a week later I woke one evening to find a teenage boy standing in my room.  I immediately rang the call bell.  He then promptly disappeared before my eyes. When I told the nurse about it she told me that she hadn’t seen anyone when she came in the room. 

         Over the next few weeks I was poked, prodded and scanned to within an inch of my life.  No solid medical reason was found for my hallucinations.  As far as my doctors were concerned I was healing very well. 

         The best I got was vague answers about I how we really didn’t understand the brain all that well and traumatic brain injuries can have long term side effects from epilepsy to personality changes, to causing schizophrenia.  The last one of those was the one that scared the crap out of me.

         After a few months I stopped mentioning my hallucinations to my neurologist.  If there was nothing he could do about them there was no point in running to his office ever time something weird happened to me.  I mean I wasn’t crazy, I knew they weren’t real.  Or at least that’s what I kept telling myself.

         “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I think it’s about time you leave,” I told him.  I tired to hand his card back to him.  He didn’t seem to want to take so after of moment of holding it out to him I dropped it on the floor in front of him then I finally turned my back to him and began walking back to the bar.  I was planning on putting three feet of oak between us then calling the police if he didn’t leave immediately.

         “They’re real you know.  You’re not crazy,” he called after me.

         “What the fuck would you know about it,” I yelled as I spun back to face him.

         “More then you’d think,” he said solemnly.  He suddenly closed the gap between us.  He was standing a hair’s breath from me.  He wasn’t that much taller then I was, maybe only an inch or two but I found myself looking up into his eyes.  “You’re not alone, Alex,” he said softly, “There are other people like you out there.”

         “Like me?  What am I,” I asked.

         “Psychic.  You’re a psychic.”

         I laughed.  I laughed right in his face.

         “I maybe not crazy but you defiantly are, and you can get the fuck out of this bar right now or I’m call the cops,” I told him and I turned my back on him.  He grabbed my wrist and spun me back to face him.  I pulled my hand away from him and as I did I touched his watch.  Suddenly I heard gunfire it sounded like it was in the bar.  My vision clouded and suddenly I was no longer in the bar I was standing in the desert with bombs and gun fire going off all around me.

         As suddenly as the vision had begun it ended.  I was back in the bar.  It was more a flash then a vision.  I must have taken a few steps back from Michael because I was now standing a few feet from him instead of right on top of him.

         He looked concerned, “Are you alright?”

         “Get out!”

         I continued to back away from him.

         “What did you see?”  He took a step towards me.  I remember the knife in my hand.  I raised it.

         “Back off,” I told him.

         He raised his hands in surrender.

         “Get out now,” I said harshly.

         He began to back towards the door.

         “Okay, I’m leaving just answer me one question, please,” He said, “What did you see?  It can’t hurt to tell me.”

         I debated it my head for a second.  If it made him leave quicker without me having to call the cops or possibly stabbing him, what could it hurt?

         “Guns, bombs and sand,” I told him.

         A strange smile crossed his lips.  It was almost rueful as if he was remembering something unpleasant.

         “Keep the card, Alex.  Call me, or stop by the address.  I know we can help each other.  And I’m sorry for fucking this up.  I didn’t mean to frighten you.” 

         With that he turned and walked out.  I gave it a second before running to the door and locking it behind him. 

         After I locked the door a collapsed into a chair.  My head was spinning.  What the fuck was going on?