I'm a damn fine paramedic.

Also a volunteer firefighter - what can I say? I got no life.

Not sure why, really - dropped out of high school after some trouble, drifted a while: Paramedic is a trade school, eh? No diploma required. Scraped up all my cash & went for it. Went for it hard.

Sure I'm in debt. Assistant Manager at the petrol station didn't pay all that well. Two years of Medic school is expensive, loans, shitty apartment, failed marriage - it's really just the norm for anyone in Emergency Services. This job, it can just consume you, right?

All under the bridge though. I've been a Medic now for seven years - they say if you make it past five & don't burnout or go crazy, you made it.

...

So, about that last part.

First ghost I saw was Antoinne - 76 year old caucasian male, shot in an attempted carjacking, just left to bleed out on the side of the road. Additional health history, cardiac, on a list of meds longer than my arm.

I'm good, but only jumping up Jesus is that good.

So he died. Right there, as we tried to put him back together. Died for no reason at all, like most people do.

Died - yeah - try telling HIM that.

Old man followed me around for months. Months! Judging me like he fell out of a Dicken's story. Couldn't say anything to anyone, because Hallucinations would go on the record, & I don't need that kind of trouble. I called the cops over & over, checking up on the case, but nothing: just another unsolved murder in Hamilton - one that everyone else had forgotten about.

Antoinne didn't forget though, & he wouldn't let me forget either. So...what do you do? You handle it.

I just don't know how.

I'm on suspension.

How was I supposed to know the job would take a week or more? Not like they give a whole lot of paid time off either.

Stupid caves.

Anyway, when I finally got back I had a package for waiting for me - a package with a gun in it. I am more on the American side than the Canadian side when it comes to guns I guess. Having the means to an end in my hand does give me ideas, but only for the right reasons. Mainly, someone is after my patients? Well, they won't live to become one.

It's actually not a fancy gun at all. Italian model, Tanfoglio Witness in 45. ACP. Still, there is something about it that gives me chills when I handle it; feels like I could take on the world, y'know? I'd like to say "I hope I never have to use it" but that wouldn't be the case. As a EMS professional, I can say first hand - a lot of good people would be alive today if a lot of bad people had been taken out early. Violence may be the disease, but maybe it can also be the cure. Some things work like that.

Preventative Medicine, eh?

Now, I'm not going to go & start asking people if they're looking at me, or if they feel lucky, or anything like that. Nah, I'd have to be crazy to start talking like that, & it's been a month since I saw a ghost. Ain't nothing to worry about.

My family used to skirt back & forth across the border all the time - living in Hamilton, Toronto, Ishpeming, Peoria (yeah...let's not talk about Peoria, eh?)

Mom was a travelling nurse & a Canuck, Dad was a cop & a volunteer firefighter - also a Yank - why I'm the best of all those: Paramedic with the Fire Service.

Yeah, what that really means is I don't get paid even a third of what my mom makes. All the hassle, none of the security.

Mom lives in Hamilton now...Dad? Yeah...the old man is a hard bastard, for sure. Irish Chicago Cop kinda hard. Beat my ass more than a few times, if I had it coming or not. Brought his work home with him, that's what split them up...that & the drinking.

My Dad threatened to kill me more than a few times. Drunk. I was only a kid.

Never will get over that, so I go drinking, seems like that's when I get my own Irish up. Mom could never quite get me to let go that part. Normally I'm such a nice guy, eh? She did talk me out of becoming a cop though.

Which, I am still kinda conflicted about. As a cop, like Dad, I could have made sure people who hurt people get put away. Now, I more just bear witness to it. Clean up after them. Try & put the lives they've broken back together again.

I am wondering if I should move back to Chicago. pays better, more risk - those streets run with blood; probably always will. It wouldn't be an easy life, no, but if I am needed more there than Toronto (where everyone is nice, because Canadians) then maybe I should?

Wonder what Dad would think.

Wonder if I'll find out.

Talking to dead people is one thing. "I see dead people" is pretty above board in the EMS field.

Giant Monsters? Cthulhu Rising?

This Ghoul Fever has people jumping out of windows, digging up graves, running us ragged.

Seems like I never sleep anymore. Just wander around like the ghosts do, one foot on the street, other in the grave.

Yesterday, it wasn't till 9pm till I realized I was at work. Looked at the ledger, seems we had already made a few stops, suspected overdose & a cardiac.

I had no memory of it - If I had showed up to work naked I doubt I'd have noticed till later, eh?

Anywho, world is of fire, & us EMS & Volunteer Firefighters are feeling the heat. Someone needs to do something about all this crazy before the last straw drops. Ghosts look at me like I should do something, but I am no Mark Collins - just a burned out medic. What can I do that I am not already doing?

A giant tentacle crushed a ship in the San Francisco Bay!

Here I thought it was weird that people were turning into werewolves, or someone was putting Bigfoot in the zoo. Shows what I know.

Just keep on at it I suppose. Ride the ambulance to the bitter end like most people end up doing - it's a one way ticket, life, for us & for the whole crazy planet it seems.

Could be worse though - I could be on TikTok gobbing down the fungal cream.

I've got in trouble a couple'a times now with taking these odd jobs. Odd? More like "crazy" or "mental" really.

Where do they find these loonies? Am I one too?

I must be if they keep coming & I keep going. I'd have lost my job by now if they could afford to fire me...hah, doing me a favor, which they are not about to do, eh? Not with all the crazy going on out there - like a war zone some nights, used to just be full moons & the World Cup: now, it's all hands on deck every night.

Ghosts will outnumber the living at the rate we're going. Maybe they already do.

Funny; I never really thought about it much till now - if ghosts are all over the place, is there a heaven? A hell? Or do we just silently watch the world go by, till we're forgotten by everyone.

Not sure which is worse.

I mean, I try & do the right thing when I see it, but no one can jump through all the hoops all the time. If checking out your neighbors wife is enough for the old H-E-double hockey sticks...well, guilty I guess. Seems petty to me though, especially with so much genuine, callous, evil going unpunished.

Maybe that's why I'm burning both ends, holding down my shitty job & running these crazy missions at the same time. Just seems like something needs to be done, yeah? Like the world is about to spill over into the shit. Nothing I can do but watch like the ghosts I imagine, but I'm just dumb enough to try anyway I guess.

So, the Werewolf girl I was talking about. Emily, yeah, that's her. After we popped the bone out of the guy upstairs we went down with the porcelain gal (Dr. Rhea, yeah) to finish off that Corryvreckan that I had started on after seeing the Lady of the House through her heart attack (she's gonna pull through I hear; good thing, I'd have to clean up my flat if I was going to have an old mam living with me, eh?)

Anywho, we finished off that bottle & then some. Well, Emily & I did, Rhea kinda burbled off somewhere along the way.

Now, like I said, Emily is this giant slab of fur & muscle & questionable medical upgrades - so she was dead sure she could drink Liam Holloway under the table.

Well, I had a few surprises for her.

1) Liam Holloway is half Irish & half Canadian, a full time Paramedic, a volunteer firefighter, & a die-hard fan of the Toronto Maple Leafs

Basically amounts to being drunk more than sober. What else would we do?

2) Whenever Emily would go to the lady's room to powder her shiny black nose, I'd hit my trusty flask. Like my da's da said: A bird doesn't fly on one wing.

Hair of the dog that bit you, eh?

So we went long into the night before deciding to finish up. Or at least, we would have done so if we didn't lose the keys to her jeep somewhere along the way.

Mr Necromancy had already left by then, so I had the bright idea of, "Hey, let's just walk it then, eh?"

Won't lie, I was expecting a bit more direction sense from our Wolf Lady. Bloodhound she is not. So we wandered the hills till dawn looking for trouble, drunk as skunks. I've had worst nights - no one died, right?

More than I can say for my day job, much less these crazy gigs.

Or at least, that what it seems like.

After all that trouble at the Border, I got back to my job - word gets around, but what would they do? Fire me? Be doing me a favor.

Still, all this trouble I get into helps out in the end, eh? The ghosts are helping me find people who are injured or people who are dead & maybe ready to move on. Like i said, I like being helpful, so that's what I do with my time. Even save people who have some hope left: quick nip of Scotch sets them to right, cures what ails them...not enough Scotch in the world to cure all the ills of the world, but I can help sometimes, buy someone a little extra time.

Mind you, life is a one-way street. I know that better than most. People who die with dignity don't tend to stick around afterwards though, move on to...heaven? Sure, why not? Others linger like you all do, & need help more than most. Not a lot of people advocate for the life deprived, eh? I still have bad days where I want to take this gun out & shoot dead every asshole who is making life hard on people for no reason...is that wrong? Would they help me to that too? Has to be some reason this magic necklace turns into a gun, right?

Turns out, ghosts don't want more ghosts around. Or at least, that's how it seems. Why else would you guys keep helping me save people? Do the bad people go over as bad ghosts? Do they go to Hell? If they do, is that fair?

I'm too tired & not nearly drunk enough to have an answer for that.

Positive outlook? Looking on the bright side? Upbeat, even?

Are you feeling ok, Liam?

Yeah, that's what I thought too, but it's true; this last one wasn't some dumb test (though the 70's reject still needs to get what's coming to him for hurting Jenn) or a pointless mission - sure, the Used Car Salesman added some trick wording that made the whole thing harder then it needed to be, but in the end people were saved & justice was served.

I did that. Well, tongue-guy & the rookie helped.

A major threat to the world was put down for good. Sun shines just a bit brighter it seems.

I know it won't last long, soon I'll be back at the grind, clearing out the dead & dying, but today I made a difference.

Today the good guys won.

Gets you thinking that - I always wanted to be a proper firefighter, maybe I could be some kind oh hero?

No, not a Marvel Hero in tights or a publicity hound like that Collins guy - maybe I could make some real changes in the world. You know, right things that have gone wrong, Sam Beckett style.

Used Car Salesman froze the whole world with a snap of his fingers - if he wasn't such a total dick, imagine what he could do with that?

I mean, I've got my hang ups, but I'm not a total dick, right? Even a nice guy. Lot of people, living & dead, could use a hand...maybe I could help them out?

Just a thought anyway.

As I got back from the UK, I got a message from valentine (yeah, the baseball kid). Seems Dr. Allister didn't make it out of a run gone bad.

I don't need to tell you guys that I've seen a lot of death - a cardiac I carried down two flights of stairs died in ICU last night. You can't save everyone. You can't save anyone. Death is the only thing you are promised in life.

Still, the Doc was ok, if a bit of a lightweight. Was changing the world, making a difference even though people hated her for it. Takes guts, courage...

I wonder if my Courage only comes in the liquid kind, eh?

I mean, what have I done? Save people? Sure, but that's just my job - it's not like I am out there after a double shift with a cape on or anything. What would I even do? Cut out the sickness, I guess, but that doesn't feel courageous as much as it feels...angry. Crazy, even.

I don't have any answers. Maybe Rhea does, eh? Least I can do is make the funeral, pay my respects, have a shot for old times: maybe she'll have answers, eh?

After the job I got a call from Richter - he was that rookie I was on a run with where we put down the not-a-kid. Guess he's not a rookie anymore, which is great, but also is starting to get the shakes, which is expected.

EMS types take it for granted - you see dead people every day, watch the light go out of the eyes time after time - you get...weird. Two gals running a rig in Hamilton go around back roads barking at dogs over the loudspeaker. Johnny is apparently a failed Priest, gives last rites when no one is looking, wears the outfit under his uniform, which explains why he's sweating all the time, eh?

Everyone dies, but if it isn't your work no one seems to give it a lot of thought until it slaps them in the face.

So I was taking a layover in Chicago & met up with Richter to talk about it - another run gone south rattled him I guess. After a healthy dose of my favorite coping mechanism & a pep talk, he seemed to be doing better, which I was happy about.

...until I got to why I was actually in Chicago. To see the Old Man.

No, I don't want to talk about it.

Went on a bender in Boston - I know some people there, & those I didn't know I got to know real well blackout drunk.

Wouldn't it be funny if all these crazy things I've seen we're just the DT's setting in? Who needs Pink Elephants when you have ghosts & giant lobsters chasing you around?

I've taken to a dollop of Scotch in my coffee every morning (Irish Coffee, heh) & you know what? I feel great.

I really do. Maybe I'll get a second job, work at the 7-11 down the street in-between shifts. Just give me that quick hit in the morning, a pack of smokes, & I'm down for a good time, eh?

The Chief knows I've been drinking on the job but I'm also picking up shifts for Cooley & Dandridge in addition to my own: He fires me now & this whole outfit will come apart.

It's funny - I'm good enough to know that this lifestyle should be killing me. Liver failure, ulcers, the usual problems: Man was not made to live on hooch & smokes alone, eh?

Maybe I'm already dead.

Maybe I never got out of the Crypt.

That would explain a lot.

One of the folks who didn't make it was this kid, Mick - fancies himself a race car driver, tears up & town the mountains with the Plymouth Roadrunner his dad left to him.

Mick didn't make it. I...I just didn't think. Was out tearing around, taking advantage of the Festival clearing those roads.

Mick doesn't want to talk about it, but I'm pretty sure he was a while dying. Anyway, I attached him to his key chain, fortunately have a lot of experience getting blood stains out: Mick has no family here that he cares about, they'd sell his car - wanted me to take it, but I'm not a racer. Promised him I'd get him hooked up with someone who can help him out.

Seems Mick can drive the car around too. That's an odd one. Most Ghosts I find are pretty helpless, eh? I felt some sort of spark pass through me as I took the keys...not sure if it's because Mick polished that Plymouth with a diaper for years or if I did it somehow.

The others I picked up are going to have to wait a bit - I called in some help this time, handed out some of them to others.

About 25 ghosts altogether.

Could have been worse, eh? Six Hundred ghosts would have been a bit more than I could handle.

Anyway, back to it I guess. Least I can do for these poor people, just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Been keeping busy lately, that's for sure.

Joined the Canadian Army Reserve, finally scored my Tactical, Critical Care, Incident Response, Advanced Care credentials & got my flight ours to run flight medic as I did it!

Yeah, not sleeping is good for more than just avoiding nightmares, eh?

Been helping ghosts find their way as well, signed up as a travel medic & I quit my job.

I QUIT MY JOB!

Drinks are on me!!!

I'm gonna miss rolling around Toronto & barking at people's dogs over the loudspeaker, but hey: this town is awful quiet, & I'm looking for action these days.

Just got to settle the score for Tom & sort out that serial killer (suspect) before I go, & I'm on the road.

Well, I'll still need to visit Mom of course, & Tom still wants to see his daughter...so it's not like I'm really leaving, just getting out more eh?

Lucky me, finding that chunk of whale vomit...

So, yeah - that last run the Witness went into overdrive - made about 40 ghosts in as much time as it takes to talk about it. Crazy, I know.

That combined with what John Wick told me got me thinking about it real hard - I'm not up on this occult stuff; I figured that was just how it worked. Think I know better now - It's not the Eye that does the thing, it's the one wearing it - the one literally "bearing witness" to the deaths of others.

Because I didn't get that, it just went off whenever. Now that I understand it (& maybe myself, eh?) better, I think I can keep it from doing that. Be more intentional about it. Mindful. It's a bit rough holding it back, & means dipping into the death agonies of those made ghosts, but at least it won't go making ghost villages again.

In other news, I've gotten real good at fixing up people's headspace with the healing powers of alcohol.

Cheers, am I right?

They say, "Evil Men Triumph because Good Men do Nothing."

It probably doesn't go exactly like that, but I'm three sheets past caring, so good enough.

Today, me & my friends settled the score. We settled the score of several Evil Men (& one Evil Woman, because Equality).

In doing so, we proved to be...Not So Good Men.

I always told myself that if I needed to kill a man to save people, I'd make it quick & clean, let God sort them out.

Problem is, as far as the dead I talk to go: there in no God. No Justice. There's Just Us.

Just this short life, with all the warts upfront. With all your hopes & dreams subject to Evil Men who can ruin all of it in a heartbeat.

I thought I would just remove them like a cancer, professional, detached.

I was wrong.

I know...I wasn't thinking. If I'd had my hoodie up, I might have got away clean.

Or if I'd bothered to reign in the Witness earlier. Stupid. I'm just no good at this occult stuff. Now my name is all over the news, on Reddit, Twitter, Telegram, & Cryptoleak?

Great, just great.

Look guys, I need you to keep your heads down. I don't like to ask a lot from you, but I can't have people knowing I've got Ghosts like some kids have head lice, eh?

No, no I didn't mean it like that - you guys are my friends, & I'm going to see you set right. I promised, right? We'll get through this together, just need to think for a minute...I'll probably need to talk to the Press. Christ, I'm going to have to explain this to Mom...

Liam will make the following statement to a journalist he agrees to meet at a local pub:

"Yeah, I was in Serbia - just on vacation in the general region, eh? Was nothing special about it until those hosiers started shooting up the crowd. ISIS? I mean no, I have no opinion on all that beyond you have to be a special kind of @$$%*=&^ to shoot up innocent people. I was just there, you know. Did what I had to do. The Ghosts? Well, I don't know a lot about all that, but sure, why not: if I'd been killed by a hosier I'd probably have something to say about it after too, eh? I don't blame those people one bit for not taking death lying down - they're the victims after all."

"The other two? Yeah, I saw the guy with the guns, probably was security or something. Yeah, I worked on the Fox Girl. She was injured, & that's my job. Where did she come from? Do I look like a Furry expert? Werepeople are people too, just with a unique medical condition - we train for BSI so we don't get infected, but refusing to work on them in a Medical Emergency is just as backward as Doctors refusing to work on AIDS patients back in the day. I'll help ANYBODY who needs help, eh? If they're a werefox, or a ghost, or anything else - if they're in trouble, I'm going in. Which is what I did in Serbia. The gun? Yeah, I found that in the scuffle, seemed like a good idea at the time, right? I dumped it on the scene after, didn't want anyone thinking I was a combatant. No idea where it went after. I saw the video, yeah - the shimmer could be heat shimmer? Come to think of it, it was real shiny, chrome-like you know? Really stood out in the stall when the shooting started. It's probably still there."

After the run I was able to meet with a friend of Minerva's who was able to pick her up. Another Contractor apparently, was able to patch up the little fox girl from wounds that should have been fatal. With that out of the way, I parted ways with Allister & made my way home.

Not for long though.

Destiny? I don't know what I really believe anymore, but I know I have to make a difference. No matter what the cost.

Emily Miller called me up in trouble, asking for help - a friend of hers had been kidnapped looking into what happened to Dr. Rhea. Yeah, the Wolf Woman. What is going on with all these Snoot Women? Between Charlie, Minerva, & Emily I know three were-people on these jobs.

I mean, dogs like me. Well, when the Ghosts aren't around to freak them out. Always felt more comfortable with someone a dog liked.

So, I picked up Emily & slipped her past some Sons of Salem thugs that wanted to cause her trouble. We went after the missing friend, & well - I don't go for these kidnapper types, eh? The Witness can apparently tell when someone is naughty or nice, so rather than take chances with this lady's life, well - I shot them.

One lived, will be fine. The other died, turned out to be a serial killer. Part of a whole nest of them apparently knowingly backed by the Sons.

Emily, Tom & Nina were all on board with what had to happen next. Emily used her nose to track these guys back to their murder-cabin. We caught them in the middle of torturing & killing people...& we killed them. We killed them all. It happened so fast I didn't have time to really think about it - if I did have time would they have died as fast? Or would they have died slow?

I'm not sure.

Emily took a bad hit, so Tom & I loaded everyone up & bugged out, took all the victims to a safe place, patched up Emily myself as the bullet wound would be a lot of explaining for a popular wolf girl. We're getting a room so I can get a cast on it...not the time I intended to show her but needs must I guess.

We saved those people though, as well as Dr. Rhea herself from a lonely grave. I hate that it had to be done, but...it DID have to be done. Some of the people I run with may be Animals, but these people were Monsters.

I could say it's all the badgering I'm getting from Rhea...or I could say, "You don't even need sleep Liam - probably happier if you don't sleep! Could get a lot done."

Yeah, or that.

Ugh...I'm considering going back to Med School.

Nothing fancy, testing out where I can, but yes - Dr. Holloway.

Why you ask? Don't you run CryptoLink? Isn't your Werewolf Girlfriend loaded?

Basically yes on both counts, it's true. It is also true that my Paramedic training isn't always up to the task at hand. A Medic patches you up & gets your ass to a hospital. Bullets are better left in, wait till someone can handle it for real. I'm a good Medic. One of the best. I've got Rhea to bail me out if I'm out of my league, & Dr. Buckworth helped Em & I out for basically nothing.

But what if they aren't there?

What if running someone to a hospital just isn't an option?

I don't actually want to be a Doctor. I'm certain I could handle the pressure after all these crazy Jobs...can I handle the burden though? That I am the one to make the call rather than just call it in.

Might just have to find out.

How does the saying go? "Stare into the abyss & it stares back into you?" Something like that. True though, the ghosts told me all about it with this Luci person.

Killed a lot of people, this Luci. Over 150 confirmed kills that she knows about, probably a lot more incidentals after that. I got the feeling these were not soldiers either, or life or death situations. She was "just following orders."

Hrm.

I could judge I guess, but I count about 30 kills when I ask the Ghosts about it - some of those were flat out murder. Premeditated murder, at least two with additional aggravated murder/torture.

Didn't need to talk about that in front of the bouncy fox kid. True though. I can feel it every time I turn the Witness - it would judge me just as final as it judges others. Maybe one of these days one of those crazy banshee shots will turn & take me out.

Obviously, the thought doesn't really bother me - I mean I was ready to take that ride just last month. Didn't because I have some good (if preachy) friends...& because I have Em.

Christ, I hope I don't screw this up. I don't need to exam myself to tell I'm crazy about it - about her. I mean, the lives of at least hundreds if not thousands have been in my hands multiple times. I can't count how many times I've charged into gunfire now, or some other nutty situation with my only thought being "get the job done."

But now...what if I screwed this up? Not just by getting myself killed - she would tear the whole world a new asshole over that, I'm sure, but what if...I don't know. I feel so normal compared to all the other people I meet. Even the GenWyld types at the parties she likes seem so...busy? Should I get mow-mow cat ears or something? It would be compensating, I agree I just...don't want to mess this up.

I think my own heart would get broken before Em's would. Or if hers did she would move on better. If mine did...well, that's probably ok.

The world has gone so crazy that it's easy to forget about the little things. Or, even more likely - the little people.

No, I don't mean the vertically challenged! C'mon. I mean the people just living their lives & trying to get by when the crazy overruns their life. 

I can say from years of firsthand experience: the world is rough enough on ordinary people that they don't need Kaiju or Tsunamis, or fucking serial killers. Let them catch a break, eh?

Flying out of Japan I'd met with two new CryptoLink candidates, Em met up with some talking dog in Seattle I guess...well that's good, right? Of course I heard about the lady who could boil water coming up DOA. Yeah, I'm mad as hell about it. I don't need to tell you guys that. 

Yeah, I'll get right on it Chief. Except, right as I was flying back I get a call from that Hemo woman - talking dog was killed. Killed by the time her profile went live.

I'll admit the rest blurs a bit after that, & not just because of the drinks you get in Business class. I don't know if I've ever felt so mad & helpless at the same time...

I'll keep feeling like this too. Unless I can get stronger. Soon as I land...shit, I'll need to tell Em! Well, after that I'm going on another run. If seeing all the little people come in last time & again has taught me anything, it's that: good intentions get you fucking nowhere. 

Be the change you want to see in the world 

Well, God Damn if I'm not about to be just that.