The flashing lights of the ambulance drew Melissa like a moth to a flame.

The rear doors were open and the interior a beckoning lair of light. She hurried to the ambulance and climbed in the back, pulling the doors shut. The last sight of the soldiers from the truck was of them walking with a set pace in a single line as they followed her.

Seeing a catch on the door, Melissa locked the ambulance with a satisfying snap of her wrist. She scuttled to the front of the bay and leaned against the front seat. A bout of shaking threatening to consume her. With a small cry, she pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around her legs.

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From the front seat came the sound of voices on a television. Now she knew how the ambulance men had known they had to get to the valley when Cynthia fell from the bridge. It was so obvious that she started to laugh and cry, her breath coming in hitches.

Voices outside the ambulance silenced Melissa. There was nothing she could do but wait to see if the ghosts wanted her so badly they would get in the ambulance through the locked door.