CM: After enduring Ishy's "idiosyncratic"driving style for a few minutes, you see the low flat expanse of brick and concrete that is Parker Hill High School. The parking lot and playing field are awash with EMS vehicles.

Carla: <to Ish>  "You can drop me off if you wanted to check on anything else. Somewhere close to the door, if you can."
Ishy grunts his agreement and pulls the jeep into a tight turn by the school steps.

Carla unbuckles her seatbelt, opens the door, and slides to the pavement. <squeak>

Ishy: "I'll try and talk to the EMS guys," he says as he drops you off.

Carla: "I'll meet you back here in about an hour.  OK?"

Ishy: "Okay"

Carla looks around to see if there's anyone she can check-in with, or if she should just try to push her way inside.

CM: There are windcheatered folks scurrying all around. Most of the activity seems centered around the hanger-like gymnasium that lies to the left of the school.

Carla decides to just boldly walk toward the gym. If anyone stops her, she'll produce Chuck Ramirez's card.

CM: As you walk toward the gym, another ambulance disgorges it's load of body bags outside the door. The non-descript sacks are unceremoniously dumped on a dolly and rolled through a set of double doors into the cool darkness beyond. The smell of roast pork fills the air. At the doorway, a young hispanic woman is smoking, her hands trembling. When she sees you, she drops the cigarette, stamping it out with her foot.

Carla smiles and says "Hello."

Intern: "Hi, can I help?"

Carla: "Yes, thank you.  I'm Rev. Carla Wilkinson, a friend of Chuck Ramirez." Carla shows her the card. "I'm looking for Belle."

The intern points inside the gym.

Intern: "Belle's in there. Trust me, you don't want to go in there."

Carla peers inside.  "Any chance you could be a little more specific?  I've never actually met Belle."

The intern smiles weakly. "You'll know her when you see her. She's hard to miss. I could try and fetch her for you?"

Carla: "No, I don't WANT to go in, but I must. These victims, and the workers, need me."

The intern shrugs.

Carla shakes her head. "You rest. I'll just try my luck." She pats the intern's hand, and leaves.

Intern: <Quietly> "It's your nightmare..."

Carla tries not to think about the recent church barbecue, and heads inside. "I'll know her when I see her."

CM: Through the double doors the gym is dark and cool. Air conditioning units purr in the gloom. The smell of death is every where. Across the floor of the gym, row upon row of black plastic sacks are lain, their shapes horribly suggestive. At the far end of the room, a small enclosure has been set up, surrounded by thin plastic screens. The clink of metal comes from there, and several figures can be seen at work around what might be a gurney.

Carla heads for the screened-off area.

CM: As you get closer, you can hear voices murmuring quietly. Your footsteps echo oddly in the enclosed space, and you feel almost as if you are being watched, as if the twisted occupants of the sacks around you are studying you, before rising to proclaim the injustice of their death.

Carla shudders, vowing NOT to leave her body around here.  A seance, on the other hand, might be worth a try. Later.

CM: The sounds emanating from the screens have an oddly moist quality, absurdly reminding you of the sounds of dinner being consumed.

Carla tries to see what's going on, making sure she isn't in the way.

CM: Rounding the side of the screens, you see five individuals in cap and gown working on the blackened and twisted thing that was once a passenger of flight 213.

CM: FEAR Roll

DICE for Carla: (1d100) = [ 44 ]

Doctor: "Who the hell are you? How did you get in here?"

Carla: "I'm sorry.  I'm just, I mean..." Carla tries to gain control of herself. "I'm looking for Belle."

CM: The doctor slides her hands greasily out of the stomach cavity of the corpse and steps towards you.

Doctor: "I'm Belle. And you are?"

Carla: "Rev. Carla Wilkinson.  I'm a friend of Chuck's.  Chuck Ramirez?"

Belle looks skeptical

Carla hands her Chuck's card.  "I was hoping to talk to you.  When you have a few minutes."

Belle doesn't take the card. Her gloves drip crimson onto the gym floor. "Hmmmm."

Carla holds the card up so Belle can read it.

CM: Per roll.

DICE for Carla: (1d100) = [ 52 ]

Carla: "I guess you don't.  I really just wanted to see if there was anything I could do to help.  And to pray for the victims and all the people working here."

Belle: "You really a preacher?"

Carla: "Yes." Carla pulls out her driver's license and displays it.

Belle looks slightly embarrassed.

Carla: "I won't be in the way. I promise. I just want to pray for the souls in this room."

Belle: "I'm sorry. This kind of event tends to bring the rats out, if you know what I mean. Sure, knock yourself out. These guys aren't going anywhere."

Carla smiles faintly. "If you do get a minute, I really would like to talk with you, too. Chuck is sending over one body that he thinks you'll find interesting. It isn't burned."

Belle snorts."Someone get hit by the debris?"

Carla: "No.  He was on the plane.  Local guy, I guess.  William Gordon, I think Chuck said."

Belle frowns, obviously intrigued. She turns back to the gurney."Harry, you can finish up with this one. I'm taking a break." She turns back to Carla.

Carla smiles."Is now a good time?"

Belle: "Lets get some coffee. I want to hear about this immaculate corpse before it arrives. And I haven't had a break for fourteen hours." She strips off her gore spattered gloves and tosses them in a trash can.

Carla: "You lead.  I'll keep up."

Belle strides out of the gym, pausing only to snatch the interns cigarette. "These things'll kill you" she says, before tucking it into the corner of her mouth. She leads you into the main school building, where the cafeteria has been opened. She motions you to a corner table, and after a moment returns with two styrofoam cups filled with something that smells like java, but looks like crude oil.

Carla: "Thank you."

Belle: "Okay, tell me about this corpse."

Carla closes her eyes for a moment of silence, praying the coffee won't kill her. "It surprised the heck out of Chuck. It was completely un-touched by the explosion. I saw it - Him, I mean."

Belle: "Where was it?"

Carla: "I don't know where on the plane he was seated, or where the body was found.  But he was definitely a passenger."

Belle: "You said untouched. You mean burnt but intact right?"

Carla: "No, not a single burn on his body.  But his face was all contorted.  It looked like he was scared to death, rather than burned. If that fire was straight from hell, this man saw the devil."

Belle: "What about his clothes. Where they burned?"

Carla blushes.  "He didn't have any clothes on."

Belle: "He can't have been on the 'plane."

Carla: "Chuck said he was.  He was hoping you'd be able to explain it."

Belle: "It's impossible." Belle counts off on her fingers. "One: All the other bodies have experienced fifth degree burns. That means they were cooked right through. Two: The degree of tissue destruction indicate sudden exposure to phenomenally high temperatures, possibly as high as 10,000 degrees."

Carla: "Maybe he was somewhere else on the plane?  There must be somewhere where he wouldn't be burned.  I mean, the evidence seems to suggest it."

Belle: "Three: The only reason some of these bodies are still recognizable as such is that they were cooked before hitting the deck. Since the plane was at a height of around 25,000 feet when it bit the big one, anyone uncooked falling out would hit the ground like a Hefty bag full of strawberry jello." Belle frowns suddenly.

Carla: "What's wrong?"

Belle: "Did you get to see his eyes?"

Carla: "Yes, I saw them."

Belle: "And?"

Carla: "They were frozen wide open."

Belle sits back, chewing her bottom lip.

Carla: "Does that mean something?"

Belle: "Just another weird fact in a weird crash. None of the other bodies had eyes you see."

Carla: "Oh my God.  The heat cooked them right out?

Belle: I don't know. It's strange. The bodies are burned all over, down to about an inch below the skin. Under that they're fine. However, the bodies are uniformly eyeless. Examination of the ocular cavity reveals searing far more intense than that found over the rest of the body. Ocular tissue destruction is total, extending up the optic nerve and into the brain, burning out the vision centres completely."

Carla: "But ... explosions don't actually target, do they. A blast would be uniform."

Belle: "Uh-uh. A blast would cause more damage on the side nearest too it. Apart from the eye damage, the burns on all the corpses are uniform."

Carla: "All around the body, you're saying.  Not just whatever side would have faced the blast?"

Belle: "Something else too. All the evidence points to this happening real fast. When a body burns, the muscles contract, causing the body to curl up into what we call the 'pugilistic posture'. In some of the cases heat stiffening occurred so rapidly that the longer bones have been broken."

Carla swallows deeply, then takes a gulp of coffee to wash down the taste of rising bile. "All except Gordon."

Belle:  "I'm certain all burns occurred before death, the lack of hyperamia is puzzling. Could these people have been killed so quickly that they literally did not have time to blister?..."

Carla: "Chuck said they're estimating the heat of the blast at about ten thousand degrees."

Belle: "Jesus. Who did you say the 'imaculate corpse' was?"

Carla: "William Gordon, a preacher around here, Chuck said."

Belle thinks, then recognition dawns. "William Gordon? THE William Gordon?"

Carla: "Then you do know him?"

Belle looks surprised.

Carla: "I'm sorry.  Was he a friend?"

Belle: "Everyone round here has heard of him. Guiding light of the Evangelical Crusade. Never met him myself, but my Mama thinks the sun goes out everytime he pulls his pants up. There's a lot of people around here who think he's got a hot line to God himself."

Carla: "What faith does he preach? Did he preach, I mean."

Belle: "Christian. Non-denominational. Had a radio show on sundays and used to preach at the Crusade meetings whenever he could."

Carla: "Was he ordained, or just a man with an urge to speak?"

Belle: "Not sure. I don't think he was ordained by any of the mainstream churches if that's what you mean. I seem to recall Mama saying something about him having 'a past' whatever that means. You what women at her age get like; they start to talk in code. He wrote books as well, I think."

Carla: "My mother does that too.  I guess that's not really important now, anyway." <but she makes a mental note to herself>. "Books?"

Belle: "Yeah, you know God's just this guy you know, My pal God, Only the devil blows up planes. That sort of stuff."

Carla: "Kind of prophetic, wasn't he?"

Belle grins. "I'm kidding you. I don't know what they were called, but I know they sold pretty well."

Carla: "He didn't have a martyr complex, did he?"

Belle jumps as her beeper goes off.

Carla: "I guess you're needed again."

Belle: "Damn. I have to go. Looks like the 'Immaculate Corpse' has arrived. Now this is one body I don't want to be late for."

Carla: "I'd like to talk some more.  See what you find out.  Is that possible?"

Belle shrugs, then smiles. "Why the hell not?"

Carla: "Good.  I'm just going to walk around a bit, pray.  I'll talk to you later.  It was very nice meeting you."

Belle pauses. "You doing anything tonight?"

Carla: "No plans yet. Want some dinner?"

Belle: "I'm going to need some help explaining what happened to William Gordon to Mama. I'd appreciate having a "spiritual adviser" on hand. I do some mean chicken."

Carla: "I'd be happy to." She writes her name and the name of the hotel on a piece of paper. "Take this and give me a call."

Belle grins.

Carla: "But if it's okay, I think I'm only in the mood for salad.  I'm a little off meat right now."

Belle: "Salad it is."

CM: As Belle leaves, the lights flicker briefly and the ground trembles softly.

Carla: "What was that?" Carla grips the table.

CM: The empty cups dance across the table and clatter to the floor. Then the trembling stops. Sweat beads your brow.

Carla smiles to hide her fear. "Looks like God's ready for you to get back to work, too."

Belle shrugs quizically, and ducks out.

Carla: I try to sense unknown.

(To CM) DICE for CM: (1d100) = [ 47 ]

Session ends