"The ambulance sped around the icy mountain roads while the whine of the siren pierced the peaceful country night.  Inside, Steven sat uncomfortably in the dark cramped space struggling to retain his balance against the sudden swerves and bumps.  The flickering shadows gave his chiseled features a haggard quality instead of their usual regal bearing.  Although he had lived only forty years, the events of the past hour had aged him significantly.  His habitually straight and proud spine had sagged, allowing his broad shoulders to slump together like the sides of a wet cardboard box.

He stared out the windows seeking answers to questions he could barely comprehend.  His mind was not equipped to handle such madness.  He was a professor, an esteemed Stanford professor.  He was accustomed to logic and literature and reasonable outcomes, not ... this.

Mount Tallac looked down and up at him simultaneously from the glassy lake like a taunting message from God to one who has flown too high leaving humility behind.  Steven stared at the reflection and wondered about his accuser.  Was he being punished or was the very notion just another example of his over blown ego?  Why was it that in times of crisis thoughts always came down to self?  Perhaps it was just man’s way of establishing reason in chaos.  But where was the reason in this?

Steven glanced across the gurney at the woman huddled in prayer.  He couldn’t begin to ease her pain.  The logical explanations that usually flowed in such abundance had dried up and left him barren.  There was nothing left for him to give.  Emily lifted her head and stared uncompromisingly at her husband.  It was a cold hard look that neither blamed nor forgave, nor did it seek or offer comfort.  It simply transmitted her pain and acknowledged his inability to take it away.

Steven turned away from his impotence.  Something needed to be said but he couldn’t seem to find the courage to say it.  He braced himself repetitively, every inhale a noble intent, every exhale a cowardly retreat until finally he broke the cycle and gasped. “He didn’t even flinch.”

Emily froze, making her former immobility seem animated by comparison.  He waited for some sign that she had heard, that she had understood the implications, but not a word was uttered, not a muscle flexed, not a breath taken.

“He just stood there ...” Steven began again, unwilling to let it go, “...watching the fire eat at his arm.”"