Free Spirit Breaker by William Massa

to the paranormal like psychics could somehow tune into these frequencies in a natural way. The para-spectral goggles and speakers were designed to enhance the visual and auditory range so that a normal human would be able to see and hear ghosts the way a psychic did.  
    “The helmet is online and ready to go,”Adira said and began to walk across the vast field. Her hands were trembling, yet somehow she managed to take one step after another.
    This latest research project was another stepping stone toward fulfilling Dr. Mason’s vision. He wanted to eventually form a strike team that would not only help lost souls move on but also hunt down dangerous entities. What had once been a crazy pipe dream was becoming more and more a potential reality with Casca’s financial support. How the man planned to profit from their findings or even recoup his investment was beyond her.  
    The reason she was here today wasn’t to gather evidence that ghosts were real. What the Foundation hoped to achieve was to develop a way to help these lost trapped souls successfully make the transition into the next world.
    Adira grew still as a flicker of static slashed over the helmet’s view-screen. It was followed by movement near the edge of the dense trees that framed the field. Reality shifted as more static frizzed. Adira swallowed hard and her nails dug into her palms.  
    She wasn’t alone any longer.  
    Some poor spirit lingered in this place of death. Without her help, how long would the entity remain trapped here? The crash site was isolated. It could take years, decades, maybe even centuries before the ghost would grasp the nature of its predicament. The possibility made her shudder again.  
    A creepy silhouette materialized from behind the row of crosses, as revealed by the crimson tint of the necro-helmet. Adira stared, mesmerized by the horror of the situation. She wanted to back away, but her legs wouldn’t obey her. She was frozen in place.
    The figure burst toward her in jerky jumps. It was an outline of a man. His features and body remained blurry, almost as if he was vibrating at some higher frequency. There was something both human and utterly alien about the apparition on the helmet’s view-screen. Pure energy willed into human shape by a mind incapable of letting go of the memory of once having been alive.  
    A keening sound crackled over the helmet’s audio system. Words emerged from the sea of static, and goosebumps exploded over her skin.  
    “Where am I?”
    The words faded in and out but kept repeating like some broken transmission that was reaching her across time and space, from between worlds. Over and over again, the question repeated, fueled by mad desperation. “Where am I? WHERE AM I?”  
    Demanding an answer, voice rising into a shriek, the apparition lurched toward her, instinctively sensing that she could perceive its presence.  
    Adira tasted salt and realized she was crying under the helmet. Part of her wanted to scream out, You’re dead. The plane crashed. You must let go.  
    There was a strange wobbling distortion of reality, and then the figure was gone. A chill settled over her as something reached for her from behind. She spun, the entity now right in front of her.  
    “Who the hell are you?”
    She killed the audio and tore off the helmet, unable to continue. Her surroundings returned to normal. There was no sign that the specter was present except for a lingering cold sensation. Adira gasped for air, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. Tears were streaming down her face as the sun burned down on the desolate field. The crosses and flowers loomed before her in the dry heat.
    She’d thought she could handle it, that she could face a ghost again…
    “Are you okay, Doc?”
    She nodded at Steve. Both he and Chan eyed her with concern.
    “I’ll be fine,” she assured them. They didn’t seem convinced. Even to her own ears, her hollow voice lacked conviction.
    “What do we