TWENTY-SIX
Cam snapped his fingers, taking us to the scene of a horrific accident. Remy’s black Honda Civic was smashed into a tree. There was a deer licking Remy’s outstretched hand.
I stood there, confused. “Cam, what’s happening?”
“It’s all up to you. Play the game from your heart.”
I approached the car. The entire front was smashed. Remy would have to be cut from the vehicle. I peered inside. Remy’s face was covered in blood from a massive gash. His nose was likely broken. Way worse, his chest was pinned to the steering wheel. If he was even alive, he didn’t have much time left.
It seems Cam and I got to him at the point he was hovering on the edge. His spirit separated a little from his corporeal outline, and he groaned.
“Hey, Remy.”
“Hey,” he said softly. “I f****d up real bad
