Author Note: I would like to first state that this story will have absolutely nothing to do with my "dead" series. I have an idea about what I want to do next with that storyline but this story is screaming louder for attention.

Second, this story is not going to be based off of the original story line. I am going to use the characters; they will have their same "personality" and "powers" however I am not going to make this into a ghost hunt case. It is going to be a story about the group.

Third, I do not own ghost hunt if I did I would be a genius!

Chapter One:

I scurried into the house. The night had fallen fast, winter was coming. Heart beating fast and quick frantic glances behind me. I was asking to fall down and get eaten by a ghost. I slammed the door behind me and locked it for a good measure. Once I got my breath back I looked around. This had been a very nice home.

The family who had lived here long gone but the home itself was full of the happy memories of the family and previous generations. I was safe for the night. If my dreams did not reveal any invading ghosts on this sanctuary I would stay for as long as the food in the pantry held out.

In 2353 a terrorist group in the Middle East decided to set off pandemic bombs. The disease was violent and killed millions. The terrorist group had thought themselves immune due to the immunizations they had. But they had not counted on how quickly the disease could mutate. They too perished in the wake of the disease.

Humans survived. Just like with the black plague, a few people had a something extra special that would keep them from dying. My parents were born of survivors. They had been part of the first generation that focused on the massive clean-up needed. 127,704,000 million alive in Japan in 2009 only one million had survived the disease. The funeral pyres had burned for years. My grandfathers had both worked on that type of clean up and that was how my parents met. This is not surprising considering the work it took to get the decaying bodies away from ghost infested sites.

Because of the violent deaths of so many it should be of no surprise that a great many dangerous ghosts sprung up. Japan at least has always understood more about ghosts and haunting, Western Countries had not wanted to acknowledge such things. This led to some real hard times and prompted Japan to start the first ever school for the training of people with paranormal abilities. With each team the school taught and produced the better things got for the survivors of the death plague. These teams could exorcise and cleanse the unhappy ghosts. Once this was done, living families could move in and be safe from the ghosts that haunted the rest of the countryside.

My parents where once such a team. They were the strongest pair to have ever been trained. My father had been a great medium, able to see and contact the ghosts. He could also channel the raw power of my mother's PK and was able with her help drive out the ghosts out of large areas. Together they developed a curriculum and trained the upcoming pairs and groups.

I had been a late in life baby. In fact my mother had thought that due to the tremendous power that flowed through her body at all times she would not have any children. They called me their blessing, their Mai.

When I was five my father died. I do not know the particulars. All I know is that a ghost tried to attack me, and he saved me. At the cost of his own life. After that my mother hated me.

She could no longer actively participate with the ghost hunts. But stay behind to train and teach. Slowly over time she drank more and more. She ignored me, slapped me when I got in the way and whimpered and cried for her husband at night.

I didn't tell anyone. During the day she was as professional as anyone else. No one suspected that she couldn't deal with life without my dad.

On my fourteenth birthday I heard her stumble in at three in the morning, pale and trembling. She started drinking, and crying. I went back to bed. I awoke to the sound of a gunshot.

On my fifteenth birthday I ran away from the foster home I had been placed in. Every night I had dreamed that my foster father wanted to molest me and had done so to other girls. When he actually tried and failed I knew that those dreams had been true. I ran when I dreamed that he succeeded in molesting me.

Since then I have been on my own. Running from the ghosts and from people who would take me back to the foster child system. I am not quite eighteen yet. I still have a few months to go. I know the government wouldn't leave me alone if it could help it. Our numbers are so few that any female under eighteen is promised to a man; at eighteen she has to marry. Unless she shows signs of psychic ability. Then she can decide from other physics. I think the government wants as many ghost hunters as possible.

I know I am a medium like my dad. But I don't know how to approach a settlement without having the men of said town see only a lone female. At which point they would capture me and impregnate me willing or not… Before asking me any questions.

I thought about going to the school but can't actually remember where it is. I would have to ask directions and subsequently approach a town. Lose, lose situation.

I dreamed again. I dreamed of a man with black hair, blue eyes and a gentle smile. He has been working with me and teaching me what it means to be a medium. I call him "dream man" and he seems to think it is funny. He has been with me ever since the first foster home. In fact he let me know that it was him that had sent me those dreams.

I am not stupid; I know that he is a ghost of someone who has died. But he is a good ghost and he has saved my bacon more times then I care to count. He is the one who gives me the dreams that tell me whether to go or stay in a home. I can't direct them yet. I don't have the power of someone with PK abilities to help me. It takes both a Medium and PK specialist to be able to fully work the power of each other. Checks and balances.

As a medium I can't direct my dreams to show me what I need, nor can I truly "see" ghosts without the flow of power from a PK specialist. But I have killer instincts and know when they are around and can tell good from bad. A PK specialist can blast ghosts to kingdom-come and force them to the afterlife. But without a medium to direct their "fire Power" they are shooting in all directions and can windup using all their power before they actually get rid of the ghost.

Together they are a powerful combination. Someone who "sees" and someone who "shoots."

I awoke with the dread of someone who has to move again. I had just enough food left to make breakfast this morning. Then I would have to move on. I had enjoyed this home the beds were soft and the food good. But the food was gone.

I packed. Grateful that the home had boasted a closetful of young women's clothes. I had needed warmer clothes for the winter and now I had them and a thick pair of boots. I tucked in some bars of soap that smelled like jasmine. I packed my sewing kit and the first aid kit I had found in the bathroom cabinet. A couple of lighters and I rolled a thick warm blanket up and attached it to the bottom of my backpack. My pack had food, water, two extra changes of clothes, soap, medical supplies and a blanket. The water is the heaviest part of backpacking. Think about it. You need at least (if not more) a gallon of water a day to be healthy. If you try to plan for three days that is three gallons of water. Heavy! Usually I carry only a gallon and rely on my dream man to help me find a relatively safe haven to get more water for later.

While I had holed up in the safe heaven on the edge of a town where no settlement men wandered I tried to take care of my personal stuff. I cut my hair back to my favored shaggy bob. I hemmed my "new" pants. Walked around in the boots to break them in. I had dug in the backyard during the last of the sunny days for garden produce that someone long gone had planted.

I enjoyed good food and had made travel rations. I had gotten too skinny from running from men and ghosts. It was a safe haven to relax. I mourned having to leave before the snow fell and trying to find another safe haven.

I dressed carefully many hours on the road teaching me: underwear, long-sleeve undershirt (flannel, never wear cotton if you are traveling long distance on foot), homemade flannel-inside and wool-outside pants (button up), a button up flannel long-sleeved shirt; thick wool socks and boots. A hat and gloves at ready in a side pocket on the backpack. If it got really cold then I would put on the coat. But I preferred to be a little cold and nimble then warm and slow.

I strapped my knife on the side of my leg, tipped slightly backwards for a quicker draw. My water canteen strapped across my body. A small packet of food and matches secreted in a side pocket on my leg. I have had to drop the pack and run from ghosts and men. Made it easier to start over if I didn't have to shiver and moan with hunger all night.

I left the house. Walking steadily away. Eyes darting around me. During the day I was not as likely to be attacked by a ghost, just a man. At night I would be attacked by a ghost not a man. Made it hard to sleep.

I walked through the day only stopping once to dig out a travel cake of sticky rice, dried fish and fruit. I drank some water, wishing I had made some tea to travel with me.

I love tea. I can remember playing tea time with my father. It is a good memory and one I preserve by making tea whenever I can.

The daylight is starting to fade. I walk faster venturing closer to a settlement then I ever have. My breath huffs out. My pack has gotten heavier as the day went by. I saw a home located across from a school yard. The house had neither good nor bad vibes. Hackles rising at the thought of the other homes on the street facing the school, I decided to go with the neutral home.

Going inside I saw that I would be camping rough tonight. The pantry had already been cleaned out by someone else. I decided to settle against the door and leave first thing in the morning. I wrapped the blanket around me and nibbled on another travel cake. After walking for so long it took a while for my legs to realize they weren't moving anymore. I could feel my legs twitching and burning a little from the exercise.

I dreamed that night of a couple who had decided to kill themselves then face the ravages of the plague. Accepting of their fate but not happy.

When I awoke in the morning I knew I wouldn't be able to stay again in that house. I repacked and left. I stared at the school, hungrily curious. I had never really gone to school. I could read, write and do simple math. But my mother hadn't really cared about me and so I had run wild.

I walked closer. I checked with my senses, smelled the wind. Nothing foul so maybe all bodies have already been removed. In which case this building had already been exercised.

I dropped my pack outside of the big double doors. I didn't want it to hinder my movements inside. I crept through the silent halls. Peering into classrooms, dusty and falling apart with disuse. I paused. A faint shift, a sigh, reached me and tickled my senses, maybe everything hadn't been exercised. It came from further down the hall. I stalked closer. It hadn't felt evil, just lost and scared.

I walked down the hall and into what appeared to be a library. Astonished I gaped around. Look at all of those books! So busy staring was I that I failed to notice the cords draped all over the floor. I tripped. Right into camera, knocked it clean to the floor. In a panic I backpedalled and ran into an old bookcase. I heard the shouts to two men as the book case wobbled and then fell on top of me. Then I was out cold.