Epilogue

The Lord our God spake unto us in Horeb saying, Ye have dwelt long enough in this mount:
Turn you, and take your journey, and go to the mount of the Amorites, and to all the places nigh and thereunto, in the plain, in the hills, and in the vale, and in the south and by the sea side, to the land of the Canaanites, and unto Lebanon, unto the great river, the river Euphrates.

Deuteronomy 1: 6-7

As Hal lay on his bed peacefully napping, he couldn't understand why all these old events crept into his dreams. He wasn't even sure if he was really dreaming. It was a half-asleep—half-awake status that was new to him. It brought a certain comfort so he desired not to rise. He would skip his rations of French Toast that morning. It was just better to lie in comfort. He wondered if any more dreams would come to him.

These dreams—about events that he hadn't thought about in so many years; why did they all come to him that morning? It had been a long time since his body felt as good as it did. It was free from all the nagging pains in his hips and knees and back to which he had almost become accustomed. He must have found the best spot on the mattress. He felt himself starting to doze again; waited in earnest for the next dream—and soon it came to him.

There was a young man next to him who Hal did not know. The young man had a pleasant smile, but was silent. Hal sensed that he was a friend; he wanted to know more about him. He was dressed in white, reminding Hal of Javier as he came to help him each morning. Hal thought he felt a little light-headed, but then realized that it was the restfulness that was so intoxicating. He almost felt like he was floating in the air over his bed. "Oh, these dreams!"

"Señor Hal—Señor Hal; wake up!" Javier had appeared in his dream. He was standing over Hal as he slept. Hal could see it in panorama, the faithful attendant bent over his sleeping body. Hal called down to him, "Javier, I don't want any French Toast today." He said it loudly enough, but Javier didn't appear to be listening.

"Forget the French Toast, already." Hal looked to a spot somewhere over his head from where the vaguely familiar voice came from. He dreamt that he saw Mort Plinsky in the distance motioning him to come to where he was standing. Hal was confused and looked at the young man beside him. "What's going on?" he asked. "These dreams seem so real."

The young man in white finally broke his silence. "It's time to go," he replied in a soothing voice.

"Let's go already," he heard Mort Plinsky call again. "We're all waiting," he added with his characteristic insistence.

"These are the strangest dreams," Hal said to the white-clad young man. He gazed at Mort in the distance and saw Martha beside him, looking happy, with that patient smile that he had never forgotten. Sammy Cimino was there, too, looking more content than Hal remembered him from his Army days. Lieutenant Lamont was standing alongside him. They were all dressed in white, like the young man. A bright light shone from them and their garments and the young man next to him shone, too. Hal wondered why he could stand to be so close to such a bright glare; it seemed to be the source of his euphoria.

Javier was still below leaning over Hal. He had ceased calling to him and was shaking his head. Two others from the staff stood beside him. Hal felt the young man's hand gently lift up at his elbow and they floated higher.

Death came sweetly.