Chapter 34

The enormity of what had happened, coupled with the horror that followed killing those men, in self-defense, caught up with me before Major Bradshaw could get much accomplished in the way of a debriefing. I realized I was hitting the end of my rope when Bradshaw repeated the same question for the third time, and then looked to Colleen for help. She reached for me, but I was already caving in. As I fell to the floor, I heard Colleen, Rebecca, and some other voices but couldn't make out a thing they said.

Of the next several hours I remember only bits and pieces. There was a loud blast, some gunfire, screaming, and brief flashes of light, accompanied by an occasional face peering into my eyes. At some point I was airlifted. I have a distinct memory of a black helicopter and some very large men, with very impressive guns standing guard around me.

There was a moment of perfect clarity, when I opened both eyes and saw the earth dropping away. Intellectually I knew I was in the big, black chopper, but couldn't connect enough of the dots to know what that meant. Just before darkness covered me, again, Rebecca's face appeared above me. She'd been weeping, and I wanted to comfort her, but couldn't lift my arms to brush her face, to give her peace.

I am certain I felt the chopper set down. The telltale bump of the ground is another clear memory. As certain as I was that we were back on the ground, I was equally certain I could do nothing about it; not even open my eyes.

It was during that period of partial consciousness that I was aware of someone holding my hand, and stroking my cheek. The hand was shaking quite a lot, but since I couldn't see, and could barely hear, there was nothing I could do to calm them.

The next conscious thought came much later. I opened my eyes and recognized the lights that hang above a table in the operating room. It was just a flash, and gone in an instant, along with the rest of me.

It was after seeing the lights in the operating room that the dreams began.

In my weakened and damaged state, with my brain released from the drudgery of living, a parade of people marched around my bed.

Some I recognized.

The rest were strangers.

All were dead.

That meant that I must be dead ... again.

So, dead - I received the visitors like a King receives tribute. Each soul stood silently before me, telepathically accusing me of their demise. Since I wasn't seeing with my eyes, I couldn't close them against the onslaught of offenses. Because I heard them with my mind and not my ears, I could not escape their litany of abuse.

It seems that when you cause the death of a human you cause a ripple to run through the fabric of the universe, forever changing the timelines of untold millions. I was like an honorary Grand Marshall in a deathly parade of souls.