Chapter 15

Part of my discomfort carried over into our plane ride. My head hurt very badly, and I was having difficulty remaining completely alert. Fred was busy talking to his bosses, and I was struggling to remain awake. It got worse by the minute.

Fred was on the phone most of the time, but did find a moment to share something very important with me, between calls. “I have not had a chance to bring you up to speed, Ross. When Calen Arthur demanded a private meeting with you, I seriously doubted he was there for any reason but to do you harm. Before he said a single word I had my phone out to record every word that came out of his mouth. If anyone tries to change the story, we have proof of all kinds of serious along with two capital crimes.” His eyes told the story of how enraged he was to be singled out for execution so that child molesting, pig could kill me before I figured out that he was one of the rapists.

“The other news is that he lied to you.’ His smile was very crooked, as if he didn’t want to have this conversation, but he mustered on. “Jeanette was attacked and shot as she walked to her car, but the attempt failed, and she is resting comfortably at Mercy Hospital, in Doctor Halberstadt’s care. She was not seriously injured in the attack, but they are keeping for a few more days as a precaution.

“The other things he said are pretty much true. Hazel Thompson was not strangled. She was beaten to death by a group of enraged prisoners, after the rumor was circulated that she was there to inform on them in exchange for a lesser sentence. The women apparently beat her for hours using everything available, and then the leader of the group decided to strangle her dead body as a warning to other potential informers...”

He went on but I checked out after he confirmed that Hazel was dead. It made no difference to me who, or why she was killed. It was enough to know that she was no longer sharing the earth with the rest of us. The pain in my head increased, as did the noise caused by the elevated blood pressure.

Fred finally gave up and retook his seat. There was so little to say after all the drama and stress took their toll on us. Our pilot wisely kept the curtain closed and left us alone as the little jet took us home where I would – hopefully – be safe.

At some point I realized that something might be really wrong inside. Even though Fred was just a few yards away, I couldn’t seem to find the strength to speak to him as I drifted away. It was as if an unseen hand was squeezing my heart, forcing it to work ten times harder to do its job. The effort my heart was going to in order to keep me alive exhausted and frightened me.

As awareness ebbed away, the sound of blood rushing past my ears seemed to grow louder and louder by the minute and the next thing I knew...

The dream state came over me.

I knew that because I was looking at Fred’s back when a milky scrim seemed to settle between me and everything else. My heartbeat drifted away with my vision and awareness. It felt like I was really and truly dying this time. I KNEW my heart was stopping and that when it did I would be dead.

As darkness took me away from reality, the world disappeared and was replaced by the place of brimstone. The fires of hell burned brightly, but their heat never touched my body. In the distance I saw an army of the dead, blindly marching toward a precipice that dropped away to infinity. As each dead carcass fell over the edge, the sounds of their despair drifted up toward the sky.

Perched above the final resting place of the guilty dead, floating on a bed of burning cinder, was the wraith who loved to torment me. He tried to laugh as I approached, wanting to hurl his contempt at me, but he failed ... again ... and again ... and again.

Time had taught me an important lesson about its construct. In the place of death there is no time. There is no tomorrow, because the souls of the dead lost all of their tomorrows before arriving in this walled in, pitch black, oppressive, hell. It mattered not at all how long I stood and watched the macabre parade. No time passed for me ... the only surviving evidence of my trips to this pit were memories and they were meant to torment, but caused me wonder instead.

The demon mad master shrieked as I ignored his salacious horde of decaying dead. His screams were as impotent as his will. In all his empty rage, he failed to understand the one true truth that bound him forevermore in his molten, furnace. The one true truth that was so obvious to me, but eternally lost to him, was so obvious and yet so elusive that I just had to share it and put him fully into his misery.

“The souls you usher away into death, wraith? They are not yours. They never were and never will be. Those dead souls are all marching off into their eternal furnace...

“ ... by choice.

“You are nothing to them. They can’t even see you. Their lives were ugly and violent, their anger was vicious and cruel, but you are not their master...

“You never were...

“You never can be...”

I could see that the truth I understood was still far beyond his grasp, so I gave it to him and watched him come apart in rage, fury, anger, hatred, and cruelty.

“Don’t you see it, yet, wraith?

“All those souls you float above and gloat over...

“They are consigned here forever...

“Just...

“Like...

“You...

“There is no exit door for you, wraith. You’ve been sentenced here since before time began and will suffer here forever. Even as these sick, twisted, souls depart into the flames that consume them...

“ ... so do you.”

I snapped awake as the wheels touched down ... somewhere.

Once more Fred was standing over me looking like something was really wrong. I blinked away the darkness but felt too weak to speak. The jet sped down the runway, eventually breaking slowly in time to turn off onto a taxiway, and head for a hangar where a small group of people waited. In the moments between waking and having to rise and deplane, I found enough strength to make my way out under my own power.

The plane halted right up near the hangar doors, giving us cover to walk from the steps to the waiting Suburban. I stumbled trying to negotiate the built in steps, and was steadied by two FBI agents. They were easily identified due to their windbreakers. Four agents joined us in the vehicle, while four more occupied matching vehicles, one in front, the other behind. We sped through the quiet streets, but not to Sienna’s house. We pulled to a stop in front of the courthouse, and Fred and I were hurried inside. Thankfully my wheelchair was brought forward so I could sit instead of walk.