Disappear: Into Shadow

- CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN -

Outside a modest two story brownstone house, a blustering gale blew. The high winds pulled at the branches of the trees lining the neighbourhood's streets and plucked loose shingles from roofs.

Inside, sheltered from the strong winds, was a young man in his mid twenties. Staring into his bathroom mirror, he regarded himself. His eyes were heavy lidded, glazed and drooping. His blonde hair was tangled and unkempt. His pale, haggard face looked older than its twenty six years. He was restless, agitated. His thoughts cloudy, he could not focus on any one thing. A wave of panic and nausea swept over him. Cold sweat trickled down his back.

Splashing water on his face, he looked back into the mirror. He looked tired, and unhappy. With feelings of panic still coursing through his nerves, he slapped his face.

"Snap out of it, Adam!" He chided his reflection. Fortunately the nausea had passed, but his heart was pounding. He didn't know what was happening. "It's just a panic attack. Calm down, calm down."

Sometimes talking to himself worked. Not tonight. Nothing was bringing him back down. Adam's nerves jangled and screamed back in his thoughts, Maybe I need to call an ambulance, or go to the hospital? Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! I'm fine. F-I-N-E, fine. No, I'm not. I'm screwed up. Crazy, bonkers, certifiable. Adam, you're a total loony tunes nut-bar.

Opening the bathroom door, Adam wanted to walk down the hall, out of the house and the city itself. He reconsidered. Closing the door, he returned to the mirror. He didn't know what else to do. Still sweating, his hands were cold. Closing his eyes Adam repeated over and over in his thoughts, I'm alive, I'm alive, I'm alive.

"So? Am I?" He asked the reflection.

His head pounded and dinner sat heavy in his craw. The colour drained from his face when the reflection answered his question.

"I suppose you are." It said.

I'm not crazy. I'm not losing my mind. My mirror didn't just talk to me. I'm alive. My brain feels like its going to burst, my forearms ache like I'm having a heart attack but it doesn't mean I'm having one, right? I feel terrible but I'm alive, I'm not dying. I have to choose now. I have to choose whether to sink or swim. Right now, right here. Then I'll feel better. What do I choose?

"I choose life." He said to the mirror.

Another voice answered from the bathtub, "Living takes commitment."

Adam sprang back from the mirror when he saw a shadowy vision floating behind him. Shrinking into the corner of the room, he slid down the wall as the shadow took form. As the smoky features became crisp, Adam cowered on the cold tiled floor next to the toilet. A distant memory flashed through his mind. He recognized the rumpled uniform of a United States Marine Corps Sergeant. An elite Navy SEAL, who had gone to Viet Nam with the new outfit. He even knew the guy's name. It was 'Gunny'.

"It's not possible," Adam stammered.

Gunny had died in the war, saving two little Vietnamese girls from an attack on their village. A reprisal attack for their aiding the Americans, the village was burnt to the ground and its inhabitants killed. The two girls were trapped inside their hut. As the burning thatch roof began to collapse, Gunny raced out of the jungle where he and two other SEALs had been hiding.

The village chief, who had known the Viet Cong were coming had sent the SEALs away just in time. Three against fifty were bad odds in anyone's book. The Americans had to watch the villagers who had become their friends, then their saviours, burn and die before their eyes.