Chapter Eighteen- The Place of Neither

32 1 0
                                    

A warm, bright light surrounded Jason when he awoke. Thin linen sheets were wrapped delicately around him, and the pillow underneath his head was as soft as goose down. He was completely relaxed, and his muscles felt strong and rejuvenated, like he had just gotten out of a long, fresh swim.

Confusion surged through his, turning his stomach into a roiling, panicking combination that made the bitter taste of bile rise in the back of his throat with a burning sensation. He shot upright, gasping for air.

A cool hand pressed against his forehead, spreading lines of refreshing cold through his body an in heaven, then.”

“Not quite. You have a choice.” Jennifer paused, black sorrow swirling in her cobalt eyes. “You are very lucky. Most people never have a chance to go back to their bodies; their fragile vessels of souls. Like me.”

The air in front of her shimmered, like heat wavering over the ground, and blurred together, bring vibrant colors misting together in a fragile screen. “This is what is happening to your body.” Jennifer explained quietly.

Jason stared at the scene, transfixed. Harris, the young man he had rescued from the mission before he had been shot by Michelle, was kneeling by his inert body, giving him CPR. Though there was no sound, he could see Harris’ mouth open wide with a scream of despair.

“Send me back.” pleaded Jason.

A current of sadness rushed through Jennifer’s eyes, and she bowed her head. “Yes. Sarah and Katrina need you.”

Jennifer’s blonde hair cascaded down her head, covering her face.

“Hey,” Jason said weakly. He reached up and brushed a single strand of the silken hair away from her face. “You’ll wait for me, right?”

“Of course,” her voice was tranquil and calm.

“I love you.”

“Good bye, Jason. Take care of our daughters.”

“I will.”

The room shuddered and Jason flinched. The floor dropped out from underneath him, and blackness flipped his vision upside down. Jason knew no more.

“Wake up, Corporal! Please, wake up!” the voice was husky and raw with grief.

Jason’s lungs seared with pain, his chest was tight and compressed. A convulsion shook his limbs, he coughed violently, his throat itched and burned terribly. The stinging scent of gasoline ignited his nostrils, and a fuzzy gray softness surrounded him. With a great effort, Jason stretched his eyes open.

His chest was bound in white bandages, Harris, the soldier he had rescued was leaning over him, tears streaked on his dirty face. Upon closer inspection, Harris appeared to be a boy of eighteen, not yet a man yet.

“You’re alive!” cried Harris, his face as radiant as the sun.

“Yeah, kid, I’m alive. Get me out of here.” rasped Jason.

Harris wrapped on of his arms around Jason and hauled him to his feet, and they laboriously started off into the vast space, where malevolent shadows collected like dust in corners.

The End of Her WorldWhere stories live. Discover now