Alice Fletcher stood in front of a mirror, hair wet from her shower, with a towel wrapped around her. Gazing at her reflection, she ran her hands over her chest, down to her belly, and rested them on her hips. Not bad, she thought for a woman in her mid-forties. She dressed and was about to start dinner when the phone rang. The voice at the other end said, ‘There’s been an accident. Your husband…’ The rest was a blur. The words serious, and surgery echoed in her head.
She called her son, Peter, but he didn’t answer. His outgoing message made excuses for not being available. She wondered what to say. Who wants to hear news like this on voicemail? Alice composed herself, and speaking in a calm voice said, “Your father’s been in an accident. Meet me at Cedar Crest.”
At the hospital, she asked about her husband. “Silas. Silas Fletcher.” Alice was directed to a waiting room, and after several inquiries, a doctor who looked like he just came out of medical school approached her.
“Your husband’s in surgery. There’s been significant trauma to his head. He’s lucky to be alive.”
Alice paced around the room and kept looking at her wristwatch. What’s taking Peter so long? Out of exhaustion, she sat down and fought off sleep, her head lurching up every so often.
It was almost midnight when Peter arrived.
“Did you call Grandma?” he asked.
“No, I guess I forgot. Will you do it for me?”
Peter dialed her number and held his cell phone to his ear. “Grandma?” he said, turning his back to his mother.
Alice couldn’t help but listen to his conversation. When he got off the phone, she asked him, “Is she coming?”
“She’ll be here first thing in the morning.”
Alice motioned to him to come sit with her, and when he did, she broke down and cried. He stroked her hair, and shecomposed herself, then she curled up on a couch and fell asleep.
She woke to a stranger’s voice. Peter stirred. He had drifted off also.
“Mrs. Fletcher?” A man in a white coat stood over her.
Alice nodded. “Yes.” She grabbed a handkerchief from her purse. Peter sat up and took her by the hand. “How’s my husband?”
In a soft, subdued voice, the doctor said, “Silas has suffered a severe concussion. We had to remove a portion of his skull.” Alice expected him to follow up with ‘despite our best efforts…’ but to her relief, he said, “Your husband survived the procedure. The swelling in his brain has gone down, but he’s still got a long way to go.”
“Can we see him?” asked Peter.
“You can see him, but just briefly.”
“Will he be all right?” Peter asked again.
“I won’t lie to you. Even if he pulls through, it’ll be a long road, and he may never be himself again. We won’t know for a while.”
He took them to Silas. The only sound in the room was the eerie hissing of a respirator and the beeping of a monitor. Except for an occasional twitch of his eye, Silas lay still. Only his chest rose slowly as the machine breathed for him. His head wrapped in bandages made him look inhuman. Alice cried and tried to hide her tears from Peter. He led her back to the waiting room where they both fell asleep.
It was dawn when Alice awoke. She looked at her watch and realized Bea would be here soon, but her first concern was Silas. Alice went to his room and found him still unconscious but alive. In the ladies’ room, she washed her face, applied fresh makeup, and combed her hair.
As she walked down the aisle back toward the waiting room, Alice saw Bea speaking to a nurse. Alice overheard her ask about Silas. She went up to her and tapped her on the shoulder, “Mom?” she said.
Bea turned around and wrapped her arms around her daughter-in-law. Alice stood still, her arms at her side.
“How’s our boy?” asked Bea. “That bastard. He always finds a way to upset me.”
Alice said nothing. She led her to Silas and on the way, told her everything she knew. Peter jumped up from his seat on the window ledge when he saw them and hugged his grandmother. Bea’s gaze went to the bed where her son lay, bandaged, barely alive, tubes coming out of every orifice. She stood over him for a minute and started sobbing. Alice took her to the ladies’ room where she composed herself, and after a few minutes, they went to sit in the lounge.
“Have you called a priest?” Bea asked.
“No, I haven’t.”
“My son may be dying. The least you could do is call a priest.”
“I don’t think that’s something Silas would want.”
“Nonsense. Of course he would.”
“It may not even be necessary,” Alice countered. “He pulled through the night. That’s a good sign.”
“I know he may not die, but in case he does.”
“I don’t think it’s something I want either. The whole notion of forgiveness, look, Bea, he’s not even conscious.”
“He doesn’t have to be. I insist, as his mother.”
☽☾ ☽☾ ☽☾
Silas ran through an open field, the sun shining down on him, wildflowers all around, and tall grass up to his knees. He stepped into a hole, lost his balance, and fell to the ground, rolling until he stopped flat on his back. Silas looked up at the bright light. Something was wrong.
Although at first, it appeared as if he were outside, he couldn’t smell the grass or the wildflowers, and the sun didn’t seem right. It wasn’t one orb shining down on him but several bright lights that blinded him. Despite the intense lighting, he felt cold. He got up and looked around. A voice called his name.
“You, Silas. Where do you think you’re going? Get back in line.”
He followed the sound of the voice. No longer in a field, he stood in a long hallway. At the end of the hall, he could see the outline of a man against the light coming through an open door. The man motioned for him to come inside.
“Silas,” the man said. “You know better than to run off like that. It doesn’t benefit anyone.”
“How do you know my name? Where am I?”
The man laughed. “This always happens to people here. They forget their place, they run off, and it’s my job to get them back in line. I’m always running, running, running.”
Silas looked him over. He was an awful sight. The man’s hair was disheveled, and his eyes were bloodshot. Barefoot, with a short, black goatee, his skin was wrinkled like old leather. He wore brown trousers that were cut too short. A yellow shirt completed his appearance. The seat of his trousers was lumpy as if something was stuffed in the rear of his pants. And he smelled.
“Where am I?” Silas asked. “Who are you?”
“Who am I? Why I’m Mr. Seefur. I run this place. Where are you? This is where you belong. Don’t worry. Get in line and everything will work out.”
Silas didn’t understand, and when he looked behind the man, he saw a huge, cavernous room filled with people, all lined up in formation, like an endless marching band that stretched as far as the eye could see. Men and women of all ages, standing shoulder to shoulder. No one moved.
“Hold on a second,” Mr. Seefur said.
He ran to the side of the vast room and inserted a key into a lock and turned it. The cover came off a panel, revealing a button. With an exaggerated motion, he pressed it with a grotesquely swollen thumb. When he did, a loud buzzer sounded, bzzzz, bzzzz.
Mr. Seefur grabbed a microphone. “Now that I have your attention, everyone take one step forward, pul-eeze!”
The sound of the buzzer and the reverberating voice hurt Silas’ ears. Everyone stepped forward once then stopped. Mr. Seefur turned to Silas and with a surprised look said, “You still here? I guess you forgot your place. I’ll help you find it. I really am a nice guy, despite what they say about me.”
Mr. Seefur escorted him to a spot between two men.
“You know I used to be able to fly, but what’s his name, Joe, you’ll meet him eventually. Part of our deal was that I lose my wings. C’est la vie! Now stand between these fine people.”
“Then what do I do?”
“Why, you wait. Just stand in line. When I tell you to step forward, you step forward and take the other person’s place. Don’t worry, it’ll be fun!”
Mr. Seefur ran off skipping, flapping his arms, and turning his head side to side with a hideous smile.
Silas looked at everyone standing beside him. “Will someone explain to me what’s going on? I was just driving home and now I’m in this huge hall surrounded by all you people and this nut is telling me to just stand in line.”
A man on his right spoke up. “Just play along. We don’t have much of a choice.”
“What are you, a poster boy for Harvard?” Silas asked.
The buzzer went off again. That voice of Mr. Seefur again.
“OK, boys and girls, we have a special today! Simon says, Everyone take six giant steps forward!”
Silas didn’t want to cooperate, but the man behind him nudged him, saying, “Let’s move, buddy.” He turned and held his fist in the air, ready to punch him. “You touch me again, and I’ll clock you one.”
The man looked the other way. Silas reluctantly stepped forward with the others when he saw four men walking toward him. Everyone moved aside, opening a path for them. Each one of the four had a haunted look about them. They reminded Silas of derelicts he’d seen in Times Square in New York, warning of the end of the world. Silas couldn’t hear what they were saying but saw that they were offering books to no one in particular. Just what I need now, reading material, he thought. The men worked their way over to him, and one guy with long blond hair and a scraggly beard introduced himself.
“I don’t remember meeting you,” he said. “My name is Kris. This is Abe, Bud, and Mo.” He pointed to each one as he spoke their name.
“Pleased to meet you. My name is Silas.” He nodded toward them and whispered, “How does one get out of here?”
“Oh, everyone will get out of here,” Kris answered. He nodded his head and looked at the other three. They all nodded their heads in unison, “The main thing is not to come back.”
Silas was confused. Why would anyone come back to this place? “If I get out of here, I ain’t ever coming back.”
“That’s easy to say, but it’s beyond your control.”
Silas didn’t like the idea of anyone having control over him. Instead of pursuing the issue, he asked a different question. “Okay, say I get out of here. How do I make sure I never come back?”
Kris held up a book. “The answer is here, in this book. Have a look.”
Silas skimmed through the book, flipping the pages with disgust.
“What kind of garbage is this? This is a bunch of riddles. Riddles and rules.”
“Knowledge isn’t always spelled out,” Kris said.
The one introduced as Mo spoke up, “Would you like to take a look at mine?”
Silas grabbed Mo’s, but it was more of the same. He tossed it back to him. “Get the hell out of here, you bunch of clowns.”
As soon as the men walked off, Mr. Seefur arrived.
“Anything I can do for you?” he asked with a grin on his face. He had precious stones for teeth that sparkled in the light.
“What’s at the front of the line?” Silas asked.
“Oh.” Mr. Seefur turned a shoulder toward him and tucked his chin into his chest. “We like to keep that a surprise.”
“Well then, how long is it?”
“There’s not much further to go.”
Silas reached for his wallet. “I’m wondering if I can persuade you to bring me closer to the front?” He held out all the bills that were in his wallet.
Mr. Seefur gave out a shrill laugh. He doubled over and laughed so hard he let loose a loud fart. He composed himself and said, “Your money’s no good here. Relax, you’ll get there soon enough.”
Before Silas could say anything, Mr. Seefur ran off, skipping and flapping his hands at his side. A boy who saw the encounter started to cry.
“What’s your problem?” Silas said.
“I wanna go home,” the boy said.
“Don’t we all. Now stop whining or I’ll, I’ll, well just stop, will you?”
☽☾ ☽☾ ☽☾
Alice made a few calls and returned to her husband’s room. She stopped in the doorway when she saw Bea with Peter. They stood over Silas, their backs to her. Alice could hear Bea talking quietly with Peter and, not wanting to interrupt them, waited. She strained to hear their conversation. Peter seemed upset. Bea put her arm on his shoulder and stroked the back of his neck.
“It’s not supposed to be like this,” Peter said.
“I know, I know.”
Bea sounded reassuring. Alice found the scene comforting and wished she could tell her son that everything would be all right.
“No, you don’t understand,” Peter said. “Dad is not supposed to die now. It’s not his turn. You’re next in line. Then it’s Dad’s turn.”
“Things don’t always happen the way they’re supposed to,” she said. “You need to be ready for the worst.”
“I’m not.”
“Your father was—”
“Don’t talk about him in the past tense,’ Peter interrupted. “He’s not dead yet.” He walked out of the room, passing Alice, who came in and stood with Bea.
“Did you call a priest?” Bea asked.
“I thought we went through that already. No, I did not.”
“I expected as much, so I took the liberty of calling. A Father Damien will be here soon. He makes regular visits.”
Alice let out a loud sigh and turned her back to Bea. She stared at her feet and clenched her fists.
“Maybe we should take a break,” Bea said. “Let’s get something to eat, then go by the house and freshen up.”
Alice declined. “Take Peter. He’s probably in the waiting room.”
Bea left to find her grandson while Alice paced the halls. She wanted to stretch her legs a bit, so she walked the length of the corridor. The walls of the ICU were constructed of glass, which gave the ward a cold, surreal look. She walked past two nurses who were standing outside a room.
“A woman visited this morning. The first person to come in days,” one said.
“Not that he’ll ever know,” the other one commented, tipping her head towards a patient, whose door was open.
Alice took a quick look inside. A man lay in bed, his eyes closed, unconscious, and white as a cloud. He may have lacked for visitors but the windowsill was filled with floral arrangements.
As Alice proceeded back to her husband’s room, she saw a middle-aged man with a priest’s collar get off the elevator. She quickly pursued him. The man promptly headed for the nurse’s station. Alice heard him ask for Silas Fletcher.
“I’m Mrs. Fletcher,” Alice announced in a deliberate voice.
“Oh, I’m Father Damien. It’s a pleasure to meet you. You called the Archdiocese? I’m truly sorry to hear about your husband.”
“Thank you, it’s been an ordeal.”
Alice led him down the hall, past her husband’s room, to the patient with all the flowers. Alice ushered him in. The priest stood over the man and started to pray. Alice fidgeted and wished the man would hurry up. A nurse walked by and stopped to look at the scene inside. Alice froze, but the nurse continued on her way. When the priest finished, they went to the lounge where Alice listened as he talked about salvation, original sin, and other topics that she and Silas had different opinions on. Once he left, Alice took a deep breath, put her hand to her mouth, and laughed. She composed herself and thought, only Silas would appreciate what she had just done.
☽☾ ☽☾ ☽☾
Silas found himself all alone in the dark. The sound of shuffling feet was replaced by a rhythmic pulsing. One two, one two, one two. Distinct and steady at first, it grew weaker and slower until it morphed into a high-pitched continuous tone. It stopped. Then, he heard a new sound. It was a soft humming, something mechanical, and Silas started to move. He felt as if he was on a conveyer belt going forward. Silas panicked and tried running the opposite way, but the belt moved faster, and he fell. Rolling over on his back, he looked up and saw familiar faces. Relatives, friends, some he hadn’t seen since childhood. Events of his life played out in front of him. His marriage, the birth of his son. He was fascinated by this when the motion suddenly stopped and threw him forward with a jolt. Silas went flying and hit the ground.
Silas lay face down with his arms and legs outstretched. At first, he checked all his extremities, but there was no damage. On the contrary, he felt good, even a bit euphoric. Sitting up, he saw he was in a room where everything was pearly white. Silas felt at peace, and at the same time invigorated. There was something familiar about this place.
Whatever it was, he felt very much alive, almost like being eighteen years old again. Soft, soothing music came from somewhere and there was an odor he couldn’t get enough of. Silas looked around, trying to see where it came from when an elderly man approached and stood over him. He had a beard and wore his long white hair in a ponytail that ran down his back. He called Silas by name.
“Are you all right?” the man asked.
Standing up slowly, Silas replied, “I’m not sure.”
“Welcome,” the man said, stroking his beard.
“Where am I?”
“You’ve finally reached your destination. The end of the line,” he replied.
“Really?”
Silas thought to himself that the old geezer might be another nut like Mr. Seefur, but the man had a calm, reassuring way of speaking.
“OK. Now what?” Silas asked.
“Well, first I’d like to congratulate you for getting this far. I know it wasn’t easy.”
“You ain’t kidding, buster.”
“Second, apologies are in order.”
“Why? What do you mean?”
“Part of my job is to welcome you, and if you’re staying, to help you get orientated.”
“What do you mean, ‘if’ I’m staying?”
“Unfortunately, not everyone who arrives here gets to stay.”
“You gotta be kidding.”
“No, I’m not.”
Something about this place had an alluring attraction to Silas. Something compelling in the way it made him feel. He didn’t know where he was but knew he wanted to stay. It felt like he belonged here.
“Who gets to decide if I stay?”
“I do.”
“And, what’s the verdict?”
“You’re not staying.”
“What?” Silas said, protesting. “Why? Where am I going?”
“Sorry. You’ve got to go back online.”
“Wait a second. I want to stay. You can’t send me back. I don’t know what it is about this place, but it feels great being here. Why do I feel this way?”
“This place has that effect on everyone.”
“I want to stay.”
“You can’t. But you can take solace knowing that you won’t remember this place, or meeting me, or the fact that you’ve been online before.”
“That place was awful. Come on. Tell me. Why are you sending me back?”
“You haven’t earned the right to stay. Did you read any of those books the boys were giving out?”
“Those guys? What was that all about?”
“I have to admit their presentation is confusing. They had to have all those riddles thrown in. I need to talk to them again. All four are trying to say the same thing, but each one makes the same mistake. I told them, keep it simple, but they wouldn’t listen.”
“I still don’t get what they were trying to say.”
“How can I put it to you? It’s all about living your life in such a way that you deserve to stay here. Next time, pick one of their books, either one, and try to see past all the riddles they threw in. Live in the knowledge contained in the book. Otherwise, you’ll just keep coming back again and again, doing it over and over until you get it right. Once you do, then you can stay.”
“Have I been here before?”
“Yes, you have.”
“How many times?”
“Not that many.”
“Have you been online?”
The man chuckled but did not answer.
“I thought Mr. Seefur said everyone has to get online at least once. Doesn’t he run this place?”
“Who, Lou? No. He has nothing to do with anything once you’ve come here.”
“Who is he, anyway?”
“Well, we’re sort of partners. Not equal partners but, well, let’s just say we have an understanding. He keeps to his side of the bargain, and I keep to mine.”
“You didn’t answer me. Have you been on the line?”
“You wouldn’t understand, but my son has.”
“You have kids? So do I. How many?”
“Just one. You met him. Kris. The guy with long blonde hair. Remember?”
“Me and Alice, we only had one. I didn’t want any, but Alice insisted.”
“Do you have something against children?”
“Yeah, they suck the life out of you.”
“Well, I’m sorry you feel that way. Anyway, you’ve asked too many questions. It’s time. Are you ready?”
Silas looked around and sighed. He wanted to remember the feeling of being here. The euphoria.
“Wait. You didn’t tell me, who are you?” he asked.
“My name is Joe. It was nice seeing you again.” He started counting out loud, “1, 2, 3…”
Silas started shrinking. Joe’s voice became louder and louder as he continued. It became very dark. Everything started spinning, and he felt himself pulled forward, headfirst, squeezing through this dark, wet, and warm tunnel.
A rush of lights appeared. They were so bright they hurt his eyes. The next thing he knew, strangers were holding him and passing him from one person to another. Finally, a woman took him and said, “Isn’t he adorable?”
Silas tried to speak, but all he could do was cry.