We wasted littletime having a baby once we were married a few months later, andwere blessed with a strong son named Nathaniel. The eight years wespent together as an inseparable trio were by far the best of mylife, as we traveled both north and south to view the magnificenceof the Pacific Northwest and their southern neighbors.
Years spent building a fortress oflove and fulfillment all came tumbling down one day when news of agreat plague filtered through our West Coast community. Thisblackest of plagues didn’t discriminate when it came to touchinglives of both the rich and poor. People were dropping like fliesand I started making plans to get out of the Bay area when Maggiecame to me and said, “I feel a little achy and slow today. I’mhaving trouble getting going.”
That same morning, Nathaniel wasrunning an abnormally-high temperature and was literally sweatingthrough the sheets. Eight days later, my wife and son were bothgone, taken by a disease that ate them up and spit them out. Thewhole thing left me in a bad dream-like state as I took to thecobblestone streets, demanding an explanation from the heavens forgiving me everything and then taking it away. The pain and anguishI was suffering was far greater than any mental challenges I hadexperienced previously. While I probably should have been gratefulfor the time we all got to spend together, and how blessed I trulywas to live such a life, I was dropped on the dark side and reallysaw no way to escape into the light.
People were running franticallythroughout the streets—some were escaping the disease, while otherswere trying to avoid the deadly bite of a creature just asdevastating as any disease. I had other thoughts that centered onputting me out my misery and joining my family ion the next world.There was nothing left for me in San Francisco or any other placein the new world, or at least that’s what I thought.
BRIDGE
I can’t even remember how long Iwas out walking the streets. It had been a week since I had sleptand I had gone more than a day since thinking of food or vitalsustenance. I walked back on my house, somehow finding the place bymuscle memory, and started to hallucinate that Maggie and Nathanielwere sitting on the coach talking to me.
“Thomas, join us,” Maggie said.“We can all be together in this world if you choose to do what hasto be done.”
They both looked healthy again, soI asked, “How are you both feeling. You appear to have made a fullrecovery!” It was the most hopeful moment I had experienced in sometime. “Are you back? Can we resume our wonderful life togethernow?”
Maggie replied, “We are not reallyhere, Thomas. We have passed on to next world and that is the onlyplace you can be with us.”
“You need to get that gun you hidin the back of the closet in the holster,” Nathanielsaid.
“How did you know about that?!” Iasked worried for my young son’s safety. “Did you ever touchit?”
“No, father. I am a good son,”Nathaniel replied.
“Yes, you are a good son,” Ireplied and then walked over to touch and hug my family but theywere gone. “What the…” I started saying because the image hadconvinced me that it was corporeal in nature.
And then I heard Maggie’s voice inthe distance, “Hurry, Thomas! You’re running out oftime…”
“Maggie! Nathaniel!” I yelled andthere was no response, which led me to act instead of feelingsorrow for losing them again.
I ran into my bedroom and doveinto the far recesses of the closet’s top shelf, where my pistolwas still holstered. There were no bullets in the gun, which gaveme great comfort that I hadn’t put my son in harm’s way just as Ithought. But then I realized that I was going to pick up the gunand aim it at my head, that I needed at least one bullet toaccomplish this feat. It was my wisdom that made me place the gunand bullets in separate locations in order to diffuse the situationin case my wife and son found the firearm. My mind was so cloudedthat I hadn’t the foggiest idea where I had hidden the bullets, soI yelled, “Where are the bullets?!!!”
My wife and son continued thehallucination by standing near a dresser set of drawers, “You putthem in the back of your sock drawer, Thomas,” Maggie said as theypointed to the location. “Hurry!” Nathaniel added as the faded outagain, much to my frustration. I ran over to the dark wood dresserand opened the drawer, throwing socks in the air behind me until Icame onto the box of bullets. It had been a while, at least eightyears, since I had loaded a gun, so I nervously and unsteadilytried to fit the bullets in a chamber with little success until avoice inside me said, “It only take one.”
I must have been walking while Iwas trying to load the gun, and when I finally got one in thechamber I was standing near the front door. I lifted the gun towardmy head without hesitation until I heard someone pounding on myfront door, which temporarily stopped me from completing thetask.
“Please go away!” I yelled as Icontinued to raise the heavy gun until it was pointed at myhead.
“Don’t do it,” the voice calmlysaid from the other side of the door. “I have a way that you willbe able to see your wife and son again.”
Before that knock on my door, Ifelt that I had run out of options. But now I had a choice: eitherblow my brains out and potentially be with my family, or listen tothe voice on the other side of the door promising full restitution.I decided to walk toward the door as I lowered the gun to my side,“How do I know you’re not one of vile things that bitepeople?”
“I’m offended,” the man said. “Howdo I
