Chapter IV ☯ Adjustment
Near Falls City, NE, Aug. 6, 1966, 23:55 CST
After Sarah tells us our options, I decide I’ve had enough of sitting around. I stand, dragging Samantha up with me.
‘Feel like walking?’ I ask her.
‘Okay,’ she says, unsteadily.
‘I think I want to take a look,’ I say, surprising myself.
Samantha surprises me even more.
‘Me too. I don’t know why,’ she says.
We take a few steps towards the flames. Sarah touches my arm.
‘Are you sure you want to do that, dear?’ she asks, concern in her face.
‘You said we had choices,’ I say.
She lets go of my arm, stands back. Samantha and I walk closer to the flames.
There are now a couple of fire trucks in the field, men in wet yellow raincoats squirting water on the flames. Debris is scattered around a crater, the blackened earth has been sprayed up in the air. In the darkness, in the remaining flashes of lightning, we can see shapes of metal, chairs, the landing gear, lumps on the ground. A section of the fuselage, blackened, all the windows missing, sits on the ground, not far away. Above the window holes, the words ‘Braniff’ are still visible. It’s the section where we were sitting, and about the only big, recognizable piece left.
We stand looking at the scene for a minute. I feel someone come up behind me. Sarah touches my shoulder.
‘Most souls stay near their first bodies. I suspect that you separated in mid-air and came down apart from your body, which explains the separation. It’s rather unusual,’ she says.
Samantha is starting to cry again.
‘Are … are we in there?’ I ask.
‘Are you sure this is something you want to do?’ Sarah asks. Again.
‘You hold onto Samantha. I’m going,’ I reply.
I pass Samantha, who is practically sobbing again, over to Sarah. I take a deep breath, noticing that I don’t smell anything in particular. No smoke or burning or rain or anything. I don’t feel the heat coming off the remaining piles of flame. I walk closer to the fuselage.
Men are walking around, yelling at each other. Flashlights play over the scene, water splashes over the burning debris. I peer through the window opening of the fuselage, can see some seatbacks reflected in the flickering light.
I step back, then walk around the end of the debris. All that’s left are six seats at crazy angles, the left side of the first class cabin, basically. The bulkhead in front is gone, wires and metal are twisted all around, in tangles everywhere. I edge around and forward. I can see something in two of the seats, some shapes.
In the last row of seats, next to the window, is the body of the woman in black who sat and never said anything, just stared out the window. She’s not saying anything now either, because she hasn’t got a head. It’s just more or less a torso and stumps of limbs still strapped into a seat, her black dress in tatters.
I move forward some more so I can look at the front row, seat 1A. My seat. Something’s in it, but I don’t really recognize it. It’s a body, my body. My head’s still on, but it looks like I sneezed and blew my insides out of my ears, eyes, nose, mouth. My limbs are missing. I’m not there anymore. I’m here. Funny, I don’t really feel anything. A fireman comes around the side of the wreckage and spots my body still propped in its seat, turns aside and starts retching violently.
I stand for a minute taking it in. Then I walk back around the debris section, up the small incline to Samantha and Sarah, who are still standing and hugging each other.
At first, Sarah hesitates to speak, then asks, ‘Did you see what you needed to see?’
‘Apparently so,’ I say.
Samantha comes over and re-attaches herself to me. She’s crying, but no longer sobbing. We hug for awhile.
‘I suppose I should try to find Jeannie and the pilots,’ Samantha says, breaking the silence.
‘We can try,’ I say.
We look around the field. People are walking around, some dressed like Sarah, some obviously the dazed recently deceased like us, some firefighting volunteers from the nearby towns. More fire engines, cars, ambulances, gawkers begin arriving. The field is getting crowded.
‘Who is Jeannie?’ Sarah asks.
‘She was the other stewardess working the flight with me,’ Samantha says, crying again.
Sarah takes a small leather-bound book out of a hidden pocket in her dress. She opens it, takes out a stylus and taps and writes on the page. There’s a light glow from the page reflected in her face. She reads for a moment, then looks up at us.
‘A guide by the name of Molly says that she is helping a woman named Jeannie from the back of the plane. She’s wearing a uniform. They’re about half a mile from here,’ she says.
Later, I’ll realize how weird and amazing her book is. At the time, we’re still in shock and just accept her announcement at face value. She writes a short note back in the book, then shuts the cover and puts it back in her hidden pocket.
‘They’re going to wait for us. Come with me,’ Sarah says, and walks off to the southeast, away from the flames. We follow without questioning.
Suddenly, Samantha looks up at me with a surprised look on her face. I can tell what she’s thinking. We don’t have lights, and it’s pitch dark out here (the lightning has receded far to the south), but we can see very clearly were we’re going.
‘It’s okay,’ I tell her, holding her hand.
After about 20 minutes of walking across the field and a road, climbing across barbed wire, we come to the banks of a creek where two women are standing looking at a book like Sarah’s, their faces glowing in the darkness. They look up when they see us approach.
Jeannie, like Samantha, is still in her Braniff uniform, and looks perfect, even though she too has been crying. She runs toward Samantha and I feel relieved, lighter. Jeannie can take over the propping up Samantha duties.
The other woman comes forward, extends her hand to me.
‘I’m Molly Brandon. I’m happy to know you,’ she says. ‘Would you like something to drink?’
I can still have a drink? Is the pope Catholic?
‘What do you have?’ I ask her.
‘I have some brandy, it’s usually best in these situations. I also have water, some lemonade. Your choice,’ Molly says.
‘You are prepared!’ Sarah says. ‘I was caught flat-footed.’
‘Well, I just happened to be out camping. Wasn’t expecting this either,’ Molly replies.
‘Uh, brandy would be good,’ I say.
Molly takes out a flask and a cup and pours me a good belt of brandy. I raise the glass to her and then drain it down my throat. It burns all the way down, reinforces the feeling that I’m actually still alive, warms my belly, gives me a glow.
‘God, that’s good!’ I exclaim. ‘You two should have some.’
Jeannie and Samantha manage to stop hanging on to each other long enough to take some brandy. It seems to help all of us ‘right the ship,’ as it were. We sit in a circle on the ground.
‘I’m not sure what to say,’ says Jeannie.
‘It’s okay, dear. Most people don’t. Take your time,’ says Sarah.
‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ says Samantha.
I just stare at the creek.
Finally, I look up at Molly and Sarah, who are sitting side-by-side and calmly looking at the stars which have finally appeared with the passing of the storm, rocking back and forth slightly.
For some reason, I feel the need to thank Sarah. She accepts my thanks with a little laugh, saying it’s her job, and the moment passes.
‘What’s next? We sit here the rest of the night? You said we had choices, and we’re still in the first dimension. Maybe it’s time to talk about those choices,’ I said.
‘Of course, dear,’ says Sarah. ‘What about you two? Do you care to hear this or would you prefer more time?’ she asks Jeannie and Samantha.
They look at each other and then nod. ‘We want to hear,’ says Jeannie, who seems a little calmer and more together than Samantha. I seem to remember from seeing them together earlier in the day that Jeannie looked a bit older, maybe that’s why. They look the same age now, though. Forever 25.
‘Well, I mentioned that your options are to stay here and wander around, do what you like, become a guide to help others, or make the transition to the next dimension. And that’s exactly what you can do,’ Sarah says.
‘If you stay here, you’ll have realized by now that you can’t interact with anyone from the first dimension. You’re in more or less limbo, able to talk only to those who are deceased and haven’t transitioned yet. You won’t feel rain or wind or any sensation from the first dimension. You won’t be able to haunt houses or slam doors or fly through the air, but, as you saw on our walk when we hopped fences, you still have to go around obstacles, obey the laws of physics and gravity, which still apply. You’ll walk around, maybe hitch a ride on a car or truck if there’s room,’ she says.
‘But you have to ask yourself, why would you just stay here and wander around? Some people do it because they like to watch other people without those people knowing about it,’ she says.
‘You mean Peeping Toms?’ I ask.
‘Exactly. Some people stay here and just watch others. Sometimes it’s a jealous husband who stays and watches his wife. Sometimes it’s just a nosy gossipy type. There are a million reasons why someone stays behind,’ she says.
‘The second option is becoming a Guide like Molly and I. You hang around an area like this and whenever someone dies, you … guide them. You do what I’m doing now, answer questions, tell them their choices, guide them in making their transition, or just send them on their way. There are training programs in almost every populated town where you can go. Other Guides train new Guides and the program perpetuates. Been going on for centuries. They answer your own questions, show you how to deal with the recently deceased, and get you ready to serve others. People who do this generally enjoy helping others through crisis. And crisis isn’t something you will encounter in the next dimension,’ Sarah says.
That raises many, many questions, but I stay quiet, thinking. Jeannie and Samantha are staring at the ground, absorbing the information.
‘The final, and I do mean final, option is to make the transition. But once you do, there’s no coming back, at least not that anyone has successfully discovered,’ she says.
‘In most populated towns are what are known as wormholes or strings, portals between this dimension and the next, a planet far away we refer to as Dragan. The portals are available and seen only by the deceased who can make the trip,’ she says.
‘If you step into a portal, you are basically transported through to the other side, on Dragan. As a Transitional, you end up on one of what are known as the Embarkation Islands, where you will be cared for in a healing house while you rest up and heal and adjust to your new life and body and reality. The transit makes you very tired and weak; it usually takes about 25 days in the healing house to recover from it. Then, after the 25 days of recovery are over, you are released and you can take ship for the mainland, which is where you can spend eternity doing whatever you’d like,’ Sarah says.
‘Yes, eternity. To our knowledge, no one in the second dimension has ever suffered an injury, illness, or death or experienced the aging of their bodies beyond what you have yourselves right now. Later, we can talk more about that. For now, you can think about whether you want to go ahead and make the transition. Something like 97 percent of all people and 100% of animals make the transition almost immediately. A few hang around and watch their funerals, but most are eager to experience what’s next,’ she says.
‘There is a portal in Falls City, about seven miles away. We can take you to it, unless you’re thinking about hanging around. We will either stay with you and help or take you to the portal, or leave you alone, as you wish. You’re under no obligation to be a Guide. You can just … wander around. Some do,’ she says.
There’s a very long silence in the dark. In the distance, we can hear the sounds of engines and men shouting and see the remaining glow of flames from the crash site. More sirens, more cars are coming. Samantha and Jeannie are holding on to each other still, while Molly is sitting with her arms wrapped around her legs. I lean back on my hands, stretching out my legs in front of me. Even though it’s been a very long day, I’m not tired anymore.
I’ve never been one to just sit around and now I’m getting a little restless. I never have really liked sitting around in cow pastures.
‘Do we need to look for your captain, see what other people are doing or choosing?’ I ask Jeannie and Samantha.
They look at each other, undecided.
‘I’m not sure I would want to see him right now,’ Samantha says. Jeannie nods her head in agreement. I think I agree; he might be a bit, well, embarrassed. I would be. Not that it’s his fault or anything.
‘I think it would be good to go to town. Sitting out here in the dark is kind of creeping me out, you know?’ Samantha says, standing up.
I stand up and agree with her.
‘I’ve never been to Falls City, Nebraska. Anything to see there?’ I ask Sarah.
She laughs again. I realize it’s a delightful noise and makes me happy when I hear it. She’s well-suited for her chosen job.
‘There’s nothing there to speak of. Folks will probably be aroused by things right now, but it’s usually a pretty sleepy place. It’s about seven miles, so it’ll take us a while to walk it,’ Sarah says.
‘I’m up for a walk. I’m feeling a need to stretch my legs, put some distance from all this,’ I say.
‘Me too,’ says Samantha, surprising me.
‘Come with us?’ she asks Jeannie.
‘Okay, why not?’ Jeannie says.
Molly and Jeannie stand up. Sarah starts off toward town, the rest of us behind her. Samantha is between Jeannie and I and we’ve all linked arms. Molly brings up the rear. We walk through the dark Nebraska countryside toward the distant glow of Falls City. ★
• 2599 Words written by Steve @ 21:34 | 09-Dec-07 in Death •
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