Trapped in the Darkness

"No, sir. Do you want to talk to Katie?"

"Dear God, yes!"

"Joe, Joe, it's Katie."

"My angel," I said. "It's so good to hear your voice."

"It's good to hear yours, too, Joe. Cpl. Worthington says you'll be out by nightfall."

"What time is it now?"

"A little after 3pm."

"Well, that explains why I'm so thirsty. Oh my God, Katie. I'm thirsty. Do you realize what that means?" I started to cry aloud.

"I don't understand, Joe, what does it mean?"

"It means I'm alive! If I can feel thirst, maybe I can feel something else. Something other than pain, I mean. I've been feeling my share of that lately."

"Joe, if you've survived this long, they tell me your chances of long-term survival are excellent, almost assured. You're going to be OK."

"I've been praying for that, Katie. Do you know what I want to do first when I get out of here?"

"What's that, Joe?"

"I want to look at your face. I want to see the face that belongs to the voice of God's angel that has kept me alive."

"I'm afraid I don't look very angelic right now, Joe. I haven't been home since Monday. I haven't slept much. I haven't even had a shower."

"Do you really think I'll make a good first impression, Katie?"

"I remember you from the picnic. I still have a picture on my phone of Tina at the picnic. You're the 50-ish guy sitting next to her. You have a moustache, with a little gray in it. You're wearing a navy polo shirt and khaki slacks. You're admiring her tattoo."

"That's me," I said.

There was a pause. "Tina's dead, isn't she?" Katie said.

"Yes, Katie, she is. It was very, very quick. She probably didn't even realize it was happening."

"Will I be able to have a viewing for her?"

"No."

"I guess that's good," Katie finally said. "It's better to remember her when she was pretty."

"Katie?" I said.

"Yes, Joe."

"If they'll let me, I'll swear out an ID on her. You don't need to see her."

"Thank you, Joe. Thank you for that. I'll ask. If they'll let you do that, I'd be grateful. It was hard enough identifying my husband. I don't know if I can stand to identify my baby. I might not recover from that."

"I had to identify the bodies of my wife and my 18-month old daughter when some drunk crushed them with his car. I understand. That's why I offered."

"Joe, you're a nice guy."

"I try."

"You succeed. Thank you for helping me. And thank you for what you've done for my daughter."

"What do you mean, Katie?" I asked.

"You've kept her company. You've prayed. She liked you a lot. She didn't have a lot of people that she really liked, but she liked you. She wanted to get to know you better. She wanted to be your friend. She talked about you a lot. She was planning to invite you to our place for dinner this weekend."

"Really?" I said. "That would have been nice."

"You know," Katie said with a little laugh, "I think she was trying to fix us up."

"What?"

"Kevin and I, my, um, late husband, were getting divorced. We separated soon after the picnic. I guess Tina didn't tell you that. She didn't like to talk about personal things, and Kevin and I were at least civil and mature enough to try to keep her from choosing sides.

"Nothing bad had happened. We just weren't in love anymore. We had stayed together out of convenience, I guess, but we didn't love each other. I'm not sure we ever did, looking back on it. We were friends, at one point, but it wasn't enough to be together as a married couple. Does that make sense? Do you know what I mean?"

"I think so, Katie. But, let's not talk about that right now. I'm sorry, but I'm tired."

"Oh, God, Joe, don't go to sleep on me now. Hang on. Help is close! Please, Joe."

"Katie, I'm here. I'm OK. I'm not dying, at least not yet. I'm just tired. Can I take a rain check on that dinner?"

The phone beeped a few times and then died. Only after it was off could I hear other sounds. I heard a dog barking. It sounded very close. Then I heard a tinny voice.

"Joe? This is Cpl. Worthington. If you can hear me, tell me where my voice is. Is it coming from your left, or your right? Above your head or below?"

"J.C.? You sound like you're right over my face, but you sound like you're talking through a wall or something."

"Joe, I'm moving the mike. Tell me where my voice goes. Where am I now?"

"If my ears are working right, you're off to my left but still at head level. You're louder, too. Could that be right?"

"You're pretty good at this, sir. Thermal imaging confirms that the mike is now about four feet from your left shoulder. You're lying on your back. Your left arm is bent at the elbow, and you're lying on your left hand. Your legs are more-or-less straight out below you, and your right arm is extended almost straight out to your right side. Looking good, sir!"

"J.C., if you can see that with your thermal imaging stuff, does that mean that my limbs are warm?"

"Yes, sir."

"So they're attached."

"Yes, sir.

"I've been wondering about that. So they have circulation?"

"It would appear so, sir."

"So, I'm intact."

"It would appear so, sir."

"Then get me the hell out of here. I have a dinner date."

"YES, SIR!"