A Journey of Souls

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A Journey of Souls Page 3

by Michael McKinney


  Shane Keller's wife Diane, tries her best to maintain a semblance of normalcy with her family even though that means doing without the pleasure of having her daughter and grandchildren visit her at home. The dysfunctional arrangement seems abnormal in the extreme for Diane and has put a considerable strain on her marriage. She's always known of her husband's inveterate habit of not being involved in the lives and interests of others, but she never thought it would so negatively affect her home and family life. Knowing this disheartening family dilemma she finds herself in is completely unnecessary makes her predicament seem even more galling and utterly pointless.

  Adding to her frustration today is the fact that she's just learned an old high school girlfriend of hers was in town last weekend and called to see when she could come to visit, but because Diane's husband failed to relay the message, she never got to see that old friend. She finds it difficult to understand how her husband could fail to convey this simple message. Her grumbling aggravation grows into general resentment as she walks into the living room to ask him about it.

  “Why didn't you tell me Sue Beckman called last Saturday?”

  “Oh yeah, I forgot.”

  “She was my best friend all through high school. She lives in Seattle. She doesn't come here that often. I wanted to see her.”

  “I'm sorry. What do ya want me to do?” he asks as he reaches for a stale slice of pizza left over from the night before.

  “I don't understand, all you had to do was let me know she called.”

  “I said I forgot, okay?”

  Resigned to her frustration, Diane suppresses her anger and tries to elicit a different response to a different subject.

  “I'm driving over to see Linda and the kids. You remember her. She's our daughter. Is there anything you want me to tell her?”

  “Nope,” he says curtly.

  “That's what I thought. I should've known better to ask.”

  “Come on, it's a big deal over nothin'. I don't know what she's so angry about. ”

  With this rude rebuff still fresh in her ears, Diane simply walks out of the room, and out the front door. After lighting a cigarette, Shane Keller looks at his watch to check the time. Seconds later the doorbell rings signaling the expected arrival of the cable repair man.

  “Mr. Keller?”

  “Yeah, that's me.”

  “Hi, I'm Robert with Constellation cable. My work order says you have intermittent signal loss.”

  “I was watchin’ the game yesterday and it just went blank.”

  “You mean it went static, no signal at all?”

  “ That's right, nothin'.”

  “Okay, let me check a few things out, and make sure you're getting a strong signal.”

  “Yeah, do whatever you have to. The game's comin’ on later tonight, first game o’ the playoffs. I don't wanna miss it.”

  “I know. I'll be watching it too. Cubs have a good team this year.”

  “Well, they finally got some pitchin'. If a team doesn't have good pitchin', they don't have anything.”

  As the repair man begins his work, Mr. Keller hears his phone ring.

  “Hello, ... hey Steve, How's it goin? ... Uh yeah, I'm due back on the twenty-third. What? ... He wants to know if I can come in on the twenty-second? No, can't do it. ... Well, so what? His daughter's gettin’ married. That doesn't mean anything to me. ... Listen, Steve, it's my vacation, and I want every day of it. I don't care if it is the last day. I'm not comin’ back to work a day early so he can over-eat at his daughter's wedding. It won't happen. ... Okay Steve, you to, go Cubs.”

  Hanging up the phone, Mr Keller voices his annoyance.

  “Hmm, Somebody callin’ for his friend who needs a day off, you're barkin’ up the wrong tree pal.”

  “Who's that, a coworker?” the repairman asks.

  “Another driver wants me to cut my vacation a day early so he can go to his daughter's wedding. That's not my responsibility. They should’ve worked that out beforehand.”

  Looking intently at the repair man Mr Keller says, “Don't ever get involved in someone else's problems. All it does is drag you down.”

  Pointing to a frame mounted on the wall of his living room with an image of three over-sized capital letters printed in black with a white background for emphasis, Mr Keller drives his point home.

  “You see those letters on that wall D, G, I? I put that up there as a little reminder. You know what they stand for?”

  “What's that?” the repairman asks.

  “Don't get involved. D, G, I, don't get involved, that's what, and that's the way I choose to live my life. Keller says emphatically. I mean don't get involved period, ever, at all, because when you do it's gonna cost ya. It'll cost ya money, time, aggravation, something. It's not worth it. Then if ya do help somebody, you know they're gonna ask you again.”

  “Yeah, sometimes that happens,” the repair man says.

  “Not sometimes, it's always that way. You're young. Take some good advice from someone much older. You'll save yourself a lot o’ heartache. Take care of number one, and only number one. This sappy nonsense about helping your fellow man is a bunch o’ shit as far as I'm concerned.”

  “I don't know,” the repair man says defensively.

  “I do. Every year at Christmas the Salvation Army sets up their sympathy bucket in front o’ the grocery store I go to. The same guy is there year after year. When he sees me comin’ he looks the other way. That's the way I like it, and if you're smart that's the way you'll like it too. People don't like me for it, but I don't care. My daughter hasn't spoken to me now for two years, doesn't bother me in the least.”

  “Well, She'll probably change her mind,” the repair man says.

  “She'll have to, cause I'm not changin’ mine.”

  Refocusing on his work, the repair man says,

  “I found your problem. You had a frayed wire that was shorting out your connection. Let's see if we have a picture.”

  After turning on the TV, and seeing all program channels restored, the repair man quickly gathers his tools to leave.

  “Good job, that didn't take long,” Mr Keller says.

  “It was a simple fix. Okay, I'll leave my card with you Mr Keller in case you have any problems. You're under our maintenance plan so there's no charge today.”

  “Great, so that's it?”

  “That's it.” the repair man says.

  “I appreciate you comin’ over.”

  “Well, we appreciate your business. Enjoy the game.”

  “I will, and remember what I said, D, G, I, don't get involved.”

  “Have a good day Mr Keller.”

  As Shane Keller walks back to his easy chair, he has no idea he's experiencing the last few moments of his earthly life. After sitting down Mr Keller reaches for another cigarette and suddenly feels a sharp stabbing pain in his chest and a tingling numbness in his right hand and arm. Quietly sitting back, a terrible apprehension comes over him. Shane Keller is having a heart attack. Trying to be absolutely still doesn't help, and as the pain increases it feels like the weight of a car being placed on his chest. Now only moments remain. Through his agony he hears a preview of tonight's play-off game from the TV announcer. It seems as if he's hearing and seeing it from hundreds of feet away. As his head slowly rolls back to its rest, he sees the framed picture on the wall. Shane Keller takes in the last scene his eyes will ever see of this world, the framed image of three capital letters D, G, and I. A slowly enveloping darkness settles in as the life of Shane Keller comes to its close.

  Then, as if waking within a dream he sees himself reliving a scene from his childhood when he nearly drowned while swimming in a river near his parents’ home. The desperately frantic struggle of the eleven-year-old boy is as fresh and vivid for Shane Keller as the day he experienced it. Seeing the ima
ge of panic stricken fright on the boy's face as he gulps in mouthfuls of river water is a shuddering apparition. He also sees the strong arm of the stranger that pulled him to safety that day so many years ago, a stranger who chose to get involved. The scene fades again to darkness. Shane Keller then finds himself walking down a long sidewalk. In the distance he can see a long row of houses on each side of an unfamiliar street.

  Mr Keller wonders where and what this place is. He remembers being home and the terrible chest pain he experienced. Whatever this place is, at least that horrific pain hasn't followed him here. He wonders if he's dead, but how can he be? He's walking forward, feeling the wind in his face, hearing the normal sounds of daily life, seeing what looks like a world very similar to the one he's always known. If he's not dead, then where exactly is he? This must be a dream, or is it? As he continues walking, he sees a figure ahead coming toward him. He can just barely determine that it's a woman. Within a few minutes the woman approaches him and by her greeting seems to know him.

  “Hello, Mr Keller.”

  “Who are you?”

  “My name is Brianna.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Very little, I'm here to welcome you to this place, and help you get to your destination.”

  “What destination? I have no destination.”

  “We all have destinations waiting for us Mr Keller. You're no exception.”

  “What place is this?”

  “This place is the sum total of personal choices and preferences made over a lifetime, the distilled essence, and logical outcome of those choices, your choices Mr Keller. You might think of it as an inheritance, a self-bequeathed inheritance, and it's time for you to collect what's rightfully yours.”

  “I don't know what you're talkin’ about.”

  “I know you don't, not yet,” Brianna says.

  “Yeah well, I don't know where this place is, but I don't plan on stayin'. You do what you want lady. I'm walkin’ up to that town and find out how to get back home. I don't believe anything you say. How do ya like that?”

  “Oh, I have no preference in the matter, Mr Keller.”

  “Yeah right, adios lady.”

  “Hasta la vista, Mr Keller.”

  With this Shane Keller turns away from the strange woman named Brianna and begins walking toward the small town ahead of him.

  It seems like just another day, in any residential section of any town or city across the country. Commonly familiar things in their usual place project an air of normalcy. A sidewalk leading him on, punctuated with driveway entrances every forty feet or so, looks no different than any in his memory. As he walks forward, he sees an endless row of houses, all with porches only a few feet from the sidewalk. There are bicycles and children's toys in the yards of many of the homes reassuring him that nothing is amiss in this urban landscape. Looking into the distance ahead, he sees no one. It seems he has this world to himself, and so he continues. He walks on and notices a school bus parked on the other side of the street in the distance ahead. As he gets closer, he can see there are children inside and his forward gait finally brings him to the point where the crowded school bus is directly across the road from where he's standing. The children in the bus are all very young. Hearing their noisy gaggle spurs a cluster of memories from his own childhood. Shane Keller almost forgets the sobering words he heard from the mysterious woman called Brianna. In his mind he tries to make sense of where he is, and what's happening around him. He thinks to himself, there's nothing to worry about. This place seems okay. What could happen?

  Everything around him is normal, and predictably typical of any neighborhood street he's ever seen. All is as it should be. The sight of a school bus filled with happy children confirms in him a general sense that this is a benevolent place. What and where ever this new world is, it seems not very different from the one Shane Keller was born into, and lived all his life. As he stands there motionless, several children see him and begin waving at him. Their friendly smiles evoke no response on his part and he simply stands there looking back at them. Then he unexpectedly notices a strong odor. The unmistakable smell of gasoline is in the air around him. Looking beneath the school bus, he sees a steady trickle of fuel coming from the gas tank, and flowing all the way into the gutter, and down the street. Moments later, a passing car goes by and Shane Keller sees the hand from the passenger side carelessly flick the lit cigarette into the gutter where it ignites the trickled stream of gasoline.

  Time slows, and apprehension quickens as he sees the flame gradually make its way toward the parked school bus. Instantly perceiving the danger, he looks to warn the driver, but for some reason the driver is absent. These children are alone. He knows what he has to do, but when he tries to move his feet, they are completely unresponsive. An inexplicable paralysis makes it impossible to move his body from the waist down. He sees the approaching flame getting closer to the bus sixty feet away. In an attempt to warn the unsuspecting children he tries to speak but his voice is slow, garbled, and unintelligible. Unable to express himself, his frantic arm waving draws only curiosity and laughter from the children looking at him. The advancing flame continues, following the trickle of gasoline back to its source now less than forty feet away. Shane Keller tries again to move his legs and feet, but finds he is no longer ambulant. Dumbfounded over his inability to move or speak, complete psychological panic seizes his thoughts.

  Time slows even further, as he thinks, “is this nightmare really going to happen?”

  He looks on fearfully as the flame continues its progress. Trying to point at the imminent danger isn't any more successful. The children mistake his muddled incoherence for a happy game of pantomime and begin mimicking his unintelligible gestures. The moving flame is now only a few yards away from the dripping fuel tank and a frightful realization comes over him. He'll be able to do nothing but watch the horrible event unfold in front of him. He sees the smiling innocence of faces looking back at him, completely oblivious to what's about to happen. The face of one child in particular holds his attention. He fixes his gaze on the beautiful young girl who looks to be no older than ten. With her well-groomed straight black hair, and oriental face, her diffident smile, and angelic expression seems to say ‘I'm sorry', as if she was silently apologizing to the man she sees across the street waving his arms incomprehensibly, as if she is ashamed for the other children not showing respectful deference to an elder.

  As linear time comes to a slow crawl for Shane Keller, he sees the flame is now directly under the fuel tank. His anguished gaze is transfixed on the beautiful young face looking back at him, a face he'll remember for a very long time. From the periphery of his view he sees the flame rise from the asphalt to the leaking fuel tank. The explosion that follows is instantaneous as fire engulfs the interior of the school bus, The noisy banter of happy youngsters is suddenly replaced by the shrieking fright of children about to be burned to death. Seeing their terrified struggle as they pound on the windows to escape, their agonizing ordeal is unbearable to witness, yet he finds it impossible to turn away. He looks again and sees the girl in a panic of absolute fear. She manages to look back at the man who appears to be passively witnessing the terrible event from across the street, with an expression that seems to say, ‘why didn't you warn us?’ As their eyes lock, her hair and clothing erupt in flame. One last paroxysm of screaming agony and the pathetic cries of the innocent fall silent. The inferno becomes so hot, the metal roof of the bus melts away. A pall of chemically laden black smoke rises, and with it, the ghastly smell of burning human flesh.

  Psychologically traumatized, Shane Keller still finds it impossible to move his legs. Then he hears a siren wailing, then another. Two fire trucks quickly appear, and a frenzy of activity ensues. Time resumes its normal pace, and Shane Keller feels his temporary paralysis suddenly lift. Coherent speech returns with all his prior faculties, and he finds himself in the im
mediacy of the present moment. He hears the jarring clamor of men with axes cutting open the side of the school bus that is now only a charred ruin. With every sharply pounding stroke the terrible realization of what just happened is driven deeper into his psyche. Flashing lights and sirens signal the arrival of emergency medical teams and their shouting voices heighten the frantic intensity of the moment. Within seconds, they're ready for action and wait only for the fire to be extinguished, but all effort is useless. It's too late. The burned off roof allows bright sunlight to reveal a horrific scene. The buse’s interior became so hot that most of the seats were burned down to their frames, but worst of all, the blackened wreck shows the desperate struggle of the young children who perished, all twenty-nine of them. The sizzling low intensity hiss of skin and muscle tissue being cooked is heard by those first entering the wreck, and the haunting nemesis that every fireman finds impossible to forget; the unmistakable smell of burned human flesh, hangs dreadfully in the air. Hopes of saving anyone from this tragedy are instantly dispelled. There is nothing that can be saved here. Medical teams poised in scrambled readiness have their worst fears confirmed when a fireman walks toward them shaking his head. The two words he utters are hopeless.

 

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