“Ignore them, Shepherd, they’re nothing but godless heathens.”
Patrick looks down, stunned to find Lieutenant Colonel Philip Argenti. The clergyman is floating on his back next to the raft, his body dressed in his long, flowing black cassock, his corpse towed by the boat’s moving current.
“War is hell, Shepherd. Sacrifices had to be made in order to achieve our objectives. We did what was necessary.”
“Necessary… for who?”
“Freedom comes with a price.”
“And who pays that price? We killed families… entire villages. These people never asked to be bombed and invaded.”
“Whoa there, Sergeant. People? They’re Muslims, scourge of the earth. Bunch of no-good Arabs hell-bent on destroying Western society.”
“You’re wrong. The majority of these people simply wanted to live in peace.”
“No one asked for your opinion of the mission, Sergeant. You were trained to defend America against those who seek to destroy our way of life. Instead, you took the coward’s way out, you cut and ran. In doing so, you shamed your family, you disgraced the uniform… but most of all, you betrayed our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.”
“Jesus was a man of peace. He’d never support any act of violence.”
“Wake up, Sergeant! America is a Christian nation. One nation, under God.”
“Since when is America a Christian nation? Since when does God need man to fight His holy wars? Invoking God’s name in our military actions does not sanctify violence any more than al-Qaeda proclaiming Jihad. Take a good look at them, Colonel. These are the lives we’ve butchered in God’s name, the people we vilified as an excuse to bomb their cities, the children we’ve slaughtered in order to—”
“Save your speech, traitor. Would you stand by and allow these Islamic extremists to strike our shores again? What kind of an American are you?”
“One who refuses to be your tool any longer. Linking 9/11 with Saddam, weapons of mass destruction, democracy on the march… it was all a lie. All you fanatics ever wanted was an excuse to gain control of Iraq’s oil supply. War is nothing more than a cash cow for the military-industrial complex. Who’s next? Iran? Venezuela? Is that all part of God’s plan, too?”
“Who are you to preach to me? We both know why you went to Iraq — you were looking for a target… an enemy combatant, someone you could line up in your crosshairs and blow away, reaping sweet revenge. We gave you that opportunity, Sergeant, and this is how you repay us?”
Shep gazes upon the multitude of mottled brown faces staring at him in silence. “You’re right. No one forced me to go. It was my decision, I wanted justice… revenge. I killed innocent people, convinced that God was on my side… until I took my first life. My actions never brought justice, they only brought more pain and suffering. I allowed my anger to tarnish my soul, and the blame is all mine.”
Another burst of luminescent light appears, this one a spark that ignites directly below the raft, illuminating the faces of the dead. Instead of fading, the light rises, circling Colonel Argenti like a hungry shark.
The clergyman senses the supernal being’s approach. “The Angel of Death! Don’t let him take me, Shepherd… in the name of all that’s holy—”
“It’s time, Colonel. It’s time you and I both reaped what we’ve sown.”
“I am an ordained minister… an ambassador of Christ our savior!”
The light circles closer, its luminous energy shearing the cassock and undergarments from the clergyman’s body. Philip Argenti screams as his naked form suddenly heaves out of the water onto the raft. His lifeless limbs thrust forward, his dead hands somehow managing to hook themselves around the lapel of Patrick Shepherd’s coat. “I… am a man… of God!”
“Then go to Him.” Wielding his mangled prosthetic arm like a scythe, Shep slashes Argenti's throat. The colonel flails backward, the gash in his neck spurting black ooze as he plunges back into the water—
— the spectral glow dragging him below the frothing surface with one final, sizzling flash of light.
A thousand Iraqi faces — men, women, and children — close their eyes and sink beneath the corpse-littered surface… satisfied.
Wild-eyed, Patrick Shepherd stood in the raft, slashing his steel appendage through the empty fog-ridden night.
“Stop him! He’ll slice through the raft!” Francesca held on to the sides of the roiling vessel, commanding her husband to act.
Virgil reached for Shep’s right hand, squeezing it. “Son, it’s all right. Whatever it was, it’s gone.”
Shep shook the vision loose. Confused, he allowed Virgil to guide him to his seat. The old man turned to Paolo. “He’s all right. Continue on.”
“No… this is all wrong. We’re disturbing the holiest of the holies. We shouldn’t have come—”
Francesca took her husband’s hand. “Look at them, Paolo… they’re all dead. Your son, on the other hand, he wants out.”
“My son…” Returning the oar to the water, he paddled in the direction of the crowd noises.
Virgil placed a hand on Shep’s shoulder. “What did you see? Was it the Reaper?”
“No. I saw people… victims of warfare. They rose from below… only—”
“Go on.”
“Only I didn’t kill these people. And yet, somehow I felt responsible for their deaths. There was a detached sense of familiarity to everything. Like a bad déjà vu.”
“Accepting responsibility for your actions is the first necessary step in reconnecting with the Light.”
“You’re not hearing me. I didn’t kill thousands of people.”
“Maybe you didn’t kill them in this lifetime.”
“Virgil, I already told you, I don’t believe in the whole reincarnation thing.”
“Whether you believe in it or not doesn’t make it any less true. Our five senses cause us chaos — the misperception that there are no connections. In fact, everything is connected. Déjà vu is a past incarnation experienced by the present. Whatever you did in your prior lives, I suspect that this may be your last chance to make things right again.”
“Make what right? How am I supposed to know what to do?”
“When the time comes, you’ll know. Trust your gut, your instinct. What does your intuition tell you?”
“My intuition?” Shep looked to the south.
The fog thinned as they neared the reservoir’s shoreline. Half a mile away, the night was aglow with the orange haze of a thousand fires.
“My intuition tells me things are about to become a lot worse.”
PART 4
Lower Hell
Sixth Circle
The Heretics
"And we our feet directed tow'rds the city, after those holy words all confident. Within we entered without any contest; and I, who inclination had to see what the condition such a fortress holds, soon as I was within, cast round mine eye, and see on every hand an ample plain, full of distress and torment terrible."