Sunday, January 13, 2013

THE EYE OF WINTER


The eye of winter dilates and then contracts.

The fog descends.
Ghosts climb up the mountain.
It is dusk now and the world has turned a pale blue.
I can see my breath in the cold air.
I fumble with a key that does not turn.
It is for another door in another life.
I'm locked out; there's nothing left to do.
I will not find myself at home tonight.






Monday, January 7, 2013

IN A FIELD OF GHOSTS (PART TWO)


The wedding bells are ringing,
The boys and girls are singing;
Ashes, Ashes,
All fall down.”
Nursery Rhyme


Rouan awoke in a hospital bed in a room he did not recognize, in a place he did not know. He had no idea where he was. He felt like he'd been crawling uphill out of the darkness for ages, digging himself from out of a dark cave far below the earth. He was exhausted from the climb. For some time (he did not know exactly for how long) he could make out the outline of a kind of reality (a dreamscape really) but no more. He could hear voices, sounds, and at times could understand what was being said. But he couldn't put it all together. It was all a blur, one endless night of shadows and sounds. It was as if he was buried under a great weight, and the way forward was blocked. His awakening was gradual. There were flashes of awareness. The outside world was in darkness. Even so, a nurse noticed a change in him. She brought in several other nurses and a doctor. A light flashed in his eye and after that flash everything changed, the world opened up. He reacted involuntarily. He tried to speak. The doctor was startled. He smiled. With great effort Rouan raised his arm slightly. His head would not move; it seemed to be anchored to his pillow. He looked round the room using just his eyes. Everyone was amazed. He'd come back from the dead. But for Rouan everything seemed unreal; he was unaccustomed to the world that he'd awakened to.

As the days passed, Rouan began communicating, speaking in short sentences, with the nurses in French. Rouan was told he had been in a coma. When he looked at his withered arms and legs, he thought he must have been in a terrible accident. He had little recall of the blow to his head. Finally, he was given a mirror. He could not believe what he saw. He was an old man, wrinkled and gray. It was a shock. He recognized his features, his eyes; the shape of his jaw but his skin seemed paler and had aged. As his strength increased, he was allowed to move about in a wheelchair. Finally it was disclosed to him that he had been in a coma for well over twenty years. He had so many questions. It was all so much like a dream. It was like waking up after a long sleep. But it was impossible to comprehend that years had gone by rather than hours. What about his family? What about his court case? Would he be returned to prison? No, he was told his case had been dismissed years before. In fact, one of the nurses told him that the hospital had gotten in touch with his former lawyer, Jean-Marc Frenot.

Frenot had aged but still was fit, agile (he was in his thirties when he first represented Rouan; he was now in his late fifties). His attitude toward Rouan had changed, the skepticism was gone. There was a look of compassion and respect when he gazed into Rouan's eyes.

Frenot shook his head and smiled, "How are you feeling Robert?" He never had used Rouan's first name before.

“I am very tired. I feel that I've been packed away in a attic gathering dust for ages.”

“We have both gathered some dust." Frenot smiled. "You are lucky to be alive.”

“It is so strange. It seems as if we were speaking just a few days ago. But I know that isn't true.”

“No one expected that you would recover.”

“Do you know anything about my family in the United States?” Rouan asked.

Frenot had expected this question but Rouan sensed it was difficult for him to answer and not necessarily because he did not have an answer but because there was something unpleasant that he wanted to keep from Rouan.

Frenot sighed: “I was in touch with both your ex-wife and mother.”

“Have you heard from them recently?”

“No.” Frenot looked away.

Rouan could see that Frenot was wounded by the question.

“There is something more. Tell me.”

“Robert, no one believed you. We should have listened.” As Frenot said this, a weight seemed to have lifted from his soul.

“What do you mean? What does this have to do with my family?” In the back of Rouan's mind, a horrible thought was taking shape, but he wasn't sure what it all meant. He was confused.

“The plans you discovered.”

“What are you talking about, the plans?” Rouan was baffled.

“About the tactical nuclear weapon that you described,” Frenot answered,

“I made all of that up."

“Made up or not, they were prophetic. Somehow the system broke down. The computers in the United States indicated an imminent attack. There is strong evidence that the initial attack on Washington DC was a tactical nuclear weapon and not a missile. When I first learned of that, I thought back to the weapon that you had described. I went back and reviewed your notes. I asked myself if there could have been some truth he what you described. Was it something more than a hallucination? I asked myself over and over again. I became convinced that the first explosion was a tactical nuclear weapon similar to the one you documented.”

“I don't understand what you are saying. Someone used tactical weapons.”

“Initially, the United States in its confusion, after Washington was hit, released several ICBMs. This brought on a counter attack from China. Over a dozen U.S. cities were struck before anyone realized it was all a horrible mistake.”


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