Chapter 1
There were flashing lights all around followed by the violent, crippling shots of gunfire. I, once again, was watching through the eyes of my father in my dream as he stumbled through a marine base in Afghanistan. With a bullet in his left thigh, he didn’t move very quickly, and the sounds of the guns grew closer and closer by the second. Sand filled the air as a helicopter flew overhead and vehicles stormed the base, making vision nearly impossible beyond ten feet. Without anywhere else run, he was surrounded. The feeling sinking into my gut was the same every time- pure terror.
Even though I knew what happened in this dream, I was terrified for my father every single time. As he knelt to his knees, accepting his fate, the only thing I could think about was the cold and emptiness spreading through my... his limbs. Every ounce of hope was bleeding out with each second that he sat there, alone and weak. With his head pointed at the ground, the last thing I see before I leave the dream is the dark red, thick liquid pooling into the sand. Then darkness.
I woke with a start, searching for my covers to warm my freezing limbs, resembling the feeling my father must have felt in my dream. I didn’t normally wake up in a cold sweat, but I wasn’t surprised when I felt the beads soaking my body head to toe. Watching my father in his last moments over and over and over again is the only thing that plays in my dreams anymore. I am tormented by the guilt and dread of my father’s absence during the day and night now. Even though I don’t really know what my dad saw before he died, my mind liked to fill in those details, so I could never forget. I could never forget about the feeling of him being completely and utterly alone during the last minutes of his life even though he was always there for every single one of mine.
My dad raised me all on his own after my mom left shortly after giving birth to me. No one knows why she left or where she went. But that didn’t stop my dad from making sure I felt loved even though I didn’t know most of my family or they didn’t want to know me. So, it was just my dad and I living in countries all over the world. He was relocated every few years being that he was a Sergeant major in the Marine Corps. I didn’t mind though. We always explored the new cities as much as we could, making each place feel like home instead of just a place we stayed at for the time being.
That was until about 6 years ago when I permanently moved to the United States to go to college and he was sent to Afghanistan. He would visit whenever he could, but he was away most of the time. We said our last goodbye before the start of my senior year. A year later, I got the news that my only family had died during his service. Now, two years later, I live in an apartment by myself next to the university I work at as a history professor.
I had to be up in three hours for that job and I really needed to get some rest. But after I rolled onto my side, attempting to wash out the nightmare from my memory and go back to sleep, my eyes stayed glued open, staring out my window at the glinting stars dusting the night sky. I watched those stars for what felt like only a few minutes when I heard my 5:30 alarm go off. Reaching over, I gently tapped the dismiss button and dragged myself to the bathroom joined to my room.
It only took me an hour to be ready and walking out the door and then a few minutes later, in my car. It was a ten-minute drive to my office on the campus and I spent the whole drive trying to replace the thoughts about my dream with the overwhelming list of things to do that would no doubt be taking up today’s agenda.
Not only was I a history professor, but I was also leading a research study for my history students. What was the research about you may ask? Dead people. Specifically, the reason for mass extinctions in ancient civilizations. So, today I would be focusing on lectures, grading essays and leading our lab today. It was a hefty load of things to do but anything was better than being home alone with my thoughts, and what better way to fill my time than with my favorite subject.
Parking in my normal spot outside the building, I headed straight for the coffee in the main lobby and then to my office. The first thing I normally do when getting in is I check my email, mostly filled with students wanting an extension on an assignment due a month ago, but I try to be as polite as I can. Today, however, my newest email was from Dan Schrader, head director of the history department and also the person who decides if we have funding or not for our research study. Looking at the email immediately, I don’t sense any urgency behind it, so I decide to prepare for my 8 am lecture before visiting his office. What could go wrong?
