Dreams of Home

Despite the urgency, I took my time with this one. A miss would be certain death for Jack. I aimed carefully,allowing for the run and squeezed the trigger. Both men dropped instantaneously, both crashing into the log just a few feet from my mate. It came as no surprise that Jack had fired at the same time as I had. He was already up and running to Andy and the others. None of them had stirred since falling and it looked bad for them. The fighting in the bush was still heavy and could go either way by the sound of things. It sounded like Linden had rallied his frightened troops and was fighting back. It was time to get stuck into him from my side, which was his front but was now his rear. He'd lost a lot of men but we would still be outnumbered, although the odds were shortening. I reloaded and rose from cover and set out to join the end of this thing. One way or another. The shock and the fright hit me first. Something hard and strong clamped fiercely around my throat as I started to run. My legs flew out horizontally in front of me as I was jerked viciously backwards off my feet. The Lee Enfield flew out of my hands and they automatically went for the rock hard forearm that was now crushing my windpipe. My air had been choked off and as I landed heavily on my arse, my assailant's knees smashed brutally into my lower back. The pain was excruciating and my eyes closed and my face creased tightly with the sudden agony. Despite the pain, the need to breathe was dominating my thoughts as I fought vainly to free the vise-like grip from around my throat. Trying desperately to think, I tried to rain blows to the head of my still unseen opponent. Try as I might, I could not get a decent punch tp connect anywhere telling. A weapon, I needed a weapon. My lungs were screaming and my strength was going fast. I began to face the fact that I was being choked to death. Killed by some silent assassin I could not even see. Funny, but I always sort of expected to be shot dead, not choked by some bloke from another country. I had a stupid thought that that was the way a war was supposed to be. It was nothing personal, but I have to strangle you to death. "Ha ha, the jokes on you,mate. I've already shot a shit-load of your mates. It was nothing personal." From somewhere inside me I realized I was dying. My hand groped to my belt. My revolver was not there. Some bastard must have knocked it off. I'll kick his arse when I catch him. My knife was gone too. Must have lost it. Somehow I felt my neck being bent over backwards. The pain came then as my neck vertebrae reached their breaking point. The pain was fierce and intense and I tried to cry out with the torment of it. The pain became everything. The pain was alive. The pain gave me a last chance. I began to fight. Instinct for survival sent me a little bit of strength. Then it sent me some more. My mind must have cleared for a moment. A huge white eye and evilly grinning black face filled my vision. It seemed to be laughing at me as well as trying to tell me something. "What is it?" I asked. The black face grinned. Yellow and purple pinpricks of light exploded exploded out of the black face and suddenly I could hear the birds. Beautiful white birds spiraling lazily across an azure sky. There were brilliant green trees and white capped waves on a blue water and the sky. There were boats with white sails but suddenly they were spinning. Then there was that familiar voice. The voice I had listened to and loved for the whole of my short life. The spinning slowed and stopped and the black face was there again. It was talking. I knew and loved that voice but I hated the face. That didn't seem right. "Use the stick, son,"whispered my Father out of the black face. "What stick?" "Hanrahan's swagger stick, son. It's in your boot. You took it for this reason, Bill. You have to use it now." "I'm too tired,Dad. I just want to sleep for a while, alright? I'll do it tomorrow, Alright?" "William Parker!" My eyes snapped open and almost burst out of my skull. That voice. That lovely, beloved, voice. "Kate?" I asked. 'Katie, Katie?" I begged her to be there. "Yes William, it's me. I am here darling. Do as your father tells you. NOW!" I was traveling outside of myself when my arm with no strength found some from wherever I was. It reached down to my boot and Hanrahan's stolen swagger stick leapt into my suddenly powerful right hand. I could have snapped it if I had wished. The force with which I gripped that stick came from another time. And as my world spun and twisted I waited for the horrible face to come. Then suddenly I realized where I had been. I had been home. Then suddenly, there it was. The face was back. It was speaking again. I couldn't hear it very well, it was drifting away, but I was sure I heard the word. NOW! My right hand flew up from the ground and the stick miraculously vanished into the huge white eye that was laughing so cruelly at me. The suddenly the evil grin disappeared off the face and I didn't hate the face anymore. The face went slack and the other eye rolled back. Blood boiled out and bubbled hot and sticky along Hanrahan's stick and a strange sensation assailed me. I seemed to be floating. Floating on air. The feelings rushing through my body were ones of pure joy and ecstasy. The black face toppled sideways out of my vision and this wonderful new beginning coursing into my being made me light headed and dizzy. But an overall feeling of contentment remained and as the blue sky of Africa and the beautiful green tree tops of this tortured jungle slowly came into focus and my oxygen starved brain started to recover, I could only smile. I had been Home.