The Reunion

***Note: This is a flash fiction piece, limited to less than a 1,500 words for a submission to an ezine. I have also changed the title and added more story line ***

THE REUNION

         The tattered soldier appeared out of nowhere, shuffling slowly towards her. Covering her mouth, she gasped at the familiar sight. It IS him! At last he’s found me! A joyful shiver shot through Pat.

         “Can you really see me?” Brad asked, his voice raspy, like someone who hasn’t spoken a word in years.

         “Yes, Brad! Oh God, it’s been so long! The Army notified me in 1968 that you were missing in action. It seems like an eternity, sweetheart.”

         “Oh, Pat! My injuries didn’t hurt as much as the pain of never seeing you again.”

         They sat down in solitude on a nearby bench in the veteran’s cemetery -- Both afraid that they were dreaming.

         “Pat, what year is it?”

         She murmured, “It’s 2006, Brad.”

         “Thirty eight years? Seems impossible – it was only a few minutes ago that I, uh…”

         “It’s alright, darling. I’m here now and we can get caught up on things.”

         “But you’re not scared? I died, so I must be a ghost or something, right?”

         “Something like that. Let’s go over this way where we can be alone and talk.”

         Although the living couldn’t see them, there were others of their kind nearby.

         Brad wondered what was happening. It all seemed so surreal: the blazing cobalt sky, exaggerated pink clouds, the feeling of floating rather than walking, time out of synch. But he had to admit it was peaceful, whatever it was.

         “I need to ask you something, Pat, but it’s awkward and I don’t know if I’ll like the answer: did you re-marry?”

         “No, honey. I didn’t. I’ve waited for you all these years. The pain in my soul is as strong now as it was back then. But, it’s been completely replaced with euphoria now that you’re here!”

         “I don’t understand. I’m dead and yet you can see me. But I guess that’s all you can do, as you can’t feel me. What happens next?”

         He was interrupted by her soft caress of his cheek. She knew he was totally confused and disoriented -- he needed to be gently acclimated to his new state of being.

         “I felt that! How can that be? But you can’t feel me, right?”

         “I sure can. And it’s wonderful!” she said, as she then hugged and kissed him.

         “Wow! I can’t believe this! I always thought that a living person couldn’t feel physical contact by a ghost. Damn ghost stories! Stupid me!” he chuckled.

         He was speechless for a minute, his emotions whirling around. She tried not to stare at his jungle fatigues and the large, bloodstained area on his chest. His dirty face and thick, dark hair were still ruggedly handsome, though.

         “Please tell me what happened, Brad. The only thing the damn Army officer would say is that you were missing in action and they couldn’t locate your remains.”

         “I don’t think you should hear it, honey. It wasn’t very pretty.”

         “No, please tell me. It’s important.

         “Well, okay. I was assigned to the Military Police battalion in Saigon, and the Viet Cong attacked the city during their New Year holiday. They were on the verge of taking over the embassy, but we started pushing them back. The firefight was fierce, with a lot of casualties on both sides.

         Then it happened: I turned and saw a V.C. soldier standing right in front of me. I stood frozen and watched as the round from his rifle tore into my chest. I remember people screaming for a medic, gunfire all around and that was the end. The next thing I know is I’m here, talking to you. I hope this isn’t a dream, because I don’t want to leave you again.” Tears streamed down his red and blackened cheeks.

         “That must have been horrible, Brad. But I needed to find out what happened to you. You know, the closure thing and all.” Now Pat had a teary face, but was smiling through it.

         Brad gradually noticed her clothes were badly wrinkled and her hair was tousled. He was so overjoyed to see her that he initially overlooked her appearance. She knew this puzzled him. It was now time to let him know.

         “There’s something you need to see,” she whispered as she took his hand. They came upon a headstone and she stopped. Chills shot up and down Brad’s spine as he stared at the inscription:

Patricia Branson

October 29th, 1947 – May 15th, 2006

Beloved Wife of Sgt. Brad Branson

June 16th, 1946 – January 1st, 1968

MIA – 1968, Republic of Vietnam

         “I died last week in a car wreck, she said to a stunned Brad. That’s how I’m able to see and feel you.”

         “Oh God, Pat… But I’m still really confused about all this.”

         “I know. All of us that are dead, but in between life and the afterlife, go through this. We are called the ‘undead’. Time stands still and although we can see and feel each other, we have no bodily needs. No physical pain, no hunger, nothing,” Pat explained. “But we still experience emotion on a spiritual plane.”

         “Unbelievable. So what do we do in the meantime? Do the living see us?”

         “No, except for a rare number of people who can connect with our spiritual manifestations. Our existence is simple: we wait for The Light. Only then will we be transformed from the undead to purely spiritual beings.”

         “Is The Light heaven? God? Brad asked.

         “Yes, my love. We will go there at the appointed time unless we fall prey to the Soul Thieves.”

         “Soul Thieves?”

         “The living call them devils; our kind know otherwise. They steal your spiritual essence through trickery, getting you to perform an evil act. That then denies you of ever seeing The Light, condemning you to an eternity of undead hell.”

         “We won’t let that happen, Pat. We were very good people before and I won’t allow that to change.” She nodded in agreement.

         Out of the corner of his eye, Brad noticed a young guy approaching them. He was a handsome, blonde-haired twenty-something, and smiling at Pat – a too familiar smile.

         “Hi, Pat,” said the stranger.

         “Hi, Steve,” Pat replied with a twinkle in her eyes. After an awkward pause, she then introduced Brad to Steve.

         Brad felt cheated, his heart now empty. He slowly walked away from them. “I’ll leave you two alone. Goodbye, Pat…”

         “Hey, wait up, buddy!” Steve shouted as he caught up to Brad. “You don’t understand.”

         “You’re damn right I don’t! All I know is the way you were looking at each other. I guess you replaced me after I died,” Brad said in a forceful, raspy voice.

         “Brad, it’s not what you think. Pat and I love each other, but that doesn’t exclude you.”

         “What?! What kind of game are you playing with me?” Brad shouted, his fists clenched hard and his jaws set tight.

         “No game, my friend. Let’s go back to Pat and we’ll explain everything.”

         Pat’s worried face instantly changed to delight when she saw them come back.

         “Brad, this is hard to explain but it’s part of being undead. You see, Steve was the guy in the other car that hit me head-on. He died in the accident at the same time I did. I just saw him today for the first time and he’s been apologetic ever since.”

         Steve nodded and said “Brad, I fell asleep driving home after working sixteen hours straight. I crossed the lane into Pat’s car and then the accident…”

         Brad stuttered “but, but the two of you…”

         Pat explained in a slow, steady manner: “Yes, we are in love, Brad, as much as I am in love with you. But it’s not the living kind of love you understand. In our undead state, as spiritual manifestations, we possess the capacity to have pure spiritual love with all who are waiting for The Light.”

         “That’s right, Brad. We have reached the next level,” Steve said as he suddenly hugged Brad.

         Brad was stunned, not knowing how to react. He somehow felt an overwhelming sense of love and friendship towards Steve -- and was even more surprised when he sensed his positive, spiritual reciprocation surge back to Steve.

         He’s on our level, now, Pat reflected.

         “I understand now.” Brad acknowledged with a smile.

         All three left the cemetery and went out into the sunny, open meadow: all three glowing with the satisfaction of friendship and all three waiting for The Light to appear.

         It could be days, years or centuries measured by the living, but it mattered not to the undead.

         They all sat down on a nearby log, Brad and Pat holding hands tightly in a timeless reunion. And serenely waited…