Chapter Twenty-Eight

Dustin stared at the old man. He was wearing grey robes, but he wasn't as monochrome as their surroundings. He leaned heavily on a staff, but Dustin found himself staring at the man's face, seeing something in the features that he couldn't quite recognise.

"Do I know you?" Dustin asked.

"That is a rather more complicated question than you might think. The simple answer would be no. You don't know me yet."

"For a simple answer that had, like, way too many words in it."

The old man gave a slight smile.

"So, what's going on?" Dustin asked, "I think I got shot."

"Yes, you were shot. The blast has separated your spirit from your body."

"So I'm, like, dead."

"Like dead, yes. But not quite dead."

There was only one sensible thing Dustin could say to that. "Huh?"

"Your body, devoid of its spirit, will take on the appearance of death. But it is possible for a spirit such as yours, which has been parted, to return to its rightful place. If you want to. But there has to be something worth returning for."

"Something like what? My friends? Of course I want to go back."

"Friendship is not enough. It will take a deeper bond to restore you to your body."

"What kind of a bond?" Dustin asked.

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A ten-year-old boy opened the door of his house. He looked around sulkily.

"Dad?" he called, "Dad, you were supposed to pick me up from karate. Shane's mum had to drive me home. Dad?" There was no response from the silent house. The boy wandered from the hall, heading through to the kitchen.

He froze, taking in the sight of a motionless figure on the floor.

For a second he could do nothing but stare, his mind to ready to accept what lay before his eyes.

Then he ran across the tiles, crouching by his father's side.

"Dad. Dad, wake up."

He shook his dad's shoulders, but got no response. Tears were filling his eyes as he fought to get his father to wake and failed. He saw the stillness and saw the pill bottle on the floor beside him. He fumbled at his dad's neck for a pulse and not finding one.

Tears really flowing now, he grabbed the phone, dialling for an ambulance. He explained frantically what he'd found, listening to the calm voice at the other end telling him to perform CPR until the paramedics could arrive. She managed to keep the boy from panicking, explaining the steps to take.

The boy pressed down on his father's chest, trying to restart his heart. He could barely see from the salty moisture in his eyes, but still he kept pumping at his dad's chest.

"Dad, wake up," he sobbed, "Please, Dad. Don't leave me alone."

There was a movement beneath him. The man's eyes opened, a rasping breath flowing into his mouth.

"Dusty?"

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Older, but crying as much as the young boy had done, Dustin turned away from the vision. Back in the grey forest, the image of the past faded quickly, but Dustin still saw it all in his mind. He recalled so vividly what it had felt like to be that terrified boy, waiting for the sirens of the ambulance, watching his dad set out on the path his mum had already taken.

"That's not the way it happened," he said, "Dad didn't want to come back."

"Yes. I did."