Page 110 of Hidden Nature

“Every day! I swear it!”

Her face, her eyes lit with genuine fervor. “I’m so happy to hear that, Zach. I believe we can atone, even from the most grievous sins.”

“I got treatment, I’m in therapy. I wake up every single day grateful I’ve got another chance to live a good life. To be a good dad, to be a good son. Please, that’s the truth. That’s my story. I want to go home now.”

“Soon. But that’s only part of your story. After you died on that rope, your father cut you down, and he pulled that rope away from your neck. He did CPR, and he pushed his breath into you.”

“He’s a paramedic, and he knew what to do. My mom got the portable defibrillator. They had to shock me twice.”

“And using that machine, they pulled you back into this world.”

“Yes. They saved my life.”

“You took your life,” Clara corrected, but gently. “What we need to know is what happened between the time you took your life and your parents pulled you back into this world.”

“I—I wasn’t breathing.”

“Yes, we know. Tell us what you saw in those few precious minutes.”

“I was clinically dead.”

Patience, Clara reminded herself. They always needed her patience.

“It’s very important, Zach. What did you see, hear, even feel during those minutes? Where did you go?”

He wet his lips, swallowed. “I was on the floor, and when the ambulance came… You want to know if I had an afterlife experience?”

“You gave up this life, and only came back into it through human intervention. Tell us what you saw, heard, felt before that human intervention. Then we can let you go.”

He looked away from her, looked toward the camera and the man behind it.

Both his body and his voice shook. “You’re recording this.”

“Of course. It’s very important, and we need to hear your story in your own words. In your own voice. Then you can go home again.”

They always clung to the idea that home meant here, on this worldly plain. That was the trick this artificial life played on them.

“I’m not really sure. I was so out of it for a while after. I thought I heard voices, but I couldn’t tell what they were saying.”

“Did you listen, Zach? Did you listen close?”

“I don’t exactly remember. I… had a dream.”

“A dream?” She glanced back at Sam. This was new. “Tell us about the dream.”

“I was a little boy and playing with the dog. With Hetty. My grandpa’s dog. He had lots of acres, and always planted a big garden. He had chickens, and there was a creek. He taught me to fish. I was at Grandpa’s, playing with the dog. Everything was bright with summer, and everything was good. I didn’t have anything to worry about.”

“Has your grandpa passed this life, Zach?”

“He died two years ago.”

“Did you hear him call to you?”

“I don’t know. I was playing with the dog. The dog they had when I was a kid. I think I heard the chickens, and the creek bubbling.”

“You were happy there. Peaceful there.”

“I loved going there. I take Ben over to see Grandma when I can.” Zach kept his gaze locked on hers. Fear lived in it as she smiled. “She still keeps chickens, and Ben likes to see them.”

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