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The white robes woke the men and women. His evangelical voice rang threw the magnificent Baptist church. The lord’s puppets moved as the choir sang, and every now and then a random drone would yell an Amen, or a Hallelujah. One of those frequent praisers was Bob Emmett.
The alarm clock rang and a buzzing filled the house. His white hair pulled off of the pillow. The mandatory bifocals were mounted upon the 60’s style night stand. He gained entry to his closet and pulled out some jeans and a blue shirt. The morning breakfast consisted of toast with homemade strawberry jam that his wife made last year, and a couple of eggs. This also consisted of 12 various pills that were blood thinners, blood pressure medication, arthritis medication, and vitamins. He slowly pressed the keys into the ignition; the Cadillac roared to life, and thundered down the road. He fumbled with the door knob and entered into the nursing home. His squad members were circled around a plastic table. “Where is Butch?” asked Bob.
“Dead, he died last night.” said “General” Tomas Arbuckle.
“What?” he replied.
“Yeah he had a stroke and died in his shower.” the general replied.
“Oh!” Bob exclaimed.
The old unit had 4 living members now: Capt. Walter Hamilton, General Tomas Arbuckle, Gunnery Sgt. Bob Emmett, and Corporal Herald Stein. The black coffee stained everyone’s dentures, and the small talk consisted of the weather, aches and pains, and medicine. The smell of death in the air ignited the memories of Guadalcanal.
The red fluid coated the water. The smell of burnt Tojo’s entered his nostrils. He felt the cold steel of his M1 Carbine and raised it in the air towards an advancing Japanese. Bang, Bang, Bang, the bullet pierced his white skin and entered his gut, the cowering Japanese solider fell to his knees, the bayonet of the paratrooper entered the heart of the enemy and he bled to death. Bob awaked in a cold sweat, and the smell still permeated his nostrils. He grabbed his key and he trusted it into the ignition.
His mind raced and the keys were thrown down, and a sharp pain entered his brain. Then he fell on to the floor in convulsions. The elderly man just lay there dieing, just like his wife did. He awakened to a piercing luminescent light that altered his vision, and a male nurse peering over him. He wondered what had happened to him.
“Mr. Emmett you are going to be fine you just had a complex partial seizure.” pronounced the doctor.
“I had a what?” he asked
“A Partial complex seizure, it is when you get a seizure that impairs your consciousness, but it doesn’t create major brain damage. You should be fine, but we are going to keep you here over night.” he explained.
He stared down at the tubes running up to his nose as he realized that this was the exact room that his wife of 53 years died in. He gasped for air and yelled. “Nurse!”
She arrived in the room and asked “Yes Mr. Emmett?”
“I need to get out of here. Now!” he yelled.
“Why?” she asked.
“My wife died last year in this room, and every time I open my eyes I see her beauty and grace.” he replied.
She came back with the news “Sorry sir I cant every room in the hospital it taken and the ones that aren’t are saved for the ER.” she stated.
He lays there the grey circles capsulate his aquamarine eyes. His face of same and sorrow fill the room. The alarm clock rings, and the same routine fills his morning ritual but today is Easter Sunday. The silver Cadillac entered the black asphalt parking lot. He opened the door, and his sport jacket was misted by a light rain. The twin timbers greeted the members of the Baptist religion. The grey stone coated the outer shell of the church. Anguish sugar coated the service as the pastor wept and cried mercy upon everyone’s soul. The choir broke into chorus, and everyone stood. Then the time seemed to stand still Bob slipped and fell into the back of the pew. The drones cried out against God’s choice to end this mans life. Bob’s sprit appeared in a bright void his idea of the after life was either of heaven or hell. His mind buzzed with thoughts of why, and who, and when. He realized that his devotion of an hour and a half of worship a week, and his nightly prayer was pointless that there was no god no divine power we all were accidents, and we don’t me anything have no use…