Just then we heard a rumbling in the distance, then through the thick rain of blood we managed to pick out two white dots coming towards us. Expecting some sort of a rescue vehicle we rejoiced. To our dismay it seemed things only got worse, or at least just a little stranger. The vehicle was now upon us, but it was not a vehicle at all. It was something like a magic carpet being carried by two bright white angels. They flew above us, shielding us from the blood rain. In wonder we stared, happy to be protected by these beings. Then they brought the carpet down to us, beckoning for us to board. We did, that is all of us but George. He would have nothing to do with these things that he did not understand. These beings he could not explain. And so we left him behind as the angels, wings spread wide over us, once again shielding us from the rain, scooped us up from the creature littered ground. George could only watch as we sailed away in safety. I watched him until I could see him no more. The creatures had suddenly turned on him and were crawling on him, biting and stinging. I just stared, horrified, and sad. These angels had come to save us from that fate, the terrible fate that George allowed to happen. Had he not needed to understand or explain what was happening perhaps he could have climbed aboard with us in faith, believing that all would be well if we followed our heavenly rescuers. Alas, he did not. And so he was done, put to a most gruesome end.
Once again I recall that night as I drive with my wife to go star gazing on the bluffs of New Mexico. We know what happened that night. Even she, not having been there, believed all that I told her and concluded as I did that George suffered a lack of faith that only too late was brought to my attention. All I can remember is his screaming, "What is that!!" A question he asked much too often. Perhaps he should have realized the fact that "it is" rather than trying to find out what it is. I think maybe he was so caught in disbelief that even if he had tried to move he couldn't. I guess I'll never know. We don't talk of it much now. But inwardly I grieve every day, every night before I fall asleep. I wonder how different it might have turned out had George come with us, had he, had he, ah what's the use of wondering. It's over, he's gone.
