Mere Mortals

                                                                              Mere Mortals



    It was the desert again. Henry had never really figured out why he kept landing there. It was a strange desert too. The sand

was yellow looking, and the sky was always orange. He walked down the trail until he came to a slight ridge. He had been here

before too, and he knew that on the other side of that ridge there was someone, or something, that waited for him.

    "Give it up, boy."

    Henry turned around and saw his grandfather.

    "Grandpa, what are you doing here?"

    "A better question is what are you doing here."

    Henry's grandfather held out his hand and Henry reached out and took it. Suddenly, Henry was a child again; walking through

the woods near his home. It was a spring day and he was going fishing with his grandpa'. They reached the pond and sat down

under the big maple.

    "Grandpa', will you bait my hook?"

    Henry's grandfather gave him a sideways look and raised one eyebrow.

    "Don't you think it's about time you were learning to do this for yourself?"

    "Please, Grandpa'. I'll do it next time, I promise. Just show me one more time."

    Henry's grandfather reached into the tin can that sat between them and pulled out a big night crawler. He took Henry's

hook in his big, weathered hands, and inserted it in one end of the nightcrawler, then threaded the hook through the worms body.

Henry cringed.

    "Does it hurt 'em."

    "Well, I don't reckon it feels good." he said, as he looped the worm around the end of the hook, then stuck the tip through

its body. He handed the hook back to Henry.

    "Course I don't suppose the fish like it much either, when they bite into that tasty little morsel and feel the hook dig into their mouths."

    Henry looked at the worm writhing on the end of the hook.

    "Maybe we shouldn't do it, Grandpa; fish, I mean."

    Henry's grandfather baited his own hook then threw his line in the water. He leaned back on one elbow and looked at Henry,

sitting there holding the baited hook, a questioning look in his eyes.

    "Henry, every time you walk across the yard you probably kill a hundred bugs. Those bugs turn into dirt, and that old worm

eats 'em up. Then you come along and catch the worm and use him to catch a fish, then you eat the fish.  See?  Nothin's wasted."

    Henry thought about it a minute. He guessed his grandpa' was right. He set his float and threw his line in the water then laid

back and looked at the blue of the sky through the branches of the big maple. They'd catch a mess of fish, then go back to his

grandpa's house and clean 'em up for supper, then listen to his grandma' raise cane about the mess they'd made and how the fish

guts would be stinkin' for three days if they's didn't take 'em out and bury 'em.

    "You'd better pay attention, Henry; looks like you're gettin' one."

    Henry sat up in time to see his float disappear under the water. He grabbed his pole and tugged sharply and felt the pull

of the fish as the hook sat firmly in its mouth. He reeled in his line until the float hit the end of his pole, then pulled the fish

smoothly out of the water and landed it on the bank.

    "Nice one, Henry."

    His grandfather picked up the fish and twisted the hook out, then ran a stringer up through its gill's and out its mouth, then

he tied the stringer to a root and threw the fish in the water. Henry didn't wait. He grabbed the can of worms and baited his own

hook like a pro, then threw his line back in the water. Before long, they had caught a pretty good mess, and were ready to head

back to the house.

    Henry gave his grandpa' a quizzical Look.

    "Grandpa, who eats us?"

    Henry's Grandfather laughed.

    "Well I don't rightly know, Henry, but I reckon something will one of these days, and that'll be okay too. Ain't nothin' wasted."

    Somehow, to hear his grandpa' say it, it didn't sound scary. In fact it seemed kinda' natural. He wondered what it would be

like, having a hook stick you in the roof of your mouth, then being pulled up into the sky to be something's dinner.

    When he looked down, his feet were dissolving. Uh-oh. Time to go. He had gotten used to this. He had even learned to help it

along a little, even though he was never sure where he would land. He spun to his left and felt the scenery around him

evaporate. When he stopped spinning, he was standing looking at his wife. She was sitting in a chair, trying to lay in it really,

but the chair wasn't big enough. She looked uncomfortable.

    "Jenny.  Jenny, It's me.  Wake up."

    She looked up at him. She reached out her hand and took his, but didn't get up. She looked exhausted. She looked at him

tearfully and shook her head. She was deeply concerned about something, and she was so tired that she was groggy.

    "It's okay, Jenny. Honest."

    She looked at him and smiled faintly, then fell back asleep. No use sticking around here. He spun to the left again and he was

back in the yellow desert. This time, he made up his mind he was going to find out what was over that ridge. He crept up the ridge

and peeked over the top. On the other side, at the bottom of the hill, he saw a doorway filled with brilliant white light.

    "Are you ready, boy?" It was his grandfather's voice, but he knew it wasn't his grandfather that spoke. He didn't know who it

was for sure, and he wasn't ready to find out yet; and he also wasn't ready to walk through that door, but at least he did know

where the door was now.

    He crept back down the hill, then spun to the left. When he stopped spinning, everything was dark. He felt as though he was

submersed in a thick, black pool of water. He tried to fight his way to the surface, but the closer he got, the more it hurt; and

the louder the sounds were. A loud humming noise filled his head, and he heard something that sounded like gears trying to mesh

that couldn't; but he kept fighting. Finally, he saw the surface of the water just above him. He saw Jenny standing looking into

the pool; she was looking for him. He fought harder and harder, until he almost broke the surface, but the pain, and the sounds

were too much for him. He sank back into the pool, then spun to the left.  He had some exploring to do.



                                                                                  ***



    "Have you decided yet, Mrs. Martin?"

    Jenny turned to see Dr. Stanley standing behind her. She hadn't heard him come in the room.

    "No, Doctor, I haven't. I just can't seem to bring myself to make the decision.  You know, I thought I saw something in his eyes

a few minutes ago, like maybe he was ...."  Her voice trailed off.

    "That's highly unlikely, Mrs. Martin. When the car rolled over, it almost crushed his brain completely. The brain stem survived, and

that's what keeps his heart and respiratory system going, but I can assure you, he knows nothing. His higher brain functions have been totally destroyed."

    Dr. Stanley put his hand on Jenny's shoulder.

    "Take your time, Mrs. Martin. I don't mean to push you. It's a big decision for us mere mortals to make, and you should be

comfortable with it."

    Jenny took her husbands hand and kissed it gently, then held it to her cheek.

    "What do you want, Henry?" She asked him.

    Jenny turned and looked at Doctor Stanley through tear filled eyes.

    "I guess that somewhere inside me, I just feel like maybe it's really somehow still Henry's decision, Doctor, not mine."                         



                                                                                  ***