Déjà VOODOO

 Always alone in the orphanage, Richard Blaine discovers there is a worse fate than being alone.

It is being the lone survivor of a band of friends who depended on you to keep them safe.

Déjà VOODOO

“There's an opposite to déjà vu. They call it 'jamais vu.' It's when you meet the same people or visit places, again and again, but each time is the first. Everybody is always a stranger. Nothing is ever familiar.”

- Chuck Palahniuk

 

I awakened in the Rocinante’s command chair up high from the deck where the other Spartans slept in cots made of what Sentient called “memory foam” whatever the hell that was.

They would miss them once we got into Europe.

If we survived Omaha Beach.

I was shivering but not clammy with cold sweat. I quirked a smile. There was, at least, that going for this not-dream.

Rabbi Stein, ever the mother hen, rose from his cot, obviously alerted by my movement. He looked up, concern etched deep on his earnest face.

I grew chill. It would hurt like hell if he was killed … worse if it was in front of me … worst if it was because of me.

This was an odd feeling … to have a friend … friends.

“Another Vision Quest?”

“Yes.”

“A bad one?”

“It wasn’t good.”

“Would it help to tell me about it?”

“The last person I told a Vision Quest to died the next day.”

“Ah, feel free to be reticent.”

“I always am.”

“So, I’ve noticed. Doesn’t it get lonely?”

“I have Sentient ever in my head.”

“Ah, yes, your Dark Passenger. How are you two getting along lately?”

“Like oil and water. Sometimes one of us lights the oil on fire. And other times ….”

I held up my less throbbing bandaged hands. “She does me a kindness.”

‘I do more of them than you realize, Champion.’

‘Then, thank you … I think.’

‘How like you to give … then, take back.’

I said to the rabbi, “Amos, she gave two-thirds of the pain from these to General Eisenhower and to General Marshall.”

He grunted, “In this Vision Quest?”

I nodded, and he asked, “So, it was bad?”

“Well, everything is funnier in retrospect, funnier and happier. You can laugh at anything from far enough away.”

I quirked another smile. “Let’s just say I’m going to have to be on the moon for me to laugh at this one.”

Sgt. Savalas groaned and swung his legs off his cot. “You know, Amos, priests at least have the decency to listen to confessions in a nice thick, sound-proof confessional.”

Cloverfield, still in his uniform … (I suddenly realized all my Spartans were still in their uniforms) … snorted, “The way our Major shies away from letting his hair down, you’d think he was the reincarnation of Samson.”

Pvt, “Chuck” Dickens stretched on the side of his cot. “No, not Samson. I concur with Lady Churchill and would say our illustrious leader is the new host for the spirit of David.”

Dee Steven smiled, “You know one day, you’re gonna surprise all of us with a short simple sentence.”

Dickens tossed a pillow at Stevens. “Says the man whose lofty goal is to scribble panels for pulp comic books.”

Cpl. Sam Wilson defended his friend. “Hey! There’s some mighty fine artwork in Prince Valiant and Flash Gordon.”

Reese tousled the hair of Porkins. “Old Franklin, here, is a fan of Betsy, oh, I meant Betty Boop.”

Pvt. Eric Evans grinned evilly. “You’re never gonna let that lay, are you?”

“Doc” Tennyson sighed, “No, we’re not going to be that lucky.”

I looked down on my nineteen Spartans and fought the tears from forming. They would not understand.

Hell, Sentient had piloted me all through Boot Camp. I did not know how to be a soldier, much less an officer ... even a poor one.

The Spartans thought I knew them. But I did not. While we had fought all across and through Sicily, Sentient had been in control.

Oh, I knew the facts of them. But not their hearts, for Sentient did not see into hearts.

‘You would be surprised, my Champion.’

‘I always am with you.’

‘Why, a compliment. I must put you into death’s way more often.’

‘Let’s not and say you did.’

They thought I was more than I was. They trusted me to come up with miracles to save them over and over again.

But I had seen the hell that awaited us on Omaha Beach. Merde, I had been “killed” by that hell repeatedly and painfully but, thankfully, not permanently.

This charge on Omaha Beach, death and maiming would be permanent.

How was I going to get them in one piece across the hell that was Omaha Beach when I could hardly keep Lady Churchill, one person, alive there?

‘The answer is simple: you will not.’

‘Thanks for the vote of confidence.’

‘WE will, my Champion. I, as the Angel of Death, will go before you, sowing fear, madness, and legend in our wake.’

I felt the hair brushed back from my eyes. ‘Now, have your Spartans gird their loins for battle. It is time.’