Chronicles of Han: Preserving Creata: Part 1: Learning Curve

Some say Hell is a place you go to when you do not behave properly. In all my travels to the Other Side, I have never encountered Hell. I am sure that is why we were here, in these bodies, on this Planet. This was living in Hell.

We barely slept and I was called upon to do numerous identifications of who had killed who in the following days.

The gangs were at W-A-R.

It was terrible and the streets literally ran red with blood. Guilty and innocent alike.

I helped as best determine who were innocent victims of this war, getting really good at my grisly task.

Thankfully, I did not have to deal with any spirits during this time. Only the life-memories left behind.

It made my life a little easier.

Eventually, everyone settled into a new way of life, and over a period of about a month, things started calming down.

New Haven survived another kind of destruction.

The underworld was purged and reorganized. Unfortunately, most of it was now run by Custos Morgan.

And we could not prove a thing. He hid so well behind lawyers and reputable friendships, that only a handful of officers knew the truth about him.

He was a constant threat. A snake in the grass that hid until it could strike. I came to dislike the man intensely.

Whenever I could get a bit of sleep, I did not rest.

I either went to the Halls of Knowledge for downloads, of which I could not recall any content on waking up, or when I actually slept, I had a recurrent dream.

It was in black and white.

We were in a warehouse somewhere on the docks. I knew Tucker was with me, yet I felt utterly alone and abandoned.

I rebelled against this unwanted feeling and always managed to wake myself up.

The dream kept on haunting my waking hours too. Tucker seemed to sense that something was bothering me but did not ask me about it, knowing that I sometimes needed time to work things out for myself.

A few days after everything had seemed to finally calm down, we were called out to another murder at a warehouse on the docks.

My chest tightened as Tucker explained where we were going, my dream returning vividly to me. I tried to set it aside and concentrate on the work at hand, but did not have much success.

We drove to the warehouse in silence.

There were Security Force vehicles parked randomly in front of it. Some of the uniformed officers had already started cordoning the area off. Detective Stone escorted us towards where the bodies were in the back of the warehouse.

It was twilight in the warehouse, reminding me of my dream. For a second I froze.

Tucker turned around to look back at me.

My head felt as if it exploded with the sudden noise of gunfire from short range. My first thought was that the warehouse was not secure and we found ourselves in a gunfight.

We scrambled for cover.

All except Tucker!

He was down against some barrels, desperately holding his neck.

Rushing over to him, I pulled him around the barrels, out of the line of fire. The artery in his neck had been severed.

Ripping my shirt, I made a pad, helping him to hold it against his neck.

I still wanted to encourage him to hold on, that Stone had seen his injury and would get help, but his blood gushed over my hands and I was thrown into his life-memories . . .

It is said that before you die, you see your whole life play off before your eyes.

This was similar.

I saw Tucker as a little boy, playing cops and robbers.

We moved on to his love for his wife. The joy and pride of becoming a father to a healthy baby boy. The utter hopelessness when they discovered him to be psychic. The devastation when their son died. The heart-wrenching guilt when his wife lost interest in life and moved on.

The unconditional acceptance of me as his replacement son. His fatherly love and genuine concern for me. His regret that he would no longer be there to help me.

The gratitude that his life was finally over and he could go home. The utter joy to find his wife and son coming to take him home . . .

He was gone.

My grief overwhelmed me.

Hugging his head to my chest, I rocked back and forth, tears streaming down my face.

It became quiet.

The gunfight had ended a while ago.

The screaming and calling from one officer to another came to an end.

I held onto Tucker what seemed to be a long time. The tears dried on my cheeks. I closed my eyes and refused to acknowledge anything.

I had the sensation that Sensaii was trying to get through to me, but I refused to open my mind or my senses.

Tucker’s life-memories were now part of me too.

We were eventually found by Racewater.

He gently pried my hands from Tucker’s cooling body, pulling me to my feet.

I allowed him to lead me to his vehicle.

He took me home.

Panam was already waiting for us at my apartment.

They led me to the bathroom, helping me undress, shower and dry.

They took me to my bed and I settled on it, refusing to meet their eyes, refusing to hear Sensaii.

I wanted to join Tucker. This was all too hard.

Panam found a vein and the familiar coursing of drugs were welcome relief for my mind and body.