Goodbyes Sequel to Andy A UFO Short Story by Cindy Massey Copyright November, 2000


“… everything there is a season…” The minister’s voice droned on and on, while the small group in the chapel sat in silence. Few were actually listening to the service -- most of them were lost in their own thoughts.

Only a handful of people had come. Most of them were SHADO personnel; the rest, American military personnel. Retired, perhaps, the Americans, but each and every one had come in full dress uniform, each with a chest full of medals and ribbons. They were a small sea of American Air Force blue on one side of the tiny chapel.

Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that there were three groups present. The SHADO personnel on one side, the Americans on the other. And in the back, the third group – two men who’d arrived together, and a third who’d caused something of a stir when he arrived to join the first two.

The Royal Australian Air Force and American Air Force Colonels had arrived together shortly after the last of the other two groups had arrived. Both of them were in full dress uniform and both sported chests full of medals and ribbons. The American seemed to be weak, and the Australian hovered close as they entered. The American took a seat on the last row and the Australian stayed close behind him. They had been speaking together in whispers, the Australian leaning over the back of the pew, when the third member of their group had entered.

An American Air Force General, this third person had very obviously not been welcome. Though they kept their voices pitched low enough that no one else could understand the words, everyone in the chapel had heard the angry exchange between the Australian and the General. The American Colonel’s quiet interjection had silenced them finally, and they now stood on opposite sides of the door, exchanging occasional angry glances.

It was another of those horrid funeral ceremonies with no body. Many of those present had attended one or more of those. How did those left behind cope, they’d often wondered. What did one say to someone whose loved one’s remains would only be recovered in pieces … if ever? Now they knew personally how it felt.

There was no family present, they noted. Only friends. She’d had no family – none for either name they’d known her by. And those few friends who knew her well were here, segregated, sneaking wary glares at each other across the aisles, some wondering just who she really was, others wondering how much the rest really knew about her.

The minister concluded his service, then gazed in silence for a few moments at the two dozen or so people in the chapel – fifteen on one side, three at the back , and ten or eleven on the other side. No one else noticed the silence, he realized. After a few moments, he cleared his throat rather loudly. Feeling quite embarrassed at disturbing these people as they contemplated their loss, he spoke, once again asking if anyone wanted to say a few words about the deceased.

A young man on the non-military side of the chapel stood slowly, and made his way to the podium. The minister nodded slightly to him, then took a seat at one side. He was hoping a few others would also have something to say after this young man. He hated this type of ceremony. Funerals were so depressing, and even more so when there was no body, no mortal remains of the loved one to which the mourners could say goodbye.

Attached to SHADO through a military chaplaincy program, the minister knew there had been many of these type funerals and that many of the young men and women on one side of the chapel had been in attendance at some of them. He didn’t know all the details, of course, but he knew that this group – the ones not dressed in military uniforms – were a very special, extremely secret military unit. So secret they wouldn’t even acknowledge the military connection.

He wondered briefly what they were all about, and why they were involved in so many mysterious deaths. Finally, with an inaudible sigh, he turned his attention to the troubled young man at the podium. It would be interesting to find out what these people had to say about the young woman whose death they were here to mourn.



***** ***** *****

“Many of you here today know me, but for those of you who don’t,” he nodded in the direction of the Americans, “my name is Adrian Maczinski. I knew her as Cheala O’Brien, but I have discovered that I didn’t really know her at all.

“She came to work with us just over a year and a half ago. I met her on that first day, and I suppose a part of me fell in love with her immediately. Not romantic love. She was more the little sister to me than anything, I suppose. The pesky little sister who just loves to ruin everything you do and then sits back to laugh about it.

“I remember that first day well. I was supposed to be showing her how things worked, getting her used to policies and procedures…all that stuff you do for a new employee on the first day. I went through the usual ‘this is your workstation, here’s how it works, do this’, then went back to my own work. I figured, new person, it’ll take her a couple of hours to get the hang of it, I can get a lot done in that time, and then spend the rest of the morning showing her around. Well, it was a busy day, and somehow, I forgot all about her.

“I’d forgotten her, that is, until she dropped a lunch tray in front of me, tied napkin around my neck and started feeding me. ‘Everyone gets lunch’ she said. ‘Even tyrants who forget about their new peons.’”

Mac paused, smiling sadly at the memories, as a low chuckle coursed through the room. He saw a few lingering smiles and nods from others in the room, too, including a few from the Americans, before he continued. “I thought I knew everything about her. She’d always answer questions put to her. It’s only recently that I realized her answers never really quite answered the questions.

“Oh, there was information there. Just enough to make you think you knew her. I remember asking her once where she was from. Her answer was a quick ‘Oh, Cheala’s from Dublin, dearie.’ And there was a street address, too, if I remember right.

“And there really was a Cheala O’Brien from Dublin. Only, as I found out just yesterday, she was born in 1812 and died at the age of three. Which makes me wonder who Cheala really was. Maybe some of you American fellows know. And maybe you’re just like the rest of us, wondering if the person you knew her as was just another assumed name.

“Whatever the truth was, we’ll never hear it from her. All we have left are the questions. And the memories. I have loads of wonderful memories about Cheala … or whoever she was.

“Memories of good times, of laughter, fun … the way she loved practical jokes … She loved life, loved just being.” Mac paused a moment. Most of his memories of Cheala were either personal or so tied up with SHADO that they couldn’t be shared here. Not with the Americans present. He stood with bowed head for a few moments more, then looked up. “Goodbye, Cheala,” he almost whispered.



***** ***** *****

As Mac made his way back to his seat, a few others among the SHADO personnel shifted uncomfortably. A couple of them almost stood, almost came forward to share their own memories. Almost, but then they sat again, one bowing his head, the other just shaking his head as if he didn’t believe this was really happening.

The minister waited, giving the reluctant time to consider. Giving them time to come forward if they wanted to. Finally, when he thought he could bear the silence no longer, he began to get to his feet. Some kind of final statement must be made …

But before he could stand, one of the American pilots stood. The minister settled back into his seat and waited, using the silence to compose that final statement that he knew he’d be called upon to make.



***** ***** *****

He waited to see if any more of those young Britons were going to say anything. Finally, realizing that Maczinski had apparently said everything for all of them and that none of his own companions were going to do it, he slowly stood. More needed to be said, but he wasn’t sure he was the one to say it. He stood still, hesitating, glancing around at his companions. A few nodded encouragement, but he felt it wasn’t quite enough.

Even more slowly than he had gotten to his feet, he turned to face the small group at the back of the chapel. His gaze flitted over the General, where he stood by the door. The General appeared to be ready to slip out without being seen. Let him, he thought. I never liked him anyway. None of us did. He didn’t like us, either. And particularly not Andy, so why’s he here?

Letting the thoughts die quick deaths, he let his gaze rest briefly on the Australian. A few less-than-charitable thoughts rushed past again, but he didn’t dwell on them. That one had always been decent enough, although there’d been some ill feelings between Andy and the Australian. With a slight shake of his head, he turned his attention to the other member of the trio, seated alone on the last row.

‘He looks tired.’ The thought surprised him, since the man should look tired. He should be in a hospital still. Their eyes met across the small chapel and something – some communication too basic to describe – passed between them. The Colonel nodded once, just an ever-so-slight dip of his head but enough to be recognized by those who knew him.

Lt. Drew Stephens, USAF (retired), straightened imperceptibly and snapped a smart salute in the Colonel’s direction. He then turned on his heel and headed to the front of the chapel, noting for the first time the utter silence that had fallen since he stood up. Knowing that to dwell on that would unnerve him to the point of speechlessness, he stepped smartly to the podium, gripped the sides of it in a white-knuckle death grip and looked out over his audience.

“Good afternoon,” he said softly, yet loud enough for his voice to carry to the back. Loud enough that even the General would hear what he had to say. He nodded once to his former comrades-in-arms, then turned his attention to the others, those new friends of hers.

“I’m Lt. Drew Stephens, and I used to be a pilot in the United States Air Force. I guess that’s pretty obvious, but I’m a little nervous up here. I’m not used to speaking to a group of people like this, but there’re some things that need to be said and it looks like I’m elected.”

He paused briefly, his eyes seeking out the young man who’d just spoken. “Her name – her real name was Andy. Lt. Colonel Andréa Maria Petrov. That’s how we all knew her.” He paused again as an unexpected murmur ran through the group of Britons. After just a moment, though, he went on.

“There are others here who knew her better than I did,” he continued, glancing again at the group in the back. “And there are things about her that I don’t know. But I know enough to tell you who she was. And what she meant to us.

“I guess you’ve all figured out that we served together. We’re all that’s left of the squadron, now. Some died in the war, others just sort of faded away after they left the service. Three more of us died just a few days ago, which I know at least some of you are aware of. I recognize some of your faces.

“Andy was one of us. I know you couldn’t tell it to look at her, but she was a member of our unit way back there when your boss was our CO. To us, he’s still The Colonel and he always will be. But he gave Andy a chance way back there when most women in the service were not much more than glorified secretaries or nurses.

“Andy was a pilot, and a damn good one. She could out-fly and out-gun any of the rest of us, except maybe The Colonel. And I’m not sure but what she couldn’t out-fly him sometimes, too. Things have changed since those days, and I guess women are training for combat now. Back then, though, it just wasn’t done. You didn’t send women into combat, so why bother trainin’ ‘em? Let ‘em run the offices and take care of the sick and stuff like that.

“But someone made a mistake somewhere. Maybe because she always went by Andy, they all thought she was a man. I don’t know. But a mistake was made and Andy got assigned to the Eagle squadron.

“Now, The Colonel, he could have made a fuss about it. We all could have. We weren’t thrilled to have this girl show up, you know. We were a combat unit, after all, and here they send us a woman for an exec! But we all agreed to give her a chance, and you know, the Brass was wrong. About Andy, anyway.

“She dug in there and showed us just what she could do. She never asked for special treatment, never wanted to be anything more than just one of us. And she was. It may sound strange to you, because you’re all used to working together, whether you’re man or woman. But for us, it was something different. It took some getting used to, let me tell you, but get used to it we did.

“Andy never knew what failure meant. Well, that’s not quite right, but that wasn’t her fault. And I’ll get to that in a minute. Right now I’m talking about her and how she came to be one of us.

“We resented having a woman in the unit. It just wasn’t right, you see, having a woman there. She knew how much we resented her – it wasn’t exactly the kind of thing that can be kept secret, if you know what I mean -- but she never let it stop her. She’d been assigned as the second in command, and she was determined to be the best exec ever. We gave her a lot of grief back then, in those first days, but she met every challenge we made to her.

“Some of you saw that tattoo on her arm, right? She got that on a dare. One of us told her she didn’t have the guts to sit still long enough to get it done. None of the rest of us did, either – but she fooled us. She’s the only one who got that tattoo. She sat there for four solid hours, stone cold sober, while that guy drew that bird on her shoulder and all of us Eagles watched. And she never even whimpered, let me tell you.

“Now maybe that doesn’t mean much to you, but it did to us. I think that’s when we first began to respect her. I mean, here she is, brand new to the unit, just a little slip of a girl, and here we are, daring her to get this really detailed tattoo. And she did it, and sat through it without making a sound, too.

“It didn’t matter what the challenge was, Andy met it head-on.” Lt. Stephens looked steadily at Henderson as he continued. “She became the best damn pilot in the group, the best shot, the best everything. She earned her place in the Eagles. There were a lot of people who wanted to get rid of her, who thought she didn’t belong there. They were wrong. Dead wrong.

“The only time Andy ever came close to failing at something was when The Colonel and half the unit got shot down over Viet Nam. We were flying a lot of missions back then, so we’d set up a rotation schedule. Half the squadron would take the mission and the other half would stay at the base, resting up for the next one.

“That time it happened to be Andy’s turn to stay on base. When word came that the flight had gone down, she was all for taking off with the rest of the Eagles and bringing them all back. We could’ve done it, too, but the Brass wouldn’t hear of it.

“Andy fought them for weeks, arguing and screaming and.… “ He paused for a moment, shaking his head. His gaze found Henderson again, an angry glint appearing in his eyes. “They wouldn’t listen to her, though. All they did was toss her in the brig for insubordination. By the time they let her out, it was too late to do much of anything. They wouldn’t even let her come back to the unit.

“I’m not sure what happened to her then. I didn’t see her again for a long time. Not till along about the time The Colonel started looking at retiring. That was a couple of years later, and our squadron had pretty much been split up over that time. Andy’d already left the service by then, and had gotten involved in some kind of electronics research. Something to do with computers, I think, and how they fit in with aircraft. I never knew much about that, but I know she was good at it.

“The Colonel had some kind of project going then. It was all top secret, and none of the Eagles were involved, but we kept up with what we could. We kept in touch with The Colonel as much as it was possible to. It wasn’t much of a surprise when Andy got involved in the project, too. Not to us.

“But, anyway, she was back with us again, in a way. It wasn’t quite the same, I guess, but at least we got to see her around some.

“Now this is where things get really strange. Somewhere in there, Andy had a kind of falling out with The Colonel and Lt. Colonel Freeman. I guess you all know him, too, don’t ya? He wasn’t part of the Eagles, but he was around a lot back then.”

“Freeman’s okay.” Drew paused for a moment, giving a small grin toward the back of the room. “For an Aussie.”

A few soft chuckles followed Drew’s remark. Drew saw a few people on both sides of the room turn slightly to look at the group by the door. Freeman briefly grinned back at the former Air Force officer, but Henderson just rolled his eyes. Straker just sat there, apparently lost in another world and time.

“Nobody who knows what happened is talking, so I can’t tell you just what made them so angry at each other. I know I heard a lot of stories that I’m not going to repeat here. I don’t know how much truth there is in them, and anyway that was a long time ago and it doesn’t matter anymore.

“What matters is that this isn’t the first time we’ve lost Andy. See, -- and I told you it’s really strange – twenty-seven years ago, there was an accident. Someone here may know what happened, but I don’t. All I know is that Andy died in some kind of plane crash. Or at least we were told she’d died. We buried her back then, too. Said our goodbyes and went on, like people do. And then she walked in at the reunion, looking just like she did twenty-seven years ago.”

Stephens looked out over his audience, seeing once more in his mind an image of the woman they were here to mourn. After a moment, he focused again on the people here before him, thinking Straker was looking much too tired.

“We didn’t get any explanations – didn’t ask for any. Whatever happened couldn’t be changed, and if she wanted us to know, … well, she’d tell us, wouldn’t she? Whatever the rest of the story is, that’s what I know about Andy. It’s not everything, of course. Some of it’s too personal to share. But I hope it gives you a better understanding of who she was.

“I’d like to think that sometime in the future she’s going to show up again. I’d really like to think that, but I know it’s not going to happen. Her body may not be here for us to bury, but I don’t believe that matters. She’s not coming back this time.”

Stephens waited a moment, wondering if there was something else he should say, then just shook his head and returned to his seat. A few of his comrades patted his shoulders as he passed them. But none of them offered to add anything to what he’d said. They, too, felt that anything else was personal, not something to be shared with this group of people they didn’t know. Later, perhaps, when it was just the Eagles, more memories might surface, more tales might be shared. But not now.



***** ***** *****

Again, the minister waited through a few moments of silence, giving anyone else who wanted to speak the chance to come forward. When no one did, he stood and finished off the service. He didn’t think anyone was listening to him anymore, but it was important that everything end correctly.

When he’d finished, he made his way down the center aisle to the door. He stood there silently just outside the chapel as the two main groups quietly filed out. They kept themselves segregated even as they left, he observed.

Finally, the one Lt. Stephens had referred to as “The Aussie” stepped out, sticking a cigarette in his mouth as he came through the door. He nodded to the minister, lit the cigarette and stepped to one side.

“Very nice service, Father,” he said around the cigarette. He glanced back toward the door, then leaned up against the wall to wait.

The minister had seen one of the three – the General, the last to arrive – leave as he’d made his way down the aisle. That left only one inside – the man who’d looked ill. He, too, glanced toward the doorway, then looked over at Freeman. “Is the other gentleman alright?” he asked. “He does look rather ill.”

“He should be in hospital,” Freeman answered, removing the cigarette and stubbing it out. “He was injured in an accident recently, and the doctors weren’t ready to release him yet. But he checked himself out and insisted on coming here today.”

The minister nodded and was about to add something when Straker slowly walked out of the chapel to join them. Freeman crushed out the cigarette in the ashcan and straightened away from the wall. Straker didn’t seem to notice when Freeman cupped a hand around his elbow to help him down the stairs and into a waiting car. The minister watched them drive away, then turned and began the task of closing the chapel.



***** ***** *****

The pub was humming. Mac thought it looked a lot like the Eagle’s Nest pub had on the night the UFO crashed. The night all of this started.

The Americans were on one side of the room, the SHADO personnel on the other. The Americans weren’t as loud and boisterous as they had been that night, but there was still a lot of laughing going on. Mac could hear parts of the tales they were telling over there.

“Remember when Andy … “

“Oh, yeah! And then the Colonel … “

A loud peal of laughter, followed by “And then there was the time we all … “

With a slight shake of his head, Mac brought his attention back to the small group of SHADO funeral attendees at the table with him. They were reminiscing, too, though not as loudly, and with long silences between the stories.

Most of their heads turned to watch when Colonels Freeman and Foster entered the pub. They made their way around the tables where the Americans were sitting. Freeman paused to greet each of them by name and share a few laughs with them, even telling a couple of stories of his own. Foster quietly got two mugs of ale from the bartender and then joined the SHADO group.

A few moments later, Freeman joined them, too, taking a seat next to Mac, and looking around at their faces. “Alright,” he said finally, “what’s eating you lot?”

“I think we’re just confused, sir,” Kevin Marsdale answered. “I mean, we thought we knew her, and then … “

“Was she really Lt. Colonel Petrov, Colonel?”

Freeman avoided looking at Mac for a moment, then finally turned and answered with a small sigh. “She was.” He watched them all look at each other in confusion, then continued quietly, his voice pitched just loud enough to be heard around the table.

“Lt. Colonel Andréa Maria Petrov. One of SHADO’s first operatives. And supposedly the first casualty, as well.”

“That much is in the history everyone gets when they join, Alec,” Foster said. “Why don’t you tell us a bit more about her?”

Freeman took a drink from his mug, using the time to gather his thoughts. Finally, he set the mug down and glanced around. “You all heard what Stephens said at the service. There’s not much more to tell.”

“Come on, Alec,” Foster exclaimed after a moment. “There’s a lot more to the story. Such as, why do the records say she died back in the 70’s? Where has she been all these years? Why was she using another name?”

“I don’t know where she’s been, Paul. Like almost everyone else, I thought she was dead. As for why she was using the name Cheala O’Brien, I think that’s obvious. She didn’t want anyone to know who she was.”

Alec paused a moment, then went on reflectively. “She was listed as dead because we all thought she was. We had a Uf … one of their ships back then. The Americans had it, that is. We’d finally found a way to power the thing up, and were going to try a short test flight. Andy thought she should be the one to pilot it, but the people in charge had other ideas. Another pilot was chosen.

“With her typical level of tact, Andy mounted a protest. A loud one, which only resulted in getting her banned from the test area. The day of the flight, she showed up anyway and somehow talked her way past the guards. When the pilot refused to talk with her, she hijacked the ship and the rest of the flight crew, who were already aboard.

“Less than two minutes after lifting off, the ship crashed and exploded on impact. One of the flight crew survived long enough to tell us Andy’d been in what we called the engine room at the time of the crash. We assumed she’d died when the thing exploded, but we never found her body. We didn’t think there was anything left to find. That area of the ship simply disintegrated.

“Now we know we were wrong.” Alec shrugged and finished his drink. He speculated privately that Andy had planted a bomb on the UFO and then simply walked away before the explosion. They’d never found of evidence of a bomb, but that same dying crewman had insisted with his dying breath that there had been one. It wasn’t the kind of thing he wanted to bring up now, though. He didn’t even want to think about it, because he guessed that her intentions had been to destroy both the UFO and its intended pilot -- Straker.

They all stared into their glasses for a moment, then Mac and most of the others started to rise. Most of them were due on duty soon, and the rest just wanted to get home to their loved ones. Only Alec and Paul remained seated, both choosing to relax for a few more minutes before returning to their separate responsibilities.

“One last thing, Colonel,” Mac said before leaving. “What was the connection between her and Straker?”

Alec Freeman hesitated. He knew the answer Mac – and the others – were looking for, but he didn’t feel it was his place to answer. Whatever the connection between them, it was just that – between them. He looked up finally and realized they were all looking at him expectantly, waiting for his answer. He sighed softly and made his decision. “Ask Straker.”

Mac stared at him a moment, then shook his head. With the rest of the group, he turned and made his way to the door and out of the pub. They weren’t likely to ask Straker, Alec knew. They all respected SHADO’s commander, but none of them felt they knew the man well enough to ask such a question.

Alec watched the last of them step out the door, then turned to Paul, who was apparently still waiting for the answer to Maczinski’s last question. “That goes for you, too, Paul,” Alec said quietly. “It’s between Straker and Andy – or was – “

“I think I’ve got it figured out, Alec,” came the response. “And it doesn’t really matter anymore, does it?”

Alec didn’t answer right away. Paul finished off his ale, set the mug down with deliberate care and studied the foam at the bottom of it. “What I don’t get, though, is why you’re still looking for her body. It’s been more than a week now …”

“I’m looking for her body, Paul, because I want to be sure this time.” Alec glanced at the Eagles across the room. They were beginning to straggle out, too. “I have to be able to tell him positively that she’s dead this time. I have to ..”

“Offer positive proof.” Paul finished the sentence for him as Alec’s voice trailed off. He didn’t see Alec’s slight nod, but he didn’t need to. He knew he was right. Until they found whatever was left of her, there would always be a doubt. He looked up as Alec pushed back his chair and stood.

“I’ve got to get back,” he said, absently watching the last Eagle exit the pub. “He was asleep when I left, but you know how he is.”

Paul also stood, nodding with a slight grin. “Yeah. I need to get back to the studio, as well.”

Together, they walked out of the pub, each on his way back to his responsibilities. Paul would return to Harlington-Straker studios to keep a watchful eye on the skies. Alec was heading back to Straker’s house, to keep his own watchful eye on the Commander. Both were wondering if they had truly heard the last of Andy Petrov.



***** ***** *****

In his dreams …
… he reached for her, using only one arm because the other hurt and didn’t seem to want to work …

In his dreams …
… he pulled her close, crushing her body against his as he lay in bed …

In his dreams …
… she laughed and wrapped her arms around him, moving carefully so she wouldn’t hurt him …

In his dreams …
… she kissed his forehead gently, then his eyes, his cheeks, the end of his nose …

In his dreams …
… she kissed his lips, lingering there for a long moment, sliding her tongue past his lips, flicking it across his tongue and the backs of his teeth and then withdrawing …

In his dreams …
… he moaned softly, brushing his hand up and down her back, frowning at a warm sticky wetness that clung to his fingers …

In his dreams …
… she kissed his chin, along his jawline to one ear, then the other, pausing each time to nibble gently on an earlobe …

In his dreams …
… he whispered her name longingly, knowing it was a dream but wishing with all his being that it was real …

In his dreams …
… she whispered softly into his ear - “I had to be sure you were alright.” - and then she kissed him again …

In his dreams …
… he felt her moving on top of him, pressing his body into the bed, kissing him again and again, frantically, all over his face …

In his dreams …
… she whispered into his other ear - “I’ll always be here when you need me” - and then gave him another long, lingering, teasing kiss …

In his dreams …
… he felt the weight of her receding as she left the bed, one of her hands cupping his face, caressing his cheek with her thumb, slowly brushing his chin as she removed her hand from his face, her voice whispering softly to him – “Sleep now” …

In his dreams …
… he heard a door open, and then her soft voice – “I love you, Eddie” – and – “I always will” …

In his dreams …
… he heard the door close, the soft snick as the latch caught, the echo of her voice …




“No!” He struggled to sit up, reaching with his uninjured arm toward the door. “Andy!”

As if on cue, the bedroom door opened, but it wasn’t Andy’s face he saw. Alec, wearing a worried frown, stepped around the door.

“Ed? You okay?”

“Alec! Andy …” He heard the desperate edge in his own voice and struggled to control himself. “Alec, she was …”

“Ed, it was a dream.” Alec tried to keep his voice level and calm. “She’s gone. It was only a dream.”

“No!” Agitated, he slipped out of bed and began to pace. “No, Alec, she was here! She … she was …” Less agitated, his pacing slowed, his shoulders slumped slightly. He stopped, his eyes closed, regaining his equilibrium, his icy façade … almost. “A dream.” His eyes opened and he looked at his friend, standing there with a stricken, worried look on his face. “She was a dream, Alec. Just a dream.”

Alec nodded silently, watching as Straker walked into the bathroom. “Just a dream,” he whispered. He turned his gaze back to the bed, walked over to straighten the tousled covers, brushed his fingers against the drops of blood on the sheet. Rubbing his fingers together, frowning, he whispered again, “Just a vivid dream. That’s all.”



Finis … ?



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