Pinpoint Analysis - Part 18
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental
- Pinpoint Analysis - Part 17
Les is not the same man he was, and Deb doesn't know what to think - oh, and where is Trista?
A Quick Review
Les believes he has telepathically contacted his daughter disappeared in mid-flight while traveling through The Bermuda Triangle. In his search for answers, he contacts Lieutenant Cartwright who sees the big picture. Les knows where it's leading, but is there a choice. Here's an excerpt from Part 17.
Cartwright sighed. "Sir, I don't have a religion. I have a relationship with Jesus Christ. A religion is something that we as corrupt humans have devised to try to earn acceptance with God. Simply put, sir, it's not what we can do but what He has done."
Les felt a strange tugging from inside. He hoped it didn't show on the outside. "I really don't know if I want to ask this or not, but if it's pertinent to the investigation I guess I need to know. What did Jesus Christ do?"
"God took on the form of human flesh in the person of Jesus Christ so he could identify with us and redeem us - to buy us back."
Les felt as if he shouldn't have asked the question, but it was too late. "To buy us back from who? From what?"
"From the devil. that's why he couldn't have me. I've been purchased by another. The purchase price was blood - the blood of God as He hung on the cross in the form of Jesus Christ."
Les was becoming nervous. "Okay. Okay. I get it. Let's move on." You said you saw things telepathically. Like what?" In his mind, he was thinking of his telepathic experience with Trista. He knew it was more than a dream.
"Sir, the Navy has been doing underwater experiments off the coast of Bermuda. They literally rocked the underworld. The devil is loose, and he's looking for revenge
Les interrupted. "You don't really expect me to believe that, do you?"
Cartwright stared hard. "You don't have to believe it. Whether you believe it or not has nothing to do with it. It's a cold, hard fact, and your belief or lack thereof doesn't change the fact. The devil will keep up the fight whether you believe in him or not."
"Okay." Les stood and proudly placed his hands on his desk to support himself. Cartwright was quick to see Les's new tattoo. Les waited for him to say something. He didn't.
Les broke the silence. "Okay - so the devil's out there. Let's go get him. I'm ready for the storm, too."
Cartwright shook his head in disbelief. "You're not ready for the storm. You have no idea what you're up against - no idea! You're no match for the evil one. He'll chew you up and spit you out in no time."
"You really believe this stuff, don't you, Cartwright?"
"I don't just believe it. I know it. There is a difference."
"Okay, Cartwright. That's enough for today. I'll be in touch. Thank you for coming in."
Les ushered him to the door and watched him walk down the hall. Les couldn't help but think, "You know, I think he really does know. I need his help. He knows something I don't, and I need to find out what it is. The devil? Yeah, I think he really knows. This is going to be the fight of my life - maybe a fight for my life."
Another day had ended for Les Griffin, but something else was just beginning. He didn't know exactly what, but he knew his life would never be the same. It was another night of restlessness.
Crawling into bed, he felt a strange but powerful pounding in his head. The headache led to a gripping anxiety. Deb took a sleeping pill from the dresser and poured a glass of water for Les. Finally, he fell into a deep sleep, and so did Deb.
It was then that Trista appeared to him again.
"Daddy, help me! Help me, please!"
Les remained asleep. "Where are you, Honey? How can I get to you?"
"Daddy, I can only talk to you telepathically, and I don't have much time. I can only come to you when he's not here?"
"When who's not there?"
Trista struggled to give an answer. "The . . . the dev . . . the devil."
"Trista, where are you? Mom and I will be right there."
"Daddy, you can't. I'm in a huge holding cell waiting to be cast into hell. There are literally thousands of us here. We just wait for our name to be called. When it is, we're taken to the pit forever. Daddy, I'm scared."
The pounding in Les's head was getting stronger. "Where is this holding cell? We'll come and get you right now. I promise."
"Daddy, I love you, but you can't. It's not your time. They do talk of Jesus here. He is supposedly the only one that can keep someone from coming here. I don't know. I'm told it's too late for me, but you need to see what this Jesus thing is about before it's too late for you and Mom. Promise me you will."
"I will, but where is the holding tank located. Can you give me directions?"
A tearful Trista continued. "Daddy, you just don't get it. You can't come here. And even if you could, there's nothing you could do."
Les's head was on the verge of splitting. He never felt like this before. He quickly was becoming nauseous. "Trista, I'm not going to ask you again. Where is the holding cell?"
"Okay, Dad, but it won't help either of us. It's located under the Atlantic. It's borders run from Miami to Puerto Rico to Bermuda - the Devil's Triangle."
"You came to me pleading for help. What is it you want me to do? How can I help?"
"He's coming, Daddy. I have to go."
Les bolted from the bed and began to get dressed. Deb was now awake and more than a little annoyed. "What are you doing, Les? It's the middle of the night. Go back to bed."
"I can't. I've got to find Trista."
Sweat was dripping from Les's face - a face that had turned a blushed red. Deb placed her hand on his brow. "Les, you're burning up.:
"No. No. It can't be. It's not my time."
"Les, I mean you have a very high fever. We need to get you to the hospital. Finish getting dressed. I'll drive."
"There's nothing you can do? Come on, Doctor. There must be something you can do."
Deb yanked the car into Mercy Hospital's parking lot and guided Les to the emergency room as quickly as she could. She waited patiently while Les was admitted and taken to an examination room. After what seemed like a forever wait, the doctor called for Deb.
"Mrs. Griffin, your husband has developed a rare condition - electromagnetic poisoning. We're not talking electromagnetic hypersensitivity. We're talking poisoning. Do you have any idea where he could have been exposed to such great quantities of electromagnetism?"
"No. Not exactly. I know he's doing some government work that he can't about. I don't know if that might be a possibility. What's the treatment?"
"Mrs. Griffin, there is none. This isn't like the hypersensitivity cases caused by cell phones and other small electromagnetic fields. He has been exposed to large doses of electromagnetism."
"There's nothing you can do? Come on, Doctor. There must be something you can do."
"Other than medicating him to keep him comfortable, there really is very little we can do. This we know, it's just in the beginning stages. It will get worse."
The doctor helped Deb to a chair. "What can I expect in the days ahead?"
"You can expect him to experience excruciating head pain. His brain has been affected. That will bring on bouts of extreme anxiety. It could and probably will lead to depression and even suicidal thoughts. You can expect him to live in a delusional world off and on.
"There will be times he won't be making any sense to you, but it is important for you to remember that to him, his world is real. You won't be able to convince him otherwise, so just let him believe what he wants to."
"That would explain his thinking that he has talked to his daughter."
"What's that about Mrs. Griffin?"
"He wakes up from dreams thinking he has actually talked with his daughter who died in a plane accident over the Thanksgiving holiday. He feels he has to find her, that she's only lost.
"That makes me feel a little better, I guess. It's hard for me to heal from her loss when he keeps insisting she's still alive."
"Mrs. Griffin, no amount of counseling will help your husband at this point, but have you considered grief counseling to help you through? We have a wonderful program here at the hospital. Would you like me to get you some information about it? I think it would help you cope not only with your loss but also your husband as well."
"Yes, Doctor. I would like that."
"I'll get the information and send your husband out. You'll be driving him home, correct?"
Panic set in. "Nurse, where is he? He hasn't been released yet!"
"I tried to stop him, Doctor. He said he had to go find his daughter. Three of us couldn't stop him."
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© 2018 William Kovacic