In the days after the nightmare that was supposed to be a fall celebration, I kept mostly to myself, too tired and disturbed to go out for more than essentials, but that wore thin and I was determined to get out and see to my friends. I had not been the only one affected by the horrors of that day, and I knew that wallowing in my own pain would do nothing to help the island at large. I was most concerned about Greg. I had not seen him before the manifestations began, and now that it was over, I owed him a visit. He had lost much in the recent days and I was a poor friend for not paying my official condolences sooner.

I checked the clinic first and not finding him there, I headed to his home. As I was at the compound, I picked up a basket of things we might share. Knocking on his door, I sighed when there was no answer. I could have sworn that I had heard movement inside, perhaps even a voice and I knocked again, calling out, "Greg, please, may I come in? I've missed you."

There was nothing and I pushed open the door and stepped inside, blinking as my eyes adjusted to the dim light. What I saw chilled me to the core and sent my mind racing back to my youth and the deaths of my mentor and foster brother. Dropping the basket I carried, I ran to the bed and the bloodied mess of my friend. "Blessed Elua, please, Greg, don't leave me." I looked around frantically, remembering the lessons the very man bleeding in front of me had drilled into my memory. Remembering the lessons I'd learned on far too many battlefields.