***
The light was getting dim, as he carefully made his way back to the old beat up cabin, in north Georgia. It had been in the family for three generations and had been the scene of many wonderful fishing and hunting trips.
A very bright flashlight appeared close to the front door, surprising him, as it shined in his eyes. An odd mechanical bass voice asked, “Sergeant First Class Michael Hurst?”
“Yeah, that’s me. Who are you, and get that damned light out of my face.”
That was the last thing he remembered.
Chapter 2