“What happened?”
The corporal shook his head, his pupils dilated. “He just…walked up to us. And one by one, I saw the guys fall over as he came near. I thought they were dead, so when he came to me, my gun was up.”
Not a hint of concern flittered across Revatī’s face. “That didn’t work,” she said.
“No. I couldn’t pull the trigger. He reached out, touched me, and then I was down.”
“Did it hurt?” Cosgrove said.
“No, not at all. It was…it was like lying in warm sunshine. I felt like I was back in Paris–my honeymoon–asleep in the summer sun. Everything was warm and golden and I couldn’t…I couldn’t have been happier.” The corporal choked back a sob. “It’s…it’s been almost two years, since she died, and this…I just couldn’t…”
“Uh-huh.” Revatī turned away. “As we thought.”
“Another detail you neglected to mention?” Cosgrove said. “I don’t remember anything about a euphoria of golden memories in your report.”
“I imagine it’s different for every one of them,” Revatī said. “And I imagine most of them would do anything to return to that state of bliss. We should go. If he comes back and asks them to kill us, I have no doubt every last one of them would pull the trigger.”
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