Hellish screams awoke me. I was in the infirmary. The screams weren't from there though; they were from my own tormented mind, from my own mouth.
The captain whom I had seen earlier had been sitting next to my cot. He jumped and looked at me, startled.
"Are you okay?" he asked me.
"No. No," I answered, tears running down my face. "No one in this hell is okay." I paused to get my mind straight and calm myself from the hellish dream I'd had, sitting up slowly and painfully on my cot. "How long has it been?" I asked.
"Since what?"
"Since I got here."
"Oh, not long. Maybe a few hours," the captain replied. There was a long pause of silence afterwards. "Who carried you here, son?" he asked finally.
"He said his name was Sergeant John Gray."
The captain froze and looked at me wide-eyed, that same fear and disbelief I had seen earlier once more apparent in his pale blue eyes. "D-did you just say Sergeant John Gray?" he stuttered.
"Yes sir..." His reaction had made me feel a little uneasy now.
The captain was silent for a moment. Then, quietly, he whispered, "He's been dead for nearly six months now."
"He... he has?" I froze now too. A shiver ran down my spine.
"Yes. I was with him when he died. I spoke to him. I held his hand." The captain paused and shook his head, running his fingers through his blond hair and repeating himself. "I was there when he died."
"Then... who was he?"
"I don't know."
"I tried to call him back, but he left. He said he was going to save another man's life," I said to the captain.
One of the doctors nearby had overheard our conversation. He came up to us and said, "Sir, I've heard several reports from the other soldiers of being saved by a Sergeant John Gray."
"But how? He's dead! He's been dead for six months now!" the captain yelled hysterically.
"He was carrying me and got shot in the heart," I said, thinking back. "He should have dropped dead instantly, but he didn't. He was perfectly fine. Why?" I was a bit hysterical on the last part myself, causing a few of the doctors to glance over at me oddly.
"I... I don't know." The captain was at a loss.
I looked out through the door of the tent. My face paled and my eyes widened as I pointed over the captain's shoulder. He turned around quickly. There, just outside the door, Sergeant John Gray laid down another wounded soldier and called for a corpsman, then left in that same mysterious way he had before.
The captain and I were both silent and terrified.
"I think he's dead," I said finally.
"Of course he's dead!" the captain yelled hysterically. Again, several doctors looked our way. "Of course he's dead," the captain repeated more calmly, again running his fingers through his hair.
I looked at the small red Bible that lay on the table beside me. "Sir, do you believe in angels?" I asked quietly, recalling the way the sergeant had seemed to glow and how he had been completely unaffected by a bullet through the heart.
The captain was silent as he stared at me expectantly.
"I think he's an angel," I continued. "They say the spirit never dies, that the soul lives on for eternity. I think his soul is still here."
And in my saying that, a shiver ran down my spine. Suddenly it hit me. It was true; he was dead, but his soul was still very much alive. I knew it was the truth, and I could see by the look on the captain's face that he knew it as well as I did.
Sergeant John Gray was the Ghost Soldier.
