The Annihilation of Foreverland

they were there. Besides, he wanted them to see him perform the miracle. The Director was not a magician.
    He was a savior.
    Parker’s eyes began rapid eye movement. The Director moved next to the bed. The eyes danced beneath the lids.
    “Come on, now,” the Director said, gently. “Come on.”
    Sometimes he lost them in the final leg of the journey; they just needed to connect the mind with the body. The sound of his voice gave them guidance. Previous patients said it was like a beacon bringing them home. It was very dark and directionless where they were; the mind drifting in unknown territory.
    He cradled Parker’s head, careful not to bump the wire protruding from the end of the needle that connected to a bedside computer. He brushed the wild hair back and stroked his cheeks, anything to stimulate the nervous system, give the mind direction.
    “You’re almost there.” The eyes bounced faster. “Almost. Come on, now.”
    The eyes stopped.
    Opened.
    Parker stared at the Director without seeing him. Slowly, they came into focus. The Director pulled the needle from his forehead and stood back, gave him space. Parker sat up like a spring. He jerked his head around, surveying the room, eyes wide with wonder. He looked at his hands, turning them over, palm to back to palm.
    “You did it,” he said. “I’ve never felt… this good.”
    The men in the booth were waiting for a sign. Parker lifted his hand and waved. He saw them silently clap. The Director stopped Parker from standing.
    “The password.”
    Parker jittered like a kid hopped up on energy drinks. He watched the men in the booth, mouthing out the words, He did it, he did it!
    The Director squeezed his arms. “Password.”
    Parker focused on him. His lips moved but the word wouldn’t come. He searched the Director’s face for the answer. Mr. Jackson appeared from around the curtain, hiding a syringe behind his back. The Director glanced at him.
    The old men settled.
    “Last time,” he said. “Password, please.”

    Panic jittered in Parker’s stomach. The Director gave him a password before the journey to ensure he had made it. Without it, he couldn’t be sure.
    He knew the moment was about to pass by and he was about to lose everything he worked for. The Director let go of him and sat back. Parker sat still, thinking. A word was coming. He felt Mr. Jackson take a step and held up a finger to give him more time. He knew there was a needle behind his back. He knew if he didn’t give the Director the word they would put him out and try it again. Next time, he might not return from that dark, drifting place.
    He looked up.
    Eyes bright.
    “Foreverland.”
    The Director nodded. Smiled. “Foreverland, indeed.”
    He grabbed Parker’s arm and held it up. They turned to the booth and the expectant faces inside.
    “We’ve saved another one, gentlemen!” the Director shouted.

    The old men entered the lab with cheers, shaking Parker’s hand vigorously and patting him on the back. The Director stood back and watched. It was his favorite moment. The fruit of his labor. They brought Parker a glass of water and – in between sips – listened to him describe the details of his journey. They listened with bright eyes.
    Mr. Jackson sheathed the syringe and stepped next to the Director.
    “Check his vitals,” the Director said. “And run him through cognition testing. If everything checks out, put him on the standard quarantine for six weeks. His body’s in good shape, but we don’t want him slipping away after all this hard work.”
    Parker touched his forehead, tenderly.
    “Wait to remove the stent until the quarantine is complete,” the Director added. “Just in case we need to go inside again. Otherwise, he won’t need that anymore.” He smiled at Mr. Jackson. “At least not for quite some time.”
    “And the garbage?”
    “Hold it in the freezer for a few days, then the oven.”
    Mr. Jackson went behind the curtain.
    The Director put his arm around Parker’s shoulders and shook hands with all the men.
    “We’re saving the world one life at a time, gentlemen.” He smiled through the scraggly beard. “One life at a time.”

22
    “Boom!” Sid slammed down the Jack of Spades. “That’s game, you hole-headed freaks!”
    The others threw their cards down. Sid swept them up. They were two days out of the Haystack and the damp cold was still inside them. Lying in bed just wasn’t the same as letting the sun heat them up. They