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was a woman’s voice, soft and reassuring. “No one is going to hurt you here, I promise.”
    Here? But where was here? He wasn’t sure. The world about him seemed in flux once more. Slowly a new reality began to materialize around him. It was not the harsh world of the altars of pain. He was in a small room, the lights were dim, the air cool. A damp cloth in someone’s hand ran across his forehead. Beyond that hand he saw her face. It was the face of a young, dark-haired woman, a pretty one at that. Her green eyes were full of concern.
    “Are you with us this time, Dr. Carson? Can you see me? Can you understand me?”
    “With you? This time? Who are you?” Carson whispered.
    A smile appeared on the woman’s face. “You are here this time. You’re coming out of it. You’ve had me really worried.”
    Carson stared at the ceiling, beyond his comely companion, into a yellowish light. The fixture looked almost like some sort of giant quartz crystal. He was lying in a bed, a brown blanket over him, of that much he was certain. “Where am I?”
    “We call this place Refuge,” was the reply.
    Refuge? That didn’t tell him very much. “But how did I get here?”
    “You don’t remember?” asked the woman. “Think back, the answer is there if you seek it.”
    There was a long silence as the last of the pieces of the puzzle, which was the life of Tom Carson, fell into place. “Those dark angels and those things that they had with them, they freed me from the altar. They took me into a pool of stars. One of them, the one called Abaddon, said something about taking me to a place called Refuge. Then there was darkness, cold, I don’t remember anything else beyond that.”
    The woman smiled broadly. “That all happened six days ago. Since then, you’ve been here with me. You’ve had a pretty rough time of it. You’ve been asleep through most of it. When you were awake, you didn’t make much sense. You went on about your home, about Lois, your wife, I assume.”
    Carson nodded.
    “And Peter, your son?”
    Again Carson nodded.
    “It was like you were in another world. And you were a handful from time to time too, when you were in the worst of your delirium, when you were on the altar. But you aren’t there anymore, and you’re not going back.”
    “It seems that you’ve learned a lot about me already,” said Carson, doing his best to remain awake and focused.
    The woman chuckled. “Oh my, where are my manners. I’m sorry. My name is Bedillia, Bedillia Farnsworth.”
    “Happy to meet you, Ms. Farnsworth. Thanks for being there for me.”
    “Oh, please, just call me Bedillia. We’re not much for titles here.”
    “OK, and you can call me Tom. Not Dr. Carson. I don’t think I know him anymore. I think he died. And I’m sorry if I was any problem. I really don’t remember. I’m just thankful that I had someone to look after me.”
    “No apology necessary, I assure you, and I was happy to be looking after you. I didn’t mind in the least. What happened to you is normal, totally normal,” Bedillia said. “So many cruel months of torment has a tendency to do things to your mind. When released, most people go into a type ofshock. It is almost like the effects of withdrawing from drugs. The sudden absence of powerful stimuli, emotion, and pain creates a sort of vacuum in the human psyche. Your body gets so used to having your senses continually pressed to the limits that a sudden removal has unexpected consequences. It’s like a thick rubber band, stretched to its limit for a long time, and then suddenly released—it flies apart, becomes undone. In the absence of intense pain, you feel empty. You don’t see this condition on Earth because that amount of pain would kill you a thousand times over, but here the effect is only too real.”
    “Sounds like you’ve made a study of it,” said Carson, who tried to sit up, unsuccessfully.
    “I have,” said Bedillia. “In another life I was a counselor. I