Fireflies by David Morrell Page A

parent at three o’clock in the morning.
    “Is there an afterlife?”
    How does a father answer such a question from a son in danger of death?
    David sat up from the cot beside Matthew’s bed. He chose his words carefully, and each word tasted like salt. “Afterlife? I promised I’d never lie to you. The truth is, I don’t know. There’s no way to tell. I think there is. I want to believe there is. For sure, a lot of people do believe there is. But unless they get there, they’ll never know.”
    “I’m pretty sure there’s something after death,” Matt said.
    “You mean like heaven?”
    “Sort of. I’m confused.”
    “We’re all confused. So many theories. A lot of Eastern religions believe that we live many times and that when we die, we’re reborn in a brand-new body.”
    “I’ve heard about that. What’s it called? No, I remember. Reincarnation.”
    “I’m surprised you know that.”
    “I’ve been reading. I want more time. There’s so much I want to learn about.”
    “You’ve learned quite a lot already.”
    “Not enough.”
    David forced himself to keep talking. “Those Eastern religions believe that eventually, after several lives, we die one last time and go to God.”
    “I remember. But …”
    “What is it, son?”
    “Am I good enough for God?”
    That was one question David could answer without a doubt. “You’re the finest person I know, the most honest, the most fair, the most decent. By all means, you’re good enough, more than good enough for God.”
    “I love you, Dad.”
    “Matt, I can’t express how much I love you. ”

12

    The waiting finally ended. The results of the tests came back. Three physicians and a nurse surrounded Matthew on his bed, while David, Donna, and Sarie waited anxiously in the background. This was it. The day of judgment. And the physicians had such blank faces it was impossible to predict what they would report.
    Hurry! For God’s sake, tell us! David thought. With so many people crowding the room, he felt smothered.
    “Matt, your bone marrow’s clean. There’s no sign of Ewing’s sarcoma anywhere else in your body. The remnant of tumor on your spine is so small we can’t see it on X rays. That and the fact that you recovered so strongly from your surgery makes us very much determined to go ahead with the transplant.”
    The room became silent. David couldn’t believe he’d heard correctly.
    But Matt showed no reaction.
    “Matt, don’t you understand? You’ve got a chance!” David kissed Matt’s forehead.
    A doctor started grinning. “And there’s something else. The pathology results on the tumor showed it was necrotic.”
    “What?”
    “Necrotic,” another doctor said. “The tumor was partially dead. That’s why it shrank after the investigational protocol.”
    “But then it started growing again,” Sarie said.
    “Because it got used to those chemicals. We’ve said all along the tumor’s resistant to treatment. But the fact that some of it was dead proves it can respond. It’s not completely resistant. Before, the tumor was huge, and the chemicals were given in non-life-threatening amounts. But now with such a small segment left inside and with the massive doses of chemicals we’ll be giving you, we’ve got reason to hope we can kill it.”
    “Yeah.” Matt started to grin.

13

    But his suffering still continued. Another operation was required—to remove a pint of marrow from his hip bones, then to implant a tube in the right upper chamber of his heart (a match to the one that months ago had been inserted in his left chest) for the purpose of making it easier to administer the chemicals.
    “In the long run, it’s more painless,” a physician said. “With the tubes in place, we won’t have to keep sticking IVs into your veins.”
    David interrupted. “We understood that in January—when you put in the first tube. That first tube did its job well. But why this second tube? Why so many tubes?”
    The doctor’s