Dear John

By Sharon

Chet Kelly brought his van to a rolling stop as he approached the red light in front of him. It was eight thirty in the morning and he’d just gotten through another restless shift. He was weary, tired, and struggling with depression. A depression he’d been fighting for months now. ‘Could it possibly be four months since that horrific day?’ he thought to himself. 

He snapped out of his self induced daze when the driver in the vehicle behind him honked his horn.  Noticing the light had turned green, he placed his foot on the accelerator and proceeded forward, not knowing exactly where he was headed. Although fatigued, he just couldn’t bring himself to go home to bed, to his empty apartment. He envied Roy DeSoto at times like these, knowing his friend had a family to go home to. Roy could turn his sorrow over to his wife, let her hold him until the pain subsided. ‘What am I thinking’ Chet scolded himself, ‘none of us will ever live without sorrow again! How could we? We, the six of us, had faced the grim reaper on the horrible day and only five of us came back! Well, at least Roy has his children to help him focus on the future,’ Chet was thinking as he drove on.

As he did this, he failed to notice the flowers blooming, the feel of the suns rays on his forearm resting on the driver’s window sill, or even the beautiful rare rainbow gracing it’s self high above. All he saw was the dirt road he’d turned onto, and the gray mountains looming ahead of him.

Suddenly, he slammed on his brakes and put the van into reverse. Backing up until he came to the crossing he’d just passed seconds earlier, he turned right, knowing it would lead to the ranch once owned by John Gage.

As he slowed to a stop a mere three hundred feet from the bungalow, he heard a low but beautiful melody coming form the van’s speakers. Leaning forward, he turned the dial, allowing the music to fill the air.

Dear John I knew you
About as well as anyone
We were the wild ones
So sure those days would never end
Now they're only memories my friend

Dear John I'll see you
Some day again

I swear I saw you
On a crowded street today
I almost called your name
Thinking of all those yesterdays
Heaven help me
How I miss my friend

Dear John I'll see you
Some day again

There'll be a celebration
When all will be revealed
We'll have a reunion
High on a hill

Dear John how are you
God know its heaven where you are
Find some peace there
May it never end

Dear John my heart knows
We'll meet again

Dear John I'll see you....
Some day again.

As the singer hit the last note, Chet lowered his head into his hands, leaning onto the steering wheel, he finally allowed himself to weep for his fallen comrade. After a few minutes of crying he reached over and turned his radio off. Wiping the tears from his eyes he heard a noise high above and looked into the sky. Finding the source of the sudden noise brought a rare smile to Chet’s face. An eagle was gliding, with its wings outstretched, through a colorful arch in the gorgeous blue sky. 

His smile grew as he thought about how much Johnny had loved this place. The moment brought with it thoughts of clarity for the struggling fireman. Feeling as though the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders, Chet drove his van back towards the city. He drove until he reached Captain Hank Stanley’s house, climbed out of the van and waited impatiently after knocking on the door.

“Chet!  Buddy, its good to see you. Come in,” Hank offered opening the door wider.

“No, it's ok, Cap. I just wanted to let you know I’ll be putting in for a transfer next shift.”

Hank frowned, “Is there a problem? Can I do anything for you?”

“No, I’d just like to come back home,” Chet explained with big questioning eyes.

“Great, great.  Then if all goes according to your plans, we should expect you back at 51 in a few weeks!” Hank smiled towards the younger man, placing a hand on his shoulder.

A few minutes after watching Chet pull out of his drive way, Hank couldn’t help think about the journey Chet and his crew had been through in the last few months. ‘Well, the place’ll never be the same again, but at least we can all grieve the loss of John together now, exactly as it should be. He closed the door and an infrequent smile spread across the man’s face who was in charge of a very wounded Station 51 these days.

The end.

Dear John written by Tommy Shaw

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