(Iglesia is a serialized novel, published on Tuesdays and Saturdays at midnight ET, you can read all of the episodes by clicking on the tag.)
She just laid there for a while…feeling.
When she realized she was afraid to close her eyes, it made her brain start up.
Where am I, how did I get here, where’s my gun, what am I going to have for dinner….wait, back up.
Ok, what was her tactical situation here, get a grip think clearly, use your training. She was in a fabulously ornate domed pavilion that was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. She was laying motionless on some sort of platform, she had no idea how she got here and her last memory was…….
Paul’s voice. It had sounded like he was running down the stairs in their house trying to catch her before she left. She had been standing outside her door….and….blank. Now she was here. For the first time she felt something other than bliss at the beauty in this place, but she wasn’t sure what it was. She had to search her memory for what the feeling was, what feeling this feeling was supposed to mean. It was very familiar, but she couldn’t seem to place it, it didn’t register. Which was in itself odd. Almost like she still wasn’t fully in her body, like she had disassociated herself from its automatic systems.
That’s when she realized she wasn’t breathing….and hadn’t been, for way, way to long of a time. She breathed. Everything felt normal, almost. It felt awfully strange to have to tell her body to breathe. She tried wiggling her toes and fingers, and it felt like someone else was doing it. She was getting good at turning her head back and forth though!
So. She couldn’t remember anything past a certain point, she had blacked out…or been gassed or something or…
And then she had woken up here, deliriously blissed out surrounded by perfect beauty and harmony…
She remembered what the feeling was now…it was fear, and she sat bolt upright.
But before she could get up and flee from the thought and avoid it through motion, it struck her hard, she was dead and this was heaven. She was sure of it. This is what she had thought it would feel like since she was a little girl in her Catholic church back at home. This feeling of peaceful bliss, the unwordly beauty…there were no choirs of angels singing, she reached behind herself and felt her back. No wings, and not a harp in sight. But still….Wow, heaven!
Then she looked down and saw that she was wearing a burkha, and that there were Arabic looking symbols inlaid with what looked like lapis into the golden floor.