Triplett leaned forward. This was a new admission that might just lead to something. “So the cave might actually be a slot canyon?” Triplett noticed confusion drift across Maddix’s face. “Are you familiar with slot canyons, Andrew?”
Maddix shook his head. “Aren’t they just big cracks in the earth?”
“Not exactly, but close,” Triplett said. He grabbed his laptop off his desk and ran a Google search on slot canyons. He selected the best image and handed the laptop over to Maddix. “A slot canyon is a narrow canyon formed by the cutting action of wind and water. They can sometimes be more than a thousand feet deep and only three feet in width. There are hundreds of slot canyons in the Southwestern United States. Utah has the most of them, I think,” Triplett said. “Anyway, does the image on my laptop look like the cave you were in?”
Maddix nodded, his face losing color. “It could very well be the same one.”
“Tell me again how far you traveled inside the cave before you came to the chasm.”
Maddix handed the laptop back to Triplett. “It seemed like a long ways. I’m guessing a mile or two, maybe.”
“Were you walking or floating?”
Maddix closed his eyes again. “I was walking. The angel kind of hovered alongside me.”
“You were alone with the angel?”
“Yes.”
“What did the angel look like?”
“He looked like a man in his prime. He was very tall and wore a white cloak that seemed to glow.”
“Did he have wings and a halo?”
Maddix snapped open his dark eyes and shot Triplett a glowering look. “Are you making fun of me, sir?”
Triplett shivered. “No, Andrew, I would never do that. All I’m trying to do is help you. I can’t do that without a clear picture of everything you experienced. Some of these questions are redundant and silly, I know. But clues can hide in obvious places. And sometimes I have to be very specific to make progress.”
Maddix nodded. “He didn’t have a halo or wings. Like I said, he looked like a man, only aesthetically perfect. And there was something about him that emanated tremendous power and holiness.”
“Did the angel say anything to you? Did he explain what was happening to you?”
Maddix closed his eyes for the third time. He shifted his prosthetic leg to a more comfortable position. “The angel said I had been chosen to view the home of Satan and his demons, and the people he deceived.”
“Did he say why you were chosen?”
Maddix nodded his head slowly. Sweat beaded on his brow. He opened his eyes and looked at Triplett wildly. “The angel said…”
Triplett shifted forward. He sat on the edge of his seat. If he leaned forward any more he would fall to the floor. “The angel said what?”
“That I was chosen before the beginning of time to lead a resistance against Lucifer.”
“You’re confiding all sorts of new things to me today, Andrew. Why have you waited until our last session to tell me these things?”
“I didn’t want you to think I was crazy,” Maddix confessed. He paused for a moment. “So do you think I’m a nutcase, sir?”
Triplett put his glasses back on. “No, Andrew, I really think you’re as sane as the next guy or me for that matter. Having a NDE and OBE—out of body experience—doesn’t make you crazy. But they can drive you to insanity trying to figure out what they are and what causes them.”
“What do you think they are?”
Triplett smiled and shrugged his shoulders noncommittally. “There are a number of theories out there. But I’m afraid none of them will satisfy you, Andrew. Personally, I believe NDEs may be a combination of lucid dreaming and hypoxia. At some point you may want to talk to an oneirologist. They could probably help you more than I can.”
“What is an oneirologist?”
“Someone that analyzes dreams and tries to interpret what they mean.”
“But I wasn’t dreaming, sir. This was different. I was clinically dead and my soul briefly detached itself from my body.”
“Lucid dreams are many times so realistic that they’re hard to distinguish from reality.”
“It strikes me as odd that the very people trying to explain away near-death experiences have never experienced a NDE.”
“You’re right, Andrew, I’ve never had one. And I don’t pretend to have all the answers you’re looking for. I can only give you my humble opinion. Look, no one is disputing the existence of NDEs. Millions of people have experienced them. NDEs are an accepted phenomenon. It’s the cause behind them that the scientific community can’t agree on.”
“And they never will figure them out because NDEs are of a spiritual nature. And spirituality defies scientific knowledge,” Maddix said.
“You do have a point there,” Triplett agreed. “I’m curious, Andrew, before your near-death experience, were you a religious person? Did you spend much time thinking of God and spiritual issues?”
Maddix smirked and shook his head. “You can ask any of the guys in SEAL team 8. I was a hard-drinking, skirt-chasing frogman. I never had any use for God or the Bible.”
“But now you do?”
Maddix nodded his head. My out-of-body NDE has affected me on a visceral level. It forced me to rethink my religious beliefs and to make some lifestyle changes.”
“Now you’re a strictly business Navy SEAL, a frogman in touch with his spirituality.”
Maddix looked down at his prosthetic leg. He shook his head sadly. “I’m not a SEAL anymore. The PEB declared me unfit for military duty,” he said softly. “I just wish they would’ve held off making their decision a little longer. I went for my first run early this morning. I almost made it a mile. And my prosthetic hasn’t affected my swimming at all.”
“I’m sorry to hear about the Physical Evaluation Board’s decision. But I’m not surprised about their recommendation to retire you from the military. Even though you have made amazing progress, they’ll always err on the side of caution.”
Maddix frowned. “The government has spent a lot of money on my training. And now they’re going to cut me loose just like that? I could be an instructor, if nothing else.”
“I’m sorry, Andrew. America is not as safe without you defending our interests. I mean that.”
Maddix manipulated his prosthetic leg, bending it back and forth with little effort. “The Navy says I’m disabled. But I don’t feel disabled.”
Triplett smiled. “You’ll do just fine in your civilian life with an attitude like that. I know you will.” Triplett reached into the pocket of his medical smock. “Before you go I have something to give you.” He retrieved a small pill bottled and tossed it to Maddix.
“What is this?”
“Medicine for PTSD,” Triplett answered.
“But I don’t have any of the symptoms, sir. I’m not depressed. I’m not dreaming of my accident, and it doesn’t bother me to talk about it. And I haven’t had any flashbacks.”
“You may yet. Post-traumatic stress disorder is sometimes delayed and doesn’t start until many months after the initial trauma. So keep these pills handy. But don’t tell anybody you got them from me. This drug hasn’t been approved yet by the FDA,” Triplett explained. “So far it has outperformed lorazepam and phenelazine in clinical trials.”
Maddix shoved the pill bottle into the front pocket of his athletic pants. “Thanks, I guess,” he said as he rose to his six-foot-two height. “Is that it? Am I done?”
Triplett looked at a clock on the wall. He stood and extended a hand for Maddix to shake. “Yes, you’re done with me, Andrew. But if you ever need to talk, look me up. My contact number will be on your discharge papers. Don’t be shy.”