One eye open. 
White light, blinding, painful, bored into his pupils.
Second eye open.
Logan can see the chamber. Everything is white. He is lying on a rock hard table. The nerves in his lower back are on fire. He tried to sit up but restraints lock his wrists to the table. Where in the fuck am I?
Memories.
I must search my memories he tells himself. What was I doing last? He can see it now. He was at the beach with Gail and the girls. The incoming tide creamed around their ankles as the girls squealed with the arrival of each crashing wave. The sun burned the back of his neck. He smelled the tang of salty water. Seagulls pitched in a perfect blue sky, their cries ranging over the whispering wind.
Now this.
He struggled against the restraints. Leather cut into his wrists. “Somebody had better get their ass in here!”
No response.
“You heard me God damn it. Get in here now or so help me!”
A door flew open with a protracted whine like air moving through a pull flute whistle. He turned toward the sound. A woman entered. Young. Attractive. Shoulder length red hair. She wore a white lab coat that hung mid thigh and a black skirt that made him whisper “Thank God for a little color.” She marched straight to him carrying a tablet of some sort.
     “Good morning Mr. Logan. I’m glad to see that you are in a fully conscious state. My name is Nancy. I am your reemergence counselor.”
     He blinked several times. “Why am I tied down and what in the hell is a reemergence counselor?”
     Her bright red lips arched into a smile. “Emergent’s often undergo episodes of spontaneous anger.”
     “I’m not angry.”
     Nancy looked back at the tablet. “Your heart rate is over a hundred, your nostrils are flared, your blood vessels are contracted, and you’re shouting like a mad man.”
     “I’m not shouting!”
     She pressed the tablet against her chest, her right eyebrow rose above her eyeglasses. “If you’re going to insist on shouting, I will leave. Is this what you want?”
     He struggled against his restraints for a moment before calming. “I want some answers.”
     “Of course you do.”
     His gaze traveled around the empty room. “Where am I?”
     “Earth.”
     Logan’s stomach clenched like a closed fist. “That’s not possible.”
     “Why, because you died?”
     “That’s right. I died, in 2010 from colon cancer.”
     “Three hundred and twenty two years ago,” she said.
     “You’re shitting me.”
     “No, Mr. Logan, I’m not.”
     “Why, why am I here?”
     She studied the tablet for a minute and then looked up at him. “Cryonics Institute of America, sound familiar?”
     He felt suddenly lightheaded. “You’ve done it.”
     “Yes, Mr. Logan, we’ve done it.”
     His thoughts returned to his wife and children. “Is my family here?”
     Nancy turned and walked away.
***
     “The problem,” Doctor Kaufman said, “is that your family didn’t have their bodies stored in a Cryonic’s Lab.”
     Two large men with muscular forearms unhooked his restraints. Logan sat up and rubbed his wrists. “I was with them.”
     “Before you came here?”
     “I didn’t come here, you brought me.”
     Doctor Kaufman massaged the bridge of his nose. He looked too young to be a doctor, Logan thought, but then, everyone appeared young in this new world. “Isn’t that what you wanted? After all, you had them freeze your body for a reason. Consider yourself lucky Mr. Logan, you have beaten death.”
     “Beaten death?”
     “No one dies here, or rather, if they die, we soon restore them to a new body.”
     Logan pushed off the bed. His knees buckled and he grabbed the bed for support.
     “You haven’t stood for a long time Mr. Logan. I suggest taking things slowly.”
     “I want to go back.”
     “To your family?”
     Logan nodded.
     “That’s impossible. No, Mr. Logan, you must learn to enjoy your rebirth. Think of the possibilities. You’ll be like Columbus discovering a new world.”
     “I don’t want to be like Columbus. I want my family.”
     Doctor Kaufman spoke into a small black box. “Patient Logan displays typical psychosis and impaired reasoning associated with reemergence.  Specifically, the belief in Heaven. Advise that patient be quarantined until processed for assimilation into society.”
     Logan grabbed the doctor by his collar. “I’m not psychotic you bastard, there is a Heaven, I’ve been there.”
     The guards rushed in to pin Logan against the floor.
     “Heaven is a myth spread by outlawed churches as a means to control their followers. Until you accept that, I’m afraid you leave me no choice but to isolate you from rational thinking people.” Doctor Kaufman waved the guards toward the door. “Quarantine unit five.”
     A cold hard restraint slapped over Logan’s wrists. Surely not handcuffs, he thought, they wouldn’t use such an antiquated device in this new world. “Let’s go asshole,” one of the guards said as they lifted Logan from the floor.
    
     They marched him into a narrow corridor with white walls and a white floor. It felt as if he floated in a sea of nothingness. Nancy approached from the opposite direction. She shook her head and tapped her fingers over the tablet she carried. “You need to accept your new life,” she said in passing.
     “This isn’t my life,” he said over his shoulder.
     “Accept Mr. Logan. Accept.”
     The guards led him to a door. One of the men leaned into a retinal scanner and the door opened with a whoosh. They brought him into a small chamber, everything white. Bright light beamed down through the ceiling. A narrow bed with a white blanket pressed into a far corner. The guards unlocked the restraint and shoved him. “Enjoy your stay.” The door closed behind them and Logan collapsed onto the bed. He stretched out on his back and gazed at the ceiling. “I shouldn’t be here,” he whispered, “I shouldn’t fucking be here.” He rolled onto his side and started to sob into his pillow.
     “Hey buddy.”
     Logan sat up. He glanced around the empty room. “Who said that?”
     “It’s me.”
     Logan flattened a hand against the wall next to his bed. He leaned close. “Who are you?”
     “Jason Richter, gynecologist from Los Angeles,” the voice said from behind the wall.
     Logan wiped tears onto the back of his hand. “Michael Logan, lawyer, San Francisco. Where are you?”
     “Next cell, but around here they’re called isolation suites. Can you believe that?”
     “How long have you been here?” Logan asked.
     “Six years. You’re a new arrival right?”
     Logan pulled back. His gut ached as if someone had punched him just below the ribs. He took a moment to collect himself before leaning toward the wall. “Why have you been here six years?”
     “They won’t let you out until you admit Heaven and God aren’t real, but you and I know the truth. We’ve lived in Heaven.” Several seconds passed before Jason continued, “They won’t let you see anyone except for your counselor and the guards, and the cooks of course.”
     “Cooks?”
     “Lionel and Janice. They do their best to replicate a twenty-first century diet, but fake meat is fake meat, no much how much gravy you smother it with.”
     “How many others…like us, are here?”
     “I don’t know,” Jason, said, “hundreds I guess. Anyone dumb enough to sign off on cryonics.”
     Logan traced the rough concrete finish of the walls with his fingertips. “What happens to the people who conform?”
     “Conform?”
     “You know, renounce God.”
     A long silence followed.
     “Jason, are you still there?”
     “Yeah, I’m here.”
     “What happens to the people who break down?”
     “I don’t know,” Jason said, “I guess they move into the general population, but I’ll never break. I’d rather live here forever than give them their lie.”
     Logan fell back onto the bed. He curled into a fetal position and closed his eyes.
***
     The dining room had a small table with a single chair. The two cooks stood behind a long counter near the back wall. They were dressed like French chefs and smiled as he approached.
     “Today’s special,” Lionel said motioning with his hands toward serving dishes that held the food, “is roast beef served in its natural juices, mashed potatoes, green beans, and hot rolls. Do you approve?”
     Logan’s eyes moved over the food. “I’ll take a bacon cheeseburger. Hold the onions. French fries and a chocolate malt.”
     Lionel continued to smile. “Roast beef sir.”
     “Yes of course, what was I thinking? I will have the roast beef.”
     Lionel reached for a carving knife and sliced several paper-thin cuts from a piece of meat. He placed them on a plate and handed it to Janice, who scooped out potatoes and green beans. When she finished loading his plate, Janice handed it to him. “Enjoy your meal sir.”
     He took a seat and stared at the food. He probed the food with his fork. It appeared normal and the smell made his mouth water. Logan sighed and took a bite of roast. The taste reminded him of the steamed seaweed he ate at the Japanese restaurant on his fortieth birthday. He gulped down the imitation roast with a hard swallow and gave Lionel and Janice thumbs up. At least the potatoes and green beans tasted somewhat real.
Nancy entered the room as he finished eating. “So Mr. Logan, did you enjoy your meal?”
     He used a napkin to wipe gravy from his lips. “The best I’ve ever tasted.” Logan pushed away from the table and stood. “Let’s get started.”
***
     Nancy led him to a small room, empty except for a reclining chair that resembled the ones he remembered from his visits to the dentist. “Have a seat.”
     “All right,” he said sinking into the chair. “I think I have a cavity in one of my molars.”
     Nancy smiled and touched him on the shoulder. “I’m going to recline the chair. When I’ve finished, I will be turning out the light.”
     “Should I remove my clothes before or after the light goes out?”
     “We are not here to copulate,” she said in a matter of fact voice.
     “But we could be.”
     Nancy sighed. Her fingers tapped across the tablet she held and his chair started to recline. “That tablet of yours does just about everything,” He said. “I need to get one of those. Who makes it, Apple?”
     “I’m moving to the back of the room now.”
     Darkness flooded the chamber. Logan felt briefly disoriented after spending so much time in his bright isolation suite. Across the ceiling, an image appeared, like the old home movies his father made. Scenes played out, graphic, terrifying. Scenes of torture, screaming, people burning at the stake.
     The lights came on and Nancy moved to his side. “Those people were persecuted because of their religious beliefs or lack of, or because they dressed differently, or acted in a way outside the norms of the church. How can you believe in an invisible God who inspired such acts of cruelty?”
     Logan closed his eyes. Teeth clenched, he gathered his wits. He opened his eyes to glare at her. “God is not responsible for the actions of a few crazed individuals who kill in his name.”
      “Why cling to obsolete ideology when you can experience peace and love without praying to a false God? We have no religion because we need no religion. We have no God because he doesn’t exist except in the bloody pages of humanity’s past. We don’t need an imaginary Heaven because we’ve created our own heaven.”
     Logan turned from her. “I’ll never turn from God.”
     “Then you’ll live your life in isolation.”
     “So be it.”
***
     He held Gail’s hand as they walked along the carnival midway. The girls ran ahead, each holding a colorful balloon. Gail shoved a wad of cotton candy at his face. He took a bite, the cotton candy sticking to his lips and tongue. “I love you,” Gail said. She brought her lips to his and the world started to spin.
***
     Logan awoke in his isolation suite. He covered his face, tears streaming from the corners of his eyes. He turned toward the wall. “Jason, Jason, are you there?”
     “Of course I’m here. Nine fucking years I’ve been here.”
     Logan wiped tears onto the back of his hand. “I’m thinking of doing it.”
     “You said the same thing last week, and the week before that.”
     “I mean it this time. I’ll never get back to my family if I stay here.”
     No answer.
     “Jason, did you hear me?”
     “I heard you. Are you really prepared to denounce God when you know he exists?”
     “God will understand.”
     “No he won’t.”
     “I can’t go on without my family.”
     “Logan, the only way to be with them is to die, and no one dies on Earth anymore. All they need is a tiny DNA sample to regenerate life, you know this.”
     “I will find a way.”
***
     Nancy’s expression was cold, calculating. “You no longer believe in God?”
     “That’s right,” Logan said, his nerves on fire.
     “Why the sudden change in opinion?”
     He wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. “Three years isn’t sudden.”
     “I don’t believe you,” she said while examining her tablet. “Last week you were overheard praying inside your suite.”
     Logan felt like a drowning man who clawed for the surface. “That meant nothing.”
     She shook her head and tapped on the tablet. “I will note your progress. If it continues, then perhaps in a year or so, you will be ready for assimilation.”
     He sat up in the chair. His chest heaved. “A year or two. I can’t wait that long. I’ll lose my fucking mind!”
     “We can’t take a chance on releasing someone whose assimilation is not complete. Imagine the chaos if you tried to reintroduce religion into the world. No, Mr. Logan, until we are totally confident that your rehabilitation is finished, you must remain with us.” She opened the door and waved for a guard to enter.
***
     “Why does God leave us here to suffer?”
     “He is testing our faith,” Jason said.
     Logan leaned forward to bang his head against the wall in his suite. “Then I’m failing his test. All I want is my family and he’s keeping me from them.”
     “You will see them again, be patient.”
     “When,” Logan asked, falling back onto his pillow, “in a thousand years?” He clenched and unclenched his hands. “I can’t take it anymore. I just can’t take it.”
***
     Logan pressed the fork against Janice’s throat. “Open the damn door or I’ll kill you, I swear.”
     Lionel nodded. Sweat trickled out from under his chef’s hat. He backed to the door and turned to face the retinal scanner.
Logan stared at the open door. “Get behind the counter.” He waited until Lionel took his familiar position and pulled Janice into the corridor.
“Don’t hurt me,” she whimpered. “I have kids.”
“So do I.” He glanced in both directions. “Does every door use a retinal scanner?”
“Not the outer doors. They use a code.”
“What’s the code?”
“Eden.”
Logan shook his head. “Go figure.” He started to drag Janice down the hall. “Be quiet and do what you’re told.”
“You’ll never get away,” she said. “They will hunt you down.”
“I’m willing to take that chance.”
“Logan!”
He whirled toward the voice. Nancy stood at the end of the hall alongside one of the guards. “You can’t keep me prisoner here, I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Put down that fork immediately. Violence is not acceptable here.”
“Back away or Janice dies.”
“You cannot kill Janice.”
Logan pressed the fork against Janice throat. “Let’s find out.”
“Don’t make me hurt you,” the guard said.
“I’m not going back to that cell.”
Nancy’s fingers worked her tablet. She looked up at the guard. “Take him.”
The guard rushed forward with a growl. Logan ducked as the guard slammed him to the floor. They started to roll. The guard hammered several punches against his head. Logan swung wildly.
Silence.
Logan stared at the blood on his hands and then at the fork plunged deep into the guard’s neck. He turned toward Nancy. She stood mouth agape, her face the color of the walls. Logan hustled off the floor. Nancy flinched as he ran past. At the outer door, he punched in the code. Cold air whirled inside as the door opened. Logan burst onto a city sidewalk. He stared at the dark buildings that surrounded him. Night, it was night, and the sidewalk stood empty. He began to run. His chest ached. His legs burned, but he didn’t stop. Logan ran until his body refused to continue. He moved into an alley and curled against a building. Something wet struck his face. He arched his face toward the sky. Raindrops fell from the darkness like the tears he’d cried. Logan smiled.
***
“Wake up, wake up, you can’t stay here.”
Logan blinked until the face hovering over him came into view. A woman, brown hair, big eyes, reminded him of a mouse. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“You’re the one who escaped from the institute right?”
He sat up and cleared his throat. “I fell asleep and—”
“If they catch you you’ll never get out,” she said, “come with me, I’ll make you some hot tea.”
***
Logan sat on a couch inside her small apartment. Pictures of cats covered the red walls. The air smelled of roses. He watched Kate pour steaming tea into two cups. She glanced over her shoulder. “Sugar?”
He nodded.
Logan joined her at the table. The tea warmed him. He sighed. “You know why I escaped.”
Kate smiled over the rising steam. “You’re a believer.”
“That’s right.”
She sat her cup on a plate and gazed into his eyes. “Now you want to die?”
“More than anything.”
“To return to your family?”
He nodded again.
She stared off into the distance. “You could stay with me.”
Logan smiled at her offer. “They will never stop hunting me.”
Kate lifted her cup. “Because you would bring God back into the world.”
“He’s never left.”
“I wish I could believe,” she said, “but I have no concept of what it means.” Kate stood and walked to a window. “If you’re killed, they will find your body and bring you back.”
“There must be a way for me to disappear.”
Kate reached out to place her hands over his. “There is one way.”
“Tell me.”
“I know a fishing captain. He could take you out on his boat and…” Her chin sank toward her chest.
“They’d never find my body at the bottom of the ocean.”
“That’s right,” she whispered.
“Can you take me to him?”
“Of course, if this is what you want.”
***
Logan stood on the deck of the fishing trawler watching the shore melt into the horizon. Kate flattened a hand against his back and massaged in ever-smaller circles. He glanced at the captain, a man she called Dutch. He stood at the helm in a black slicker, wind tossing his long grey hair, ocean spray dotting his scrubby beard like gemstones. A deep chuckle rose from his gut each time the boat slammed into a cresting wave.
“I wish you didn’t have to die,” Kate whispered.
“We’re all meant to die, that is the natural order of things. They never should have brought me back.”
A long silence came between them before she said, “Heaven must be a wonderful place.”
Logan turned to face her. He touched a hand to Kate’s cheek. “Imagine a place without pain or worry, where everyday is filled with happiness and love. That is Heaven. My family awaits me there. That is why I must go back.”
Dutch drove the boat until land was a distant memory. He came onto the deck rubbing his beard. He lifted a rusted anchor connected to a chain. “We’ll wrap this around you to make certain you stay down.”
Logan touched the heavy chain. “Sounds good.”
Kate watched with mournful eyes as Dutch secured the anchor around his waist. She brushed tears onto her sleeve. “Don’t cry,” Logan said, “I’m going to a better place.”
She kissed him on the lips and pulled back. “If I didn’t believe that, I would hate you for leaving.”
Logan nodded and smiled.
“Are you sure about this?” Dutch said steering him to the gunwale.
“I’m sure. Thank you both.”
Dutch reached out to shove his chest. Logan tumbled backward until slamming against the ocean surface. A thousand needles pricked his body at once, as he sank into the icy embrace of the sea. Darkness closed in around him, the sun fading to a pinprick overhead. Logan struggled against his restraints. His heart thundered. A silent scream rose from his throat. Downward, downward, he coursed toward the ocean floor, the world around him transforming into a silent tomb.
***
One eye open.
White light, blinding, painful, tore into his pupils.
Second eye open.
Logan can see the chamber. Everything is white. He is lying on a rock hard bed. He blinked several times. Where in the fuck am I?
The room looked familiar. The walls, the bed, everything. He rolled onto his side and screamed. “No, no, I can’t be back in the isolation suite, this isn’t possible!”
“Hey buddy.”
Logan sat up. He pressed a hand against the wall. “Jason is that you?”
“No, I’m not Jason,” a voice from behind the wall answered.
“I don’t understand. Where’s Jason? He’s in the isolation suite next to me.”
“You’re not in an isolation suite.”
A stabbing pain moved across the front of Logan’s head. “Of course I’m in an isolation suite.”
“No, you’re not back on earth.”
Logan slapped his hand against the wall. “What do you mean I’m not back on earth? This isn’t heaven. I know what heaven looks like.”
Several seconds passed before the voice spoke. “You’re right, this isn’t heaven.”
“Where am I damn it!”
“You killed a guard when you escaped.”
Logan searched his memory. “I stabbed him with a fork.”
“That’s right. You broke one of God’s commandments. Murderers don’t go to heaven. They go to—”
“No, no, no!” Logan curled into a fetal position and started to weep.

Editor notes:
First. Don’t allow my dark sense of humor to steal from the story, but the irony is as potent as ever. I won’t give it away, but, instead, I will simply state that when a man is pinned into a corner he will do anything to survive, especially when family is at stake. Whether or not you believe in heaven or hell doesn’t so much matter as the importance of reuniting with family, despite all odds.