Chapter 3He dreamed about the Last World War, the history he’d learned in school. How on the twenty-second of April, 1915, just as dawn was breaking, the Germans sent chlorine gas drifting toward the Allied lines.
War had been more personal before. Even shells and bombs and cannonballs had to come from a small group of men, using a single weapon. And a single weapon couldn’t kill thousands at once.
But poison gas was also a single weapon, used by a small group of men. It could kill thousands at once, and did. And that was why the Light came.
In the dream he was there: one of the multitude of soldiers from Canada, France, Algeria, and Great Britain, keeping his head down to avoid the German artillery fire. The gas sizzled as it approached. A sickly yellow miasma coming from the east, pus
