There was no blinding white light, no dark tunnel, no scythe-holding skeleton-man, no nothing. What happened to Reiben was simple.

He took one last, raspy breath, and he woke up in hell.

No heroic death for Richard Reiben. No funeral, either. Not that it mattered to him, anyways. Dead was dead.

It was the smoking that killed him. The drinking didn't help.

And hell? He'd seen it coming, to be honest. You don't just shoot men and get away with it. And just how, exactly, did he spend the rest of his life? Atoning for his sins, maybe? He smoked, he drank, and he skipped church. What had he been hoping for? That he'd get to skip out on the whole afterlife thing, no heaven and no hell for him. That he'd be allowed to just rot in his coffin for the rest of eternity.

But instead, he opened his eyes and saw hell. He vaguely wondered what level he was in. Then it hit him. He was in the ninth level. The worst level. The one reserved for traitors.

He paused for a second, wondering how he knew it was hell. But it had to be. Evidently, everyone just gets their own, personal version of hell to suffer in. Because what Reiben saw wasn't fire.

It was Omaha beach.

"This isn't hell, Reiben."

Reiben spun around.

"Upham," he whispered.

Upham smiled.

"Look around you, Reiben."

Reiben glanced at the beach. He was standing at the top, next to a desk with maps laid out on it. He looked down at his clothes, and saw that he was wearing his old military uniform. He saw his hands and realized that he wasn't old anymore. He was twenty-four. And he was breathing. Not with a smoker's lungs, though. With a soldier's lungs.

"You're twenty-four again," Upham said. "Because that's how old you were when you knew me."

"Why am I here?" Reiben asked. Then he realized that he knew what he was doing in hell, he didn't know what Upham was doing in hell. "Why are you here?"

"Because, Reiben. This is heaven."

Reiben frowned. His eyes narrowed. And he ran.

Because if this was heaven, then he'd rather be in hell.

He hadn't run in years, and it felt good. He didn't know where he was going, but it didn't matter. He ran down a dirt road, blinked, and suddenly Upham appeared in front of him. He turned around, but Upham was there, too.

"Send me back!" Reiben shouted.

"Back where?"

"Back home! Send me home!"

"You don't really know where home is, do you, Reiben? You never knew."

"I know where home is. Brooklyn. Now send me there."

"But you hated Brooklyn, Reiben. You always wished you could leave. But you never did. You couldn't."

"I swear, Upham, if you don't send me tell me what's going on right now-"

"That's not true, though, is it, Reiben? You could leave. You could always leave. You just didn't."

"Get me outta here, Upham!"

"You see, that's your problem. Nothing's ever your fault. You come to heaven, and it's my fault. The rest of the squad dies, and it's Ryan's fault. Did you ever consider, Reiben, that Ryan wasn't even there? You were. How was he supposed to stop it from happening? Why couldn't you?"

Reiben shoved Upham to the ground.

"So, now it's my fault Miller died? I'm the one who shot Caparzo? Is that what you're saying?"

"I'm saying that you blame yourself. That deep down, you always knew it couldn't have been Ryan's fault. You only blamed him because you were trying to convince yourself it wasn't your fault. And I'm also saying you need to let it go. It wasn't your fault, Reiben. You gotta let it go."

"Is that what you did, you little rat? Just forgot about them?"

"I didn't forget, Reiben. I accepted it. But you didn't, did you? You spent the rest of your life in Ramelle, trying to figure out a way to get all eight of us home. And you trapped yourself Reiben. Because there wasn't a way."

It was true, and Reiben knew it. He'd wasted his life in the past. He thought about it when he was sleeping, when he was working, when he was eating, whenever he could. He'd replay every moment in his mind. If he'd stayed with Mellish instead of Ryan and Miller, maybe the two of them could've taken that German soldier. If they'd shot the prisoner, maybe Miller would've made it home. He was slower than Jackson, maybe if he'd offered to go left instead, the German soldiers would've shot at him, not Wade. In his mind, everyone made it home.

Except Jackson. No matter how hard he thought about it, no matter how many diagrams he drew, he could never figure out a way to get Jackson out of the bell tower before it exploded.

And so, Upham was right. There wasn't a way for the eight of them to go home. There never was, and there never would be. If Reiben had stayed with Mellish instead of Ryan and Miller, maybe Miller would've died instead of Mellish. If Reiben had gone left instead of Jackson, maybe he would've died instead of Wade.

There was no way for the eight of them to leave Ramelle together, so Reiben had spent the rest of his life trapped in an abandoned village in his mind.

"How is this heaven?" Reiben asked shakily.

"Heaven isn't what we think it is. It's not a paradise floating on clouds, or a Garden of Eden. It's not about what you see, it's about what you feel. You see, this is where it all started for me."

Upham turned and looked at Reiben strangely.

"Did I ever tell you my dad was a mapmaker?" Upham asked.

Reiben glanced at Upham.

"I could've guessed that."

"My dad, he was quiet. Never talked, really. Just sat there, working on those maps. So, I was happy when I joined the army and became a mapmaker. Thought my dad might be proud. He wasn't. Said there were all those boys over there fighting, and his son was scribbling. You see, I'd always thought I wanted to be like my dad. The thing was… I didn't. Without my dad, I finally felt like I could do something. He'd never told me I couldn't do anything, but he never told me I could do anything. He never really bothered with me, just assumed I'd be a nobody. Then I met you guys, and you told me I'd never do it. And I realized you were right- I couldn't write a book about war with the perfect heroes I'd made up. So instead I wrote the truth. I wrote about the real soldiers."

"I don't get it."

"None of us were Superman, you know? We were just scared boys who were trying to protect each other. We didn't want to be heroes… we just wanted to go home."

Reiben squinted at the beach.

"How does that answer my question?"

"This was where it all started for me, Reiben. I wrote a book about everything that happened to me here. And everything that happened to me for the rest of my life happened because of this place. Remember? This was where I met you guys. I was happy here, because I finally knew that I was doing something important. That I was helping someone."

"What does that have to do with my question, Upham?"

"You asked me how this was heaven. You still don't get it, Reiben? This isn't your heaven."

Upham lifted his arms, and five men appeared. They were sitting in a circle, laughing and smoking. Reiben, Jackson, Caparzo, Mellish, and Wade.

"It's mine," Upham said.

Reiben stumbled through the rubble to look at himself. He looked happy. The memory of himself laughed again, and Reiben stared at him in disbelief. He couldn't remember what it felt like to be that happy. He stared bitterly at the ocean.

"Why did you pick this place, Upham? What kind of a heaven is this?"

"It wasn't the place, Reiben. It was the people."

Reiben sank to his knees. It was too much. Watching Jackson, Caparzo, Mellish, and Wade laugh together. Remembering how important they were to him.

"Why am I here, Upham? With you?"

"Because there's something I have to teach you."

Reiben lifted his head up and stared at Upham.

"I thought this was heaven. What do I have to learn in heaven?"

"Heaven isn't what you think it is," Upham repeated. "I hated myself for not helping Mellish. I was like you, Reiben. I couldn't let go. Couldn't move on. And then Mellish talked to me."

"You talked to Mellish?"

Upham nodded.

"What did he say?" Reiben asked.

"…He forgave me."

Reiben squinted at the ocean again, because his eyes were getting blurry with tears.

"What are you supposed to tell me?" he asked, his voice cracking.

"That you're going to meet five people. I'm your first person. Each person has something to teach you."

Suddenly, Reiben found himself standing in an apartment. Upham walked in.

"It was my first day back home," the real Upham said next to Reiben. "I was visiting my parents."

Memory Upham walked into the kitchen, where his mother immediately pulled him into a hug. Reiben watched as she sobbed into Upham's chest, telling him how much she loved him.

"Dad?" memory Upham said. Reiben saw a thin man leaning against the counter, a cigar in his mouth. The man stared at Upham, not a trace of emotion on his face. Then he walked into another room and sat down at a table full of papers. Reiben glanced at them.

Maps.

Memory Upham stood perfectly still. He stared at his father with some mixture of sadness, and regret that he still couldn't make his father proud. Then something changed in his face.

"That was when I realized that I'd never make my dad proud," Upham said. "But more importantly… I didn't care."

"Why didn't you care?"

"Because you made me feel like I mattered, Reiben. And that was all I'd ever wanted my dad to do."

Reiben glanced away.

"You're thinking of Wade."

"I'm thinking of you, Reiben. Don't you remember?"

"Remember what?"

Everything changed, and Reiben found himself standing at Ramelle. Saying goodbye to Upham.

"Bye Reiben," memory Upham said quietly.

Memory Reiben didn't move. Didn't even acknowledge Upham until Upham walked away.

"Hey," memory Reiben said. "Tell me when you finish that book, Upchuck."

Upham smiled.

"See ya around?" memory Reiben asked.

"Definitely," memory Upham said.

"There were a lot of times when I felt like I should just quit writing my book," the real Upham said. "But you told me to tell you when I finished the book. So, I had to finish it. Because you believed I could do it."

"I never really saw you after that," the real Reiben said regretfully.

Upham shrugged.

"That's not the part of the story that matters," Upham said. "Because it wasn't the end. You're here now, right? And this is just the beginning."

Reiben looked at Upham in surprise.

"Will I get to see you again?" Reiben asked. "Even after I go see my next person?"

"Heaven is like a rallying point, Reiben. We were all here, waiting for you. See, there are different parts in heaven. This is just your first part. I already talked to my five people, now I'm on my second part. Talking to you."

"What happens after that?"

"I don't know. It'll be something great, though."

"How do you know that? How do you know it won't be something horrible? Maybe they made a mistake. Maybe I'm supposed to be in hell. What if that's where I go next?"

"War is hell, Reiben. You've already been there."

Reiben looked curiously at Upham.

"Is that the thing you're supposed to teach me?"

Upham shook his head.

"No. Home. That's what I teach you. Home."

"What?"

Slowly, Ramelle became Omaha beach again. And slowly, Omaha beach became a cemetery. A cemetery Reiben had visited often. They were standing in front of Mellish's grave.

"The Colleville-sur-Mer American Cemetery," Upham said softly. "You could never find home, Reiben. So, you thought of this cemetery as home. Why? Not because you lived here. Not because it looked like home. No. So, why was this your home, Reiben?"

Reiben looked at Upham.

"I don't know," he said slowly. "It always just… felt right, I guess. Being here."

"That's the lesson. That's what I'm here to teach you."

"What? That… that this is my home?"

"No. Not where your home is. What your home is."

Reiben shook his head. He was getting tired of these mind games.

"I don't get it, Upham."

"You know that saying, home is where your heart is? The lesson, Reiben, is that home isn't one certain place, determined by how much money you have, or where you were born. Home is where you feel right… home is where your family is."

Reiben squinted at Upham, unsure where this was going.

"You still don't get it, do you? The lesson, Reiben. The lesson. This wasn't your home because you lived here. It was your home because home is where your family is…and your family is here."

Reiben choked back tears as he stared out at the sea of white graves. Upham raised his arms, and suddenly the crosses were guns, green helmets balancing on the top of each one. Now Reiben saw what he hadn't been able to picture before. If he squinted his eyes, he couldn't see the guns, only the helmets. And looking at it that way, they looked like people. Like he was getting an aerial view of the landing ships on D-Day. Seeing them as soldiers instead of graves made all the difference.

And now Reiben got it. People never really leave, not if they have something to teach you. They hover. And they wait.

"They weren't physically here, Reiben. Up here, you can't see earth. There's no looking down on people. And you can't physically be there. But when someone needs you, Reiben, you can feel it. Trust me. And all those times you came back here, it was because you needed them. And they felt it. You felt them, too. Didn't you? Felt like they were here."

"Not always," Reiben admitted.

"Not when you were mad, no. When you feel anger, it blocks out everything else. But most of the time you came here when you were sad. They could feel that. That you needed them. So they came here, and stood in front of their graves. The same graves you were standing in front of down on earth. And they were there, Reiben. For you. You needed them, so they were there. Love is simple, Reiben. And so is home."

Upham pointed at Mellish's grave.

"The names face west, Reiben."

Reiben looked at Upham, waiting for him to say more, but he didn't. West? Reiben couldn't even begin to think what that might mean.

Upham put his hand on Reiben's shoulders, and a second later they were standing on Omaha beach.

"They face due west, Reiben. Towards America."

Upham gave Reiben a shove, and he fell into the water. As he sank below the surface of that horrible water, the water that haunted his nightmares, the water that had consumed his very soul, Reiben heard what Upham said next clearly, echoing through the waves.

"Towards home."

I'll have at least five chapters, of Reiben meeting his five people. I might end up doing Upham going to heaven, and his conversation with Mellish. I don't know. What do you think? Should I do more characters meeting their five people, and if so... which characters?