Part Two - The Message

I don't know the actual year. Dates are just numbers on a calendar. Different cultures have different calendars. Heck, the Mayan calendar tells us when the world will end. Personally, I'm looking forward to that day. But I'm straying from the point. I do that - there are so many things rattling around in my head its hard to keep them all straight. Some things are crystal clear. The day I was arrested. The day my wife died. The day my son died. The day I was released. The day I shipped off to war. The day I found out about him. I had just returned to my tent after my evening patrols of the border region. A note was left on my bedroll.

"I know you are him." M.S.

What the hell could it mean? I had served my time. The authorities who imprisoned me had long since died. Everyone who knew about my history were dead. I was free. Or so I thought. I needed to put the pieces of my abandoned life back together and determine how, when, and where I had been discovered.