by Rex Bolt
Hailey came out on the front porch to greet him, leaving the front door cracked where she could see in and keep an eye on the girls.
Pike gave her the phone and told her he’d had fun.
“I have to say, you look pretty worn out,” she said.
“Well . . . it was one of those days, I guess. You don’t want to know . . . It’s all behind me now though.”
“Meaning you’ll sleep well tonight?” Hailey said.
Pike was so drained from the Mrs. Milburn save that he hadn’t thought too far ahead. Such as where would you go to travel back at this hour. Or whether he might have to use his dad’s money after all and stay in a motel.
“My are you wet,” Hailey said, coming around behind him and rubbing his shoulders.
“I sweat a lot when I’m nervous,” Pike said.
“Are you nervous now?” Hailey said, lowering her voice a little.
“I have to say, that feels amazing . . . You have training, or something, in that?”
“Nope. Just strong fingers I guess,” she said.
“Honestly?” Pike said. “I could stay here quite a while, right in this position. But I’m not going to.”
“Aw,” Hailey said.
“I’ll see you soon,” Pike said, “I’m pretty sure of it.”
“Pretty sure?” she said.
Pike didn’t know if it was the right thing to do, but it felt right, so he kissed her goodnight.
He hadn’t expected it, but there was a little bit of magic there.
One thing this business was teaching him, and pretty quickly: You never know. Do you?
Chapter 9
It was hard getting used to the one-hour thing, that once again, all you lost was an hour a day.
Meaning he’d started off Wednesday morning, first thing, getting up real early to the alarm, and then traveling out of the Hamilton gym before school started. He hadn’t checked the exact time, but it was before 7:30.
Now, boom, he’s back, and it’s 8: 26, same morning. After all that. A full day, to say the least. But just the one hour drained off in real time.
He got a little lucky leaving Hailey’s. The library would be closed Saturday night at this hour, and forget about going all the way back to school, so he was thinking maybe City Hall, if some door was open.
Pike still wasn’t convinced about Mitch’s theory that he should only travel from structures built before 1956, but it was working so far--to an extent, anyway--so you might as well stick with that plan. What was Mitch’s reasoning again? That a UFO was seen in 1956 near the silver mine where Pike got part of a tooth filling from?
Unbelieveable. Who would ever buy that? You didn’t have to believe it, of course, but that didn’t mean he wanted to start testing Mitch’s theory either.
Just to change it up, he took a slightly different route downtown, on the way to City Hall, which meant he got onto Filbert Street. And there, a block up was his old middle school, Brookhaven. Definitely an old enough building, and Pike had a good feeling about it, those were happy memories there, and he’d rarely if ever been back to the place.
There were one or two lights on, which Pike assumed was how they left it overnight, but he started trying door handles and one opened, and he didn’t find a closet but there was an old storeroom he remembered near the wood and metal shop classes, and son of gun that did the trick.
He arrived back without a problem. He was starting to get the idea that it was less effort and focus to come home, that it didn’t quite require the full and uninterrupted concentration that going back took.
He wondered, and even suspected, that it might be automatic. That you could only go home when you were back there somewhere, that you probably couldn’t use it like a stepping stone. In other words, go back, spend some time, and then go further back. Pike’s sense was that wouldn’t cut it, that you probably had to return home each time, before you embarked on a new trip.
Not that he was crazy about embarking on any more new trips, but still.
What did come out a little off this time, was instead of ending up back at the high school, on the football field or in the vicinity, he looked around and he was on the starting line of the track at the middle school.
And now, since it was around 8:30 on a typical Wednesday, you had the hustle and bustle of the kids being dropped off and running into class, since as Pike remembered it the bell was 8:35.
It was easier than being at Hamilton in a way because it was less likely someone would recognize him here, plus he didn’t have to worry about violating his suspension. The only problem, his vehicle was all the way over near the high school, on the dang side street.
The decision didn’t take long. Forget the car for now. He pulled out his phone, it was back to working normally like he expected, and he called an Uber. He had his dad’s money, after all.
The thing now, the only thing that mattered all of a sudden, was to take a big old nap.
***
Pike woke up around seven that night. Definitely more of a hibernation than a simple nap, but he felt a lot better. Plus he was starving.
There was the smell of cooked food downstairs but no one was there at the moment, and he didn’t feel like fooling around figuring out what to reheat so he decided might as well go out.
Then he remembered the little issue of not having his truck, so he called Marty Clarke and asked him if he wouldn’t mind, and Clarke said he did mind but showed up anyway and drove Pike over there.
Pike went back to Garibaldi’s, which was kind of weird, but he liked the big portions when he was there with Hailey and thought why not.
Once he finally had some food in his system, he could think straight. What now?
Tomorrow was Thursday, his final suspension day. He could catch up on some homework tonight . . . or maybe he could check out how Audrey was doing.
That scenario he hadn’t thought through carefully yet, mainly because he didn’t want to.
His reality was that he and Cathy were done, that part would stand. But if Mrs. Milburn was okay now, that could mean he’d never hooked up with Audrey. At least yet . . . Since how they got together was when he comforted her at the party not long after it happened.
Pike actually wasn’t too worried about it, because he knew Audrey wasn’t that into Jack Hannamaker, and that one way or another he could make his move. Or maybe already had. The important thing was to approach her carefully and tactfully and patiently.
He knew all this intellectually . . . but coming out of Garibaldi’s . . . what the hay . . . may as well head directly there and say hi.
Audrey herself opened the door this time.
“Oh,” she said.
“Oh?” Pike repeated. Not liking the feel of this.
“Hailey’s not here,” Audrey added.
Pike felt for a moment that his brain was an electronic slot machine, the three big wheels with all the fruit on them whirling around and processing everything, and then spitting out the verdict. The first thing, apparently, he might be going out with Hailey, or at least spending time with her.
“Well what about Jack?” Pike said.
“What about him? . . . We broke up . . . after my mom . . .”
“Jeez,” he said, not immediately absorbing the full impact of what she was saying.
“But you knew that,” Audrey said, looking at him funny.
“Sorry,” Pike said, very scared suddenly, “your mom . . . what?”
“I don’t know, it was simply too much pressure I suppose. He’s not a bad person at all, I just needed some space.”
This was not the answer he was after, and Pike needed more than anything to press her about her mom, but he just couldn’t.
God forbid . . . if something else went down. . . don’t make her stand here and talk about it.
Maybe what had happened though, her mom moved out. Things were obviously on the edge between Mr. and Mrs. Milburn, so who was anybody kidding?
Or maybe it was simp
ly her mom had said something to her about Hannamaker, like she didn’t particularly care for him. This sounded the most logical, and happened every day with high school kids and their nosy parents.
But despite these possibilities, Pike wished he had a better feeling.
He decided to risk a more general question. “So where is everyone tonight?” he said.
“Bowling.”
“Wow . . . everyone bowls then?”
“No, just my sister. My dad drives her. I think it’s like a club thing.”
“You mean . . . he just sits there and waits?” Hoping she’d volunteer that Mrs. Milburn was sitting and waiting also.
“Yeah? What else is he supposed to do? . . . Do you want to come in, or something? It’s chilly out here.”
He wanted to, but it seemed a little too over-the-top weird at the moment. Him snooping around for signs of Mrs. Milburn, Hailey coming home from the bowling club or whatever.
“I’ll take a pass on that,” he said. “It doesn’t expire, right?”
“Any time,” Audrey said, but she was hard to read.
Pike got in his truck and drove to 7-11 where the parking lot was all lit up and he could see what he was doing.
He started googling and sadly . . . shockingly . . . mind-bogglingly . . . it didn’t take long.
The article was from the Beacon Register, byline Ike Brewer.
It was dated Thursday October 5th, 2016.
Pedestrian Struck, Killed in West Side Road Rage Incident
A Beacon woman fatally struck last night by an SUV that rode up on the corner sidewalk at Birch and Ortega streets was the victim of road rage between two drivers, police said.
The woman, identified as Rose Milburn, 43, of 812 Ortega, was reportedly walking her dog at approximately 8:19 pm when a 2004 Chevy Suburban lost control and hit her.
The driver was identified as Gerald Foxe, 47, of 97 Appian Road.
Police said Foxe had been engaged in a road rage altercation with another as-yet-unidentified driver who fled the scene.
Foxe was taken into custody and is being held on $100,000 bail.
The victim’s dog was uninjured.
Mrs. Milburn, a longtime Beacon resident, leaves behind her husband Preston and two children.
The investigation into what precipitated the conflict between the two drivers is ongoing, according to police.
Pike screamed out loud, “You . . . Mother . . . Fucker . . .”
So this was how it worked. In the end. After all that.
And the other question now, did I screw up anything else?
He sat there for a while, watching the doofuses bopping in and out of 7-11, coming away with a bottle of beer, or a slim jim, or a roll of toilet paper, or some lottery tickets.
He tried Mitch. It was getting late now, probably past his bed time, and there was no answer. Plus Mitch was probably still in New Mexico, an idiotic thing to be doing that had no connection to the torture Pike was putting himself through.
This was a low point.
He’d tried to be a hero . . . but look where that got you.
***
Pike left 7-11 and drove around aimlessly. He was avoiding going home, he just didn’t want to be there, and he couldn’t think of where else to go. At moments like this, he figured you could do worse, somehow, than be on the move.
What he was processing now too, was he and Audrey.
He’d assumed they weren’t together because Mrs. Milburn hadn’t died and therefore he never ended up comforting her at that party, which was Marty Clarke’s.
But even though the tragedy did still occur, it had been pushed later, to a Wednesday night.
Which meant Audrey, for sure, wouldn’t have been ready to attend any parties two days later.
God . . . damn . . . it.
He headed out to the Interstate and without thinking about it got off at the exit where he’d met Reggie Riley at that truckstop.
He was sitting there on a dirt patch, engine idling, flipping through the radio, when he got the urge to call Dani.
He hadn’t spoken to her in a while. It felt like the bond they developed that day in Pocatello, their unique connection, was dwindling.
Tonight he felt like reaching out to her.
“Oh hi,” she said, without much enthusiasm. The second time in the last couple hours someone answered him like that.
“Everything status quo there?” Pike said, sobering up to the thought that it wasn’t all about him, that other people can have problems too.
“Not really,” Dani said. “I’m in some trouble.”
“What do you mean,” Pike said. “Real trouble? . . . or just like, relationship trouble.”
“My boyfriend . . . not sure if I mentioned him to you . . . Chuck?”
“I don’t think so,” Pike said. The last guy she mentioned had a different name.
“Well he passed away, actually.”
“Wait. I know about that already . . . don’t I?”
“No that was different,” she said. “Chuck had an episode in a hot tub.”
“Whoa . . . well I’m sorry to hear that . . . Dang.”
“Yes, and the thing is, they think I might have had something to do with it.”
Pike tried to absorb that one.
“Okay hold on now,” he said, “let’s back up here. Rewind it, what you’re telling me . . . Say what again?”
The phone rang and it was Mitch’s number.
“I can’t go into it at this moment,” Dani said. “It’s taking its toll. Right now I need to go to sleep.”
“That’s fine actually, because I’ve got to take this other call pretty badly,” Pike said. “I’ll get back to you soon.”
Mitch said hello, and to what does he owe this honor. He was upbeat, as usual, even late at night.
“I’m feeling brain dead right now,” Pike said. “Not to mention defeated . . . Not to mention, something else ridiculous may have just been dumped on my plate, before you called.”
Mitch shifted gears now. He was silent a moment.
“So I take it,” he said, “this isn’t the optimum time to fill you in on my developments down here in the southwest.”
“No . . . What I did, I went back twice. The first time I was two days early so I decided to scrap it, came back, got it right the second time.”
“Right . . . meaning . . . ?”
“This tragedy two months ago, the drunk driver thing . . . there’s been reverberations all over the place. A lot of people affected.”
“Ah . . . So your idea was to travel there and divert it,” Mitch said.
“Which seemed simple enough. I grabbed the dog at the right time, and then I went back to the corner a couple times and checked, and I had it . . . I’m not making sense. But I did, I had it.”
“I’m with you,” Mitch said.
“So I get home today . . . and what I thought I stopped, the motherfucker still happened . . . 4 days later.”
“It happened exactly the same way,” Mitch said. “Or was there a variation?”
“Jesus, man. Are you even listening to me? . . . Is there some part of what I just said that’s not resonating?”
“Son, I’m hearing you loud and clear . . . What you did, or tried to do . . . that was absolutely heroic . . . But I believe this is common. The literature and the oral record tends to validate that.”
“What the frig are you talking about now?”
“Simply that historical reports of time travel illuminate the difficulty in enforcing non-radical changes.”
Pike said, “I can’t even tell you how much you’re getting on my nerves. You need to speak English.”
“Fine . . . What you did, it sounds like, you tried to alter something significant--a major life event--by imposing a minor tweak . . . My fear is the universe doesn’t respond well to that.”
Mitch with the universe business now too, just like in the 10 rules from the book.
But Pike was unfortunate
ly getting the idea.
“So you mean . . . me keeping the victim away from the scene of the crime, or whatever you call it--that wasn’t enough.”
“Not nearly, is my suspicion,” Mitch said.
Pike was running it back through his head. Admittedly, he had been worried about Mrs. Milburn walking to the corner anyway, even after he’d dognapped Mark.
His instinct had told him that was a concern, that there might be a bizarre attraction between the victim and the event . . . Something you couldn’t just slap a band-aid on.
Was it as rational as, she did walk to the corner anyway? The only difference being 4 days later?
And what about old man Foxe? He suddenly suspended his out-of-control drive by 4 days too, in synch with Mrs. Milburn’s adjusted routine?
Pike didn’t mention his gut feeling, from back then, to Mitch. What he said was, “There’s no logic to any of it.”
“In the broadest sense, I agree with you,” Mitch said. “However, I would by no means give up on this project.”
“Project now. Jeez,” Pike said.
Mitch said, “And by that I mean: Instigate a more direct, deeper-rooted interruption of events.”
Pike said, “Have you been dealing with lawyers? Down there in New Mexico, or wherever you are?’
“Not exactly lawyers, no. But county administrators and all that, yes. It’s secondary to your issue at the moment, clearly, but I’m making great strides here . . . Why do you ask if I’ve been dealing with lawyers?”
“ ‘Cause you’re talking just like one. Everything out of your mouth. What’s wrong with you?”
“Well I apologize,” Mitch said.
Pike felt bad. “Nah, that’s on me,” he said. “This has been beating me up, is all.”
“I can certainly imagine. And that’s not to mention, your original concern. Which is of course the entire dynamic of your super-strength . . . That must be quite draining as well.”
“Gee, thanks for reminding me,” Pike said.
“So what I might recommend, if you wish to pursue this--and I’m of course only a layman, but I’m well versed in the anecdotal evidence--is address another point in time.”
