by Shawn Inmon
The gun hit the pavement with a metallic retort and Scott pounced on it. He grabbed and held onto it.
The man with the gun was now simply the man with the shattered arm and he fell pitifully to the ground crying. In another situation, Scott would have had his karambit or his jo, and he would have dispatched the man on to whatever was next for him. This was the Dakota in New York City, though, and there were witnesses everywhere, including John Winston Ono Lennon, who was staring at Scott open-mouthed.
Lennon rushed to Joe’s side. He’d been shot through, but he was still conscious. Scott put a boot in the back of the shooter and pushed him forward onto his broken arm. The man cried out, but no one paid attention to him. Scott kneeled with Lennon beside Joe.
“Lay still, lay still, bloke. You’re going to be all right.” He turned his head away and raised his voice. “Jose! Jose, are you there? Call the police!”
Lennon took off his jacket—leather, with a black fur collar—and laid it under Joe’s head.
“Thank you,” Joe said, weakly.
“Lad, I owe you me life. I think he was here to kill me.”
Joe turned his face to Scott. “And thank you. I blew it. You did it.”
“Be still now,” Scott said. “You’re losing a lot of blood.”
Scott looked at the wound in Joe’s left arm and realized the man had loaded the gun with hollow point bullets. There was a hole all the way through Joe’s bicep and he was losing blood at an alarming rate.
Sirens filled the air and moments later, both red and blue lights lit the vestibule.
An ambulance was first on the scene and Scott stood and waved them over to Joe. He hurried toward them as they approached. “Left bicep. Shot all the way through. He’ll need blood.”
The ambulance crew went to work and Scott, John Lennon, and Yoko Ono, stood back out of the way, concern etched on their faces.
“I don’t know what both of you were doing here tonight, but it’s my lucky day you were,” Lennon said. Yoko nodded, eyes wide.
Half a dozen police cars screamed onto Central Park West.
The first officer on the scene was going to put Scott in handcuffs until he got things sorted out, but Lennon stopped him. He pointed to the man cradling his broken right arm and said, “There’s your culprit, officer. He wanted to kill me. These two”—he pointed to Joe and Scott—“stopped him. I think they saved my bloody life.”
The officer put the handcuffs on the injured man and whisked him away.
As the gurney was wheeled into the ambulance, Scott called to the EMT’s, “Which hospital?”
The EMTs didn’t hear, but John laid a hand on his shoulder and said, “It’ll be St. Luke’s. I expect he’ll be in surgery tonight, but Yoko and I will go see him tomorrow.”
A man who appeared to be in charge of the scene—not in uniform, directing others to keep everyone away until the scene could be secured—stepped forward. “Mr. Lennon, we’re going to need a full statement from you. We can send someone here in the morning, if you’d like.”
“Mother and I are going to the hospital to see the young man who risked his life for me in the morning. Can we give you our statement there?”
The man nodded, jotted a note in a small notebook. “That’s fine, Mr. Lennon. I can be there myself.”
He turned to Scott. “We’ll need the same from you.”
“I’m planning on leaving town tomorrow. Can I give you my statement now?”
The investigator paused, but John Lennon stepped forward. “I’ll tell you this—I wouldn’t be here to give you a statement tomorrow, if it wasn’t for this man. He saved my life.”
“That’s fine, then. Can I ask what you were doing here at the Dakota so late?”
Scott smiled his thanks to John. He had rehearsed a story, and he told it well.
By midnight, he had given the police Cheryl’s address in Evansville as his own permanent address, and they had given him a ride to the YMCA. On the way there, the cop had taken in his disheveled appearance, considered where he was taking him, and offered to buy him dinner—a small thank you for his night’s work.
Scott demurred, and asked to be dropped off at the “Y.”
The next morning, Scott reversed his trip from Penn Station, but this time did it on foot, taking in the sights and sounds of New York. He was in no hurry. Every newspaper box he walked by, every television he saw on, and every radio he heard was focused on the attempted murder of John Lennon and the two strangers who intervened. Scott walked among it all, happily anonymous.
And now, I hope, I can disappear from the scene. I hope the press doesn’t hound Joe too much. He’s a great kid with a big heart, but I don’t think he’s much interested in being famous.
Scott got to Penn Station by late morning and was on a train heading south by mid-afternoon. He rode right past Philadelphia this time, and went on to Washington, DC. Through all his travels, he had never had reason to step foot in the capitol. He didn’t have another event scheduled for months and he wanted to lie low for a time after being involved in such a high-profile happening. So, he found another inexpensive room in DC and spent a few weeks exploring.
Washington D.C. is a great place to visit on a limited budget. There’s so much to see for free that you rarely have to take your wallet out of your pocket except to eat.
Living in Middle Falls, Oregon, then Evansville, Indiana, Scott had never had a chance to explore a lot of history. In Washington, though, he couldn’t turn around without finding a historic spot of some sort. Best of all were the Smithsonian Museums. He found that if he arrived right at opening and stayed all day, he could get through one each day.
Two weeks later, he judged that he had seen what he wanted to see and it was time to move on. Scott estimated that he hadn’t spent more than two weeks in one place in the last six years. Moving on had become a habit.
The weather in DC was no better than it had been in New York, so he stuck his thumb out again and rode it all the way to Pensacola, Florida. He found a roadside motel, hung his green army jacket up and traded it for t-shirts and shorts.
It was nearly Christmas so it wasn’t too hot, as it had been his last trip through Florida. But after the chill of an east coast cold snap, it was good to get some warmth back into his bones. For the first time in this lifetime, he actually got a little bit of a tan.
Also, for the first time in years, he felt relaxed and less driven.
Seeing Joe Hart’s guileless innocence had reminded Scott of himself as a young man. Laying on a white sand beach and soaking up the sun, he felt far away from the violence he carried with him wherever he went.
Scott thought back to the moment he had first realized he could dedicate his life to fixing so many of the world’s wrongs. For the first time since that day, he asked himself if he had the strength to continue along the path he had chosen.
Scott McKenzie was growing tired.
Chapter Forty-Seven
As he always did, Scott called his sister on Christmas day.
“Scotty!” Cheryl exclaimed when she heard his voice on the other end of the line. “What have you gotten yourself into?”
Scott’s stomach tightened. “What do you mean?”
“A police detective from New York called me, wanting to know if this was where you lived.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him the truth, of course—that you didn’t really live anywhere, but this was as close to home as anywhere for you.”
“Good enough.”
“I asked him why he wanted to know, and he wouldn’t tell me. I’ve been so worried about you. What’s going on?”
“Nothing bad, little sister. You can stop worrying.” In as few words as possible, Scott told her about his role in saving John Lennon’s life.
“That was you? That was all over the news a few weeks ago.”
“And now, the world is already forgetting about it, right? There are a lot more pressing issues in the world
than that. The hostages are still being held in Iran and there’s a new president about to be inaugurated.”
“But, did you just happen to be there when it happened? The news said that the man who tried to kill John Lennon ended up with an arm broken in two places.”
“Let’s talk about happier things. I think I’m going to come home for a while.”
“Wonderful! It’s been forever since we’ve seen you. The kids barely remember their Uncle Scott. We’ll make room for you.”
“No, I don’t want you to do that. You’ve got a houseful now. You have a three-bedroom house with the two of you and three kids. I’m not going to put one of the kids out of their own room. I’ve already got a reservation at a place there in town.”
“Liar. You’ve never made a reservation in your life. You’re forgetting who you’re talking to.”
Scott laughed. “Okay, you caught me. I just want to see you guys and the kids. I’ll be around plenty, but I’m gonna lay my head down somewhere else. Deal?”
“Deal. Just come home, Scotty. We miss you and I’m worried about you.”
Scott absorbed the Florida sunshine for a few more days, then hopped a bus heading north. He knew from experience it wasn’t fun hitchhiking through the Midwest in the middle of winter.
Two days later, he stepped out into the blowing wind and rain of an Indiana New Year’s Eve. He didn’t want to interrupt any celebrations Cheryl and Mike had planned, so he caught a cab to a motel on the edge of town. He managed to make it to midnight before he fell asleep. He watched the ball drop in New York before he dropped off himself.
SCOTT SPENT A FEW WEEKS with Cheryl, Mike, and the three kids. The kids, especially, enjoyed having Uncle Scott around as their own personal amusement ride. Seeing a normal family living a normal life, including kiddie squabbles, burnt dinners, and relaxing with a glass of wine when the house was quiet helped Scott center himself.
While he was in Evansville, he got in touch with Jerry and Lynn Werbeloff and they insisted he come over for dinner.
Their family was growing, too, with two kiddos running around underfoot. They had moved from their small apartment to a house in one of the new developments near the city limits. Jerry had moved his dojo from the YMCA to a building of his own long ago.
It was a mile and a half from his motel to the Werbeloff’s new home, but Scott was glad to walk it. He didn’t want to get too out of shape while he was taking a hiatus.
Scott found the address without any difficulty. It was a two-story house with Christmas lights still glowing from the eves.
Feels like everyone else is moving on with their life. Finding a life partner, having children, building a life together. And what am I doing? Crisscrossing the country trying to kill bad people before they kill good people. It’s my chosen path, but if I could go back and whisper in my ear, I might tell myself to think more carefully.
Scott rang the doorbell and Lynn answered. Having two children had only made her more beautiful. She hugged Scott and said, “We thought you’d disappeared forever.”
He saw Jerry over her shoulder and pointed up. “Christmas was a while ago now, you know.”
Jerry shrugged and said, “We’re not all that bound up by convention. We might leave them up all year. The Homeowner’s Association will likely pass a new bylaw just for me. Come on in, dinner’s almost ready.”
“...he says, as though he was the one who had cooked it,” Lynn added.
There are people in your life that it doesn’t matter how long it’s been since you’ve seen them, you can pick up a conversation like you had just stepped out of the room for a moment. So it was for Scott, Jerry, and Lynn.
When Scott walked into the warmth of their living room, Jerry held out his hand for Scott’s jo.
He tested its strength, twirled it easily with a swoosh, and said, “Holding up pretty well.”
“It’s gotten me a lot of miles.”
“Weathered now, that’s good,” Jerry said. He held it up against a lamp. “Looks like a few blood stains. Yours?”
Scott shrugged, but then shook his head.
“We can talk about it after dinner. Oooooof,” Jerry said as a small bundle of energy jumped into his arms, followed by another who looked exactly like the first. “Meet the twins, Brittany and Connor.” He held them up, one in each arm, then said quietly, “Attack time is later. This is dinner time, and we have company.”
The twins hopped down, bowed slightly to Scott and then stood quietly.
“I didn’t know kids came with off switches.”
“Just have to talk to them like adults, right? Besides, they both know they’ve got some growing to do before they can take on their old man.”
“My parenting skills stand at zero. I’m a decent uncle, though.”
The six of them sat at a rectangular table and ate the beef stew and salad Lynn had made. The meal was delicious, but there was something Scott wanted to talk with his sensei about.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Dinner done, Jerry and Scott sat on the low couch in the living room, drinking hot tea with honey.
Jerry leaned forward. “You almost look like a different man than when I saw you last, and I can tell something’s on your mind.”
“I don’t know if I am the same man. But, before I tell you what’s going on, I need to know what your capacity for believing things that can’t be seen and can’t be proven is.”
Jerry mulled that over. “It’s hard for anyone to truly believe those things, but I think my capacity for holding the possibility of them in my head is greater than average.”
“All right. Here’s that thing, then. To a certain extent, I know what’s coming in this world. It’s not a hundred percent, because things change over time, but for major events, it’s pretty damn accurate.”
“You know the next question. How?”
Scott gazed levelly at Jerry for a few long seconds, considering. As he did, Lynn came in and joined the conversation.
Jerry laid a hand on her knee and said, “He’s about to tell us his deepest, darkest secret.” He was joking, in a way, but Lynn looked at Scott expectantly.
“Oh, good,” was all she said.
“I can’t tell you everything, but I do need to talk to someone about all this, or I might go a little crazy.”
Lynn leaned forward. “Tell us what you can, what you need, and don’t worry about Jerry. He’s constantly curious.”
“Do you remember a conversation we had before I left, six years ago? About whether it’s acceptable to aggressively harm someone if they were going to harm an innocent?”
“Of course. I told you that in the way of the warrior, you have no choice. You must protect the innocent. Why?”
Scott discovered the teacup in his hand and took a sip.
“I can’t explain why, but I know bad things that are going to happen. Very specific bad things. I’ve been spending my life doing my best to stop them. So far, I’ve been mostly successful.”
Jerry and Lynn sat quietly, knowing more was coming.
“I’ve been traveling the country, killing people who were going to do those bad things.”
“That either makes you a very good vigilante, or a deranged murderer. Without more information, it’s hard for me tell which,” Jerry said.
“Yeah, that’s fair. Even knowing everything I do, I still wonder about that. I haven’t wanted to tell you what this actually is, because I’ve valued our friendship, and I have a feeling that after I tell you my story, you’re going to never trust me near your kids again.”
Jerry’s eyes turned steel-hard. “Then you better tell me.”
Rushing through it, Scott told them the truth of his life, from the death of his parents, to being wounded in the war and all the lives he had lived through since. He ended by saying, “The Iranians are going to do everything they can to spite Carter. They’re not going to release the hostages until the moment Reagan becomes President. They’ll have the hostages in a p
lane, idling on a runway, but won’t allow them to take off until Reagan puts his hand on the bible to say the oath. At least, that’s how it played out the last time I made it this far. Things change from life to life, but not usually world events like that.”
Jerry sat back on the couch, lost in thought. “That would make this a multiverse, then, which is certainly possible. Like Billy Pilgrim, you’ve come unstuck in time, except not quite, right? You travel linearly, but reset to the same spot each time you die.”
“Right. Which is what allows me to know the bad things that are coming.”
“What kind of things?” Lynn asked.
“When I left here, I went straight to Maine. A man there was going to kill his wife and children. I stopped him the only way I knew how. I hesitated once before, and he ended up killing me.”
“So this is the life after that for you, then. Did we meet in that previous life?”
“No. I started studying with you in this life because I knew I needed to know more than the army taught me. I needed to know how to kill people before they killed me.”
Lynn glanced at Jerry, but he kept his gaze steady on Scott.
“It would be pretty easy to find the man you killed in Maine after you left here.”
“Yes. I’ve just given you enough to put me away for life, if you want. It’s a risk I’m willing to take, because I’ve begun to feel like I’ve lost my way. I’ve got to have someone to talk to about this.”
“For the moment, then, let’s say we accept this story. I’ll be honest. I don’t, but for the sake of further conversation, let’s say I do. What did you want to talk about?”
“Using violence to stop violence. It feels like every time I do it, I lose a little more of my self. Did you know that I’ve killed more people than anyone I set out to stop? But, if I stop, I don’t know if I could live with myself. What if I knew that someone was going to come and harm your family while you were away, but didn’t do anything about it? How could I live with myself?”
