Richard was flabbergasted. “So, you’re saying you and your daughters have superhuman powers because you put the universe back together wrong?”
“Precisely. And all the evil, all the darkness, all the pain and suffering in the world exist because, in that brief instant of confusion, I wished for a world where such things existed. I had the power to create paradise. If I had understood the truth of what was happening, if I’d had had time to contemplate, imagine the world that could be! A world of peace and love, a world of beauty without flaw or blemish. I could have imagined Heaven. I didn’t. I imagined… I imagined the world we now live in, with its poverty and hunger and violence. The dark brutal soul of a man who builds bombs cannot provide the template for a kind world. Now, if I wish for a world of peace, love, and beauty, I must build it from the materials at hand.”
Richard shook his head. “This is crazy. You’re crazy. I’m crazy.”
“I hope that what you’ve learned today will change your mind about me, Richard. I’m not a perfect man, and this is not a perfect world. But I’m working to make a difference. Are you with me?”
Chapter Eleven
Hi, Honey, I’m Home
Richard wandered from Sarah’s room fumbling absentmindedly with her lighter. His brain felt as blistered and tired as his feet had felt after running all over Washington. How was he supposed to deal with this? How was he supposed to judge right and wrong? A month ago the biggest test of his morality had been whether or not to cheat on his wife. Now he didn’t have a wife, never had a wife, and he had to make decisions about life and death, good and evil. He had to decide if the man he worked for was the creator of the universe or just some mad genius with pitiful delusions. And creator or madman, Dr. Know did have a plan to change the world. Was it a good plan? Could making the world a better place justify the things Richard had seen? Who was he to decide such things? He was Nobody.
So Nobody sat on the front steps of the mansion, and tapped out a cigarette from the pack. He’d taken the cigarettes from Sarah’s room. He’d never smoked before, but after about twenty seconds of practice he found the whole process surprisingly easy. He used to find the smell repelling. Now, the smell and taste reminded him of Sarah. He closed his eyes and thought of her.
Dr. Know was mad. The babble of V-bombs and recreated universes and living dead cats was all the proof Richard needed. He didn’t believe a word of it, and consequentially thoroughly disbelieved all talk of time machines and erased realities. There must be some other explanation. Any minute now, it would come to him. Any minute now.
But, of course, as the mighty and powerful guests of Dr. Know left the mansion, they trod right through him as they descended the steps.
“You’re Nobody,” he said to himself. But it sounded false. It sounded like a surrender he wasn’t ready to make.
“I’m Richard Rogers,” he said. And he was. This felt truthful. He was the same man he’d always been.
“I might be reality impaired,” he said. “But I’m still me.” He watched the visitors heading back to their helicopters.
“I need to get away from this insanity,” he said, pausing to take another puff of the cigarette. “It’s making me talk to myself. No it isn’t. Yes it is.”
The President of the United States came down the steps, grumbling to the black-suited Secret Service agent who accompanied him.
“This is going too far,” the President said, but he didn’t sound convinced. “That pig-headed son-of-a-bitch is going to ruin everything we’ve worked for.”
The agent nodded.
Richard followed.
“You heard the way he talks to us,” said the President. “He’s getting cocky, and the whole thing’s going to come down around our ears if we don’t take steps to stop him.”
Richard wondered if Dr. Know was listening to the President’s thoughts at the moment. It would explain a lot, assuming it was true. If Dr. Know could be privy to every thought of every world leader, he would be in a position to demand almost anything. There wasn’t a safe secret for anyone anywhere. No wonder Dr. Know acted as if he was king of the world.
Richard boarded the helicopter with the President and made himself comfortable. He lit another cigarette. He tried his first smoke ring. Sarah made it look so easy.
“Do you smell smoke?” the President asked as they rose into the air.
“No sir,” said the Secret Service man.
The White House kitchen was just amazing. Dr. Know’s mansion had been pretty well stocked, but Dr. Know and his family had unfortunately shown rigorous regard for their health. The White House had fresh fruits and vegetables, but even better, it was stocked with potato chips, cookies, ice cream and soft drinks. No wonder the President looked a little chubby these days. Richard pigged out without qualms. He was invisible. What did it matter if he put on a few pounds?
He gathered together a great big box of junk food and slinked off to one of the guest bedrooms. He clicked on the TV and kicked back, going through a box of chocolate chip cookies as his mind turned to mush watching cartoons.
He wondered if he would meet Abe Lincoln. He’d heard that Abe was supposed to haunt the White House. Of course, if Abe didn’t turn up, maybe he could become Abe Lincoln. He could use his new abilities to spook guests at the White House, give them a good show, something to tell the friends back home about. He still had a bit of the show biz bug in him.
He sighed, and clicked aimlessly through the channels. So it had come to this. Vegging out in the White House with a new career of scaring vacationers as the only things he had to look forward to.
He ate the last cookie in the box.
He resolved, then and there, that he would kill himself. The notion gripped him firmly for upward of seventeen seconds.
He sat up in the bed and cradled his head in his hands. “What am I going to do?” he said.
Richard hit the road the following morning. During the night, he’d come up with the perfect plan for how to spend the rest of his life. He’d used a computer at the White House to track down Veronica. She was living with her husband in Asheville, North Carolina, where she taught school. He had the printout with a map to her house stuck in his pocket. He would find her, and spend the rest of his life as her guardian angel.
The notion cheered him. He knew it would be difficult, being near her again, knowing she wouldn’t know him or remember him even if she could see him. But there was something grand in the mission, something bigger than himself. Now that he’d found a purpose in life, the death flirtations he’d entertained the night before vanished.
It was Sunday morning. He snatched a paper from a newsstand near the Amtrak station. He was a little disappointed to find that Amtrak didn’t go to Asheville. He hopped aboard a train bound for Charlotte, North Carolina, and decided he’d figure out what to do once he got there.
The train was nearly empty. He took a window seat in one of the nicer cars and turned to his paper while he waited for the train to depart.
On page four of the world news section, he found a story about Rail Blade and Rex Monday. The broadcast had been seen around the world, apparently, but the spin was that it had all been a hoax, a prank by some kid studying broadcast engineering out in California.
Of greater interest was an accompanying article entitled, “Who Is Rex Monday?” “Rex Monday,” it turned out, was a pun on Rex Mundi, Latin for “king of the world.” Apparently, U.S. intelligence forces believed Rex Monday to be a wealthy Arab, intent on ending Jewish occupation of Jerusalem and turning the city into his home base for the advancement of a worldwide jihad. Richard read this news with interest, wondering why Dr. Know had seemed unaware of this. Then he realized that this was most likely disinformation designed by Dr. Know to advance his agenda. The notion chilled him. Most people would easily swallow this story and would support whatever steps were needed to put an end to Rex Monday. He’d long suspected that most of the news put out by the media was fiction, but seldom had he re
alized just how sinister this fiction was. And what could he do to stop it? Write a letter to the editor? He vowed to never read another newspaper. Best to focus on the mission at hand. From now on, his whole world would be Veronica.
Two trains and three buses later, Richard made it to Asheville. It was before dawn, and very cold. He walked until he found a convenience store and looked over a map while he sipped coffee. The clerk was talking to somebody on the phone and never even looked in his direction.
It turned out he was very close to her house, less than a mile away. He left the convenience store and climbed up the bank behind it, then made a dash across the highway. It was around 6 A.M., and the traffic wasn’t too bad. He suspected that cars would pass right through him, but why test these things? He descended the bank on the other side of the highway and found himself in an older neighborhood filled with small wooden houses. He went to the nearest street corner, then pulled out the map to orient himself. Asheville’s neighborhoods weren’t exactly laid out on a grid. It was a mountain town, and the roads looped around like a drunken man’s scribbles.
He resumed walking once he had a good feel for where he was and where he was going. The sun had risen now and people were starting to leave their houses. The neighborhood was a step down from where he had lived with Veronica. The houses were packed together tightly on small lots, and many of them were in poor repair.
At last, he reached the street she lived on. Heading down it, he could see a school bus at the far end, moving slowly up the street, stopping every few houses.
He studied the numbers on the doors and mailboxes: 412, 414… 416 Courtland Street. He had arrived. As if in welcome, the door to the house swung open.
Veronica stood in the doorway shouting, “The bus is here.”
He stood, glued to the sidewalk, as the bus pulled up behind him.
Veronica was lovelier than he’d remembered. Her hair was still the same bright red, her face still had the same cute freckles. She was heavier now, curvier, but she carried her weight well. She wore no makeup. She was wearing a robe with fuzzy slippers and seemed very unconcerned that she was standing in an open door where everyone could see her. This was so unlike the fussy, vain woman who used to drive him crazy.
Her kids ran out the door. The little boy was about seven, the girl about nine, and both had their mother’s freckles and red hair. They ran through him and leapt onto the steps of the bus.
He took a step forward. Behind Veronica, he could see someone else approaching, a man. Richard looked on with a mix of jealousy, horror, and fascination as the man kissed Veronica. He was a large, rough-looking guy, wearing blue coveralls with his name on a patch. He looked like some kind of mechanic. His hair was thin and poorly cut, and he looked as if he’d skipped shaving for a few days.
“I don’t believe it,” said Richard.
The man passed by, heading for the beat-up pickup truck in the tiny driveway. His name-badge said “Earl.”
Richard went up the front steps as Veronica closed the door. He stepped inside, ghosting through the door while her hand was still on it, and said, “Hi honey, I’m home.”
She walked across the living room into the kitchen and poured herself a morning cup of coffee. The house smelled of coffee and laundry detergent. It was tiny, half the size of the house they had shared together. Richard leaned against the counter and studied the woman who had once been at the center of his life.
“I don’t believe it,” he said again. “You look so… domestic. And so broke. Something sure did change your priorities.”
She picked up the phone and made a call. Richard wandered through the house. There were clothes on the floor. There were dishes in the living room. The only reading material was a TV Guide. It wasn’t as bad as Henry and Martha’s house. When he checked the shower tiles, they were squeaky clean. But this was a far cry from the home he had shared with his former wife.
No matter where he went in the house, he could hear her phone conversation. She was talking to her mother. It was bizarre to hear her talking, because she sounded happy and relaxed. Veronica hated her mother. But now, even after three minutes of talking, they hadn’t started shouting at each other. Weird.
“Yeah, we’ve got a bike on layaway down at Kmart for Billy’s birthday,” she was saying. “He’s going to be thrilled.”
“Sandy’s doing better,” she said, after a pause. “I think that thing on her back has finally healed up.”
Nobody dropped onto the couch. On the table beside it were a half dozen picture frames. He picked up a family photo, a few years old, of Veronica, Earl, Sandy, and Billy.
Billy was still a toddler in the photo. He noted that Earl wasn’t wearing a tie.
One frame held a montage of photos, mostly of the children, many taken at the beach. One showed Veronica holding Sandy. Veronica wore a two-piece bathing suit, and the way she was standing made her her belly look pudgy and lumpy. Her thighs were a little on the lumpy side as well. She wasn’t fat, exactly, but Nobody could tell that Veronica no longer did aerobics. He studied the pictures and noticed that all of the ones of Veronica had something in common. She was smiling. She was smiling like… like nothing he’d ever seen before.
“Great,” he said. “There it is. Proof. She’s happy. Happier than she ever was with me. All because I’ve never been born.”
He felt like he was trapped in a horrible parody of It’s a Wonderful Life. He imagined he would find Veronica and her life would be a mess and he’d work invisibly to make it better. Ten minutes into it, his plan to be a guardian angel seemed less clear-cut. His own guardian angel wasn’t proving to be much of a role model.
Veronica finished her phone call and went into the bathroom. She left the door open as she used the toilet.
“Well,” he said, sighing. “This has certainly proven to be a mistake.”
He got up from the couch and headed for the back door. She came out from the bathroom and went back into the kitchen, swinging open some doors to reveal a washer and dryer. He went over and kissed her on the cheek.
“Bye,” he said.
He ghosted out the back door.
That’s when he found out about her dog.
The dog was a big, black, stocky one, who growled the second Richard’s foot hit the back porch. He froze as the dog lunged toward him. The chain jerked the dog to a rapid, slobber-spattering halt. The dog continued to bark maniacally.
“Christ,” he said, his heart thumping. “Of course I’d still be real to mean-tempered dogs.”
Only the dog wasn’t really facing him. It seemed to be barking at something to the side of the house.
Richard peeked around the corner.
Inside the house, something crashed.
Veronica began to scream.
He ran back to the door. Unfortunately, no one was near enough to it now for him to ghost through it. He turned the knob. Nothing. He slammed his shoulder into it. It popped open. He stumbled into the house, moving in the direction of the screams.
In the living room, holding Veronica, were the Panic and Pit Geek.
Chapter Twelve
Hall of Mirrors
Veronica kept screaming. Something in her throat had torn from the force of air, and her screams now ended with wet gurgles as she sucked in air to scream again. Blood dripped from the corners of her mouth.
The Panic kept hold of her arms, pulling her to him, forcing his face inches from hers. “You here, Nobody?” Panic called into the air, while Nobody grabbed at his shoulders, uselessly.
Pit Geek sat on the couch, his feet kicked up on the coffee table. He chewed idly on a pencil, working it down to just a nub with an eraser, as he watched the Panic. He flicked away the eraser like the butt of a cigarette.
“Wonder if we got his attention yet?” said Pit Geek.
The Panic spun Veronica around and clamped a hand over her mouth to silence her.
“Hey, Nobody!” the Panic called out. “You hear me?”
“Yes,” said Nobody, his voice cracking with frustration. “What do you want?”
The Panic gave no indication that he heard.
“Maybe you should use the mask,” said Pit Geek.
“Hold her,” said the Panic, shoving Veronica in the direction of his partner. Pit Geek grabbed Veronica, pulling her into his lap. He began to run his filthy fingers through her hair. She clamped her eyes tight and grew silent, unable to even draw a breath.
The Panic pulled what looked like a sock knitted from silver thread from his pocket. He tugged it over his head, masking his face, then looked around the room.
“Well what do you know,” he said, as his gaze fell on Nobody. “There really is an invisible man here.”
“You see me?” said Nobody.
“Oh, yeah,” said the Panic.
Nobody leapt forward. His hands clamped around the Panic’s throat, and he used his momentum to slam the Panic into the wall. The Panic was just a kid, a foot shorter, and a good fifty pounds lighter than Nobody. He struggled, pulling at Nobody’s arms, but Nobody couldn’t be stopped. With sudden clarity, Nobody realized that he was going to kill the Panic. All he needed to do was continue squeezing and keep slamming the Panic’s head against the wall. He gritted his teeth and growled with rage.
“Nobody!” shouted Pit Geek. “Back off!”
Nobody looked over his shoulder. Pit Geek had Veronica by the hair, pulling her head back. Pit Geek opened his mouth, preparing to sink his yellow teeth into her exposed throat.
Nobody jerked the Panic from the wall and threw him toward the coffee table. The Panic toppled over the table, landing on his chin on the carpet.
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