Cowboy Ending - Overdrive: Book One

by Adam Knight

  “Joe …. What’s ….”

  “Looking back I always noticed weird things about lights and stuff.” My mind whirled as I thought, images flashing. This had been happening to me a lot since … Well, since I’d nearly died. It was like I had a sudden clarity of vision. Old memories that had begun to fade were now easier to focus on and remember details of. Details that shouldn’t have stuck out but did.

  “My Dad was constantly replacing light bulbs in our house,” I continued, lost in memory. “Didn’t matter about forty watt, hundred and twenty watt. Hall lights, bathroom lights, desk lamps. Every other day for years it seemed we were burning through light bulbs. Dad had three of his electrician buddies check the house out, searching for faulty wiring or an overloaded circuit. He even had one of them switch out the fuze box in the basement in exchange for a weekend of beer and cards. But the damned bulbs kept burning out.”

  Tamara said nothing. Her hand still gripping mine.

  “As I got older I noticed other things. Video game systems glitching out on me right when I started getting frustrated. Alarm clocks that would up and die for no reason.”

  “Well, those things happen to everybody.”

  “I can’t keep a bank card for longer than three months without the strip dying on me,” I continued, speaking over her objection as if she hadn’t said a word. “You laughed about my lack of a cell phone, but the phone company says I still owe them a few hundred dollars for a smartphone plan that I haven’t been able to use in over eighteen months since the fourth phone they gave me suffered a complete memory wipe.”

  Tamara tried to reason with me. “Joe, people have bad luck with …”

  “The sign behind you just burnt out because my head was buzzing and I wanted it to stop.” I was committed now. “Treadmills at the gym literally burn out when I use them. I change the battery in my Windstar every six months. Lights in Sal’s erupt when I am frustrated over breakfast. I am forced to eat every waking hour. Power lines overload burst and explode into the night when I am jumped by muggers during a rainstorm.”

  Tamara’s next objection froze on her lips as her eyes went wider than I’d ever seen before.

  My hands were trembling now. It matched my voice. “I get shot. I nearly die. Two defibrillators explode trying to revive me. A power grid around the hospital browns out for an hour.” Tears trickled down my cheeks and disappeared into my unshaven scruff.

  Tamara’s hand squeezed tighter, her thumb trailing on my knuckle.

  “I nearly killed three guys last night. Fuck, they were kids. Barely twenty years old.” More tears. Forgive me, Dad. Forgive me, Donald. First time I’ve cried since you’ve been gone. “They broke into my van and I chased them.”

  “Oh, Joe. Are you all right?”

  Suddenly self-conscious I roughly scrubbed at my eyes with the back of my free hand, vaguely aware of the few other people in the shop. I ignored them but kept my voice down. “I have no idea. You saw me. What I did. What I can do. You tell me. Am I all right?”

  Tamara’s lips pressed together in a thin line. Her eyes flickering to the clipboard.

  “Am I all right, Tamara?”

  “What does your doctor say?” she asked hesitantly.

  I leaned back abruptly, pulling my hand away. “Oh come on! Do you really think I went to my doctor with this?”

  My voice was louder than I’d planned and Tamara made shushing motions to me as people started looking my way again.

  “Calm down, Joe.”

  “ ‘Hi Doc, it’s Joe. I’ve been experiencing some strange post-near death systems including electrical explosions. What should I do?’ “ The asshole voice comes too easily to me sometimes.

  “Joe, I said calm down!”

  My teeth clicked shut loudly over my next biting remark. Surprisingly I didn’t feel the buzzing or tension behind my eyes. Odd that, last few weeks when I became agitated it seemed all I could do to ignore that sensation.

  Around the sandwich shop people were still giving me the hairy eyeball. Like I was a strange derelict who was drunk and about to become violent and disorderly. And to be fair my ripped denims, shoddy Jets tee shirt, wildish too long hair and unkempt scruff of beard was not a pretty image. Especially in contrast to the tiny Tamara sitting across from me.

  Scrubbing my eyes again I made a wave to the restaurant in apology and waited for them to turn away, muttering things about me under their breath.

  Whatever.

  “Sorry. I’m under a bit of … Fuck it. I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that.”

  Tamara glanced around the room as well, smiling apologetically before turning back to me. Her face openly strained and concerned.

  “Clearly,” she said, but her eyes let me off the hook for my assholishness. Her voice was soft. Soothing. Trying to soothe a savage beast? My stomach curdled, ashamed of myself for lashing out at her. “You have been through a lot. It’s no surprise you’re feeling this way.”

  I snorted dismissively.

  She leveled a finger at me, no longer a joking admonishment. “You have been through a lot, Joe. Some of the things you’ve dealt with, a lot of people would assume you were crazy with what you’re saying. Would tell you you’re imagining things. On some kind of post near-death experience high. Believing you were invincible.”

  “Is that what I am doing, Tamara?” I asked, my eyes burrowing into hers. Motioning towards her clipboard with my chin. “You watched me in the weight pit. You took the notes. Am I hallucinating?”

  Tamara blinked at me for a long moment from behind her glasses. Her gaze going to her clipboard. Then over her shoulder to the OPEN sign that was blacked out and powerless.

  “This is unbelievable,” she whispered.

  Chapter 24

  “So,” Tamara asked as we walked. “What are you going to do?”

  I blinked at her and readjusted my gym bag more comfortably over my shoulder.

  “Huh?”

  We were walking back through the mall towards the gym. Tamara had a Zumba class to teach and it seemed only gentlemanly of me to walk her back to work after the whole crying in public episode.

  Never gonna live that one down.

  “Yeah,” she said peering up at me hesitantly. “What are you going to do?”

  “Hard to say,” I said with a faint shrug. My stomach was gurgling contentedly as we walked. Temporarily full but already I knew that I was going to have to get dinner started shortly after I got home. I had expended a lot of effort at the gym. “I figure I’ve still got at least a week or so before the doc’ll declare me fit for work and revoke my insurance. So I guess I’ll get a week to relax with Mom, hit the gym and stay out of trouble.”

  Tamara stopped and grabbed me, her tiny fingers barely getting halfway around my forearm. “You’re kidding right?”

  “As often as possible, yeah.”

  She stared up at me, eyes wide behind her glasses. “You’re just going to go on with your life. Business as usual?”

  I shrugged again, this time more self-consciously. “Well… yeah. Why shouldn’t I?”

  Tamara continued to stare. Incredulous.

  I started to get uncomfortable as we stood there in the middle of the busy mall walkway.

  “Don’t you think,” Tamara began before remembering we were in public and quickly lowering her voice. “I mean, don’t you think you should find help? Find someone who can help you understand what’s going on with you? With your body?”

  “Why would I want to do that?” I asked her in return, looking over her head at the business people and downtown derelicts wandering past and minding their own business. “For real. This shit is strange for sure, but I have responsibilities. Mom needs me to be there for her. To be strong for her. I can’t let recent craziness upset her any more than it already has.”

  Her face softened, understanding sinking in. “I get that, Joe. I really do.” She shook her head and started walking again, her hand still on my arm leading me along. I didn
’t mention anything about it. Tamara sighed softly. “This is just so weird. Seems like there’s something you should do. Some place you could go to ask questions.”

  I snorted. “More like places to go where I’d get in trouble. I’ve seen the X-Files. I know how that stuff works.”

  Tamara laughed lightly. “That’s just a TV show, real life isn’t that confusing. Besides, you’re not an alien.” She paused in thought, sneaking a glance up at me. “You’re not an alien, right?”

  “As far as I know I was born in this country.” I let my expression go vaguely wistful, lost in thought. “Though there was that green crystal my father buried in our storm cellar and never told me about.”

  Silence.

  “What?” Tamara’s expression was clearly befuddled.

  “Really?”

  “Is that from a movie?”

  “I weep for future generations.” I muttered.

  We walked in silence for a bit. As we ascended the stairs to the second floor she asked, “You’re coming in tomorrow?”

  “Not sure,” I lied with a shrug. My week was wide open and I had no reason not to come back. Yes, my commitment issues run so deep I am afraid to confirm workout schedules. “I might wake up tomorrow a big pile of agony after all that training.”

  “I’d be surprised if you weren’t” she said with a laugh. “In fact I hope you are.”

  I chose to ignore that. “Plus paying for parking is a bitch. I don’t wanna do that every day.”

  She was silent for a moment. “I’ve got a parking pass for the lot you can use whenever you want to work out.”

  “Where are you going to park?”

  “Joe, I live four blocks away.” Tamara’s eyebrow quirked up at me. “You knew that.”

  I shook my head. “I really didn’t. Not a stalker.”

  “Too bad, ‘cause that would be awesome.” She parroted back to me with a smile.

  I gave her my small smile in return and ignored her teasing expression. “More to the point, why would you give me your parking pass?”

  She showed me her clipboard as we passed the fountain display where business types liked to take their lunches and headed down towards the YMCA entranceway.

  “Someone’s got to keep an eye on you. See how things are progressing.” Her eyes twinkled behind the librarian glasses again. “You did ask me to check you out, after all.”

  I flushed lightly. “I suppose I did at that.”

  We started down the YMCA hallway, ahead of me I could hear music from an aerobics class faintly echoing back at us.

  “Should I get my pass for you?”

  “Might as well. Thanks.”

  “No worries.”

  We rounded the last corner to the YMCA lobby and the hand on my arm pulled me up short. Subconsciously I noted that this is where I’d run into Tamara last week, just after blowing up the treadmill. Where she’d given me a hug I could still feel that evening when I was relaxing at home.

  A rare moment of emotional weakness for me. So naturally I tried to “man it out.”

  I peered down at her questioningly, my poker face at full power. “Don’t you have a class?”

  “I have a few minutes still. I just …” Tamara tilted her head from side to side in a little bobbing motion. Her smile was tentative. Nervous?

  “What is it? Did I weird you out today? Make things …” I trailed off self-consciously, not wanting to think about what I’d done. What I’d confided to her.

  “You trusted me.” She said, very quietly. That smile on that pert little mouth was curious. Almost inviting. “I never thought you would do that. That you could do that.”

  It was getting very warm for some reason.

  “Well, you said I could.” My throat needed clearing for some reason. My small smile was out again, but it was different. Just for her. “Don’t make me regret it.”

  She blinked, her fingers tightening on my arm. Her free hand thumping me lightly on the shoulder. “Why would you say that? I would never.”

  “Some things need to be said is all. And some things don’t.” I leaned in a bit closer, keeping my voice low. “I just like my privacy.”

  “Which is why you let yourself be interviewed on TV I suppose?”

  Touché.

  “That was a favor to a friend. Besides, my name and face were kept out of …”

  “I’m kidding. And don’t worry, this’ll stay between us.” Tamara’s smile turned slightly wicked. “Besides. Who’d believe me?”

  Relief filled my belly though I hadn’t been aware of holding any tension. Though logically I must’ve been and who could blame me. I never open up to anyone about what I feel like for lunch never mind anything truly personal. Or potentially dangerous. Despite my own general distrust of all folks not named “Joe Donovan”, I knew I could trust Tamara. We hadn’t really been friends all that long but there was just a quality about her I found so endearing. Her earnest demeanor, her friendly and caring way was just so inviting. You knew she genuinely cared about what you said and how you felt. That’s more rare than you think.

  Plus. She’s hot. The kind of hot that dumb men do stupid things for.

  Not that I’m a dumb man.

  Typically.

  And no I didn’t tell her this to try and get in her pants.

  I took a deep, relieved breath and let it out slowly. “Thank you. That makes me feel better.”

  “What does.”

  “You know. Being able to …” My hand made a lost, grasping at straws motion.

  “Talk?”

  My fingers snapped loudly. “Yeah. Feels good to talk.”

  Tamara laughed softly.

  “Well I’m glad to help. Though I am a bit surprised.”

  “About what?”

  Tamara’s face flushed slightly. “I just … Well, I figured since he was your friend that you’d want to talk to …” She blinked in surprise, her eyes tracking past my shoulder. “Mark?”

  My gaze followed hers behind me. Mark was there looking disgruntled and aggravated as he came into the hallway. Suddenly feeling guilty I reflexed, pivoting my body back and away from Tamara’s to create some distance. Her hand released my arm instantly, her flush increasing slightly though for a different reason.

  I hate having a guilty conscience. Especially when I’ve done nothing wrong.

  Sure, I’d thought about it. A lot. But actually done anything?

  “Hey guys,” Mark grumbled as he caught up to us, a gym bag was slung over one shoulder. A pair of beige chinos and a dark, rumpled polo shirt accompanied his dark black loafers.

  When in doubt, be a prick.

  “What’s with the business casual? I barely recognize you.”

  Mark shot me a glare. “What, a guy can’t have a day job?”

  True enough.

  “What’s wrong?” Tamara asked, stepping up to Mark. Her hand now rubbing his arm gently. I ignored the spike of idiocy from the Neanderthal in my belly when I saw that. So what if my own arm was still warm from her hand?