by Inmon, Shawn
Before he left, Dominick went in the house and found his copies of Glory Road by Robert Heinlein, and Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury. Two guaranteed winners, if he was willing to crack them open.
Dominick and Emily stood on the sidewalk in front of the house and waved at them as they pulled away. Neither of the Fleischers waved back.
Chapter Sixty-One
The closer it drew to the date of his death in his first life, the more nervous and vigilant Dominick became. He even sewed a pocket inside his carrier bag that he took to school every day so that he could hide his .45 in there, where no one could see it.
Pretty sure that if I have to use it, the school district will frown on me bringing a loaded weapon to school, and I’ll lose my job, and probably my whole career. But you know what? I’ll still be alive. And, I’ll still have Emily. I’ll take it.
He didn’t have Gerald in any classes that semester, but he made an effort to find him in the halls and at least say hello to him every day. He never seemed any more or less weird than he had all along.
The day finally arrived, and Dominick fought every instinct to call in sick and avoid the situation altogether.
Couldn’t live with myself if I took that cowardly way out. What’s the worst that could happen? I get shot and killed. I wake up as a nine year old again. And I have to wait eighteen years to see Emily again. Yeah, that’s pretty bad.
Of course, they had already celebrated their anniversary in this life months earlier, so Emily attached no significance to the date at all. She rolled out of bed with an “oomph,” got ready, and went off to school like she did every other day.
Dominick had considered buying a bulletproof vest to wear on this day, but remembered that he had been shot in the throat, and no vest would have saved his life. He got dressed in his normal clothes, but did make the allowance of wearing his sneakers instead of his oxfords, just in case he needed to move fast.
The day dragged by for Dominick. Every loud noise, every unexpected sound of any kind, made him jump. He looked for Gerald in the hallways between each class, but never saw him. Finally, he checked the absentee list to see his name was there. It wasn’t. So he was somewhere in school, just invisible, apparently.
When sixth period finally arrived, he got to the classroom early. He unlocked the closet door and made sure everything was tidy inside, so he could move the kids there if need be. He briefly considered calling a safety drill and putting the whole class in the closet, but what was the play then? Keep them there all period long? It’d never work.
Many things were different from one life to the next. One of those was the book they were studying in this life. This time, it was In Cold Blood by Truman Capote, instead of Lord of the Flies.
Not sure that’s a good omen.
It was AP English again, and so it was once again a small class, only seven students this time around. Dominick had prepared a lecture about how groundbreaking In Cold Blood had been, essentially inventing the genre of True Crime single-handedly, but when he stood at the front of the class to deliver it, he just wasn’t in the mood. Instead, he had everyone move their desks into a circle, and he sat with them. He asked them what the book had made them feel, which parts had scared them, which parts had made them emotional.
He was surprised at the depth and variety of the responses. One girl said that she identified with the young girl who came to the Clutter house on that early morning, only to discover the horrific murder scene. “I don’t know how she ever recovered from it,” she said.
Doug, who had fallen under Gerald’s aim in Dominick’s first life, said that the offhand way the killer discussed the crime with the sheriff on the drive back to Kansas would stay with him. “How can you do something so horrible, and then be so casual about it?”
Dominick became engrossed in the conversation and jumped when the bell sounded, marking the end of the period. The kids in class laughed at him.
“You know, Mr. Davidner, that happens at the end of every class, right?” Doug asked.
“You know, Doug, I still haven’t made out the grades for the semester, right?”
Doug’s smile faded, but Dominick laughed and said, “Just kidding. I don’t know where my head was at. Have a good weekend, everybody. We’ll pick this up next week.”
Just to be sure everything was copacetic, Dominick hustled over to the classroom door, opened it, and stuck his head outside before he let his class out. The hall was full of jostling, talking, rambunctious high school students, talking about a basketball game that was on tap for that evening in the gym.
At dinner that night, Emily said, “So what’s been going on with you?”
“Who, me?” Dominick asked innocently.
“Yes, you. You’ve been so tightly wound the last few weeks, I thought you were going to snap and go postal on everyone.”
Can’t fool you, Em.
“Now, tonight, you seem your old self. So, what’s up?”
There’s no way for me to tell you, Emily. I can’t tell you that tomorrow is the first day in more than forty years that will be completely new to me. I wish I could tell you how excited I am that there will finally be new movies for me to see, new books to read, new discoveries that I don’t know about. Hell, for all I know, Microsoft stock will go in the tank next week, and there’s goes our nest egg. And I love it. Uncertainty is part of the flavor of life, and it’s been missing for me for too many years. I can wake up tomorrow and have no idea what’s coming.
“I’m sorry, Em. I wish I knew. Probably a combination of things, but I’m feeling better now. Hey, The Green Mile is playing at the Pickwick. Want to go see it this weekend?”
Emily wrinkled her nose. “Stephen King, right?”
“Yes, but, it’s not a horror movie. Best of all, I’ve never seen it.”
Emily laughed. “Well, of course you’ve never seen it. It just came out, right?”
Dominick caught himself. “Right.”
THE NEXT DAY, DOMINICK met Thomas at a coffee shop downtown. It was too cold to hit balls in the batting cage.
“Glad to see you’re still in one piece,” Thomas said, when he slid into the booth across from Dominick. “Happy emancipation day.”
“I’ve never asked you this, but when does your emancipation day arrive? When do you finally get to start living new days?”
Thomas shook his head. “Not for a long time. I may not have been as young as you when I started over, but I traveled further back. I’ve got to get to 2016 before I start seeing anything completely new.”
“I feel for you. I woke up today with a whole new attitude. Nothing like it. Hey, did I ever mention to you that I bought a few shares of Microsoft the day it IPOed?”
“No, but I did the same thing. What do you think put me through law school and bought my house? I never do this, but I’m just gonna tell you one thing. You might want to diversify your portfolio. It’s not gonna exactly crash, but these are the glory days. You might want to look at Amazon.”
“Amazon? Don’t they keep losing money every quarter?”
“Yep, they lose money on every purchase, but they make it up in volume.”
Dominick looked at Thomas funny.
“Sorry, that’s an old car salesman joke. I’m not telling you what to do, but I’m moving out of Microsoft now and into Amazon. If you don’t want the risk of doing that, you might just convert a good chunk of it to cash and put it in bonds. Last time around, there was something called a tech bubble that burst around 2001. Cash is not a bad position to be in. Besides, how rich do you need to be?”
Dominick thought of his little house, his life with Emily, his job that he loved, and the fact that he was once again breathing ‘unbreathed’ air in his life. “I think I’m already as rich as I need to be.”
Chapter Sixty-Two
The year 2000 arrived amid threats of Y2K, but when midnight of January 1, 2000, swept across the planet, the planes stayed in the air, the banks kept functioning, and the world
kept spinning on its axis.
As Thomas had suggested, Dominick diversified his portfolio. Ms. Jansen had left Tom Patterson’s firm not long after the Microsoft IPO to open her own small brokerage. Dominick had used her until she retired in 1994, and he had been using her daughter, Janis, ever since.
On January 3rd, Thomas sold off ninety percent of his Microsoft stock, which felt like saying goodbye to an old friend. It did wonders for his liquidity, though. He purchased a few thousand shares of Amazon and swore to himself that he would let it sit and percolate, just as he had done with the Microsoft stock, no matter what happened over the next few years. The remaining cash, which was substantial, he put into bonds and did his best to forget about it.
When Dominick took stock of his life, he felt like he was coming up sevens across the board. It had been a long, strange trip to arrive back at this point, but he had accomplished what he had thought was impossible—he was even happier than he had been at the end of his first life.
IF YOU HAD ASKED HIM, Dominick would have told you that he hadn’t relaxed that much in the weeks and months after his death anniversary. He would have told Thomas Weaver that he was still vigilant, watching around corners, always looking for danger.
Human nature is still human nature, though, and as time passed, his defenses lowered. It’s impossible to stay on alert forever. The concept of The Tyranny of Reality says that we all tend to rely on the most recent information we have, especially if we’ve seen it with our own eyes. If you’ve watched your favorite baseball team win eleven games in a row, it’s hard for the average fan to believe they won’t win their twelfth. If you’ve dodged a date with a spree killer, it’s easy to believe you’ll keep on dodging it.
So it was for Dominick Davidner on Wednesday. January 19, 2000.
He had kept the gun tucked away in its hidden pocket in his bag up until the Christmas break, but Dominick knew in his heart that a teacher carrying a gun to school was not good. So, over the holiday, he had taken the seam ripper, removed the pocket, and stored the gun back in its locked box on the top shelf of his closet.
He kissed Emily goodbye standing in their driveway, just as he did every day. He carefully told her, “I love you, Emily Davidner,” just like he did every day. He drove the same route, got the same cup of coffee in the lounge. Everything about his day was happily, boringly normal, until sixth period.
The AP English Class had finished their reading of In Cold Blood and moved on to To Kill a Mockingbird. The seven students were reading the early chapters of the book. Dominick was grading their essay tests at the front of the class. Silence reigned, until Dominick heard the sound he had been listening for all year.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Dominick’s stomach fell and he experienced the strongest sense of déjà vu he ever had. He knew with absolute certainty that Gerald was coming to his room. The students had all turned in their seats and were looking around to see where the noise was coming from.
Dominick leaped up from the desk. He did his best to keep his voice calm, but adrenaline put a quiver into his words. “Hurry. Everyone. Get in the closet, now.”
Most of the students sat, looking at him, absorbing his words. Michelle Landry jumped up, ran to the closet door and tugged on it. She turned back to Dominick. “It’s locked.”
Oh my God. What an idiot I am. I deserve to die for letting my guard down. These kids don’t deserve anything, though.
He reached into his pocket, grabbed the keys and threw them to Doug, who snagged them one handed. “It’s the steel key. Get that door unlocked and get in there. Now!”
Hearing the alarm in Dominick’s voice spurred them all into action and they ran for the closet door. Dominick sprinted to the light switch and switched it off just as the door began to open. Dominick kicked the door as hard as he could. It slammed shut violently, and Dominick heard a meaty thud as the door connected with someone’s face. He heard muffled swearing from the other side of the door.
Dominick groped behind him, looking desperately for something, but unable to take his eyes off the door. He glanced to his left and saw that Doug had opened the door and the last of the students scrambled inside the closet, closing it behind them.
Better. Not perfect, but better.
One bullet, then another ripped through the classroom door, shattering windows on the far side of the room. The door swung inward just as Dominick’s hand closed on the smooth handle of the baseball bat he’d left leaning there.
Gerald Fleischer strode into the room, a Remington .30-06 rifle slung around his shoulder in place of the two handguns he had carried the previous lifetime.
Time slowed.
Gerald sensed movement to his left and turned his head and rifle in that direction.
Dominick launched himself forward. He swung the baseball bat with everything he had.
The rifle went off.
Chapter Sixty-Three
Carrie spun the pyxis clockwise, jumping it ahead days, months, and years. She touched it lightly, feathering it to a stop.
“This is a perfect example of what we’re talking about. Watch.”
She set time free, and it moved forward at normal speed.
An almost empty classroom showed on her pyxis. A man switched all the lights off, just as the door to the room opened. The man kicked it viciously and it slammed shut, hitting a boy carrying a rifle, and almost breaking his nose. The boy staggered back, shook his head, pointed the rifle and fired two shots into and through the door. The older man reached behind him and grabbed a weapon. The boy kicked the door open and stepped inside.
He saw movement to his left and raised the rifle, just as the man swung the bat.
The rifle fired first, and before the man could connect with the bat, he was shot in the throat. He spun around, dropped the bat, and fell to the floor.
“I watched something like this happen to this same man three lifetimes ago. I didn’t do anything about it, because I didn’t really know how, yet. He has lived three incomplete lives since then. Those lives have fed the Machine, but they have not been good for his psyche. It is deteriorating. Now I know what can be done.”
Carrie reached inside the image, grabbed a fistful of it and pulled it toward her until it snapped. She rolled the material into a ball and dropped it into a hole in the floor.
“Now. Watch ... “
Chapter Sixty-Four
Dominick’s bat connected with Gerald Fleischer’s nose, spraying blood everywhere, blinding him.
Dominick leaped on top of Gerald, wrestled the rifle away from him and sent it skittering across the tile floor.
Dominick looked down and saw blood spreading across his blue shirt.
The bullet had ripped through Dominick’s left side, and he felt himself grow dizzy, but he refused to get off Gerald, who was laying on his back, shaking his head violently from side to side.
“You broke my fuckin’ nose!”
I’m gonna do worse than that to you right now.
Dominick raised the bat over his head to smash it down on his head, but strong hands grasped his wrist.
“Mr. Davidner. It’s okay. I’ve got him,” Doug said.
“I told you guys to stay in the closet! Watch him! He might have handguns on him.”
Dominick’s dizziness increased. His eyes rolled up in his head and he fell to his left.
Chapter Sixty-Five
When he opened his eyes again, he was on a gurney, being loaded onto an ambulance.
“Hold on, sir,” the EMT said, putting an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. We’re taking you to the hospital.”
From far away, Dominick heard Emily’s voice.
“Nicky!” Her voice was a piercing scream of fright. He tried to lift up his head, but couldn’t.
Then, there she was, her beautiful face a mask of fear.
“Nicky, Nicky, Nicky! What happened?”
“Ma’am, he really shouldn’t try to speak right now. We’re taking him to the hosp
ital.”
Dominick reached up with his hand and pushed the mask away. Emily leaned close so she could hear him. There were tears in his eyes, but he radiated relief.
“We made it, Em. We made it.”
Chapter Sixty-Six
Carrie stood in front of the nine floating desks once again, but the environment felt very different than the last time she had been there. Then, she had been quaking, afraid that whatever these beings were, they might have the ability to scramble her soul to atoms and scatter them across the width of the universe.
Today, she didn’t approach them as equals, because they obviously saw more of what actually Is than she did from her limited viewpoint. This time, however, they had sent a messenger—a small ball of floating light—to request her presence.
Carrie reached out and touched the ball of light and she was instantly transported before the council.
“Yes?” Carrie had asked.
“Thank you for being here,’ Blue-Robe said. “We were not properly introduced. My name is Harmonium.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Yep, I can still manage a lie in front of the council. Good to know. Carrie stared at Harmonium—the tilt of her head, the nervous fluttering of her hands inside the robe. It’s hard for me to believe, but it’s almost like she’s uncomfortable.
“When you were here last, we had some unfinished business.”
Do I get a raise, or is this just one of those jobs where you get a title instead?
“You were not the first person to be brought up on charges of interference. There was another before you. Her name was Emillion.”
Wait. That’s who Bertellia said Emily really was.
“The Council does not think it is right—“
Does the Council mean “fair?”
