Live it Again

by Geoff North

  “There are no outposts, there are no cities, and it’s not science fiction. There’s not enough goddamned money in the future to get off the planet’s surface anymore.”

  Billy shook his head. “Not enough money? How did this guy afford to build a time machine?”

  “Who said anything about a time machine? It’s just a story for fuck’s sake! Now would you both shut up and listen?”

  Billy winked at Bob, but remained quiet.

  “Alright then, this guy from 2011 travels back to the past…not in any kind of machine, but he’s guided by some kind of alien presence he can’t see.”

  “I’ve heard of alien abduction stories like this,” said Bob from his log.

  “Well this ain’t one of those stories. This guy, we’ll call him Hank, he gets himself killed in a car crash and ends up in this place he’s never seen before.”

  Billy’s grin is gone. “Heaven?”

  “No, not heaven--and not hell either. He’s not sure where he is. There’s nothing around he identify with, just this thick brown air.”

  “It’s gotta be the inside of their spaceship,” Bob said.

  “Not a spaceship.”

  What if it was a spaceship? How the hell would I’ve known?

  Hugh shook his head and continued. “It’s just some nameless void, you know, like where dead people go to wait and see where they’re supposed to end up.”

  Billy sat up and crossed his legs. He leaned forward, his hands cupped under his chin. “Sounds like purgatory.”

  “No, I think purgatory is more like hell…he’s more in limbo than anything.”

  “Limbo’s a place?” Bob asked. “I thought it was a dance.”

  “It’s both, okay? Anyway, this voice starts speaking to him. It offers him a choice. Hank can either drift off into the ever after, or he can live his life over again, knowing everything he knows, beginning at ten years old.”

  Billy started to stir the fire up with a long stick. “I’d definitely take the second chance. Holy shit, can you imagine the fun you’d have if you knew what was gonna happen next?”

  Hugh nodded and studied his friend sympathetically.

  You wouldn’t want to know everything.

  “Well Hank took that second chance and ended back up in the past. Trouble was though, he was a forty-something-year-old in a ten-year-old body. This is where the story gets interesting. You see, Hank starts screwing things up, messes things up real bad. He starts getting into bad shit that only older people get into. People start to change because of it, and some things that are supposed to happen, never happen at all.”

  “I’d kill Hitler if I went back to the past,” Bob said.

  “You’d try and bang every chick in junior high first,” Billy laughed. “No wait, that’s what you’re trying to do now!”

  “What do mean, trying? I’m halfway through already.”

  Hugh’s patience was running thin. “Hank never went back to the forties, and even if he did, how the hell would he get over to Europe and kill Hitler?” The boys nodded and let him continue. “Poor old Hank tries to stop all the bad shit, he begins to lead a normal, quiet life, but things still keep changing. He begins to wonder if he’ll ever catch up to his old life, if he’ll ever meet the woman he’s meant to marry, and have the kids he’s supposed to have.”

  Bob stood up and rubbed his rear end with both hands where it was beginning to fall asleep. “Yeah, but who cares? He’ll just meet someone else, and if he’s smart, she’ll be hotter than his first wife. And if he’s a real genius, he won’t even bother having any kids.”

  The three boys debated for another half hour over Hank’s dilemma. The sun had set and the sky was a brilliant orange streaked with purple in the west when Billy finally asked, “So how does this become a ghost story? Does Hank die again?”

  “I think I get it,” Bob said. “You see, Hank never really went back to the past. He died in the car crash and he stayed dead. The rest, well the rest was just a dream.”

  The thought made Hugh feel sick. It was one he’d had many times before. Was his mangled body still burning under the wreck of a fuel tanker on a cold, ice-covered highway? If a dummy like Bob could pick up on the idea so quickly…

  The voice in the brown told me there was no such place as hell. What the hell did it know?

  Hugh looked up at the first dim stars and wondered where and when he was.

  “So is that the end of the story?” Billy asked. “Was Hank just a ghost after all?”

  “Sure, why not? It’s as good an ending as any other.” He went over to Bob’s backpack. “Where’s the rest of that whiskey? I feel like getting drunk.”

  Bob clapped him on the back. “That’s the spirit!” He helped fish it out and over the next few hours, the boys finished it off. They told more ghost stories, roasted wieners and marshmallows, sang dirty songs, and finally the conversation led back to girls. They finally went to sleep after one in the morning.

  Hugh staggered out of the fart-ridden tent less than an hour later. He only managed four wobbly steps before falling to his knees. He heaved twice, and on the third try brought up his half-digested hotdogs. He vomited half a dozen more times until there was nothing left to come out, and then he dry-heaved a little while longer. He toppled over onto the damp ground and decided to spend the remainder of the night there.

  I’m no ghost. Ghosts don’t puke their guts out. I’m not in hell either. Hell could never feel this bad.

  Chapter 14

  Hugh was the last one up. He looked about groggily as the light of day glowed through the thin plastic of the green tent.

  And I was worried about Bob?

  He started to chuckle, but stopped instantly when he felt how sore his stomach was. His mouth was as dry as sandpaper and tasted of wieners and bile. He gagged at the thought, shifted carefully onto his side. Breathe nice and easy, he thought. Slow, deep breaths until it passes. That’s what he’d learned as a grownup. Never much of a drinker, but he had learned a trick or two. His head pounded so hard he could imagine blood leaking from his ears to relieve the pressure. How had he got back into the tent?

  After ten minutes he felt his stomach was strong enough to manage sitting up. He was wrong. He dry heaved twice and swore he would never, ever drink again.

  “You okay in there?” It was Billy from somewhere outside.

  “Just need a few seconds.”

  Bob poked his head inside the tent flap and Hugh winced at the brightness. Surely his head had just split down the middle. Or had that been the sound of the tent zipper? “You’re lucky I had to take a piss a few hours back, or you would’ve likely frozen to death.”

  “Probably should’ve left me out there. Death would be welcome right about now.” Hugh sat back up slowly. He crawled out of the tent and stood on legs that felt like rubber. He took a few, tentative steps forward.

  “Careful where you walk,” Billy warned from across a newly built fire. “I don’t think you wanna step in that.”

  Hugh looked at the deposit he’d made onto the grass during the night.

  Don’t look at that, turn away, turn away, don’t look. Never again.

  He rubbed his flat stomach, surprised to feel hungry. Young bodies were so forgiving. If he’d tried drinking that much in his forties, he would be laid up for days. The other two had obviously eaten, judging from the sun’s high position in the southeast. A wave of panic washed over him, taking with it his hunger and any lingering sickness left inside his gut. “What time is it?” He asked, checking his own watch at the same time. It read 2:18. The entire morning and a good chunk of the afternoon had already been lost. “Jesus, we gotta get moving!”

  Bob was sitting back down on his log. “What’s your hurry? Your dad’s not picking us up until this evening. We got all day.”

  “No, you don’t understand, we really have to get going.” Hugh started to kick dirt onto the fire.

  “Calm down and get something into your stomach first,”
Billy said, offering him a plastic plate topped with cold scrambled eggs and fried ham. “We saved you some.”

  What if they were too late, Hugh wondered? How would he feel if they discovered Hubert McDonald’s broken body on the rocky shore of the Assiniboine? Could he ever forgive himself?

  It’s the only reason we came out here in the first place.

  He took the plate of food from his friend and began to eat chunks of egg with his bare hands. “I want to climb to the top of the bridge before noon. Which one of you pansies thinks they can beat me there?”

  Billy remained quiet; an uncomfortable look spread across his face and furrowed his pimply brow. Bob jumped up and helped kick more dirt onto the fire. “You’re on!”

  They packed up the tent and left it with their belongings before setting out less than fifteen minutes later. Hugh took a long drink of warm water from Billy’s monstrously large thermos as they walked. He looked ahead to the steel structure off in the distance. It appeared even blacker, more ominous with the bright sun shining directly behind it. Hopefully they weren’t too late.

  There was no broken body at the bottom. The boys carefully picked their way along the rocks next to the river until they reached one of the massive support columns. Perhaps the deed had already been done, and the man’s body had floated down the current of the Assiniboine. Hugh craned his head up to see the top. It made him dizzy.

  Maybe I should mind my own business…take these guys home where they belong.

  Bob pushed him aside and pulled himself up to the top of the cement base six feet above the ground. “Last one to the top is a smelly fart!” He started climbing up the rusty service ladder.

  “You’re already a smelly fart,” Billy called after him in a shaky voice.

  Bob started to make clucking noises, flapped his elbows up and down as he continued his ascent. “What about you, Nance? Where are those big balls you were bragging about before?”

  Hugh shook his head without cracking a smile. He’d lived a long enough life not to succumb to teen age peer pressure.

  Go ahead, jerk.

  As long as he could yell loud enough to warn McDonald when and if the time came, there was no good reason to climb the bridge.

  “Fuck it,” Billy Parton said. “You only live once.”

  Hugh stepped back in shock as his skinny friend hoisted himself up and started in on the ladder. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

  “I can’t be a chicken-shit my whole life, besides, it’s a nice day…no wind. I’ll be okay. What could go wrong? As long as I keep my eyes on the ladder and don’t look down, everything will be hunky-dory.”

  “Don’t, Billy. Get back down here.”

  He was already twenty feet above the cement block. “You once told me I could do whatever I wanted to if I put my mind to it. I can do this.”

  Did I tell him that?

  Bob had stopped at forty feet to watch the other boy. “Way to go Billy! I knew you had it in you. More than ol’ Fancy-Nancy boy there.”

  Bob’s taunting wouldn’t work. Nothing would make Hugh start climbing. He would stay put on the ground where it was nice and safe. He watched their progress for a few more minutes until they reached the halfway point. He backed up a dozen steps to get a better view. He remembered the binoculars strung around his neck and focused in on them. He cursed silently. They were moving a lot slower now, their legs undoubtedly burning from the workout, that, and the gravity of their situation was likely slowing them down even more.

  Hugh looked up at the remaining ladder above them. He reached the top and moved the binoculars along both sides of the track. Which way would Nelson and McDonald come, he wondered? He swung back to the left, northeast, toward Braedon. It seemed the most likely choice. The two men both lived in town, so that’s probably where they’d be coming from.

  If they even come at all.

  The idea of preventing a murder had appealed to him just the day before. It didn’t seem like such a noble thing now. Bob was now less than thirty feet below the underside of the track, Billy ten feet below him. Hugh wanted to yell, warn them to be careful, but he didn’t want to risk startling them.

  A sudden movement from the bush caused him to drop the binoculars. Something was crashing through the trees a few feet from where he was standing.

  Nelson! The old bastard’s brought his victim here from the bottom of the bridge!

  Hugh whirled around a few times, frantically searching for a place to hide. The river was too wide and fast-running to swim across. That left only one other option. He rushed behind the giant cement foundation and pressed his back up against its cool, rough surface. As long as they hadn’t seen him run there, he could move from one side to the other as they passed by.

  How had Nelson convinced the other man to walk out here? Wouldn’t McDonald have some idea what was going on? Maybe Nelson had a gun pointed into his back.

  I’m going to end up getting us all murdered.

  Hugh closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing. Maybe they had come down here for an afternoon of fishing. Everyone around here loved to fish and hunt, it made sense. He heard the final snap of bushes whipping back into place, followed by footsteps on the loose gravel. Definitely more than one person, he realized.

  What if McDonald plans on killing Nelson?

  He’d never considered the idea before this very moment, but there was cause for both men to want the other dead. Nelson could’ve wanted McDonald dead to get rid of a jealous husband, and McDonald could’ve wanted Nelson dead for screwing around with his wife.

  Hugh looked out into the open and saw where he’d left the binoculars. The footsteps sounded as if they were headed straight for them.

  Shit!

  He bent down, his back rubbing against the cement. He felt along the ground, groping for any object he could use as a weapon. A shadow fell across the binoculars; he found an oblong shaped rock perfect for bludgeoning in someone’s skull.

  The shadow stopped, frozen over the fallen glasses.

  What am I going to do? Which of them is actually planning to murder the other?

  He thought of his friends, two hundred feet directly above him. He prayed they wouldn’t choose this particular moment to yell out. A black nose appeared around the edge of the cement block before he had a chance to move.

  It was a deer.

  Hugh stood there stupidly, the rock held out to one side, his legs bent at the knees, his back hunched and ready to pounce. He looked like a slack-jawed caveman. The deer heard him, exploded into movement. It kicked loose gravel and sand up as it bolted back into the bushes. Hugh fell to his rear-end, gasping for breath and laughing at the same time. He got up after half a minute to retrieve the binoculars. The one lens was cracked.

  Great. How am I going to explain this?

  He checked on the climbers. Through the remaining lens he could see they’d reached the top. They stood side by side on the last few rungs, their arms locked around either side of the ladder. Neither boy looked prepared to hoist themselves up to the overhanging ledge and track ten or twelve feet above their heads.

  “Okay guys, you can come down any time now,” Hugh said quietly. He never should’ve allowed anyone to climb up there. What had he been thinking? What if Nelson came along? What good would the two of them be to anyone dangling up there?

  Hugh cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted. “Get back down here!”

  One of them yelled back. “Whhoooo-hoooo!” It was Billy, waving his one arm wildly, and booting one foot out into the air. He’d picked a fine time to get over his fear of heights. Hugh motioned for them to start back down, but he knew there was no chance they could understand what he meant.

  Probably think I’m waving hello.

  Billy’s going to die today. It won’t be a farm accident when he’s fifteen, and it will be my fault.

  A low rumble echoed through the valley followed by a not too distant whistle. A train was headed their way. Hugh was ab
out to yell at the pair to hold on, but realized how stupid it would’ve sounded, even if they were able to hear him. The train appeared after another anxious half minute, and he watched as it barreled along the bridge. He listened as their excited shouting blended in with the roar of the train’s movement and the blare of its whistle. Hugh wanted to look away, didn’t want to watch in case one of the boys was shaken off from the vibration. He couldn’t look away, he couldn’t blink.

  The train must have been a hundred miles in length, Hugh thought, waiting for it to pass. Its engine must have been pulling a few hundred thousand cars. Most were empty, flat beds of steel carrying no freight at all. A few carried giant combines and swathing machines, others were stacked with six foot wide metal drainage pipes. Over a dozen identical round tankers roared past, all painted a pale grey and bearing the same deep green letters, CNR. A few rusty dark brown box cars sped past after that, covered so thickly in spray-painted graffiti that the original company names could no longer be read. Finally the caboose came into view, and then it was gone. Its mournful whistle faded in the distance, its low rumble echoed across the valley like a receding thunderstorm.

  Hugh’s heart started to settle and he looked back up through the unbroken lens and saw Billy still swinging by one arm, kicking and twirling his one leg.

  Why the hell doesn’t Bob settle him down?

  The binoculars shook in his hands and his field of vision jumped around. For a moment he thought he’d seen something moving along the top of the track again. He steadied his grip and moved them back up, slowly focusing along the track’s length to the southwest. It had to be more deer.

  “Holy shit,” his mouth dried up on the last word. He could see two men walking along the track. Maybe it wasn’t them. Hugh no longer had the desire to be a hero and save anyone’s life that day. They were so far away it was hard telling who was who at first. The guy in the lead was just a dark shape, jumping around unsteadily in Hugh’s limited field of vision.

  Steady, Hugh, hold it steady.

  There was no mistaking the guy behind him. The sun shone off his gleaming bald skull, and he moved like a loping wolf, his shoulders bent forward, his back slightly stooped. It was Thomas Nelson. Hugh ran a hand down his cold, damp face. “It’s happening, oh my God, it’s actually going to happen.”