by Shawn Inmon
Joe made sure he did all the little upkeep things on the house to get it ready for winter. He cleaned gutters, installed storm doors and windows, caulked everywhere cold could get in, and covered all the exterior faucets.
He did all that to help Claire, but in the end, watching Joe bustle to and fro, winterizing the house, only served to remind her that Stan was gone.
In January, when western Oregon is at its coldest and most rainy, she knocked on Joe’s door.
He hurried her inside to keep the gales on the outside.
Once inside, she pushed her damp hair back out of her face and greeted Jenny, who got as excited at seeing Claire as she ever did seeing anyone but Joe. When Jenny got excited she sneezed, and any visit from Claire was worth at least three of them. Even Allen deigned to come up and rub on her legs, claiming another subject in his kingdom.
Joe put the teapot on the stove to boil and sat Claire down. It was easy to see that something was heavy on her mind.
They talked about unimportant things like whether they might all blow away in the current storm for a few minutes while Joe made tea.
He didn’t have to ask Claire how she wanted hers. She had been stopping by more and more often the previous few months.
Before she even took a sip, Claire said, “Would you like to buy the house? Claire was never one to beat around the bush. “I hate to sell it, because Stan practically built it all by himself. He picked out every piece of lumber, every piece of pipe, and every inch of wiring. I love that house. It makes me unbearably sad to think of not living in it. But, living there with all the memories is worse. So. What do you say?”
Joe took a moment to consider. “Where would you go?”
“My sister lives in San Diego. She’s a widow, too, and she lives in a big house that looks out over Mission Bay.”
Joe’s eyebrows rose. “Sounds like she’s doing all right for herself.”
“I married for love. She married for money. Now I’ve got memories, and she’s still got the money.”
“I’d take what you had every time.”
Tears leaked out of the corner of Claire’s eyes. “I would, too.”
“If you’re dead set on leaving, of course I’ll buy the house. I can’t imagine anyone else owning it.”
“I just knew I could count on you.” She pulled a wadded up tissue from her sleeve and dabbed at her eyes. “Now. I’ve contacted a real estate agent about handling the sale. She said that as nice as the house is, it’s still just a little two bedroom cottage. I never told her about the mother-in-law out here, because I’m not at all sure Stan got the permits for it. I think he just built it for mother, then was planning on tearing it down after. But then, you came into our lives.”
She laid her hand on Joe’s. He noticed that her wedding band was still on her ring finger.
“I don’t know if you know what a blessing you were to us, and to Stan. We never had children, but he certainly considered you to be a son.”
“I was lucky to have called him that day. Knowing you two has changed my life, in all ways, for the better.”
“The Realtor said the most we could get would probably be $60,000, but I told her that was too much. I want to offer it to you for $50,000.”
“I’m sorry Claire, but I couldn’t do it at that price.”
“Oh?” A waver in her voice.
“I can’t imagine giving you less than $75,000. I know how that place was built. Plus, I’ve heard there’s an illegal house that comes with it. I’d like to pay you more, but I have a feeling you won’t accept it.”
“You’re right. Oh, Joe,” she said, leaning across the table and embracing him. “Thank you. You’ve brought me so much peace of mind.”
“Let’s do this, then. I’ll ask a lawyer to draw up the paperwork, and I’ll transfer the money into your account. Then, you stay there as long as you want. I’d like it if you stayed at least until spring. I might need help understanding what all’s in your flower beds.”
Claire did stay until spring. She wrote out pages of notes and diagrams about what was planted where in her flower beds, along with instructions on how to care for them.
In May, a moving truck showed up and a few hours later, the house was packed up and loaded. Claire insisted on including Stan’s old pickup in the sale of the house, along with his shop, which had all his tools.
Joe drove Claire to Portland to catch her flight to San Diego. He walked her to her gate, kissed her cheek, and watched her disappear down into the plane.
Aside from Allen and Jenny, Joe Hart was alone once again.
Chapter Forty-One
In the spring of 1984, Joe got restless. With Stan dead and Claire gone to San Diego, his circle of friends had dwindled dramatically. He and Jenny still volunteered at the shelter three or four shifts per week, but even that had started to feel rote.
He cast about, looking for something to dedicate his life to. He wanted to find a way to make the world better, but beyond his small volunteering, he hadn’t found a way, yet.
He considered going to college, and he was sitting in the living room of his house late one spring afternoon. He was absent-mindedly petting Jenny and looking at the courses offered at Middle Falls Community College, when there was a soft knock on the front door.
Jenny went on full alert, barking and growling at the door.
Joe was never the kind to look through the peephole. He just opened the door. When he did, he got a shock.
“Yo, Middle Falls boy.”
A lanky man with hair over his collar and a droopy moustache stood smiling at him. It took Joe half a beat to recognize Scott Mckenzie, but when he did, his face split into a huge grin. Without a thought, he grabbed and hugged him.
“Oh my God! The mysterious Scott Mckenzie! The invisible man! I thought you were in the wind forever!”
“Hey, it takes a while to hitchhike from Florida to Oregon.”
“Four years?”
“Well, I may have had a couple of detours.”
“Come in, man, set your bedroll over there in the corner.”
Joe looked at him, shaking his head. “I swear, I thought I’d never see you again.”
“Ah, I really did think I would make it here sooner, but as always, things pop up. I stopped in Indiana and saw my sister, and I had some business to attend to.” The way he said that made that business sound mysterious and intriguing to Joe.
“The years just slip away, that’s for sure. I was so bummed when I woke up in the hospital, and you weren’t there. I never got a chance to thank you for saving my life. And John’s.”
“I couldn’t believe I almost missed it, when I got back. I am such a dummy.”
“Yeah, you were definitely there in the nick of—wait, what? What do you mean ‘missed it’? Did you know that was going to happen?”
“Of course. And so did you. I could tell that right away. I’ve met a few others of us, though. I’m guessing maybe you haven’t?”
Joe was stunned into silence. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
“From the expression on your face, I’m guessing you haven’t run into many, or even any others.”
“I met one lady. In a library. I was looking for anyone else who was going through this. She was about to, I think she called it, reset her life, though, and she wouldn’t stay and talk to me. That’s been more than five years ago, though, so I thought I was never going to meet anyone else. So, you were in New York just to save John’s life, then.”
“Just like you, brother. It’s what I do. Or, at least, what I’ve done.” He took his army-green cap off and ran a finger through hair that was noticeably salt and pepper now. “I’m getting old. I’ve decided to do my best to ride this life to the end, so there’s only so many things I can change.”
“I wanted to do the same—do things that changed the world and made it better. I have a hard time remembering what events happened when, though. I can never be sure when and where I need to show
up. Do you have some kind of super memory or something?”
“No, not at all. I spent quite a few lives just indulging myself. When you find out there’s no real consequence to your actions, it can make you into a bit of a prick. It certainly did me. Eventually, I got all that out of my system though, and figured out that maybe the best way to help myself is to help others. Once I figured that out, I spent one long, boring life reading through newspapers and magazines, looking for things I wanted to change. A mother drowning her children in Tennessee. A father murdering his whole family in Maine. Serial killers. That sort of thing. Then, I memorized the list and started over. Just like that, I had a good list of events to try and stop or change. I memorized the best places and times to be in a particular spot in order to stop bad things from happening.”
“By ‘started over,’ you mean...” Joe ran a meaningful finger across his throat.
“Yep. Exactly. I’ve done that so often, it doesn’t bother me anymore. It’s not suicide, it’s just starting over. Or, resetting, as the woman in the library called it.” He paused, thoughtfully, staring at his shoes. “Okay, that’s not completely true. The first time was suicide. I’ll admit that. I was pretty messed up and depressed when I got back from the war. I challenge anyone to live in a VA hospital, in the conditions we did, and not end up a little crazy. If the war didn’t do it to you, that shithole sure did. Also, living a couple of dozen lifetimes helps a lot. It took me a long time to get my distance from all that, but I’ve got my feet under me now.”
“Holy buckets, Scott. You are rocking my world. Two dozen lives? I’m on my third, and I lose track of things. I have so many questions! How old are you when you start over each time? Don’t you ever get confused about what’s happened before, and what’s happening in this life?”
Scott held his hand up, asking Joe to slow down. “I wake up about a month after I got my honorable discharge and I was out of that hell hole of a hospital. If I woke up further back, and I had to spend that year there again, I don’t think I would have ever done it a second time. Of course, if I went a little further back, I would have just headed for Canada and saved myself the trauma of the war.”
“Do you interfere in these bad things happening, then just disappear like you did in New York?”
“Well, yeah, that’s the plan, but it doesn’t always work out that way. Sometimes, people get suspicious about how I just happened to be in a particular place at a particular time. If those local sheriffs ever start talking to each other about me, the jig would be up. That scene at the Dakota was a little different. Most of the things I do aren’t high profile like that. I had intended to jump into action that night, when I realized you were there to do the same job. But, I was prepared just in case.”
“After I blew it.”
“Don’t be down on yourself. You didn’t hesitate. You jumped right into the line of fire. I should have been closer. Plus, changing things like that isn’t always easy. In fact, it’s freaking tough.”
“Do you always get there in time?”
Scott shook his head. “No. I’ve missed on a few of them. Like I say, some things can be hard to change. You saw that in New York. But, I don’t have any real clue how all this works. If I save three people but then miss on one, for instance. If I start over, what happens to those people I already saved? It’s like a dog chasing its tail. That’s why I’ve decided to just do the best I can, and live this life through until it ends of natural causes. I’m tired of living the same time period over and over.”
“But, do your changes stick? I mean, if you save someone, they get to live out their normal lives?”
“As far as I know. With the possible exception of John Lennon, that is. Why?”
“Because I changed two events. Saving John Lennon and my two friends. Then, they all three died on the same day, less than a year later. I can’t figure out why the people that I saved died again right away, but the people you save don’t.”
“Maybe I’ve found my calling, and yours is to be something else. I think if God, or the universe, or whatever machine is out there, running things, didn’t want me doing this, the same thing would have happened to my people.”
Joe considered that, saw the truth in it. “So, what are you planning on doing next?”
“I’ve still got more things on my list, but I’m just not sure if I can keep doing this. I’m like Danny Glover in those Lethal Weapons movies—I’m too old for this shit.”
Joe’s eyes lit up. “I love that movie! Man, it’s good to have someone I can talk to about stuff that hasn’t happened yet. When I first woke up back in 1978, I tried just telling everyone what I was going through.”
“How’d that go?”
“Not so great. When something seems impossible, people just don’t want to believe it.”
“Well, to answer your question, I’m not really sure where I’m going next. I know who the Green River Killer is, and if I don’t do something about it, he’s going to keep going for a long time.”
“Yep. He was on my list, too. How you going to do that?”
“Haven’t decided yet. I could hang out on his hunting grounds and hope to get lucky, or I could put together a few reasons why I know it’s him and take it to the King County Sheriff up there. He’s a tricky one though. He lived in the shadows, so it’s harder for me to catch him in the act. Ted Bundy was easier.”
“Ted Bundy? He’s one of the big ones.”
“Right. You’ve heard of him, right?”
“Of course. Everyone’s heard of him. Mark Harmon played him in that made for TV movie, he’s famous.”
“Not anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean we are well after the time he stopped killing in our other lives, right? He should be famous. But, ask anyone you know if they’ve ever heard of him in this lifetime. I guarantee you they haven’t.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Things clarified in Joe’s brain. “No one has heard of him, because you stopped him before he became well-known, right?”
Scott nodded and smiled.
“What did you do?”
“Do you remember when he abducted and killed two women at Lake Sammamish?”
“Of course. Anyone who lives in the Pacific Northwest would remember that. He had his arm in a cast, asked women to help him with something, then killed them.”
“Right. Except this time, he didn’t. Before I reset, I memorized the date he did that. Young Mr. Bundy didn’t take anyone that day, but he got taken himself.”
“You killed him?”
“Do you think anyone would miss him?”
“Maybe his family, but the world at large? No. Certainly not me. I know what he was capable of. How did you do it?”
“Certain stories, like this and the time I had to use force to stop an arson in progress, are better left unsaid. I don’t want to spoil your appetite.”
Joe looked Scott over. He wasn’t a large man. His demeanor was relaxed, but there was something beneath the surface that spoke of a strong will.
“Speaking of which,” Joe said. He stood up and walked into the kitchen that Claire Fornowski had once cooked in. He pulled two steaks out of the freezer and set them in some warm water to thaw.
“Got time enough to hang around here for at least a couple of days? I’ve got a pretty nice little house in the backyard that you can stay in for as long as you want. It’s not the New York YMCA, but it’s not bad.”
“I shoulda made myself rich this life. Then I wouldn’t have had to stay there.”
“Were you tempted?”
“What, to make myself rich? Nah. I did that a couple of times. Rich doesn’t equal happy. I’ll take happy. I just arranged it so that I never really have to worry about earning money.”
“So be it. Whaddya say, then? Want to hang out around here for a while?”
Scott leaned back in the chair and said, “Yeah, I think I could take a little time off the road. I’ve got some laundr
y that needs doing.”
“Washer and dryer right in the house. Come on, I’ll show you. You can get unpacked while I get the barbecue fired up.
Joe showed Scott the neat little house and gave him a key. He had left the cottage furnished as he’d had it and never turned off the cable television. He was prepared in case visitors dropped in out of the sky. That’s exactly what it felt like when Scott had shown up.
It was a warm evening, so Joe brought the barbecue out of the garage and set some lawn chairs up around it. He made a recipe that Claire had taught him—diced potatoes, peppers, and onions, wrapped in foil and set right on the coals. When he had given the potatoes enough of a head start, he dropped the steaks on to sizzle.
The smell soon drew Scott outside.
“I knew this would get you out here.”
“Smells good, brother.”
“Want a beer?”
Scott shook his head. “Nah, I don’t do so well with that stuff. That was my downfall a time or two, along with some worse things. No more of that for me.”
“How about the more gentle beer, then? I’ve got root beer, and a few other pops in the house. Pick your poison.”
“You know, a root beer sounds pretty damn good. Perfect with whatever you’ve got cooking there.”
Joe wandered back inside and emerged with two bottles of root beer, popped their tops, and offered one to Scott. Joe tipped his as a toast. “To friends.”
“I agree. To friends. I don’t have a lot of them. Being a vagabond crime fighter, moving from state to state, doesn’t allow you time to develop friendships.”
Joe opened the lid of the barbecue and smoke issued forth. He grabbed a big fork and turned the steaks. He sat down next to Scott with a sigh. “I never did get a chance to thank you for saving my life. He was drawing down on John, and I have no doubt I would have been next. There would have been two dead bodies at the Dakota that night.”
“De nada. Seriously. If the roles were reversed, tell me you wouldn’t have done exactly the same thing.”
