by E. R. Torre
In a life defined by bad choices, Lewis Sinclair’s death was likely the result of the worst of these many very, very bad choices.
As he promised, Sinclair’s name died with his passing.
The national media congregated on Viktor and clogged the main street. It got so bad that police units were brought in from Manville to keep order.
Mrs. Borg was quickly transferred out of town. A group of high powered and publicity starved lawyers took on her case. They appeared on TV talk shows and boldly proclaimed that when all the facts were revealed, Mrs. Borg’s innocence would be clear. Whenever they made their speeches, I couldn’t help but think of the look on Mrs. Borg’s face when she pointed her gun at me.
They brought Judith Robinson down from the mountain on a stretcher. She was paralyzed by the trauma and couldn’t, or wouldn’t, talk. There were groups of Psychiatrists and Psychologists, perhaps just as hungry for publicity as Mrs. Borg’s lawyers, offering public and private advice. Distant family members came in to town to take care of her, though I heard her mother either didn’t want or didn’t care to involve herself in this affair. Rumors spread that Judith was flown out of the country and put her in a private hospital in France. Or maybe England. Or possibly Italy.
As for me, Dr. Porter spent the better part of that first afternoon performing his third check-up on me. He did this quietly. Any questions he asked were short and curt. Any statements he offered were equally brief. In the end, Dr. Porter put a cast on my badly sprained leg.
I thanked him for caring for Judith, but he didn't reply. When he was done, he collected his tools and walked away.
Sheriff Chandler asked me to stay for a couple of days in a cozy room within the police station. It was a cell, though one of their nicer, more isolated ones. I spent hours there either watching a tiny black and white television set or answering Sheriff Chandler's many questions. I was pretty straight with him, though I never did tell him about the visions.
On the second day, they gathered my belongings from the Inn and brought them to my cell. Everything was there, except for that six year old tabloid newspaper I picked up before flying here. It, more than anything else, was responsible for my being here.
For some reason, I wasn't too surprised to find it gone.
After a few more days, the press moved on to their next big story and Sheriff Chandler ran out of questions. I was free to go. I gathered up my belongings early that morning and headed for the station’s door.
On the way out, I heard a couple of deputies mention Judith. I overheard them say she was bedridden and resting at home. So much for the rumors of flying her to Europe for treatment.
The parking lot and the town of Viktor was covered in an early morning haze. A couple of police cars within, their bodies covered with freshly fallen snow. Next to them was my SUV. It was covered with a foot or more of snow over the length of its body.
Something about this seemed familiar.
And then I saw it.
Like a dream, I spotted a lone figure sitting in a car on the opposite end of the parking lot. He looked directly at me before fading away.
I recognized him immediately, for I was looking at myself.
I walked to the SUV and stared down the main street. I could see the Green Manor Inn at the end of town. She was alone, uninviting, an outcast. They closed her down, perhaps never to be re-opened. Overlooking her was Viktor’s mountain, still breathtaking in its beauty. Still mysterious and threatening.
I wiped the snow from the SUV’s windows and opened the rear hatch. I put away my suitcase and sighed. Some vacation.
I entered the truck and shifted her into drive. I headed south, driving down Viktor’s main street, and took one long last look at the town. I passed the theater, Clement's Restaurant, and the gas station.
At the end of town I stopped. If I continued down this road I'd eventually reach Judith's estate. I wanted to make that trip so badly, to see Judith once again. To comfort her. To tell her how much I loved and missed her.
But what good would it do? Did she need to see me? Would she even want to see me?
The thoughts tore at me until I couldn’t take them anymore. I smashed my fist against the dashboard.
“Why?” I yelled.
There were no answers. The road remained before me, tempting me to go on. Instead, I stared into the rearview mirror. The second path, the safe path, lay back there. That road led through Viktor and Manville and back home.
Making this choice hurt so badly. I wanted to go home and put all this behind me. I wanted to see Judith, and hope there was some way we could…
Who was I kidding?
“Home,” I muttered.
I made a tight U-turn and returned to the center of Viktor. The town was slowly returning to its previous normalcy. The streets were once again elegant and exuded their old charm. Snow fell, ever so lightly, and covered up all the blood that spilled here in the previous days.
I stopped the SUV next to the vacant lot that in a vision had been a pharmacy. I stared at it for several seconds before getting out. I walked to the blue mailbox that held me up while I saw a young John Robinson and Lewis Sinclair arguing. I recalled the pause in their argument and shivered at the memory of John Robinson waving at me. Or, rather, at the woman who stood in my place all those years before.
Mrs. Borg.
I didn't know it then, but I was certain of it now.
Another car came to a stop behind mine. Sheriff Chandler exited his car.
"You're leaving?"
"Yeah. I just wanted to stop here a moment."
The Sheriff looked at the empty lot and frowned.
"This used to be a drug store,” I said.
“Ned’s Pharmacy,” Sheriff Chandler said. “It burned down twelve years ago.”
“This is where it all started. This is where John Robinson, Lewis Sinclair, and Mrs. Borg first got together."
"How would you know that?"
"I can't, of course."
Sheriff Chandler let that drop. He was tired of me. Beyond tired.
"I don't want you back here, ever."
I stared into the Sheriff's eyes, then back at the street. There was no need to argue the point.
I returned to my SUV and drove off.
EPILOGUE
After driving for a while, the haze lifted. I couldn’t take it anymore. It was a big mistake to leave Viktor, and there was no way I could ever return home. Certainly not without seeing Judith.
But I made some wrong turns on the way back, and after driving over an hour through the mountains, I was lost. At a roadside diner I asked a few people how to get back to Viktor, but none of them knew.
I spent another hour looping around the mountains and looking for any familiar sight. All the while, the events of the last few days crashed in my head. I was physically and mentally exhausted and had trouble focusing on the road.
I was near despair when I spotted a gas station in the distance. I pulled in and stumbled away from the pumps and to the vending booth. There, I begged the station’s manager to tell me how to get back to Viktor.
Like the people at the restaurant, he too didn’t know. Sure, he was nice enough, and even pulled out a map of the area and spent twenty minutes trying to figure out where Viktor was. But even with the map and all his good intentions, he couldn’t find the place.
“There’s so many small towns,” he said, as if words alone were enough to excuse his, and his map’s, deficiencies.
I exited the place and walked toward my truck. On the way, I spotted a pay phone tucked into the side the station. I walked to it and dialed out.
As I did, I prayed Jennifer was, for once, home. I really, really needed to talk to her. I felt like…I felt like I was losing my mind.
When her answering machine came on, I could barely control myself.
“Hey Jennifer,” I mumbled. “I left Viktor. I was going back to Manville, but I turned around…”
I couldn’t say any m
ore. Tears rolled down my cheeks and I openly wept. The phone slipped from my hands and fell. It dangled on its silver cord as I stumbled back to the SUV. All the while, the voice from Jennifer’s answering machine taunted me…
“The number you have dialed is invalid. Please hang up and try again…The number you have dialed is invalid. Please hang up and try again…”
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
EPILOGUE
