by Rex Bolt
“I will,” Pike said.
They rode in silence the rest of the way, which was fine, it let Pike focus on the job at hand. It was getting dark, and he was a little concerned about climbing up that scaffold, and also not being seen by anyone. Especially now that he found out that it was a basketball night, and a rivalry one against Bellmeade, which always brought more people, even for the early JV game.
They parked near the gym, just a couple cars away from where he’d left his own vehicle actually, except of course it wasn’t there now, and he shook hands with the dad and the girls giggled once more.
Pike wanted to take care of this as quickly as possible, so he hustled over to the field. There was unfortunately one doofus walking a dog around the track though.
Pike ran up to the guy and told him he had no idea why, but the supervisor told him to round up everyone back here and have them go immediately to the front of the school.
The dog-walker looked at Pike like he didn’t get it, so Pike grabbed the leash and started running with the dog, and the dog-walker yelled for him to stop, and that yes, he would oblige.
The moment the guy was out of there Pike carefully navigated the scaffold ladder and made it up to the platform. His big mission, the letter H, it turned out was metal, pretty thick, and apparently welded onto a steel base that was part of the platform.
Pike hadn’t anticipated all this, he assumed it was a flimsy piece of wood, but he rolled up his sleeves and yanked, not hard enough the first time but dipping into some muscle the second time, and the welds gave way and the letter came off.
It was pretty big, too large to carry back down the ladder, so he reached over the edge and dropped it onto the grass. He was careful, but it still made a pretty loud bang when it hit.
He climbed down and pulled out his phone and took a couple pictures of the letter. He was a little mixed up with it all now, how you’d document the before and after, but screw it, he knew for a fact he was here now, and this was Friday, not Saturday, and he wasn’t dreaming some bull roar, like Mitch got him wondering if he might have been when he ended up in Logan, Utah.
Now to make the return trip. Julio’s closet could still be a possibility, even with the gym crowded, because probably no one would be paying attention to it with the game going on. Might as well check it first, and if not, find some other quiet part of the school.
Just then a flashlight found him. It was the night security guard, he had his uniform shirt on, and with him was that dog-walker. The guard asked Pike what he was doing, exactly.
Pike had no idea what to say, so he answered with the first semi-logical (or not) thing that popped into his head. “Uh, well, I’m taking the H down and bringing it home. It needs re-painting.”
The security guard sized up the situation and asked Pike to please wait right here, to not cause any trouble. The guy got on his radio.
Ten minutes later a squad car pulled up. One officer, an older guy who Pike had seen around town here and there. The officer asked Pike for his ID, thanked the security guard and asked Pike to come with him, and Pike followed him and got in the back of the police car.
The cop drove out of the school parking lot, made a left, then a right, and parked on a quiet residential side street and turned off the engine.
He turned around. “I know who y’are,” he said. “The wife and I, we drag ourselves to the games . . . You mind telling me what the hell that was all about?”
Pike was searching for what to say, but luckily the officer answered for him. “I understand the stage, don’t get me wrong,” the cop was saying. “The pranks, the bullshit . . . Ain’t enough to do in this town, we can all agree on that.”
“But? . . .” Pike said.
“But nothing. Y’all got to create crap sometimes. I get it . . . Just not on my watch, okay? I got two and half years to retirement, I need this petty aggravation like a hole in the head . . . For that matter, any aggravation.”
“Yes sir, I apologize.”
“Now get out of my face,” the officer said, and Pike opened the door and scrambled out of there and didn’t look back.
Unfortunately the custodian’s closet was locked. Pike went upstairs and started hunting around, thinking there might be something similar but there wasn’t, but then he remembered the teachers’ rest room on the third floor, one more flight up, and thank God it was open. The chances of some basketball fan who had to use the bathroom interfering up here were pretty slim.
He hit the lights, picked out a spot in the corner next to the sinks, and five minutes later went into his spin and shake. This time he got it right, ended up on the fifty yard line, right on top of the art emblem, and he went into the gym and there was Julio still working on the power-washing.
“Where you been?” Julio said. “I polished off the Subway, by the way. Didn’t think I was that hungry but it hit the spot.”
“What time you got?” Pike said.
“I got . . . 4:09. You making me check my phone? What’s wrong with yours?”
Pike didn’t trust his phone not to go haywire, with the going back and forth, so he wanted to confirm it . . . But 4:09, that was good . . . The basketball kid at Bellmeade had told him 3:12, but it had taken Pike five, six, minutes of being there before he asked the kid.
Meaning he’d left Hamilton around 3:05, and now gotten back at 4:05. And then a few minutes tacked on to come into the gym and find Julio.
He’d been gone for at least a couple hours, with the walking into town and waiting to hitch a ride and all, and the drive with the dad and screaming girls had taken an hour by itself.
Bottom line, it was pretty clear that he’d exactly lost one hour of real time, despite spending longer than that away.
This confirmed one of the 10 Rules of Time Travel from that special book that librarian had climbed up and gotten him out of the glass case.
The rule was that you lost one hour per day. So Pike assumed if you spent three days, somewhere, you would use up three hours in real time.
“Sorry . . . what was that again?” Pike said to Julio.
“Man, I don’t mean to be critical, but you seeming kind of out of it.”
“I know. I’ll a little scattered today . . . and I forgot something, I’ll be right back.”
When he arrived back at mid-field he’d neglected to check on the H. He jogged back over there, and his heart raced slightly in anticipation.
The H was indeed missing from its position up there on the back of the platform. It wasn’t on the grass where he’d left it, either. He went back in to talk to Julio.
“Oh yeah,” Julio said. “Overnight, some idiots, they pull it down. I got it inside, we’re going to have to figure out how to re-attach the sucker.”
Pike was alarmed for a moment that somebody else may have taken it down. Which meant this whole business had headed even more into the Twilight Zone than it already was.
Except that would have been very tough for someone else, with those welds. He said, “They know who the idiots were? Did they see anyone, or catch them?”
“Nah, I’m just guessing,” Julio said. “What else would it be. You kids--I don’t mean you specifically--but you get bored. And stupid.”
“Too much time on our hands,” Pike said, relieved that it was still him who had done the damage, that Julio hadn’t connected with the night security guy yet.
He wondered how that conversation would go, when Julio found out it was him, but he tried not to think about it.
“Anyhow . . . thanks,” Pike said.
“See that’s the thing,” Julio said, “you’re thanking me, but you bought me the Subway.” He shook his head and went back to his powerwashing, and Pike drove home.
But then again when he got there, both his parents’ cars were in the driveway, and he didn’t feel like walking into the middle of what he was pretty convinced now was a marriage problem, so kept going and figured why not swing by Audrey’s, see if she’s around.
Chapte
r 5
It looked like she was home, but before Pike got out of the truck he called Mitch. There was no answer and he didn’t leave a message.
Audrey was surprised to see him, nervous, like she was caught off guard. She stood in the doorway, and didn’t invite him in, which had never happened.
Then Pike realized one of the cars parked on the street, which he hadn’t paid attention to was Jack Hannamaker’s.
Audrey could tell that he’d put it together. She said, “Pike, it’s not what you think.”
Pike had a slight headache from his whirlwind experience today, and he wasn’t feeling great about getting picked up by that cop, nor was he thrilled by his parents’ current state of affairs.
He said, “Whatever floats your boat,” and turned around and walked away.
He drove downtown, cruised around a little, looking for some kind of action or someone he knew, but there was essentially nada. Clarke was right, and so was that cop. So was his dad, for that matter.
Then he had an idea: why not go to the game? Catch the end of the JV’s, say hello to that guy Henry again, hang around for the varsity thing. He wasn’t a big fan of high school basketball, mainly because he didn’t like watching other guys he knew do well when he wasn’t even playing. But once in a while . . . what could it hurt.
He’d driven halfway to school when he realized he had the wrong night, that the game was last night. What an idiot.
His phone buzzed and he figured it was Mitch and he answered without looking. It was Hailey. She sounded upset.
“My sister needs you,” she said. “Can you come back and help?”
Pike said, “I’ll be right there.” This wasn’t the time to get dramatic or hold grudges. Something was up. Get your head out of your rear end and get the heck over there.
Mr. Milburn was in the living room, standing up, wobbly, and Audrey and Hannamaker and Hailey were apparently trying to reason with him about something, to keep him under control.
“Thank you,” Audrey said to Pike. “It’s my mom and dad’s . . . anniversary today . . . Dad wants to go out.”
Hannamaker nodded slightly toward Pike, solemn, and Pike nodded back.
“He wants to go out, where?” Pike said.
Audrey said, “First of all, he wants to drive. By himself.”
“He says he wants to re-visit some of the good times they had together,” Hailey said.
“Okay . . . ,” Pike said, “ that’s understandable . . . Mr Milburn? We’ll take you wherever you want to go.”
“Son, can you get me my keys, please?” Mr. Milburn said. “They’re holding onto them.”
“We’re all just trying to keep you safe, sir,” Pike said.
Mr. Milburn sat down and covered his eyes with his hands, and everyone relaxed slightly. He said, “Safe . . . that’s an interesting choice of words . . . Did you know you father was banging my wife?”
“Oh my God, Dad!” Audrey said.
Hailey reacted like she’d been flash-frozen in place. Audrey clearly hadn’t shared that information with her, what she’d discovered in her mom’s diaries. Pike didn’t even want to speculate what Hannamaker might be thinking, or who he might tell.
Mr. Milburn continued, slurring his words badly, “S’one of the items on my list tonight son . . . Have a talk with your pop.”
Audrey shook her head and looked at Pike and Hannamaker. She was innocent, and beautiful, and now so helpless.
Hailey had recovered enough from the shock of the news that she, too, looked a lot like Audrey at this moment.
They didn’t deserve any of this.
Pike was trying to figure out the best way to subdue Mr. Milburn, without alarming anyone and without injuring the poor guy. He remembered one of the conversations with Dani, where she mentioned putting the sleeper-hold on Marcus one of the times when she had to beat it out of the apartment.
Pike didn’t know the move, had never practiced it, but he watched enough UFC on TV that he thought he could ad-lib it.
Mr. Milburn was talking again, going into more unfortunate detail about Pike’s dad’s affair with Mrs. Milburn. Apparently yes it had been going on right up to the tragedy. Pike was sad to hear this. It wouldn’t have changed anything, but he’d hoped it at least had been in the past and had run its course. And not been a factor in Mrs. Milburn’s life at the end.
But what could you do? Pike casually went around behind the man, and eased his arms around his neck. He knew of course you didn’t want to choke the guy to death, you just wanted to get pressure on the artery. As opposed to the throat.
Mr. Milburn squirmed and started to yell out, but Pike found a comfortable position, which he suspected was close enough to the correct one, and began to apply pressure. He looked up at Audrey and the others and told them not to worry, this wouldn’t hurt anyone.
It took maybe 45 seconds and Pike felt Mr. Milburn go limp, his body wanting to slump forward, and Pike, with Hannamaker helping now, carefully laid him down on the rug.
“I know you didn’t . . . but you . . . didn’t kill him, did you?” Audrey said. She put her hand over her mouth.
Hannamaker said, “Reverse guillotine choke . . . right?
“Or some variation,” Pike said. “The main thing, he’ll wake up in a minute . . . but hopefully be confused.”
And as though on cue, Mr. Milburn groaned, scrunched up his face and said, “What happened? What just happened?”
“You’re fine, Dad,” Hailey said.
“What’s going on?” Mr. Milburn said. “What time is it?”
“It’s dinner-time actually,” Pike said, picking up on it. “We were just going to go get some take-out . . . then make some coffee . . . and then, uh, watch TV the rest of the night . . . All of us together.”
“Ummh,” Mr. Milburn said.
“So what do you want Dad?” Aubrey said. “. . . what are you getting again?” she asked Pike.
“Chinese,” Pike said.
“So garlic chicken then?” Hailey said.
“Fine,” Mr. Milburn said. “You kids . . .,” He shook his head, but hopefully he still wasn’t all there.
Pike looked at Hannamaker. He said, “You guys got this? I’ll be back in a half hour.”
“I’ll come with you,” Hailey said.
They hurried to the car. “Which place?” Pike said.
“Up to you,” Hailey said. “And I grabbed my dad’s credit card, so you don’t have to worry about anything.”
“Jeez . . . I did forget one small detail. I’m pretty broke at the moment.”
“Believe me, my dad won’t mind. When he’s back in a correct state, he’ll appreciate it, what you’re doing.”
Pike stopped at China Kitchen. It wasn’t real Chinese, like you got up in the Bay Area, but it was tasty and the portions were big. While they waited he said to Hailey, “Hey listen, I’m truly sorry for all that back there . . . the other stuff.”
Hailey took her time, and said, “That’s okay . . . you knew about it, right? You didn’t seem shocked.”
“Your sister told me,” he said.
“My sister’s in love with you,” Hailey said.
“Well I love her too. It’s amazing to think I’ve known her for twelve years, going on thirteen. That’s rare, with people.”
“No,” Hailey said. “I mean she really loves you.”
The order was ready and Pike didn’t say anything until they got back in the car. “You sure about that?” he said. “Jack still in the picture, and all.”
“This afternoon when my dad started getting really drunk, and scaring us that he’s going to try to drive somewhere . . . do something . . . Audrey tried to reach you. For a couple of hours. You didn’t get back to her . . . So she called Jack.”
Pike was confused as to when he would have been reachable today, and when he wouldn’t have been . . . It was too much to try to figure out right now.
“I’ll take your word for it,” he said, but he felt a lot be
tter about the Hannamaker thing, hearing it put that way. And what did Hailey mean exactly, she really loves you?
Audrey and Jack had put a couple of leaves in the dining room table and they spread out the food and everybody ate a lot. Hailey brought out a big pot of coffee but Mr. Milburn didn’t want any, and once they retired to the living room and got a movie going he fell fast asleep in the recliner.
Audrey told Pike they should take the dog for a walk.
“Jack and your sister okay with him?” Pike said.
“Oh yeah,” Audrey said. “One thing I know about my dad, when he falls asleep in front of the TV, that’s it.”
They were halfway to the corner when Pike’s phone rang. It was Mitch. “Yep,” Pike said.
Mitch said, “I’m in New Mexico.”
“What the heck,” Pike said.
“I told you, I need to look up the Hillsdale tax records. We’re in Eddy County. Melinda and I. She’s having fun, doing her thing. I’m kind of slamming my head against the wall here.”
“Eddy? That’s a place?”
“Yep. Carlsbad’s where we’re at. Where they got the courthouse . . . The problem I’ve having, it’s all on index cards before 1991, a lot of them hand-written. They’re friendly as heck out here, but I’m not making much progress . . . You ever confirm your blood type?”
“I did actually. It’s AB negative.”
“That’s what I figured. The rarest one.”
Pike looked at Audrey who was busy bent down talking to the dog. He said quietly to Mitch, “I re-experimented today. It worked.”
“Ho-ly Criminy . . . ,” Mitch said. “What did you do?”
“I moved a sign. Came back and it was still moved. Got in a little trouble with the cops along the way, but forget that part.”
“Okay . . . but again . . . could it have been your subconscious . . . telling you you moved it?”
“Mitch, shut the frig up now . . . I took care of it, and this time I know what I took care of . . . case closed.”
“All right then,” Mitch said. He took a minute. When he spoke again his voice was hoarse, like he was choked up or something. “This is earth-changing stuff, son . . . You must know that.”