“I’d really like to help you,” I said once I was sitting next to him, “but if I may, I think what you need is a mechanic.”
“No garage can fix this car.”
“Well, maybe you can get to school by bus,” I offered.
“The usefulness of this car, boy, goes well beyond that of getting me from one place to another. Besides, I quit teaching.”
“Why?” I asked in surprise.
“Because I won’t find what I’m looking for there,” Tedd answered. “We are all looking for something, isn’t that right?”
“I guess so. So, what are you looking for?”
“A boy, naturally. Why else would I have been at a school?”
I would’ve thought it was to teach history classes, but I didn’t say that to him. That kind of answer might have annoyed him, and Tedd still made me nervous. He wasn’t an ordinary kind of person.
“Well, good luck in your searc—”
“Thank you, boy. But let’s not worry about that right now. The important thing is that you are going to keep this car and finish repairing it.”
“What?” This was making no sense. “That’s very generous of you, but I can’t accept it.”
“Of course you can.”
“Sorry, Tedd, but I have to go now.”
“In a moment, boy. But first you have to see something.”
“What?”
“Your stick—give it to me.”
I’d forgotten all about the stick . . . the twins’ stick. Could it be that Tedd knew where I had gotten it from? No, not in a million years. He must have seen me with it from inside his car.
“It’s outside. I dropped it before I got in.”
“Well, pick it up. Go on! You can’t lose something as important as that.”
Important? A stick? I was beginning to think Tedd knew exactly where that stick had come from. I decided to test my theory.
“It’s just a stick,” I said, unconcerned. “What’s so important about that?”
The old man’s head spun toward me and he bore into me with those lifeless-looking eyes. “If you really think it’s just a simple stick then perhaps I was wrong about you.”
That was all the confirmation I needed.
“Damn, Tedd! You really do know what it is. You gotta tell me!”
“Of course I know, boy,” he replied in his usual, relaxed tone, “and I’ll show you if you hand it over to me now.”
I stumbled as I rushed to get out of the car. I grabbed the stick up off the ground from where it had rolled to a stop by the wheel and got back in the car as fast as I could. My heart was racing.
“Here you go.”
Tedd calmly took it from me. “Let’s see, now . . .” He felt it until he found the base. “Ah, yes . . . here it is . . .” and he placed the stick in a hole between the two seats. “There we are.”
I couldn’t believe the simplicity of what I’d just seen.
“That can’t be . . . It’s a gearshift?”
“Just the one I needed for this car. See how well it works?”
“But, I . . . I don’t understand. You have to explain—”
“All in good time, boy.”
My head was spinning, a million questions swirling around inside it—each one more absurd than the one before it.
“So, it’s fixed now?”
“Not quite. There are still some pieces missing. It will take us a long time—years—but we’ll get there. If everything goes well, by my calculations we’ll be able to register it in ’81. By then you’ll be able to drive and we’ll have to try it out. I already have a few people in mind who would love to help us, trust me. As long as you’re willing to help me, of course.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I responded enthusiastically.
“I knew I could count on you, Oscar.”
I would’ve sworn that was the first the man had ever used my name. Tedd usually just called me “boy.”
“You’re not gonna tell me what the car’s used for, are you?”
“Don’t worry, you’ll find out. As I said, we have plenty of time and plenty of work ahead of us. We’re partners now.”
He held his hand out to me.
“Count me in, Tedd,” I said, shaking his hand.
“It will be my pleasure, Oscar.”
I wouldn’t see him again for a long time.
I went on about my life, knowing I’d never be normal; knowing I was part of a world I didn’t understand and to which few people have access.
I never completely forgot about my dreams. Maybe I’m wrong, but just as the stick had proved to be multifaceted, I always suspected my dreams were more than mere stages on which my encounters with the twins played out. And somewhere out there was an explanation for all of it . . .
AUTHOR’S NOTE. July, 2014.
I’ve never before written a novel in the first person. I decided to do so this time for the sole purpose of keeping the name of the protagonist, Oscar, hidden until the end of the book. At first I considered using a nickname for him throughout the novel, but then it hit me that, when I speak, I never use my own name so turning the novel into a first-person account seemed like the most natural way to hide Oscar’s identity. Anyone who has read Uncle Oscar’s Secret (a novel I have not yet had translated to English) will understand this decision.
Perhaps hiding his name wasn’t necessary, but I didn’t want the reader to wonder if this was indeed the same character or if it was simply a reuse of the name. I also did not want to restrict the reading of Get Out of My Dreams to only those who had read Uncle Oscar’s Secret since it is a completely separate and independent story, albeit related. It can be understood completely without knowing a single thing about the other novel.
On the other hand, I recognize that one possible issue for those who have not read Uncle Oscar’s Secret is the unusual last scene, when Tedd and Oscar agree to fix up a special car, a car that holds a great secret. The name of the novel in which the true meaning of the last scene is revealed is: Uncle Oscar’s Secret.
Thanks for reading.
Fernando Trujillo Sanz
You can reach me at http://www.facebook.com/fernando.trujillosanz , or send me an email: [email protected]
TEDD AND TODD'S SECRET
(10 years before BLACK ROCK PRISON)
(Sample)
Only someone who is dead inside can take charge of the preparations for his own funeral without feeling even the slightest pang of nerves. Wilfred Gord threw the coffin catalogue as far as he could, barely a meter and a half, and lay back on the bed thoughtfully. He still hadn´t discounted cremation. The idea that his body would rot in a box had yet to convince him.
According to most studies, seventy years is within the average life expectancy for men. However, this failed to console Wilfred. To tell the truth, nothing did.
His life had passed too quickly. He had achieved what others can only dream of, and very few get. He had built a financial empire with his own hands, starting from scratch, and become the powerful owner of a business conglomerate that encompassed every activity imaginable. There was no job that Wilfred´s employees didn´t occupy. But despite the uncountable successes achieved during his life, and the incredible challenges that he had overcome, he was now irreparably defeated by a fearful enemy that would take his own life: cancer.
His mansion was one of the most distinguished in London. The city in which he had lived all his life and in which he was about to die.
"I couldn´t get here any earlier." Ethan said, poking his head through the doorway.
The two formidable bodyguards that were always posted at the entrance stopped him for an instant, then, after verifying his identity, let him enter. Ethan threw them a sharp glance that would have been angrier under other circumstances. He approached the bed where Wilfred lay, and sat down beside him with the ease of a body that had yet to reach twenty years old. His smooth, unmarked face and his abundant mat of brown hair contrasted with the ba
ld head and deeply lined face of the old man in front of him. They both had brown eyes: Ethan´s shining with the intensity of youth, Wilfred´s sunken and lifeless in their sockets.
"It doesn´t seem to matter now." the old man said in a voice that was little more than a whisper, turning his head to be able to look Ethan in the eyes. His expression of deep pain touching the young face beside him, "None of my doctors think I can live more than two or three months."
"They don´t know what I know." Ethan said, taking Wilfred´s thin hand in his. "There´s still hope... I think I´ve found a way."
Wilfred´s eyelashes lifted imperceptibly.
"You said you couldn´t reveal the secret." he murmured with difficulty.
"Remember the first thing I explained to you. There are rules. I can´t tell anyone else. I´ve already risked too much. Think of the greatest danger you can imagine... I can assure you I am facing something a thousand times worse."
After a considerable effort, Wilfred lifted his left hand from under the sheet. The bodyguards understanding the gesture left their posts.
Wilfred still didn´t know what to make of Ethan. Despite all the undeniable proof of his identity, a sliver of doubt remained deep within. Neither his age, nor the foul cancer itself had affected his ability to reason, of that he was completely sure. And even in his wildest dreams he knew avoiding death was impossible. Still, he had nothing to lose in listening to Ethan´s suggestion, even though there were many other things to attend to. Hope urged him to listen. To consider anything new however absurd it may be.
Ethan waited until the door was closed before he turned back towards the old man.
"Well then, you must pay attention to the little that I can tell you." he said, lowering his voice. "It´s possible that I can´t see you again, so it´s very important that you remember what I´m going to say. Can you do that?"
Wilfred was irritated by the thought that this insolent young man didn´t realize that his memory still worked better than his. His frown was a good enough answer.
"Excellent." Ethan replied without showing any sign of being irritated. "The first thing is that never, under any circumstance, can you mention my name. It´s simply better not to not add unnecessary obstacles."
"Why can´t I mention you?" Wilfred asked in a whisper.
"I can´t tell you. If everything works out well you will know in time." the young man answered. "You have to trust me. Just follow my instructions and you will live a lot longer. More than you can imagine. What have you got to lose?"
"In the little time left to me... nobody can cure me... maybe you have to accept that as well."
"Damn! Isn´t it enough for you to know who I am? You have to believe me. I´m doing this all for you. If my identity isn´t enough to convince you that it´s possible, I don´t know anything else that will."
A look of desperation covered Ethan´s face and he frowned until his eyes hurt and a tear ran down his cheek.
The memory of the time when Ethan had revealed who he was cut through Wilfred with the speed of a lightning bolt. He had never had the sensation before of having talked with a true madman. Ethan´s story had been so strange that only a mind completely detached from reality could have come up with anything like it. In spite of everything, the details had fit into the puzzle one after the other with disconcerting ease. Wilfred had demanded a DNA test and anything else that he could think of to confirm that the whole thing wasn´t a horrible joke. But in the end his doubting waned and he was forced to accept the undoubted accuracy of the test results.
"I believe you." Wilfred mused. "Go ahead and tell me. I won´t forget it and I will do what you tell me to."
"Do it, please, it`s your only chance." Ethan said opening his eyes again and looking at the old man. "I´m risking much more than my life in helping you."
"More than your life? What are you talking about?"
"Don´t worry about that just remember this name, Aidan Zack. He´s a detective. You have to meet him."
"A detective can cure me?"
"No, but it´s part of the solution, although he doesn´t know it yet. He doesn´t even suspect what´s coming."
"What do I say when I meet him."
"I can´t reveal that now without breaking the rules. As strange as it may seem to you, and in spite of everything that is going to happen from now on, don´t forget there are rules, and that sooner or later you will learn them. Everything follows certain logic and everything has its consequences. Don´t forget that."
"Ok." the old man said without sounding very convinced or even of having understood what he had to do. "I will find this Aidan. Then, I´m afraid, I will have to improvise."
"I have to go." Ethan said getting up abruptly and leaning over the old man, moving the bed slightly as he did. "I wish I could tell you more. I hope you will understand what this is all about before it´s too late." The young man kissed Wilfred´s bald head tenderly, as his hand stroked the old wrinkled skin of his face. "Look after yourself, my son. I´m always with you."
Ethan turned away to hide the pain that suddenly filled his heart, leaving the room quickly to avoid collapsing right there and then.
"Goodbye, father. I´ll find that detective." Wilfred called after the young man disappearing through the door, his whole body shaking with the thought that nothing could make him get used to the fact that his father was fifty years younger than him.
WAR OF THE HEAVENS
(Sample)
Nine out of ten people would feel some remorse about interrupting a priest’s sermon with a screeching rock song whose words were, at the very least, inappropriate for the occasion. And this would be an absolute certainty if the event that was so rudely and insensitively disrupted happened to be a funeral.
But Ramsey felt nothing but a wave of happiness when the priest looked up from his Bible and all those in attendance turned their heads to glare at him indignantly. He thrust his hand into the pocket of his jacket and pulled his cell phone out as quickly as he could, all the while mumbling apologies as he swiftly moved away from the group and went out to the cemetery grounds.
Since he was only able to speak with his wife once a month due to her being more or less incommunicado on the other side of the planet, silencing her call was the last thing he’d ever think of doing. Just the same, Ramsey made a mental note to change the ringtone of his new cell phone.
“Hello, darling,” he greeted her as he continued walking among the trees, supporting himself with his black cane. He had to stop a moment to pull down the wide-brimmed hat he always wore so it wouldn’t be carried away by the wind. “I’ve missed you. How is everything down there?”
Ramsey shuddered just thinking of his wife being in Antarctica. Each time he imagined what it must be like, shivers ran up and down his spine.
“I miss you too, sweetheart,” answered his wife’s voice. “Everything here is going as planned. The visit with Congressman Collins and his bureaucratic cronies set us back a bit, but we managed to convince them to get us economic support from Congress. How’s everything at home?” she asked, unable to mask her homesickness.
Ramsey chose to leave out any mention of his little faux pas in the church; it somehow didn’t seem to hold the same weight as Congressman Collins or the millions budgeted for scientific research. Instead, he summed up for her the highlights of his life since they’d spoken last month, though there unfortunately weren’t as many as he would have liked. His business wasn’t exactly sailing along, and he didn’t want to cloud their monthly conversation with unpleasant news. His wife, on the other hand, shared all her news about the progress they were making in the studies they were carrying out at the South Pole. Jane was using scientific jargon that to Ramsey, the manager of a cigarette factory, was nearly incomprehensible. But she was speaking with so much passion that he never felt the slightest inclination to cut her off. It must have been because they’d been married for such a short time, he thought somewhat cynically. Well, at least during their wedding ceremony the
guests had thankfully had more sense than he did and had turned off their cell phones.
“So, how long before you finish up your work and come back home?” asked Ramsey.
“If everything keeps going like it is, we’ll finish in two months,” she said, sounding pleased.
It didn’t seem like such good news to Ramsey. Even though her time away wouldn’t be extended, he’d held out the hope that she’d be back sooner. He refrained from saying anything about that.
“Oh, honey!” His wife’s voice sounded emotional on the other end of the line. “It’s incredible! I’m looking at the aurora australis! What an extraordinary light show this is. If only you could be here now to see it with me.”
Ramsey imagined his wife with the phone up to her ear, looking at the sky at the South Pole. Without even realizing it, he let himself be carried away by the illusion of being at her side, and gazed at the sky as if she were pointing out for him where to look. What he saw left him flabbergasted . . . and speechless.
“Ramsey, are you still there?” his wife asked. “I can’t hear you. Can you hear me?”
“Yes, I can hear you . . . I’m sorry, it’s just that . . . I could swear . . . I see it, too.”
“What do you see?” she asked, not understanding.
“The aurora. I see lights in the sky making a kind of trail of colors,” Ramsey stammered.
“Come on, sweetheart,” she said, playfully scolding him. “Don’t start with your teasing.”
“I swear to you. I’m looking at an aurora right here above me,” he insisted. “It’s like the one we saw in Alaska last year. Is the one you’re seeing green with purple streaks?”
“Yes,” she replied, her voice clearly changing. “But that can’t be. You’d have to be much farther north to be able to see an aurora borealis. And it can’t be the same one I’m seeing. Listen, if this is another of your practical jokes I swear I’ll stay down here another year—”
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