by Vin Carver
Warren sat down on the closest chair and slumped. “I don’t drink coffee.”
His dad stepped into the hallway, said something to a passing nurse, and popped back into the waiting room. “I’ll be right back.”
Warren’s neck got hot, and he closed his eyes. He imagined ice melting and sliding down his back, but it didn’t help. He imagined holding Sarah’s—no…Sharon’s hand, kissing her, and that didn’t help. Nirvana Cameron had called him buddy, and Hellhole Cameron had called him bro, and that wasn’t real. The heat flowed from his neck into his head. He pictured Sredo’s fists pounding.
You a bad dad. You a mean, bad dad.
Warren’s right hand balled into a fist. He pictured Nathan lying on the front lawn—the old man cackling, drawing his knife, and slicing Nathan’s throat open. Warren’s left hand balled into a fist.
He leaned back and smashed his backpack against the chair. The glass over his kite photo crunched, cracked, and broke. The urn made the center of his back cold, and he remembered the way it had felt after the lightning. He remembered standing in the forest, thinking about Sredo.
Why would anyone ever treat another person—
Warren closed his eyes. A cold fire burned behind him, and two paths stretched out before him. He could keep his fists, and take the left path, or, he could open his hands, and take the right path.
“Here, I got you one anyway. You look like you could use it.”
Warren opened his eyes. He took the cup of coffee out of his dad’s hand and put it on the table.
His dad sat down and hunched over his coffee, holding it with both hands. “Mmm, that’s good.” Stubble came out of his face in slivers of black and gray, and his distended belly hung over his upper thighs. He looked homeless. For the first time, Warren didn’t see his dad as his dad. He saw him as a person. He saw Seth.
“Try the coffee,” his dad said. “It’ll make you feel better.”
“What happens when you die?” Warren said.
His dad squinted as though his head hurt. “I don’t know, and we shouldn’t talk about it now. Your mom is going to be okay.”
“I wasn’t thinking about her. I was thinking about this guy I saw last night. I think I saw him die.”
His dad took a sip of coffee and shrugged. “That sounds horrible.”
“Are we related to a Marion Renner?”
His dad’s eyes widened. “You don’t remember Marion Renner?”
“No.”
“He was my dad.”
Chills ran down Warren’s back.
“I guess you wouldn’t remember him, it’s been a long time.” He took another sip of coffee.
“He was your dad? You mean, Marion Renner was Grandpa Doc?”
“Yeah. His real name was Marion, but everybody called him Doc. Do you remember him now?”
Yeah, I remember him like it was yesterday.
Warren said, “A little, I guess. Why don’t you ever talk about him?”
“We didn’t get along. He was an abusive drunk.”
Hello? Kettle? Yeah, this is Pot calling. By the way, you’re black.
His dad said, “Why do you want to know?”
Warren didn’t respond. He caught a whiff of his dad’s coffee, and it smelled like gasoline. He stared through his dad. The path on the left waved goodbye to the path on the right, and Warren’s knuckles turned white.
“Warren, are you okay? Are you high or something?”
A lump formed in Warren’s throat and burst. “I’m not okay. I’ve never been okay. You’re not okay. Mom’s not going to be okay…okay?” His fists pulsated.
His dad leaned away and raised his hands. “Warren. I—”
Warren tipped forward, spun his backpack off his shoulders, and propped it up on his lap. He unzipped the outer pocket, took out the urn, and shoved it in his dad’s face. “Do you see this? Do you think this is okay?”
His dad stood up. The vessels in his eyes doubled in size. His jaw muscles flexed beneath his ears, and he ground his teeth. He raised his hand, and the attendant stepped into the doorway.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” The attendant’s voice shook the room, and a nature magazine slid off the coffee table.
Warren’s dad said, “You don’t understand. I—”
“You what?” the attendant boomed.
“I don’t…” His dad lowered his hand.
A subtle layer of frost formed on the lid of the urn. Warren’s hands burned with cold, and his rage cracked. He felt sorry for his dad. He pitied him. An image of Marion Renner beating his dad—fists flying, cracked teeth mashing, raspy cackling—flashed before him.
“Look,” his dad said. “We don’t want any trouble. We were just leaving.” His eyes pleaded with Warren. “Right Warren? We were just leaving. Right?”
Warren lowered the urn. “Yeah. We’re leaving.”
In an instant, the attendant moved across the room without moving, and stood before Warren. He held out his hand. “Before you leave, you will give us the urn.”
Warren jerked back in his chair. His dad grabbed the attendant’s other arm and pulled. The attendant resisted, knocking his dad over like a domino.
“Over here Warren, throw it over here. It’s time to go to Nirvana.”
Warren turned, and his chair slid out from under him. He fell and banged his elbows on the floor to keep from dropping the urn.
Hellhole Cameron stood in the doorway and held out his hands. “Throw it here Warren. Quick.”
The attendant turned toward Cameron and raised his arms to the ceiling. “You are Lysos.” More magazines fell off the coffee table.
Cameron rushed the attendant. His dad moved out of their way, and Cameron’s head rammed into the attendant’s stomach. He wrapped his arms around the attendant, and their bodies fell on the coffee table. The table legs snapped and flew across the room. The coffee splashed Warren, and he wiped it off his hand without letting go of the urn. Cameron’s black shirt contrasted against the attendant’s white scrubs, and his pale arms blended in. They grappled on the magazines, twisting and sliding, each trying to get the upper hand. His dad crawled to the doorway.
Cameron said, “Warren. Help me send him back.” He pulled himself on top of the attendant and tore at the surgical mask.
“Warren. Let’s go.” Warren’s dad raised his hand off the floor and waved. Sweat poured over his eyebrows, his eyes rolled back in head, and he collapsed.
Warren stood up and stared at the black and white struggle on the magazines. He was transfixed. Paralytic.
The attendant’s limbs straightened and his body went rigid. Cameron tore the surgical mask off, and the attendant’s voice boomed. “Warren. Who will you serve? Will you allow Lysos to destroy this line of time, or will you serve Paros? Will you protect the lines of time?”
“Don’t listen to him Warren. He’s a monster.” Cameron held the surgical mask high and away from his victim. A white puff of smoke replaced the attendant’s face. The scrubs deflated like a leaky air mattress, and Cameron rode them to the floor. He rolled over, propped his head up on one hand, and smiled. “So, are you ready to go to Nirvana, bro?”
Warren blinked, and a chill ran down his spine. He turned and saw his dad passed out in the doorway. Right now, in Nirvana, his other dad dreamed of angels, and slept in late after staying up to celebrate his promotion. His other mom made breakfast with food from a hidden refrigerator, and everything was perfect, and—
This was not true.
“Come on Warren,” Cameron said. “Let’s go. There’s nothing here for you anymore.”
Warren shoved the urn into his backpack, zipped it shut, and put his arm around his dad. “I’m not going with you.”
“What? Why not?” Cameron got up off the floor, and his shoulders twitched. “You have to come with me. They won’t bring me back if you don’t.”
“Bring you back? Why don’t you use your ur—”
Warren ran his eyes over Camero
n’s arms.
“Where’s your tattoo?”
Cameron glanced at his shoulder. “What do you know about that, bro? I guess I’m a poser after all.”
Warren narrowed his eyes. His free hand balled into a fist, and he spoke slow, one word at a time. “Who are you?”
Cameron smiled and held his hands out, “I guess you got me. I guess I have to come clean.” His smile widened. “I’m your brother, bro. I’m your brother from the same mother.”
Warren’s dad sat up. “Warren, who is this kid?” He gulped and put his hand on his stomach.
“What do you mean, the ‘same’ mother?” Warren glanced at the pile of scrubs.
“I mean, your Hellhole mother, and my Hellhole mother, are the same. There’s only one Hellhole, bro.”
Warren’s head spun.
Cameron said, “I was dead, well technically, I am dead. I died of cancer when you were three. Don’t you remember?” He turned toward Warren’s dad and his face grew dark. “I know he remembers when I died. It was his decision to let me go.”
“Cameron? You’re Cameron? My son?” Warren’s dad wiped his faced and squinted at Cameron.
“Yeah. I’m Cameron, not that you care, dad.” He turned to Warren. “Come on, bro. Let’s go.”
“You lied to me?” Warren said.
Cameron sniffed. He glanced at the deflated scrubs, and his jaw muscles tensed. “I’m sorry, but I had to lie to you. They wouldn’t let me come into the time lines if I didn’t, and then I made a deal with them.”
“Who?”
“Lysos. I’m your brother, Warren…your real brother. Didn’t you miss me?”
Warren said, “But, you lied.”
“Yeah, but I’m not lying now. You’ve got to believe me. There is no other hellhole. There’s only here and Nirvana. Haven’t you ever felt like everything here wasn’t the way it was supposed to be? Like I wasn’t supposed to have died?”
“Yeah.”
“So, it’s true. I wasn’t supposed to have died.” He pointed at his dad. “He wasn’t supposed to have let me die, but when he did, he created this Hellhole. It’s all his fault.”
His dad pushed himself up off the floor and held on to the wall. “Cameron? How did you get here? You’re—.”
Cameron said, “This Hellhole time line sucks. Nirvana is the one true line of time. That’s why everything is perfect there. Do you get it, bro?” Cameron’s eyes narrowed on his dad. “When he chose to let me die, time split.”
“I didn’t let you die. I had no choice. The doctors said there was—”
“Shut up, dad. I know what the doctors said. I know what happened. Lysos explained everything. You gave up on me, you worthless drunk.”
“I don’t understand,” Warren said. “How are you here? Why do you need me?”
Cameron glanced at the clock. “Lysos promised to give me the other Cameron’s place in Nirvana if I helped them collapse this time line, but I can’t do it without your help. They screwed up when they imbued you with the quintessence of time. This time line can’t collapse as long as you’re still here.”
“But, if you’re dead, you can’t take his place.”
“They promised to make me alive again. Come on, bro. I don’t want to be dead anymore. Let’s go.”
Warren gazed at the urn. “But if you go there, won’t you just get sent back when you run into the other Cameron?”
“Don’t you remember the plan, bro?” His upper lip curled. “You were supposed to help me remove the other Cameron.”
Warren’s dad fished in his pocket and pulled out a little, plastic bottle.
Warren said, “Remove him? You mean kill him, don’t you?” Warren’s knuckles turned white, and his fingernails dug into his palms. “And what about the other me? What happened to him?”
“There is no other you, bro. I already took care of that.”
Warren looped his arms through the straps of his backpack. His dad twisted the cap off the little bottle and downed it in one swallow. Warren took his dad’s hand in his and squeezed.
Cameron said, “Come on, bro. Don’t be like that. You’re not getting it.”
Warren erupted. “I get it. I get that you’re a liar. You lied about everything. Why should I believe you now? You…you, poser.”
Cameron shot a glance at the clock. The corners of his mouth went wide and bent into a devilish smile. “Don’t you want to see if Tanner’s okay? You left him there last night, lying on the lawn. You left him there all alone. He didn’t look so good Warren…if you come with me, I’ll take you to him.”
“Liar.” Every muscle in Warren’s body flexed, and spots of color lit up his face. His dad pulled but couldn’t get his hand free of Warren’s grip.
Cameron glanced at the clock again. “I’m not lying about Tanner, and I’m not lying when I tell you this time line is going to collapse, one way or another.” He tipped his head to the right. “It’s your choice, bro. You can come with me to Nirvana, or you can stay and die with the rest of the Renners.”
“What do you mean, ‘die with the rest of the Renners?’”
“Well bro, mom is almost dead.” Cameron smiled at the clock. “Once she goes…well, it’ll just be dear old dad here and, in case you hadn’t noticed, he’s a suicidal drunk. Without her, it won’t be long before he offs himself.”
Warren’s dad said, “I’m not suicidal.” The word came out suishidal. “And Cass is not going to die.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” Cameron put his hands together. “You see, since you guys made this whole mess, you’ve got to go before Lysos can clean it up.” His eyes bore into Warren’s. “When I said, ‘there’s nothing here for you anymore,’ I meant it. Now give me the urn.”
“Cameron, what did you do? What did you do?” Warren let go of his dad’s hand.
“Give me the urn, Warren.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
Trapped on a Train
When Warren let go of his hand, Seth felt a million tiny needles prick his skin. Warren ran into the hall, and Seth stared at the kid in the black, sleeveless shirt. His overworked heart fluttered. This kid had his features—a strong jaw and a sharp nose. He spied his spilled cup of coffee and vodka on the floor.
What a waste.
A nagging feeling of sobriety came over Seth. The buzz of the shooter hadn’t hit him because his stomach had refused to digest it. He bent over and threw up on the floor.
“You’re a worthless drunk, just like grandpa,” Cameron said.
Seth lifted his head and wiped his mouth. Could it be? Had they switched the bodies before he’d gotten home from work that day? Could Cameron have lived? Waves of emotion poured over the shoals of Seth’s mind. He gazed deep into Cameron’s eyes, and he saw himself. He smiled and held his hands out. “Son, I—”
“Don’t son me,” Cameron sneered. His face twisted like a spring. He reached behind his back and pulled out a gun.
Seth raised his hands. “What are you doing?”
“You let me die.” Cameron pointed the gun at Seth and closed an eye. He took a step forward and said, “I loved you. You were my world, and you let me die.” He took another step.
“I loved you too. I still do.” Acid rose into Seth’s throat and burned. He swallowed. His calves twitched, and his body shook. “I didn’t let you die. I—”
“They gave you the decision to keep fighting or give up. You gave up.” Cameron took two more steps forward. He pressed the barrel against Seth’s forehead. “Close your eyes.”
Seth kept his hands in the air and closed his eyes. “Please. It wasn’t my fault. It was the cancer.”
“Why did you let me die?”
“Because.” His voice pitched higher. “Because they told me there was nothing I could do.”
A brilliant pain erupted on top of Seth’s head. He fell sideways into the door frame and put his hand over the gash. Blood oozed between his fingers. He opened his eyes, and Cameron swung the butt of the gun fr
om the side. Seth turned to run and—
Thwump.
Everything went black. Water bubbled. Footsteps sounded behind him. A couple whispered to each other. Children giggled. A woman said, “Oncology department. How can I help you?”
Seth opened his eyes, but he wasn’t awake, and he wasn’t in the same waiting room. He was dreaming, or remembering, or both.
A fish tank with bright orange and white fish entertained two little girls. The first girl had brown hair and blue eyes. She waited until a fish swam by and then tapped the glass. The fish darted away, and the second girl tracked the fish. The second girl had no hair and wore a hospital gown. She said, “Here fishy, fishy, fishy.” When the fish came back, she tapped the glass and it swam away. The girls looked at each other and giggled.
Cassie sat in the corner, reading a magazine.
“Anything happen while I was gone?” The words came out of his mouth on autopilot.
Cassie lifted her head. “No. Nothing yet.”
“Where is Warren?”
“My sister took him to the cafeteria for ice cream.” She raised her eyebrows and looked beyond him.
“Mr. and Mrs. Renner?” a nurse said.
Seth turned around. “Yes, that’s us.”
Cassie stood up, her eyes glinting with hope. “How’s he doing?”
“The surgeon asked me to come get you. They decided not to do the surgery today. He’ll explain why.”
“What?” Seth said. “Why not?”
The nurse sighed. “Come with me. He's waiting to talk to you on the phone.” She motioned toward a hallway. “He’ll explain everything.”
Cassie and Seth followed the nurse down a long hallway. They walked into an examination room, and the nurse handed Seth a phone.
The nurse said, “Please return to the waiting room when you’re finished.” She left as if nothing serious was happening.
Seth spoke into the receiver. “Hello. This is Mr. Renner.”
Cassie watched him talk, and her face turned red. She paced and pulled on her fingertips. Hope drained from her eyes.