“As the day went on, more friends came over. Family from out of town started arriving right as it started getting dark. At that point, I was just kind of in the way,” Mark said, chasing his words with a swig of beer.
Cole picked up a limp French fry and mindlessly ate it.
“Look, I was able to get today off, but they need me to work a shift tomorrow. I have to go in early for this job. Are you going to be okay?”
“I’ll be okay.”
“Are you sure? I can get your Uncle George to drive over tomorrow and take you to his place. You haven’t seen much of him lately. That might be a fun thing to do.”
“Yeah, I miss Uncle George. It’s kinda hard for us to spend time together during the school months, with baseball and all the other stuff going on. But I’m going to be okay by myself tomorrow. I have some school work to do. I’ll be seeing Uncle George this summer.”
“Let’s sit down and try and eat. Putting some food in our stomachs will make us feel better in the long run.”
Cole went to the refrigerator and picked out a soda and grabbed a bottle of ketchup. He already felt like he had a ten pound stone in the bottom of his gut. Despite that, the one greasy French fry he ate did make him want another.
His dad was right. Cole did need to learn to cope with things. If for no other reason, than to have a clear head when it came time to try and rescue Charlotte.
*
Cole was in a dark room. It was so dark he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face. To one end of the room, dim light shined through an open doorway.
He approached with caution, not knowing if the next step might put him in the path of an unseen danger. For all he knew, he might step into a bottomless pit. But he moved forward anyway. He knew he had to move forward.
Once at the doorway, he saw a black-cloaked figure sitting at a small round table. The figure looked similar to personifications of Death; its hood drooped over its head, covering its face.
The figure had cards in its hand. It slowly shuffled them. Raising its head, it lifted its right arm and outstretched a fleshless hand from the sleeve of the cloak, beckoning Cole to come and sit in the empty chair at the table.
This was another one of those moments of great consequence. Cole would know the outcome in a short amount of time, but he had to live through it. Just like any baseball game. He wanted to know the final score, and it might be up to him to determine the outcome.
He put one foot in front of the other until he arrived at the chair. The figure’s face, when the hood parted, was a black void.
“You may sit,” the figure said.
Cole obeyed and rested his palms on the table.
“I am Fate. You are here to determine the future.”
“The future? Whose future? Mine or Charlotte’s?”
“There is only one future, my friend. We all share the same reality. We all share the same future.”
“Why me? Why is it up to me to determine the future? Why not somebody else? An adult, the president? I’m just a kid.”
“Why not you? Are you any less of a person than someone older? Age, race, gender, nothing of the sort matters when it comes to determining the future.”
“Okay, I understand. Now, what do I do to get the future I want?”
“Simple, my friend. You must make choices. You must choose wisely. The present determines the future.” Fate had been shuffling the cards the whole time and now had stopped. He pulled three cards off the top of the deck and laid them face down in front of Cole. Picking up the middle card, the queen of hearts, he said, “Find the lady.” Fate set the deck of cards down on the table. Slowly, and methodically, he rearranged the three cards using both of his boney hands.
Cole had learned this trick years ago in grade school. Three Card Monte was a suckers game. The dealer uses slight of hand in the way the cards are held and tossed to the table. But Fate didn’t make any of the usual card moves. The cards never left the table. They had just been pushed around. It was blatantly obvious where the queen of hearts was. Cole pointed to it.
Fate turned the card over. It was not the queen of hearts.
“Look, I don’t know how you did it, but I know it’s a trick,” Cole said, thinking Fate might actually teach him how to make correct decisions.
“You are correct. It is a trick. You had no chance of winning.”
“What’s the point, then? If the odds are stacked against me in the beginning, then how in the world can I possibly win?”
“Reality can be that way, too. You have no control of when you are born or where you are born. Race, physical limitations, gender—all are determined without your consent. You must overcome what you have no control of.” Fate removed the cards from the table and placed three walnut shell halves before him.
“Are you kidding me?” Cole ranted. “This is another stupid game that I can’t win.”
“But you must win. You must win, or you may never hear from Charlotte Meadows again.”
“What? That’s not fair!”
“Life is not fair. The present determines the future.” Fate placed a small green marble on the table and covered it with the middle walnut shell half. As before, he slowly pushed them around, switching positions, until he finally stopped.
“I can’t win,” Cole said.
“You must.”
“But I can’t! It’s a trick!” he yelled and stood from his chair.
Fate thundered, “You must find a way!”
Cole went to protest again, and then a light went off inside his head. He looked at the three walnut shells, and then grabbed the two on the outside and lifted them off the table. “The marble isn’t there, so it must be under the one in the middle.”
“Well played, my friend.” Fate slid the remaining shell toward him until it disappeared off the table. There was no way to confirm if the marble had been there or if it too had been empty.
Fate’s left hand reached for the deck of cards. “There is one more game that you must play.” It shuffled the deck and laid five cards face up before Cole.
Cole saw a four of diamonds, a jack of hearts, a jack of clubs, a three of spades, and a four of spades.
Fate then dealt another hand. The cards facing downward this time. “You have two pairs. Not the strongest hand in the game but one worthy of holding. Would you trade the cards you know for the other unknown hand?”
Cole was still on his feet. He looked around the room and realized that the door he had entered through was no longer there. “Why are we playing games? What does this have to do with determining the future?”
“I shall say it a different way. Would you trade the fate you know for an unknown fate? Would you trade Charlotte’s abduction for a different fate? One that might find her safe and sound or perhaps one that would involve her death? Are you willing to gamble on the unknown?”
Choosing an unknown fate would be like flipping a coin. There was no way to know the outcome and no way to change the results afterward. Cole placed his hands on the table and leaned toward Fate. “I’m going to keep the cards.”
With a bony finger, Fate flipped up each of the five cards one by one. Two face cards and three sevens made the hand.
Three of a kind beat his two pairs.
Cole had lost.
He had chosen wrong.
Did this mean the choices he would make would ultimately doom Charlotte? He felt like the weight of the world that rested on his shoulders increased ten fold.
“I lost. What now?”
Resting its elbows on the table and intertwining its fingers, Fate said, “No, my friend. You did not lose. You have won.”
“What? How can that be? Three of a kind beats two pairs. Do you just make up your own rules or something?”
“No, rules are rules equally for everyone at all times. The objective of the game, though, was not to obtain a winning hand. The game was a test. As I have said, consequences in life are beyond your control. You are forced to play the hand that l
ife deals you. How you react to that hand determines the future. Some people do nothing and allow others to make decisions for them. Some try to hide and lose themselves in drugs and alcohol to avoid making hard decisions. As insurmountable as the challenge before you appears to be, you have chosen to take it on and expect to win.”
“So, I passed?” Cole said, sounding as surprised as he felt. “Okay, now, tell me where Charlotte is!”
“Fate does not operate in that manner. The building blocks lie inside you to construct the mechanism necessary for her rescue. It is up to you now. You must live through each moment. Do not doubt yourself, but do not choose unwisely either.” Fate rose from its chair.
“Wait, don’t leave. Tell me what I need to do. Give me a hint—something,” Cole pleaded.
“I have said enough.” Fate spread its hands wide. “I will leave you with this, though. Fate is not always an enemy. Sometimes fate is an ally.”
Cole watched as Fate disappeared, along with the table and chairs. He was alone in the dimly lit room.
An engine cranked in the distance, pulling Cole from his dream.
Chapter 21
Before Mark Rainwater had pulled away from the carport, Cole’s feet were on the floor. He remembered every second of his dream. Fate’s words still swirled around in his head, fortifying his resolve to save Charlotte.
He knew what he had to do. Failure was not an option. As bold and outlandish as his plan seemed to be, he was determined not to fail.
After a quick trip to the washroom, he went into the kitchen where he poured himself a glass of milk and ate a handful of cookies. Not the most healthy breakfast in the world, but he thought he should put something in his stomach.
Next, he dressed in green camo, matching shirt and pants; his regular hunting attire. The apparel seemed appropriate. After all, he was going hunting. Hunting for the most treasured thing in his world.
Almost ready to go, he moved on to the next phase of his plan. Cole took his cell phone off the charger and called Brennon. The phone rang the set amount of times before going to voicemail. Hope died a little at that moment. The plan he had set in his mind included Brennon. The boy’s part wasn’t imperative, but Cole took a greater risk without him.
He could wait and try again but didn’t want to delay long. He still had close to an hour and a half before sunrise and wanted to use the cloak of darkness to his advantage.
Trying again, Brennon picked up on the third ring.
“Hello,” Brennon said in a sleep laced voice.
“Hey. This is Cole. I need you, man.”
“Huh. What?” Brennon said and paused. “Do you know what time it is?”
“Yeah, but this is about Charlotte.”
“Charlotte!” Brennon’s voice had sounded stronger. “They found her?”
“No, I wish. But that’s not why I called. I need you to drive out to old man Douglas’ farm. Be there in a couple of hours.”
“Hey wait, you know we aren’t supposed to go there.”
“You don’t have to actually drive on his property, at least, not unless I call you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Brennon, I’m going to go to his farm and rescue Charlotte.” Cole heard the confidence in his voice and could hardly believe that he was saying it.
“How do you know for sure she’s there?”
“I just know.”
“Oh, that feeling again. That led us to nowhere at Mr. Buddy’s house.”
“Yeah, but I did find that handkerchief, and Mr. Buddy does have one just like it. I was unsure yesterday when he drove to Douglas’ place. I’m sure now.”
“How can you know that? Did you consult a Ouija board or something?”
Cole heaved like an angry bull. “Dude, I don’t have time for this. I’m leaving when I get off the phone on my four wheeler. I’m going to cut through the forest and sneak on his place. When I find her, I need a way back into town. That’s where you come in.”
Silence crossed the phone connection for several moments.
“All I’m asking for is your time,” Cole said. “Drive close to his farm and park on the side of the road. Wait as long as it takes for me to call you.”
“What happens if you don’t call? Douglas said he was going to shoot anyone on his property.”
It was Cole’s turn to stop and think. He hadn’t included the possibility of getting shot by the old man in the scenario. Brennon wasn’t wrong to be scared. If Douglas had Charlotte, he might do something really crazy.
But no. Cole couldn’t think like that. He was wasting time, and fear and doubt were his worst enemies. “I’m going to hang up the phone now. It’s up to you to decide if you want to help or not. If you’re there when I rescue her, we can be outta there in minutes. If I have to call the police, well, you know how long that could take. Douglas might find us before the police arrive. It’s up to you, Brennon. Good-bye.”
He closed the call and put his phone in the case and hooked it to his belt. His cards were on the table, and he was going to play the hand, regardless who the players were in the game.
There was one thing left to do, and that was to choose a weapon. Cole had his own .22 rifle, but his dad had long guns much more powerful than that; all of which he could handle. His dad had two revolvers and three pistols. Cole could bring and use the handguns as safely as an adult.
Trespassing on someone’s place was against the law. But introducing a firearm upped the penalty if he were found guilty of a crime. Cole knew that federal laws kicked in when illegally using firearms. Plus, Cole had promised his dad he would never take a gun from the house without his explicit permission. This was no time to break that trust, even though it was Charlotte’s life at stake.
Guns were not the answer, though. Douglas was sure to shoot first if he saw someone armed on his property. And by legal right, Cole would be the criminal. No, Cole had to use his head in this situation.
Time to go.
Cole grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge before leaving the house and locking the door. He retrieved a wooden baseball bat from the storage room and brought it with him to his four wheeler.
Topping the gas tank, he was ready to roll.
The four wheeler’s engine sounded twice as loud in the quiet of the night than during the day. He turned on the headlight and cast a narrow beam toward the wooded area. The near-morning air was slightly cool and wet with humidity. With his helmet on, he pushed the four wheeler in gear.
Off he went, keeping his speed as such that he didn’t outrun his headlight.
The stakes were high, and the ante was on the table.
In this game, it was winner take all.
*
Zax woke from a hard sleep when the whine of a small ancient engine cut through the resonating analog waves of the forest creatures’ nightly symphony. It had been years since he had played with an internal combustion engine; not since he was a young Nu-Man in school. Of course, he knew of collectors of old-life cars with large eight-piston engines that made this engine sound like an insect.
Little of that mattered now. What, or who was coming his way? For a minute, he thought that maybe he’d done something to be detected. Perhaps his rangefinder acted as a beacon, and someone was coming to investigate the electronic anomaly. He knew humans weren’t nearly as advanced in technology as the Skinks, but so far he had been very impressed with what they were able to accomplish on their own in the 21st century.
It did seem like an odd time to travel. Daylight would soon break, and navigating around the trees would become a lot less challenging. There was nothing stealthy about the intruder's approach. Zax began to suspect that whoever was out there, was on an important mission.
Then a dark thought arose for him to consider. What if someone else had used the time machine and was looking for him? The plan had been for the rebels to blow up the time machine after transporting Tarik to the past, but that had gone awry. All the rebels had fal
len in the battle that allowed him to go back in time. The lone scientist, who was wounded, recovered long enough to set the time machine going. Was he able to set the charges and blow up the machine, or did the Skinks regain control and were now hunting him down in a time war?
There was no way to know right now, and Zax really did think his paranoia was kicking into overdrive. He would just have to be a little more careful now knowing the area wasn’t as secluded from civilized activity as he had once thought.
Would this drive the female bigfoot away and further into the forest? Perhaps. She had been on his mind from the time she left after performing her dancing ritual until the time he fell asleep. There was certainly a strange attraction he had for her. One that he believed would lead him to eventually make contact.
On his feet now, he stood by the entrance to his cave. The engine sounded much closer. Zax saw a light shining from the vehicle point right his way. At first, he thought it was on a direct route to him, but the light shifted and veered slightly away. He reached over and grabbed his blaster and would use it only as a last resort.
The headlight passing through the trees acted like a strobe light and turned the night into a hypnotic moment. The vehicle was either of the two wheel variety or else it was something like what they called crawlers from his time; a one person, four wheels, all terrain vehicle. Crawlers didn’t make a sound compared to the antique disturbing the forest.
Just as the vehicle veered the closest and was just about to head away, the engine’s whine briefly accelerated in pitch, tree limbs cracked, and then the motor huffed and coughed until it went dead silent.
This was an unexpected predicament. Apparently, the rider had made a bad choice by traveling at night. Probably caught by a low hanging tree limb and knocking the person to the ground.
Zax wasn’t concerned for the individual’s safety at first. He had a mission and didn’t need any more distractions. But then he thought if he were back in his time, he would have gone to any stranger’s aid who was in trouble—even if it had been a civilian Skink. Not only that, but if someone had followed him back in time, Skink or Nu-Man, they might be out there injured. The last thing he could afford is their discovery by some human and have the area swarming with more people. Plus, if it were a Skink or a Nu-Man alien sympathizer, well, Zax might have to use his blaster and quickly end the enemy’s life.
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