“No,“ he replied. “I’ve only been doing this, having these experiences, for about six months and I don’t really have any control over it. Not that I can tell, anyway. I do have an idea, though. What if I try to make a future connection with each of you and see where, or if, you come back together with your parents? Usually, my visions are connected to moments of high emotion and I think rescuing your mom and dad should be a pretty highly emotional moment, right? I could give it a try if you want?” he suggested.
“Try me first,” Jamie said to Roger. “I missed all the excitement at Roger’s house last night and I was too darned slow tonight with information that could have maybe avoided this outcome altogether. I want to help.” She turned to Mike and said, “Let me help. Please.”
Mike said from across the room, “Roger, do you know why Phil’s parents kept the Knowledge from him?”
“No,” he responded. “Was it ‘cause they didn’t want him going as crazy as I did?” he guessed.
“No, and you’re not crazy, Roger. They kept it from him because George saw Phil dying before becoming an adult and he thought if he kept him innocent of being one of the Knowers, he could keep him alive.” Mike waited for Roger to absorb what he’d just said, and then he went on, “I just thought you should know you might see some crazy stuff go down.” Jamie’s mouth opened as she looked from me to Mike, then back at me. Mike finished with, “Start with me, Roger.”
“I don’t believe I’m going to die,” I interrupted. “And, anyway, we need to stop this Hunter for good and get our people back before he kills them. It’s as simple as that. And Jamie: stop staring at me.”
“Maybe we should sit down,” Roger said to Mike as he took a seat in my dad’s recliner. Taking the ottoman, Mike pulled it close and sat facing Roger, knees to knees. Roger was leaning forward, staring into Mike’s eyes while tilting his head slightly from side to side. After a minute or two, he began to moan softly. Then, quite abruptly, he shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. “Okay, let’s try that again,” Roger said, more to himself than to us, “But slower this time.”
The second time, he didn’t stare as intently into Mike’s eyes. Instead, he sort of took in his whole face, returning to gaze into Mike’s eyes every few seconds. After several minutes, the soft moaning returned but it was a lot less ghostly—more of a hum. Leaning closer to Mike, Roger brought their faces about a foot apart. As his breathing sped up, the humming got louder and became more like a growl. Just as abruptly as he’d cut it off the first time, Roger closed his eyes again. Shaking his head again he shouted, “Okay!” while falling back into the chair and bringing his hands to his face.
“Okay,” he said again in a rush. “Okay.” He took a deep breath and went on, “I have to tell you what I saw before I get it all confused.” Opening his eyes, Roger looked at me, then looked away nervously. Seeing that, Jamie grabbed my hand and held it in both of hers while she continued staring at Roger with widening eyes.
“Okay, so here it is,” Roger said more evenly after taking a few deep breaths. “I saw Mike with Phil’s parents. They were all walking slowly over grass in the sunshine. There were trees and some kind of a stream, maybe. It’s beautiful there, wherever it is. Mike was in-between them and they were all holding hands.” He stopped for a second like he was changing from one memory to the next, then went on, “Next, I saw a warehouse of some kind. It was dark, nighttime I think, and Mike was inside. He was hiding behind a door… No, I think it was some kind of gate or wall... Anyway, then I saw Mike and Philip crawling on the floor in this same warehouse and you were covered in ice cubes, little chunks of ice—lots of ice. You were crawling over ice and being covered up by ice—” he trailed off, clearly upset. After a moment of silence he added, not looking at us, “I also saw blood on the ice. I don’t know whose it was. The last thing I saw was a double image: I saw the two of you, Mike and Philip, kneeling in the ice and holding each other,” he said, looking at me and Jamie. Then, glancing at Mike, he said, “At the same time, I also saw Mike get up and walk away.” Just then, Roger leapt out of the recliner, pointed out the door, down the hallway, and asked, “Is the bathroom down there?” as he ran out of the room. A moment later, we heard the bathroom door slam shut.
“This is good,” I said softly. “So, we know my parents survive this and I think you rescue them, Mike. Um, what kind of factory building would have a bunch of ice?” I asked. I didn’t want to think about what Roger had told us. In fact I was terrified to even consider what the implications of his double vision could mean. I knew I had to find my parents and that was what I was going to do.
“I am not going to help you get yourself killed,” Mike replied quickly. “You heard what Roger said! I think your parents and me walking across the grass holding hands sounds a lot like we’ve just left a funeral—probably your funeral.” He shook his head. “I’ve been waiting for you to awaken to the Knowledge so we could continue with what we had, but was taken from us when Ingmar died, back in 1960.” Then he said, smiling sadly, “I know you don’t remember much about that life just yet but, trust me, Philip. It was good. We were good together and I’m not going to be a part of you getting yourself killed.”
I couldn’t hear any more about his concern or love for me without losing the nerve to go on, so I cut him off, “Now you’re repeating yourself,” I replied. “I get that you’re upset, Mike. You heard Roger say that he saw two different endings to whatever happens in the ice house. Maybe in one of them I do die, but in the other one I think I live, and we just have to make sure that’s the one that happens.” Mike continued to stare at me with those big concerned eyes of his.
“We need to focus on tonight," Jamie said gently to us. “What can we do—right now—that will increase the chances of Milton and Phil’s parents staying alive until tomorrow. I don’t want to die either,” she added, “But the four of us here right now are not the ones who have a one hundred percent chance of dying if we do nothing.” As she said that, Mike, who’d been turned away, turned back to us and glanced from me to Jamie. He knew she was right.
“So what’s the plan?” Roger asked when he returned looking a little pale, “Because I have an idea.” He paused for effect and then said, “Fish.” When we looked blankly back at him, he explained, “They use ice to pack fish in, don't they? Maybe the place I saw was some kind of processing plant.”
Mike stared at his shoes—something he often did when he was trying to think. “That’s good Roger. That’s really good. Let’s get the phone book and see if we can find anything that might match that description.” He paused for a moment, “I think we all know that we have to move fast if we’re going to find anyone alive.”
We couldn’t find anything relating to fish processing in the phone book but we did find a produce distribution center, which Mike said he’d heard of. Some student who graduated last year had had a summer job there, and Mike remembered him saying he’d worn gloves all the time because they poured ice over all the vegetables before shipping the vegetables out on trucks.
“Where is this place?” I asked quickly. “Can we go there now? Or at least drive by and check the place out?”
“It’s out of town, off the highway in the middle of nowhere,” Mike replied. “I think it’s about twenty minutes from here.”
“Then let’s get going,” I said while heading for the door.
“Wait!” Mike said like he was talking to an impulsive child, “Let’s think about what we might need first! Like what if we need to break in? Philip, does your dad have any bolt cutters?” He was thinking and you could almost see the thoughts forming. “How about an ax or a hatchet? Are there any kinds of weapons around here?”
We scattered throughout the house and garage and found a bolt cutter and an ax, but nothing else that could be mistaken for a weapon, much less a real weapon. In the end, I grabbed my little league baseball bat. Roger took a large, intimidating knife from the kitchen. Jamie found a hammer, which she slipped into a
belt loop on her jeans, and carried the bolt cutter in both hands.
Trying to lighten the mood and the knot in my stomach, I said, “We look like rejects from the movie “The Warriors”.” Based on the blank stares I received, I was the only one who'd seen the movie. Before we left, I realized I hadn’t eaten, so I grabbed some candy bars. Then, we were off to save my parents and Milton—and to find out if I was going to die.
CHAPTER TEN
It is a fact that the Knowers are usually born into a group of other Knowers with whom they have interacted in previous lifetimes. Such a group of familiars is called a “pod.” Members of the pod collaborate to verify when a dangerous situation has been discovered (predicted) and then to eliminate that threat before it manifests itself and comes to fruition. It is a legend that a failed example of such a collaboration is the July 20, 1944 assassination attempt of Adolf Hitler. The Knowers involved were not members of the same pod, perhaps leading to a lack of communication, leading to the failure of the intervention.
Southampton Free Press 1975 (Excerpt)
“I’ll sit in the back,” I said on the way out to Mike’s car. “I’m too jumpy and I need room to move around.”
“Save room for me back there,” Jamie said as she opened the other rear passenger door. We all got very quiet as we pulled away from the house. I was watching the streetlights as we sped past them toward the highway.
I am watching the streetlights as we speed past them toward the highway. Ingmar is driving and a young man is sitting next to him on the front seat. “Look, Ansel,” Ingmar says. “I know you’re not happy about this, but if we do nothing, Buddy’s life here will be ruined.” He’s talking to me over his shoulder as I’m sitting directly behind him in the back seat of a giant 1950’s sedan. As he speaks, he tilts his head to the right, gesturing to the young man sitting next to him. “McCarthy and his pals will ruin Buddy just to get to his father, the Senator. We already know how this turns out if we do nothing, but if we act now, we can at least save Buddy’s reputation... And we might stop McCarthy at the same time.”
Then I was back in the present and we were speeding down the highway with Mike at the wheel and Roger sitting in the front seat next to him. “McCarthy?” I asked from the back seat, breaking the silence. Jamie looked confused. Up in the front seat, Roger and Mike glanced at each other. I’m sure they were just as confused as Jamie. “Did we stop Joseph McCarthy back in the 1950s?” I blurted out.
“Well, we had some help,” Mike said, smiling at me in the rearview mirror. “But, yeah, we did. It may have been the coolest thing we ever did together.” For a moment he seemed lost in thought. Then he asked me, “Do you remember what we both saw when we met McCarthy at that reception and shook his hand?” He grimaced into the mirror.
“No, I just remember Buddy, and wanting to protect him.”
“Poor Buddy,” he shook his head sadly. “I hope he turned out okay. His story is a great example of the problem of wanting to change the future without understanding all the possible repercussions of that.” Mike was explaining to everyone but he kept glancing in the mirror at me to be sure I was following. “Buddy’s father was a senator who was being pressured by McCarthy and his cronies to resign. If he refused, they were going to publicize Buddy's recent arrest for trying to hire a male prostitute who turned out to be a cop.” This was all sounding so familiar to me, like a story I’d heard long ago and forgotten. “Well,” he continued, “We helped to mostly save Buddy’s reputation, but a year later, his father killed himself.” Jamie gasped in surprise. We were all following the story really closely at that point. “We didn’t see that coming at all,” Mike shook his head slightly. “That was shocking and horrible. At least we did stop McCarthy from being elected as Nixon’s Vice President in 1960. That’s what we saw when we shook his hand that time. Imagine how much worse he might have made things. Now there’s a nightmare to keep you up at night,” he concluded laughing.
I suddenly realized that I remembered it all. Everything. Mike and I—no, Ingmar and Ansel—had lived in Washington D.C. in 1953 and we—they—were just over thirty years old. We’d met Buddy in a bar off of Dupont Circle in D.C. He was happy and laughing that evening, but we both saw him putting a gun in his mouth in the near future. Obviously, we wanted to keep that from happening. One thing led to another and soon McCarthyism was a thing of the past. The senate hearings, where men were accused of being a security risk due to any connection, no matter how tenuous, with communists or homosexuals, were over. Believe it or not, that was mostly due to us, Ingmar and Ansel, who were now Mike and Phil. No wonder I’d found “The Crucible” so fascinating. It was basically an allegory for McCarthyism written in the 1950s.
Mike interrupted my reverie, “This is our exit and that’s the building up there on the right.” Up ahead, a large, unremarkable metal building sat in the middle of a huge, mostly deserted parking lot. The whole place was illuminated with yellowish street lights mounted on very high poles. They looked like they were marching around the perimeter of the lot like security guards. The side of the building facing us consisted of a wall of ten or twelve loading bays for trucks, but there were no regular doors. Exiting the highway, we stayed on the street, which encircled the parking lot. The loading bays were on the back of the building, there were small steps and single doors on the sides of the building, and the entrance on the front had two sets of double doors. There were a few large trucks in the lot, parked far away from the building. A sedan that looked to be at least fifteen years old was parked near the side door.
Turning into the parking lot, Mike drove past the entrance of the building. Just then, Roger spoke for the first time since we’d gotten in the car, “Drive around the side, past that old car,” he ordered. “I think I saw something.” And then we pretty much all saw it at the same time: the side door to the building was standing open and it was dark inside. Roger sort of moaned, “Oh, this isn’t good.”
“That’s the car I saw the other night, when I got Knowledge about the man with a gun taking Philip’s parents.” Jamie said. “This is where we’re supposed to be,”
At that moment, I leaned forward over the front seat and whispered, “They’re in there, aren’t they? All of them.” I couldn’t see it but I knew it without a doubt.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Some relationships within the pod shift and change over the course of lifetimes while others stay fixed for multiple generations. It is true that some Knowers form strongly bonded pairs, coming together over many lifetimes. While it has not been confirmed, it is part of informal Knower legend that gay couples who had bonded in previous lives were at the forefront of the early Gay Liberation movement.
Southampton Free Press 1975 (Excerpt)
Mike thought it best to avoid both the car and the building, so instead he drove around the parking lot until we’d turned the corner and circled around to the nearest loading bay. He parked the car there, turned off the engine, but said nothing. We all just sat there, silent, no one speaking or moving.
“Okay,” I said, breaking the silence. “I know this may get me killed, but I’m pretty sure my parents are in there with Milton and this crazy Hunter-kidnapper dude. I don’t feel like I have a choice. I have to go in there and try to get them out. You guys don’t have to come. I mean, I’d like you to, but you don’t have to—” I stopped talking and just opened the door and got out. I stood there for a moment, just waiting. I don’t know why I doubted my friends, or why I thought they would change their minds, but I was relieved when both front doors and the other back door opened and Mike, Jamie, and Roger got out. I grabbed my bat, Mike was carrying the hatchet, and Roger had the long knife.
“Well, I guess we don’t need this monster,” Jamie whispered, laughing nervously as she put the heavy bolt cutter back in the car. She still had the hammer in her belt loop. We walked stealthily as a group over to the corner of the building and peeked around. The old sedan was still sitting there and the side door remain
ed open. The eerie yellow light of the parking lot did nothing to calm me. The only thing that was keeping my nerves in check was the knowledge that we were all here together. Knowing that my folks were so close-by also helped.
“If we’re going to do this,” Mike said, “We have to stay together, keep quiet, and move slowly. No crawling through ice and no dying. Got it?” We all nodded and began creeping along the side of the building toward the open door. We were fully visible to anyone who cared to see us and skulking around only made us look more suspicious but we were so nervous, we couldn’t walk normally. When we got to the open door, Roger, Jamie and I held back and let Mike take the lead. He was the oldest and the biggest one, so it seemed like the right thing to do.
“They are definitely in there. Do we all agree on that?” Mike asked quietly. Roger and I nodded “yes.”
“This is where we’re supposed to be,” Jamie confirmed. I knew my parents were inside this building. I didn’t fully understand how I knew, but I did. They’re here, I thought with a shiver, and we have to get them back.
Two months earlier, I’d seen a flyer posted in the hallway at school about auditions for the cast of the spring play, “The Crucible.” Somehow, I knew I would be in that play. I would audition, I’d be cast, and I’d perform it for three nights in the school auditorium. I just knew. Weirdly, I didn’t think about it or question it at the time. It somehow seemed natural, I guess. Looking back, though, I realize now that was the first inkling of what was to come for me. I think that was the beginning of my Awakening. That flyer had led me here—to this moment, with these people. Standing outside a produce packing plant in the middle of the night, holding a baseball bat, I truly feared for my life. For the first time, I knew that I might die. I didn’t know like I knew my parents were inside this building, but the look of fear on my father’s face when he told me how he saw me dying before reaching manhood haunted me. Now, I, too, was afraid, but we went in—
DEAD AT SIXTEEN (THE KNOWERS Book 1) Page 7