by Karl Morgan
"Right across the street and a couple doors down, there is a liquor store. Good luck!" she grinned and walked away.
He left the restaurant and walked toward the store. He realized he did not know which of the six numbers was the Powerball number, so he decided to buy six tickets, just to be sure.
§
As Zeke pulled his car onto the driveway, he noticed his father's car already there. That seemed odd. In his dream, Abe's boss asked him to stay late so as not to upset the rest of the employees. Now it was two o'clock in the afternoon, and he was home. That discrepancy made Zeke very happy. Perhaps Bea really was a crazy person and the rest of her story was just a fantasy. His father would not be responsible for a world war after all. He pulled the tickets from his pocket and considered tearing them up. He thought better of it and shoved them back into his pocket. He walked into the house and found his mother sitting at the table in the breakfast nook, watching her husband sitting out on the patio. Zeke kissed her on the cheek and then walked out back.
Abe sat there silently. Chachis was sitting on his lap and he held a glass with whisky over ice in his left hand, slowly swirling the liquid. Zeke patted his father on the shoulder and sat next to him. Abe's eyes were bloodshot and teary. "Everything will be okay, Zeke," he sighed.
"I know, Dad. I need you to sign a few things for me, okay?" He pulled the lottery tickets from his pocket and handed them to Abe.
"Is this our investment portfolio?" Abe laughed.
"Just sign them on the back, Dad. It's for good luck."
Abe began to sign them dutifully. After the fourth signature, he dropped his pen and looked up at his son. "These all have the same numbers, except they're moved around. What's this about? This wasn't another of your dreams, was it?"
"Not every vision I have comes true, Dad. And besides, with neither of us working, I figured we might as well take a shot."
"I'm not sure this is ethical, son."
"What are we going to do for money if neither of us can get a job?" Zeke asked.
Abe thought about what to say next, but then signed the last two tickets. "Let's never do this again, okay? I appreciate what you're trying to do, but it scares me a bit. It's almost like stealing in a way."
"Never again, cross my heart," Zeke said. "You keep the tickets, Dad. It's your money, if we win."
"Our money, son," Abe noted as he put the tickets and pen back in his shirt pocket. "How was your day? As you can see, mine was awful." He took a sip of whisky.
"The interview was a bomb. That company is on the verge of being bought out. I saw the press release in my mind saying that office was closing. Then I had lunch with a gorgeous, but completely insane, woman who works at the nearby Starbucks."
"Insane in what way?"
"She said she came from the future, Dad. She talked about a war that leads to the first contact with extraterrestrials. But she first told me to buy these tickets. She even gave me the money to pay for them."
"That's pretty crazy, alright." Abe took another sip of his drink.
"There was one thing that made me sort of believe her," Zeke noted. His father set his glass down and looked at him. Zeke pulled the folded paper from his pocket and handed it to his father.
Abe looked at the page in disbelief. "This is your handwriting, right?" Zeke nodded. "Did you write this today? You saw that I was being laid-off and here are those lottery numbers too! This is unbelievable. Did you give this to her?"
"She gave it to me, Dad!" he exclaimed. "I've never seen that woman before or even been to that Starbucks. Also, no one ever looks at my notebooks. I know you and Mom would never mention them to anyone. Rachel knows about them, but I wrote this page this morning! Isn't this weird?"
"I just don't understand. But maybe there is hope for us, even with me out of work. Just maybe there's a chance it will all work out, even though I have no idea what to do next."
Zeke smiled and said, "Maybe you should write a book."
Chapter 3
Zeke watched the first half of the football game with his father. As the game progressed, Zeke began to remember something. At first, it was just an impression in his mind. With each play on the field, it became a little clearer. There was something in one of his old journals that was nagging at him. What was it, he wondered. When the game stopped for the two-minute warning, the thought resolved in his head, as though he had wiped the steam from the shower door on a cold morning and was able to see the rest of the room. He stood up. "What's up?" Abe said. "You're not going to watch?"
"I just remembered something in one of my old journals. I'm going to go check it out. I shouldn't be long." He left the family room and headed up the stairs and into his room. He pulled a chair in front of his bookcase and froze. One of the notebooks was slightly pulled out. "Who did that?" he said aloud. Zeke knew someone had been in his room and looked through his notebooks. That was a terrible invasion of his privacy. He felt betrayed. Only his mother was there all day. How could she do that? He pulled the notebook out and noticed a page was marked with a paper clip. Zeke never did that. He wondered what was going on. He opened the book to the marked page and noticed a small piece of paper was held in place by the clip. His head turned to mush and he almost passed out when he read it, "Thought you'd be looking for this. XOXO, Bea." He stood and raced over to his parent's room where his mother was sitting and reading a book. "Mom, did anyone come over today?"
"No, not a soul," she replied. "I was here all day and the doorbell never rang. Is something wrong?"
"No, it's okay. Thanks," he stated and walked back to his room and closed the door behind him.
Sitting on his bed with the book in his lap, he pulled the slip of paper from under the clip, folded it and placed it in his wallet. Then he read his posting:
"September 10, 2001. Horrible dreams about planes crashing into buildings, death and destruction. What is wrong with this world? The good news is we had a substitute teacher in math today. She was so cute with short, black hair and red lipstick, and her name was Bea Watson. Too bad she's too old for me."
He removed the clip and slipped the notebook back on the bookcase. He held his head in his hands and tried to rationalize what was happening. That memory was thirteen years old and yet he was convinced it was the same Bea Watson, even though she looked exactly the same age. If that was true, then the rest of what she said had to be true too, but it was too bizarre. He thought about discussing the situation with his parents, but quickly realized he would not believe it if someone else had told him either. He changed into his pajamas and headed downstairs for the second half.
When he entered the family room, the DVR was on hold and Abe was talking on his cell phone. His father motioned for him to bring a couple of beers and Zeke happily complied. He brought the bottles over and handed one to Abe and then sat down on the other couch.
"Yeah, Jack, I understand what you're saying, but it doesn't make any sense," Abe said into the microphone. "Why does Fred Drake want to talk to me? You guys fired me and now the CEO wants to chat me up? What's going on, and be honest." After a minute of listening, he said, "Okay. I've got a lot of free time, as it turns out. Just let me know. Bye." He disconnected the call and turned to his son. "Can you believe the audacity of those guys? They let me go, and now the CEO wants to talk to me about my experience at Reliant. Just leave me the hell alone!"
"That's unbelievable, Dad. Are they going to offer you money to keep quiet?"
Abe frowned. "No. I think that's very unlikely. It's more like salving their wounds in the market. Look how good we are to our former employees. We value their opinions. Bullshit. I had to sign a bunch of documents saying I have to be a quiet guy or I don't get my severance. I'm not stupid enough to lose the money over a couple minutes of payback. These Reliant guys are ruthless and they employ plenty of attack-dog attorneys."
"I'm sorry you have to go through this, Dad."
"Thanks Zeke, that means a lot. Let's forget about them and enjoy the ga
me. Cheers." The two tapped their beers together and took a drink. Abe hit the play button on the DVR.
§
Zeke woke early on Wednesday and began jotting notes in his journal. He did not remember dreaming, but the words poured out of him. He wrote so fast he could barely understand where his thoughts had come from. He put the journal back in its place and set his laptop on his lap and opened it. After logging on, he opened his web browser and navigated to the California Lottery page. As Bea had said, the Powerball jackpot later today was $200 million. He smiled and closed the machine, setting it on top of his bookcase. Then he made his bed quickly and headed to the shower.
Standing in the stall with the hot water pouring over his head, he fondly remembered his life when Rachel lived at home. Too often, he would run out of hot water after her unending showers. Her cosmetics, creams and shampoos covered most of the counter space, forcing him into a tiny corner. Now the bathroom was his, but that made him more sad than happy. After drying himself, he got dressed and walked out of the bathroom. He heard his phone ringing and hurried to his bedroom to answer it. The caller ID said "Out of Area." He clicked connect and said, "Hello."
"Hey, Zeke, it's Bea," the voice on the other end said. "I was just calling to see if you got my note."
"How and why did you break into my room and rifle through my stuff? My mom said no one came over yesterday."
She laughed. "You're still thinking too linearly. How often do you go through your old notebooks?"
"What's your point?"
"Do you remember the last time you looked at that particular book?" she asked.
"No, but it was partially pulled out. I always leave my notebooks neatly aligned," he argued.
"Always?" she scoffed.
"Well, usually I do. But why did you do it?"
"I figured you'd put two and two together when we met again Monday. It could take you days or weeks to find that entry, so I marked it for you," she said.
"So you had to do it then, since that's the second time we met!"
She laughed again. "You're too logical, Zeke. Remember I'm from the future. I can go to yesterday tomorrow or to tomorrow a thousand years from now."
"Your time talk is making me nuts."
"It goes with the territory, believe me."
"When can I see you again, Bea?" he asked.
"Not for a while, I'm afraid," she replied. "But I will show up from time to time, I promise. First, your family needs to win the lottery tonight. Then you'll believe me more since you'll have proof positive. You're going to be very busy now, Zeke, but I will see you before you know it."
"Tell me where you are and I'll come over now."
She laughed again. "I'm afraid that's not possible."
"Where are you, Bea?"
"You'll think I'm crazy again, but I'm in my office at the main library of the Ezekiel Thompson College of Science and Prophecy."
"You're nuts and I'm even crazier because I want to see you."
"Take care, Zeke, and I'll talk to you soon." The line disconnected. He pulled out the notebook and wrote the name of the college at the end of his earlier writings.
"Let's go out for breakfast, Zeke," his father said from the other side of the door.
"I'll be right there, Dad," he replied as he slipped the notebook back into its place.
§
Cafe Jalisco was not crowded at this hour. Zeke fondly remembered coming here almost every Saturday morning since he was a little boy. Abe was always working, so it was a real treat to be able to go out together on a Wednesday morning. The server brought three cups of coffee along with chips and salsa and took their order. There was never a need for menus since they had been coming here forever. Abe always ordered pozole and Sarah usually ordered mole enchiladas. Zeke tended to switch between the pozole, an omelet and the green chilaquiles. Today was a chilaquiles day. Sarah put down her coffee and asked, "Zeke, what is going on with the lottery tickets?"
"Mom, the odds of winning are like one in fifty million. What's the big deal?"
"You don't think your journals make this a bit unethical?"
"Well, it's already done," Zeke noted. "I already promised not to do this again, but remember that we really need the money now that Dad is unemployed. Also, there's no way anyone would believe I knew the numbers ahead of time. I just wrote down six numbers in my journal. That could be a safe combination for all I know."
"Then why did you buy the tickets?" Sarah asked.
"It was the crazy woman he had lunch with who suggested that," Abe noted.
"Yeah, you mentioned something about that," Sarah said to her husband. "Tell me more about her, Zeke."
"First, she is very gorgeous and super smart. Except for her claim to be from the future, she's an ideal woman."
"That is a pretty big exception, son," Abe replied.
"Well, if she claims to be from the future, then I'm not worried about the tickets anymore," Sarah chuckled. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."
The server arrived with their food which, fortunately, kept Zeke from talking more about Bea Watson. He was already starting to have feelings for this crazy girl from the future. She was either insane, in which case he would avoid her, or she really was a time traveler, and then Zeke might be able to travel with her and have a real relationship somewhere in the folds and eddies of time. He imagined what it would be like to live in the distant future with flying cars and interstellar starships discovering new worlds. Then he considered that Bea might have a boyfriend or husband in that time. He pushed that thought away.
"Oh shit," Abe groaned.
Zeke escaped his revelry to notice his father's former boss entering the restaurant with a couple of other managers for an early lunch. They sat at a table at the far end of the restaurant and did not seem to notice the Thompsons. "Do you want to leave, honey?" his wife asked.
"No way," Abe stated. "I introduced Jack to this place and I'm not running away from him anymore." He continued to eat his soup. "But let's take our time so they leave first and I don't have to talk to him."
They sat quietly eating their breakfast for several minutes. Abe was angry that his boss showed up and did not want him to hear his voice. Zeke did not want to discuss his journals or the time traveler. Sarah was satisfied to be together with her family. Their server came by to refresh their coffees and left their bill. While standing there, she inadvertently touched Zeke and the image of her accepting an engagement ring rolled across his mind. He smiled at her but did not say a word, although he did take his phone out and type in a quick note for his journal later. Zeke looked up from his phone to see Jack Lance walking toward their table. Both of his parents were focused on their plates, so Zeke cleared his throat to get their attention. As he stepped up to the table, he grabbed their bill. "That isn't necessary, Jack." Abe said.
"It's the least I can do, Abe," the other man smiled. "Hi, Sarah. Hi, Zeke. It's good to see you both again. You take it easy, pal." He turned and walked back to his table where the other two had already headed for the door.
Abe chuckled. "You know, I worked with Ken and Rick for years, and neither one said a word or even acknowledged me."
"They're probably too upset now, honey," Sarah said.
"Yeah, I guess you're probably right," Abe sighed.
"Dad, when Mr. Lance was here, he bumped up against me," Zeke said.
"Oh no," Sarah moaned.
"What did you see, son?"
"The whole site will be closed in six months. Mr. Lance has heard rumors, but Mr. Drake will make the announcement next week when he's out here to see you."
"Oh no," Abe agreed.
§
After breakfast, Zeke drove over to the barbershop to see how his new friend, Jack Watson, was doing. There was a large work crew removing the damaged plate glass and framing while a truckload of new materials sat waiting. Plywood sheets had been quickly assembled into a makeshift temporary wall so the store could open again. As he w
alked toward the store, he saw Jack standing outside with a cup of coffee in his hand watching the workers. Zeke called out, "How's it going, Jack?"
The other man turned around and smiled when he saw Zeke. "It's coming together, Zeke. You're not here for another haircut already, are you?"
"No, I just wanted to check up on you."
"That's very neighborly of you, Zeke. It will be another couple of days until the new storefront is finished. Thankfully, we're all renters here, so the landlord has to pay for everything. By the way, I should tell you that a reporter has been nosing around recently. She heard the story about you warning the woman before she died. She wanted to talk to you for a human interest story or something." He stuck his hand into his pocket. "She gave me a business card to give you when I saw you next." He removed a card and looked at it, then handed it to Zeke. "This is it."
Zeke read the card: "Shannon Thorpe, San Diego Union-Tribune." He pushed it into his pocket and replied, "Okay, but I'm not sure I want to talk to a reporter."
"It's your call, man. Most folks would love to get their fifteen minutes of fame."
"I'll think about it," Zeke said. "Did anyone tell her my name?"
"Not me, but it's possible that Sheila did. She talked to the reporter more than most of us. Don't freak out, kid, all you have to do is say, ‘No, thank you.’ "
"Okay, I understand. Well, I'll let you get back to it."
"Zeke, let me ask you a question before you go. The day of the accident, I asked you if you have these visions a lot and you said you didn't want to talk about it. Do you want to talk now?"
"I've had them from time to time, but they don't come true that often. Most are like the one here. A feeling runs through my mind just minutes before something happens. They seem less likely to come true when I have them longer in advance," Zeke said.
"Makes perfect sense to me."
"How so?"