by Karl Morgan
"The future hasn't happened yet, Zeke. At every second, people can change their minds and the wind can change. The more seconds between your vision and the event, the more opportunity for things to change," Jack said.
"That's brilliant, Jack," Zeke replied. "Something just crossed my mind and I need to ask you a question." The other man nodded and took a sip of coffee. "I met two people with your last name the other day. Do you know a Charlie and Bea Watson?"
Jack grinned and said, "I'd rather not talk about that right now." He laughed and walked back into his store.
§
Zeke and his father sat in absolute silence in front of the television. Neither moved a muscle and both held their breath as the Powerball numbers were called. The winning numbers were 7, 21, 23, 38, 41, and the Powerball was 46. Abe selected the ticket with the correct numbers and turned it over and over in his hands. Zeke sat bewildered with the recognition that Bea Watson was indeed from the future. She was the one who suggested the Powerball lottery. Perhaps he would have figured it out, but the idea of a ticket came from her. There was a pop in the kitchen and both men turned to see Sarah with a bottle of Dom Perignon champagne in her hand. "I put this in the refrigerator after breakfast," she reported with a beaming smile across her face. "Thank you, Zeke."
"I can't believe it," Abe said at last. "This is the winning ticket. This can't be happening. Can we keep this, Zeke? Are we stealing this prize?"
"We are absolutely going to keep it, Dad!" he exclaimed. "Neither one of us has a job and the economy sucks. When those numbers went through my head, I was no different from anyone else who picks numbers for a ticket. People win lotteries all the time from numbers they picked."
Sarah brought a tray with the bottle and three flutes and set it on the coffee table. Zeke poured the champagne and handed a glass to each, and then offered a toast, "To family!" They clicked their glasses together and took a drink.
"What do we do now?" Abe asked. "I don't even know how to cash this thing in."
"First of all, don't tell anyone about this until it's been submitted," Sarah warned. "If anyone knew we had this ticket, God knows what they'd do to get it."
"Dad, there is a lottery office in San Diego. I recommend we go there tomorrow morning and claim the prize."
"I can't believe this is happening," Abe sighed.
Zeke was also in disbelief, but not about the money. His visions had changed from random guesses that sometimes came true to highly detailed premonitions of things that were destined to occur. Six winning lottery numbers was not random. And then there was Bea Watson. How did she have that page from his journal? Could she really be working in a college named after him in the distant future? Would that institution have all of his journals preserved for their students? The lottery would change everything. The Thompsons were now newsworthy, and Zeke Thompson had foreseen the car crash just days before picking the winning lottery numbers. That woman from the newspaper had a big story, but did not know it yet. In days she would, and then she would chase him down. Suddenly, Zeke had a pain in his stomach, knowing that his invisible life in Chula Vista was now over.
Chapter 4
There were two Starbucks cafes within a half mile of the Thompson residence. Zeke suggested that Shannon Thorpe meet him at one o’clock just down the hill. It usually had more customers and he thought he would be less conspicuous there. He sat quietly with his cafe latte steaming in front of him. He and his father had gone to the Lottery Office when it first opened and completed the forms and submitted the original ticket. Both men kept a photocopy of the ticket in their wallets. Zeke sipped his coffee and looked around the room. A man was busy typing into his laptop two tables to his left. He wore the headset from his iPhone, most likely listening to his favorite tunes. The sitting area was full of young women talking about a wedding or other event that was scheduled for that weekend. A line of five people waited patiently for their turn at the counter while looking at their smart phones.
A pretty young woman stepped through the doorway and walked toward the other man. She wore a knee-length skirt and white blouse. She was very fair with blonde hair and big green eyes. She approached the other man and said, "Mr. Thompson?" The man shook his head but never looked at her.
Zeke stood up and said, "I'm Zeke Thompson. You must be Shannon Thorpe."
She walked over and shook his hand. "Thank you for meeting with me, Mr. Thompson."
"Please call me Zeke."
"Okay, Zeke, and you can call me Shannon. Excuse me for a couple of minutes while I go get a coffee too, okay?" He nodded and she left her briefcase and handbag on the other chair and walked to the end of the line. As Zeke turned his focus back to his own coffee, he noticed the man two tables away was watching him. When their eyes met, the other man quickly turned his attention to his laptop. Zeke thought that was strange, but quickly forgot about it.
Shannon returned and set her coffee on the table. She opened her briefcase and removed a notepad and recorder and then sat down. "Do you mind if I record this, Zeke?" He shook his head. "Great. Sometimes I miss things in my notes, so this always helps. Tell me about yourself."
Zeke cleared his throat and began, "There's not much to tell, really. I'm twenty-two and just graduated from SDSU with a finance degree. I'm still unemployed. As you know, the economy stinks right now." She nodded. "I'm single and still live with my parents. I can't really think of anything else."
"Thanks. The accident was just at the other end of this strip mall. I was a bit surprised you picked this place to meet."
"My house is less than half a mile from here, so it's convenient."
"That makes sense. Zeke, I spoke to most of the customers and employees of Watson's Barbershop. Most of them mentioned that you tried to warn Ms. Smith about the accident. Did you know something was going to happen? Had you ever met her before?"
Zeke looked startled by her questions. "No, I had never met her before. Until you said it, I didn't even know her name."
Shannon replied, "Sandra Smith, age 37, never married, lived in an apartment a few blocks from here. Did you know what was going to happen?"
"No, not at all. I just had a feeling something bad was going to happen out front. When Mr. Watson started to push her out, I had to say something."
"Do you get these feelings often, Zeke?"
"Once in a while, I guess, but I was shocked that this one came true," he noted.
She clicked the off button on the recorder. "Zeke, let me be frank. I am looking at your story from the human interest angle. A young man has a vision that could save someone's life. That's big news."
Zeke looked crestfallen. "I'm sorry, Shannon, but I couldn't disagree more. If I had jumped from the chair and blocked the door, then maybe I'd be some kind of hero. Sandra Smith is dead. I had a random thought and that's it. I'm no hero. There was a doctor in another store who heard the crash and rushed over to check on the victims. He tried to save Ms. Smith, but it was already too late. His suit was soaked in her blood. Jack and I were there when the first responders arrived. The paramedics performed CPR on the driver, but it was too late for him too. Those are the heroes in this mess, not me."
"So, you're not some kind of psychic?"
"No. I just had a hunch. Today, I wish I had jumped from my chair, but I didn't. Everyone gets hunches, Shannon. I just wish more people acted on them," Zeke sighed.
Shannon smiled slightly. "So, it was just a hunch?"
"Just a hunch."
"Kind of like picking lotto numbers, huh?" she smiled.
Zeke blushed. "I guess so."
"I won't take any more of your time, Zeke," she said, extending her hand. "Thanks for your time." She stood and began to gather her things.
Zeke felt something when their hands met, like a tickle in the back of his head. He reached out and touched her arm. "Shannon, please wait a second. Sit down." She sat and looked at him. "I know what this is really about."
She looked back at him like he was crazy. "Huh?"
"We all have dreams, Zeke."
He smiled. "I have two stories for you, but I can only give you the basics because that's all I know. You'll have to do the research and follow it through."
She chuckled and opened her notepad and took her pen. "Okay, I hope you're not losing it, Zeke, but go ahead."
"There's going to be a fire at the Reliant Industries factory in Campinas, Brazil. It is going to be a huge story. Thousands of people will die and the reputations of many business and political heavies will be dragged through the mud."
She smirked at him. "Is this another hunch, Zeke?" He nodded. "Whew! When is this supposed to happen?"
"I don't know for sure. It won't be very soon, but it is going to happen."
"Zeke, I wrote it down, okay? What was this other revelation?"
Zeke looked at her, but tried to keep the man two tables away in his peripheral vision. "You've read all about the NSA spying on Americans and the FBI spying on the press, of course?" he asked.
"Everyone has."
Zeke noticed the man had stopped typing and was watching them. "Don't think that happened once or at random, Shannon. Everyone in the media is being spied on."
Shannon laughed out loud. "Zeke, you're such a card. What possible evidence do you have that someone is spying on me?" she said loudly, causing people all over the cafe to look in their direction. It became deadly quiet and everyone's eyes were on Zeke.
Zeke stared at her but pointed his left index finger at the other man and said, "I don't know, but you might want to ask him!"
The man stood up and slammed his laptop closed and grabbed it. He said, "Abort," and headed toward the door. As he opened the door, a black van pulled up in front and the side door opened. The man climbed inside, the door closed and the van rushed away.
Shannon was too stunned to move. Zeke noticed that patrons of the cafe had been snapping pictures of the event with their phones and the room was buzzing with chatter. "Shannon, give me your business cards!" he exclaimed. She pulled the card case from her purse and handed it to him. Zeke jumped to his feet and began to pass out cards. "This woman is a reporter from the UT. Send your pictures to the e-mail on this card. This is important."
Zeke returned to the table and handed Shannon her empty card case. She stood up and put her arms around him and hugged him tightly. She whispered in his ear, "Zeke, that really happened, didn't it?" He nodded. "How did you know that?"
He kissed her softly on the cheek, smiled, and replied, "It was just a hunch." He hugged her again and walked out of the cafe toward his car.
The black van raced through the red light, turning right on the street toward the freeway. Several cars slammed on the brakes to avoid colliding with it. The two men in the back held on for dear life. "What the hell happened back there, Jackson?" the man in the passenger seat shouted.
"I don't know, chief," Jackson panted. "I was monitoring the target when her companion started talking about the government spying on reporters. The next thing I know, he's pointing at me." The van roared up the on-ramp and swerved into the fast lane.
"Stan, I know you're new at this, but really?" Special Agent Bradley Marcus asked. "Is that what they're teaching at the academy now? Panic and run away? I hope you know that you've blown our cover."
"I'm sorry, chief. I just panicked. How did that guy know who I was?"
"Have you ever seen him before?"
"No, sir, but we have video of him now. We'll find out soon enough," Stan replied.
"I doubt it. This doesn't make sense, chief," the driver said.
"Yeah, I know."
"What are you talking about, Steve?" Stan Jackson asked.
"Put two and two together, Stan," the driver growled. "How would the average guy identify you when you're not wearing your badge? That guy has to be another spook."
"One of ours?" Stan asked.
"If he is, we'll get a match when we run the video. If not, we've got an even bigger problem."
"You think he's a Russian agent?" Stan gasped.
"Perhaps, but unlikely. With all the coverage of our espionage activity, he could work for anyone," Steve replied.
"Or it could have been a hunch on his part," Stan suggested. The other three men began to laugh.
"You'll learn, rookie," Agent Marcus said.
§
Abe Thompson sank his tortilla chip into the freshly made bowl of guacamole and then ate it. This was all part of the Thursday night ritual to mark the first game of the professional football week. His wife was sitting at the breakfast table looking at her laptop. All day she had been preoccupied with their newfound windfall. They had a comfortable life living in relative obscurity and all of that was about to change. She spent the day watching videos and reading accounts of lottery winners who ended up with nothing after only a few short years. She took upon herself the responsibility to keep that from happening to them. "Abe, you know we're not just going to split this four ways, right?"
"Huh?" he replied.
"If we split it, it will run out quicker. Also, we all have relatives and friends who will come begging for money. You, Rachel, and especially Zeke are pushovers. I'll be in charge of the money if you can live with that."
"That's okay with me, sweetheart. I know you'll take care of everything," he replied.
"Thanks for making that easy," Sarah smiled. "What do you think the kids will say?"
"It doesn't matter. They'll be taken care of. If one of them has a business or investment idea and they can get your approval, they'll get what they want. Sarah, kick-off is in a minute or two."
"Okay, but we'll be talking about this tomorrow," she stated.
"I know we will, dear."
The lock in the front door turned and Zeke came inside and locked the door behind him. He walked to the kitchen, grabbed a beer, and then went to his mother and kissed her on the forehead. "Hi, mom."
"I'm glad you're home, Zeke. Just so you know, your father wants me to be in charge of the money," she said.
"That works for me, Mom," he laughed and walked over to the family room and sat on the chair next to his father. "Has it started yet, dad?"
"They're lined up for kick-off now."
"Dad, I think I made things worse today."
Abe pressed the pause button on his remote and looked at Zeke. "What did you tell that reporter? You didn't tell her about the notebooks, did you?" Sarah had walked over and put her hands on Zeke's shoulders.
"No, nothing like that, but it might have been better if I had," Zeke continued. "There was this guy sitting close to our table. At first, I thought he was just doing work on his laptop. But then we made eye contact and I discovered he was an undercover FBI agent."
"What?"
"He was monitoring Shannon, the reporter."
"You have to be mistaken, son," Sarah said.
"When I pointed him out, he slammed his laptop closed, ran through the doorway and into a waiting black van which sped away. I don't think I was mistaken."
"What do we do now, Abe?" Sarah asked.
"There's nothing to do. Zeke didn't do anything wrong."
"Dad, I'm not so sure," Zeke argued. "There is no way some guy could identify an undercover agent. His bosses are going to be very interested in finding out what makes me tick."
"Well, son, if that happens, there's not much we can do. They are the government after all. It's not like the Russians or Chinese are trying to kidnap you," Abe replied. "What do you want to do, son?"
"I think I want to fly to Hawaii," he said. "If the FBI is going to lock me up somewhere, I might as well have a vacation first."
"Zeke, we won't get the lottery money for some time yet," Abe cautioned.
"That's okay, dad, I have some money saved up. I already bought my ticket with an open return. If I'm running out of cash before the lottery shows up, I'll just fly home."
&
nbsp; "When do you leave, Zeke?" Sarah asked.
"Tomorrow morning at ten o’clock," he replied.
"Well, I guess that means we have time to watch the game then," Abe said as he pushed the play button on his remote. "Zeke, it's Jags versus the Saints. Who do you think will win?"
"Saints 24, Jags 21," he replied.
Abe hit the pause button and frowned at Zeke, saying, "Really? Now why should I watch this game?"
"Dad, press play, I just made that up. It was a joke!"
§
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our final approach to Kahului International Airport. Please return your seat backs and tray tables to their full upright and locked position. All personal effects need to be stowed and electronic devices turned off and put away. The cabin crew will be picking up any remaining service items or other articles to be disposed. Thank you for flying with Hawaiian Airlines. Aloha," the voice on the loudspeaker said.
Zeke opened his eyes. His head was still cloudy after his nap and his neck ached. He looked across the people in the other seats to see blue skies and a few scattered clouds. Now, after five hours in the air, he began to panic that he had not made a hotel reservation. He had wanted to be spontaneous, but now he faced the real risk of sleeping on the beach or worse. "First time in Maui?" the man seated in the center seat asked.
"No, I came here a few years ago with my folks," Zeke replied.
"Where are you staying?"
"Not really sure," Zeke replied. "I sort of forgot to make a reservation."
"You're a brave man," the man said. "If you can get a room near Lahaina, I recommend it. Bar hopping is great there, if you ask me."
"Thanks for the tip," Zeke replied. "My name's Zeke Thompson."
"It's nice to meet you Zeke. I'm Peter Smith."
"I hope you have a nice vacation here, Peter."
"Well, it's not actually a vacation, Zeke. There is a spiritual retreat on the island that I go to every year. Here," he said as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a card. "This is the place. If you're a man of faith, you might check it out sometime."