“Let me help you with your bike.” The man leaned over. “It looks okay. Here.” He handed it to Ben. “You need to be more careful.”
Ben didn’t like the way the man spoke. He was saying nice things, but there was no kindness, no anything in his voice; it was cold and dark.
“I- I will, sir. Thank you.” Ben pushed the bike along the sidewalk, hoping to get away. But the man kept pace with him.
Is he waiting for just the right moment? Ben fought to control his breathing as he carefully looked at the man sideways. He was scanning the neighborhood, looking up and down the street. Is he going to grab me? Why doesn’t he just leave me alone! Ben’s elbows throbbed, and his hip ached so that he could barely hide his limp. He looked over his shoulder at the traffic again and shifted his direction toward the street. The man kept pace with him, eyes still scanning.
Silently they approached the edge of the road. There was an opening in the traffic, so Ben stepped down and quickly began pushing his bike across. The dark man continued to walk beside him, silently scanning the neighborhood with his black eyes.
When they reached the other side, Ben turned and looked up at the man. “Thank you, sir. I’m okay now.” His gaze shifted to the open van across the street. There were two metal boxes inside, one of them had words printed on it. Hazardous Mat... The man at the van quickly stepped in front of the opening. His face had a scary, mean look on it. Ben blinked, turned around, and started walking again.
Fear seeped into his soul like oil coating his insides. At any moment the dark eyed man would grab him with his strong hands, and he wouldn’t be able to get away. His chin began to tremble. A few more steps, he told himself. He kept his head down to conceal his fear.
“Boy, look at me.”
Ben turned slowly, his entire body quaking now.
The man probed him with a deep bone chilling intensity. “Smart boys know what is best to keep secret.” He spoke in a cold even tone. “Are you a smart boy?”
Ben shuddered. He unclenched his teeth, and fought back the shivers. “Y- yes, s- sir.”
The man narrowed his eyes. “I believe you are a smart boy. Make sure it stays that way.”
With every ounce of courage, Ben managed a nod. He gripped the handlebars, jumped on the seat, and tore off down the sidewalk. The frame creaked as he bore down on the pedals in quick succession. His mind screamed at the bike, don’t even THINK about breaking down on me! His legs moved up and down like two oiled pistons. The beat of his throbbing heart encompassed him.
He came to the white house he had told the man he lived in, rode up the driveway and around to the backyard. Hopefully that was enough to fool the man with the gun. Ben hoped so. With all his heart, he hoped so.
Chapter 9
David sat in his car, staring at the water stains on the cement wall of the hospital parking garage, his eyes slightly out of focus, his mind completely out of focus. Staring at the dark patterns. Staring. Brain switched––off.
No questions about God.
No messages.
Nothing but the hollow buzz––of his own––numb...
A sound filled the interior of the car, David’s heart surged. He reached in his pocket and pulled out his phone. “Yeah?”
“Hey, buddy.”
“Hey.”
“You don’t have to pick me up. My flight got bumped. I arrived earlier and I knew you’d be working so I took a cab home.”
“Oh, okay.”
“I want to see you though. Can you meet me at your house in an hour? I want to know more about what’s going on.”
“Yeah. That makes two of us.”
“Are you okay? Are you going to hang up on me again? Punk.”
David laughed. “Yeah, about that...”
“Don’t worry about it, man. I know you’re dealing with some crazy stuff.”
“It’s gotten worse.”
“Really? What do you think is causing it?”
David rested his forehead in his hand. “Well––Sharon thinks it might be Brandon talking to me from the grave, my next door neighbor thinks it’s God, I’m leaning toward psychic ability, and based on this morning’s conversation with my daughter, she thinks I’m a superhero.”
“What? No extraterrestrials?”
David laughed. “Yeah. Or maybe it’s my future self contacting me from another dimension.”
“Okay. Now you’re being foolish.”
“Oh, and the extraterrestrials thing wasn’t foolish?”
Alex laughed. “Hey, everyone knows ETs have been visiting our planet for centuries. That means they’ve been flying through space at the speed of light since we were pounding rocks to make fire. With that kind of technology they could totally mess with your brain.”
“Point taken.”
“But I prefer the superhero theory. That girl never ceases to amaze me.”
Alex loved Emily as if she were his own. He’d held her on the day she was born, and he had made it a point to make it to her every birthday. His job required him to travel a lot, and he had not yet settled down with a family of his own.
To Emily, he was Uncle Alex. To Alex, she was the sunshine itself.
“You know what she did last week at the drug store?” David said.
“What?”
“We were standing behind a rather large woman, and Emily looked up at me and said really loud, ’Daddy, that lady’s fat.’”
Alex burst out laughing. “She didn’t!”
“Yeah. She did. So I crouched down and gave her the father daughter talk. You know the one. I said, ’Honey, if you don’t have anything nice to say about somebody, you shouldn’t say anything at all.’”
“What’d she say to that?”
“Well she was quiet for a minute. Then she looked up at me and said, 'Daddy. That fat lady has nice shoes.’”
They both burst out laughing.
“And oh,” David said, still laughing, “A couple of weeks ago, Sharon was messing around with her, biting on her ear, you know, just nibbling. Emily was laughing her head off. But then when Sharon stopped and said, ‘I love you,’ guess what the girl said back?”
“What?”
“She looked Sharon right in the face and said...” David started chuckling.
“Come on, what did she say?”
“She said, ‘Bite me!’”
There was a pause, then they both burst out laughing.
“That Emily is an endless treasure trove of accidental humor,” said Alex, his affection for the girl clear in his voice.
“I know. I should write these things down so I can read them on her wedding day.”
“I’m sure she would appreciate that.”
David looked at his watch. “Hey. Let’s talk face to face at the house, okay?”
“Okay. Sounds like a plan.”
“I’ll see you there.”
“Alright.”
David hung up and set the phone back in his pocket. It was going to be good to see his best friend again. It had been far too long.
Chapter 10
David pulled into the decaying parking lot of a convenience store, and slipped into the last open space out front. To the right, a couple fought over the pay phone, to the left, a homeless man approached a teenager getting ice. The sign in the window indicated a sale on twelve-packs of Coke. Big surprise there. David just wanted a quick bite to ease the grumbling in his belly. After all, he never did get to eat that doughnut.
He walked to the doors and made way for a woman coming out. She passed without so much as a glance. That was the way of the city. Making eye contact was risky business, and most avoided it for fear of being caught up in someone else’s drama.
Two people stood at the cash register, several more browsed. David went straight to the aisle with the sweets. A couple of Ring Dings would fill the need, and he could finish them before he got home. Sharon didn’t eat sweets; processed sugar was poison! Well––maybe it was, but David couldn’t bare the though
t of a life without the sweet delectable substance. It didn’t matter that Sharon rarely got sick, and that he caught every germ within a five mile radius––he didn’t care. He would rather live a short happy life, and die of a Ring Ding overdose, than live under the bondage of tofu burgers and carrot juice.
He slapped the package on the counter and looked up past the cashier’s head. Above eight rows of scratch-off tickets was a lottery sign with a Saint Patrick’s Day theme. Clovers danced with dollar signs, singing their promises of luck and wealth to all who dared enough to dream. The title of the game was, Take Two. His eyes stopped on the word Take and the familiar feeling washed over him, confirming the word, and urging him to bounce to the next. David refused, and remained frozen on the word.
He would not mindlessly follow the messages like a soulless puppet every time they came to whisper. But did he have a say in the matter? He recognized the irritation. It was the same irritation he’d felt when talking with Frank. The conversation in the hospital had planted a seed. Were the messages from God? This thought produced an overwhelming frustration in the deep routed sections of his heart, sections where he had decided to not only give up trying to find answers, but where God was hated for making it so difficult. To David, the messages were just one more example of how God hid himself behind riddles.
“Will that be all?” the burly Mexican behind the counter asked mechanically.
David snapped his eyes to the man. “No. Actually.”
The cashier raised his eyebrows.
David slid the Ring Dings off the counter and stepped away. “I––need something else.”
“Y’okay, man?”
“Yeah.” David shook the dazed expression from his face, “Yeah. Of course. I’m fine.”
The Mexican eyed him over pudgy cheeks. He was used to dealing with odd behavior, and he was studying David for signs of trouble. David forced a smile, and drifted toward the ice cream cooler. He was going to have to settle this conflict with God, or whatever it was. Either trust the messages and obey, or ignore them and get back to his life. He couldn’t spaz out every time it happened. He looked around. People were beginning to stare, so he retreated into the movie racks.
Okay. Just breathe. It’s probably some stupid message like, take a pack of gum or something. Besides, I don’t HAVE to do it. Whatever it is. He peered through the movie racks at the Mexican, who was ringing up the next customer. David relaxed slightly and took a step back. His eyes shifted focus and rested on a movie. The Sixth Sense. The and Sixth stood out. Was this more of the same message? Did my brain anticipate my withdrawal into the movie racks, or am I picking up a different message?
He did not want to deal with this right now!
David exited the racks, picked up a pack of Tic Tacs, and stood in line again. This is NOT God. It’s just my mind reaching out, searching for words to communicate with me. But what were the chances his mind could pick up several words from all over the store to spell out the same message? Wouldn’t his moving about cause his mind to seek out a new message from the new location? Or was his subconscious somehow moving him to where the words were? He searched for the word sixth from his place in line. If he had been standing at the counter, would he have found the word sixth? He didn’t see it. –He shook his head. It didn’t matter. What would it prove?
David put the two items next to the cash register and looked at the Mexican.
“Will that be all?”
He looked past the man and grabbed the words Lottery and Ticket from an advertisement on the back wall. The words came together and solidified in his mind. Take the sixth lottery ticket.
His eyes snapped back to the Mexican. “No,” he said, a little too fast, “I’ll take a lottery ticket.”
The cashier gave an annoyed look and turned to the tickets. “Which one?”
“The sixth one.”
“Black Jack?”
“Ah––yeah. Yes. Black Jack.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
The Mexican tore the ticket and slapped it on the counter. His stout fingers poked the register, and the price appeared on the readout. David slid him a five dollar bill, grabbed his items, and waited for his change.
“Have a nice day,” the cashier said, handing him some coins.
David did not respond, but turned quickly and exited the store. He jumped into his car, threw the Ring Dings and Tic Tacs in the passenger seat, then fished a quarter out of his pocket. The rules were simple. Beat the dealer’s hand and win the amount shown. He scratched the silver rubber coating. The dealer had a twenty. Slowly he worked his way down the card. Loser. Loser. Loser, all the way down to the next to the last slot. No winners. Every set was lower than sixteen. With one slot left, he took a breath, positioned the coin, and scratched. The cards added up to twenty-one. A winner! He scratched off the prize with eager anticipation. He couldn’t remember ever winning anything. Well, nothing but a stupid Hanson CD, and that had come with a price. Someone flung it off the stage at a high school dance and it hit him right in the eye. Some prize––and he didn’t even like Mmm Bop.
He wiped the dust from the face of the card and looked to see what he had won. Five dollars! What the...?
He stopped himself.
There had to be a reason, something he would find out later––like the coffee shop. He got out, went back into the store, and laid the ticket on the counter.
“A winner?”
“Yes. Five dollars.”
The cashier ran the ticket through the machine, and a mechanical voice announced, “You are a winner.” The cashier opened the register and pulled out a five dollar bill. “Will that be all?”
David looked at the wall of scratch offs. Was he missing something? The message said to take the sixth lottery ticket. Was he supposed to take the sixth ticket in? If that was the message, which of the eight slots should he have chosen? He looked down at the five dollar bill lying on the counter and up at the sixth machine.
“I’ll take five more.”
The Mexican turned and sighed. “Which ones?”
“Black Jack, all Black Jack.”
The burly man drew five tickets out of the container, ripped them off, and slapped them on the counter.
David picked up the fifth ticket, which would have been the sixth one in, and handed it to the cashier. “Would you check this for me?”
“Don’t you want to scratch it?”
“No. Please, just check it.”
He plucked the ticket from David’s fingertips and ran it through the machine. “You are a winner,” the machine said.
David leaned over the counter. “How much?”
The Mexican looked astonished. “Four-hundred bucks!” He looked at David. “How’d you know?”
“I... It just came to me.”
“Congratulations,” said the woman behind him in line.
“Yeah. Congratulations,” said the man behind her.
David looked back at them. The woman was petite and pretty, the man, large with a bushy white mustache.
“Thanks.”
The cashier turned the card over and slid it to David. “You have to fill out the back and sign it.”
David took a pen from the container next to the register, filled in the information, and signed his name.
“I’ll be right back,” said the cashier. “I have to get the manager to sign off on it.”
“Has anything like this ever happened to you before?” asked the woman.
“No. I never win anything.”
“Wish I had that kind of luck,” said the man behind her. His bushy mustache spread wide as he smiled.
David returned the man’s smile, pleased with his new found ability––for the first time.
“You’re all set, Mr. Chance,” said the cashier coming out of the back room. He punched the ticket code into the cash register, swiped it through, and issued David his prize. “There you go, four hundred dollars.”
David stacked the
fifties, folded them, and tucked them in his front pocket.
“Don’t spend it all in one place.” The man in line smiled at him again.
David smiled at everyone as he headed for the door. But then a newspaper caught his eye. “Senate Passes Bill.” He stopped and scanned the cover. His eyes grabbed two words from the article and put them together with the word Bill.
The message was, Give to Bill.
–Bill? What bill? Oh MAN! Am I supposed to pay some stupid bill with this? How fair is that? It’s like the Hanson CD all over again! Was it too much for the messages to give him eight hundred, four for the bill and four for him? He let out a deep sigh. Just once, he wanted to win something good without having to suffer in the process.
He turned and gripped the door handle. Just when I think something good is going to come from this stupid curse... A crude flier on the front door caught his attention. The words in and line screamed at him. In line? In? Line? Slowly he turned and looked back at the man in line. OH! So now I can’t even pay a BILL with the money!
He approached the man and cleared his throat. “Um. Here’s a crazy question.”
The man turned and looked at him.
“Is your name Bill?”
The man’s eyebrows rose. “Yes––?”
The woman turned and looked at them quizzically.
David forced himself forward. “Look. I don’t want a bunch of questions, okay?” He pulled the money out of his pocket and thrust it toward the man. “Apparently this belongs to you.”
The man looked at him sideways. “I- don’t understand.”
“Neither do I.” David was unable to hide his irritation.
The man stood frozen.
David’s face grew intense. “This is the part where you take it, no strings attached, and say thank you.”
A nervous hand shot forward. David placed the folded bills in it.
“Thank you,” said the man.
David pushed the words to his lips. “Don’t mention it.”
Chapter 11
By the time David reached his neighborhood, he had almost managed to put the whole convenience store incident behind him. He kept telling himself that the look on Bill’s face had made it all worthwhile.
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