When His Dreams Take Flight

by Andy Holloman

  “Sure, I’m all ears.” She filled her glass half way.

  “Great, because this is important. I need you to give me lots of space and respect my relationship with Allison. I’m very much in love with her and I do not want you to mess that up. You’ve been coming on strong ever since you arrived and I hope you can tell that I’m not interested.”

  “Ouch, sugar. That kinda stings.” She downed the drink in one smooth gulp. “What if I don’t want to do that? What if you found out that I’m different now?

  “I thought you might say something like that. You’re persistent and I admire that. But we can never be together again. I need you to agree to stay away. If you don’t agree, then you’ll force me to bring up something that’ll be bad for you, something I promised to keep secret.”

  She refilled her glass, “Hmm, now what would that be, sugar? Both of us know a lot of things about the other that we would want kept secret.” She picked up the glass and leaned back on the couch.

  “You made me promise to never mention the fact that you’re an alcoholic to your mother. You told me it would hurt her too much, especially since she had grown up with an alcoholic father. So I promised I would keep that a secret. But I’m warning you now that I won’t keep that promise if you don’t do what I’m asking.”

  She took a short sip of her drink, “Hmm, well now, that’s hitting below the belt, sugar. I need to think about this for a few days.”

  “There’s nothing to think about. This is the way it has to be. Besides, don’t you want to spend your time pursuing someone who is available? I love Allison, and that’s not going to change.”

  “I guess I see your point. Feels like a hard slap in the face, though. I mean you’re not even giving me much of a chance to show you I’ve changed, that I’m not the same person you were married to.”

  He glanced at the bottle and then wiped his hand across his face. “I’m sure we’ve both changed a lot.”

  “Still, I don’t want to get in the way of your happiness.” She drank the last of her drink and set the glass down on the coffee table. “So you’ve got my word. “

  He returned to the couch and sat down beside her. The aroma from the glass drifted up. He breathed in and his skin flushed. “That’s all I needed to hear, Joss. I know that you and I can make this all work.” His eyes fell back to the bottle and the label he knew so well. He put his hand on the back of his neck and rolled his head.

  “You stressed?” she asked.

  “No. Just tired.”

  “You should have a little one before you go,” she finished her drink, “ just a quick sip for the road.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Well, I’m gonna have my last one. Just need some more ice.” She stood up and walked into the kitchen. His hand touched the bottle. He paused and thought about calling Gene. He dismissed the notion.

  “Okay, bring me a glass. I’ll just have a sip or two. I can handle it.” She returned with two glasses filled with ice. She sat down beside him and filled the glasses. She held up hers.

  “A toast to our new friendship.” He clinked his glass against hers and smiled.

  ***

  He stands in an open field. Knee high grass moves in slow waves with the breeze. He runs towards the sun, knowing he can fly. Extending his arms, he flaps slowly, rising off the ground with ease. He rises towards the sun, feeling its warmth on his face. A light breeze blows through his hair and clothing. Glorious rays of warm sunlight make his body tingle. Varying the movement of his arms allows him to rise, fall, and bank. He settles at three hundred feet above the bright green of the field. It soon gives way to highways and then a city. He observes cars passing through intersections, slowing for pedestrians and cyclists. He floats on, smiling, enjoying the sensations of the sky and the sights below.

  Time moves on and he leaves the city, flying towards mountains shrouded in fog. A smaller town appears below him. He lowers himself and lands gracefully in the center of the town. Happy people wave and greet each other and him. He is thirsty and finds a water fountain in front of the town hall. He drinks for a long time.

  He runs down the sidewalk in the city center, raising his arms again and taking to the air. Grayish clouds block the sunlight as he rises. He sees a bright ray of light shining down on a school outside the city limits. He banks in that direction, arching his back and turning his body. He flies upside down; watching the clouds, then turns over, still gliding towards the school.

  The school is humming with energy. He can see through the roof as children move between classrooms, laughing and shoving bags into lockers. Students flood into the cafeteria, some spilling out onto a large patio area with outside seating. He hovers over them, listening to their hoots and laughter.

  Two people wearing long black coats walk out of a wooded area, fifty yards from the patio and move towards the students. Dread and fear wash over him. He twists his arms to move downward. One of the black coats begins running towards the crowd, a pump shotgun perched on his hip. He screams to warn them, but his cries are muffled. He flaps and kicks and struggles to drop. The air thickens around him like a web. The shotgun blasts once. A student’s mid-section explodes and bits of tissue and blood fly out from his body. The other black coat begins running forward, a pistol pointing at the students fleeing the carnage. He opens his mouth, trying to scream, but no sound emerges. He flaps his arms harder and kicks his legs.

  Nick jolted awake. He sat up and Joss rolled over. They were in her bed. He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair. What? How? When? He closed his eyes and his mind searched for the memories. They were both dressed. How could he have fallen down again? When did they fall asleep? The dream, the school, he was flying. There was going to be another shooting.

  “Joss, wake up,” he pushed her hard, “you gotta wake up.”

  She stirred and turned over, eyes squinting up at him. “Well, hi, sugar. Have a good night?”

  “Nothing happened, Joss. Nothing. Except that you pulled a fast one on me and popped open a bottle of Cuervo.” He stood up and began tucking his shirt in. He felt queasy and his legs were weak. He put his hand on the wall to keep from falling over. He was certain he had run headfirst into a speeding locomotive.

  “I cannot believe that I did this,” he shut his eyes and leaned his body against the wall,“I love Allison. I shouldn’t be here.”

  She rubbed her eyes, “Yes, I know how much you love Allison. You went on, and on and about it last night.” She looked up at him, mascara smeared across her cheek. “You don’t seem happy though, sugar. Last night you seemed upset, you didn’t want to talk and I couldn’t even get you to laugh. I remember I could always make you laugh,” she frowned at him, “and I could get you to do other things, too.”

  He shook his head, disgusted with himself. He walked to the window, “Shit, I’m glad I walked over here last night. At least my car isn’t parked out front. What about your mom?”

  “Relax, Nickie.”

  “Is she here now? I don’t see her car.”

  “She always goes to the first church service. She usually gets home about ten o’clock.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s nine now.”

  “You can’t say anything to your mom about what happened.”

  “I won’t, sugar. I promise.”

  “I’m with Allison now; I’m a respected principal, so this has to stay between me and you. Hear me?”

  “Yes, Nickie. I got it,” she pointed at his zipper, “looks like you got yourself a little tequila sunrise.” He looked down at the bulge, then turned away and made adjustments. “Oh boy, do I remember how horny you used to be after a night of drinking. We had some fun mornings, didn’t we? Remember how you used to call tequila the love potion?”

  “Please don’t do this.”

  “Did you have any of your cool dreams? You always talked about them. How vivid they were.”

  “I don’t know, Joss. I mean, I don’t remember,” he patted his pockets, “where
’s my phone? I gotta call Gene.”

  “Gene? Gene Smithson?”

  “Yes.”

  “You mean the guy who killed Joanne?”

  He picked up his keys and phone from the dresser beside the bed and stuffed them in his pocket. “He’s my sponsor, and my friend.”

  “Your what? You mean that bastard is your friend?”

  “That was a long time ago, Joss. And you know what Joanne was doing. God, she and Stick ran a damn meth lab.”

  “Joanne was so special. I—I just, I haven’t thought about her lately. I miss her.”

  “I remember how close you guys were. And I know how you feel about Timmie, too. We gotta talk about him soon. He’s headed down the wrong path.”

  “Timmie’s a good boy, Nickie. Just had some tough breaks

  “Look, Joss, I can’t do this right now. I gotta go. I’ll call you later. Please let’s make this all work out well for both of us.”

  She nodded.

  He walked over and kissed her forehead. He left the bedroom before she could speak again and rushed out the front door. It was time for lots of Pat’s coffee and a chat with Gene.

  His thoughts raced at a frenetic speed. Would this dream come true tomorrow? Could he stop this terrible thing from actually happening? Could he prevent the horrific death of these innocent children? If he did stop it, how in hell was he going to explain how he knew? Does it even matter? Who gives a rat’s ass about whether or not folks believe your story if you have a chance to save lives? You do what’s right. You save those kids from harm.

  Gene would want to help. He would have ideas. He dialed his number.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey man, it’s me. Can you meet me at Pat’s?”

  “Yeah. I was going to call you today anyway,” said Gene.

  “Just meet me there now. Need to talk.”

  ***

  “You boys want me to take these dishes away now?”

  “Yeah, thanks, Suze. And I’ll take another coffee, dear,” said Gene.

  “If you boys keep meeting up here like this, folks in the town are going to talk,” said Suze.

  Gene smiled, “Guess folks’ll think we’re dating, huh, Suze?”

  Nick laughed, “Nah, Gene’s not my type. I like ‘em younger.”

  “It’s a small town, boys. Just saying,” she gathered up the dishes.

  Gene waited for her to leave, “And you’re sure you know where the school is?”

  “No doubt about it. While I was flying, I saw the name of the school, the city, and the state. Clear as day,” said Nick, “Batesboro, Arkansas. Looked it up on my phone. It’s near Little Rock. The school is Tateworth Middle.”

  “You know how funny it sounds to hear you say ‘while you were flying’?”

  “Guess it does. But that’s what it was. Me soaring through the air like Superman. I swoop down over a school and see it happening. But who the hell even knows if it’s going to happen again.”

  “But what you said is right. Hardly matters. If there’s even a small chance we could stop something like this, we gotta do it. And it ain’t something you can phone in. What a laugh the guys at the station would get if I called cops in Batesboro and told them that my friend had a dream and there’s gonna be a shooting at their middle school, so they should send a couple of patrol cars over first thing in the morning and stake out the cafeteria.”

  “Yeah, you’re right about that.”

  “And you’re sure this type of dream has never happened before, I mean, except for the first time.”

  “Never. I mean I’ve dreamed about flying before, but there’s never been a school shooting before.”

  “And both of these dreams happened after you tied one on? Pretty weird.”

  “No shit. Wonder what that means? The gods of tequila have a messed up sense of humor.”

  “I told you that you better buck the fuck up and you didn’t. But we’ll cover that issue later.”

  “Thanks, man. I deserve the lecture. I won’t do it—”

  “Don’t say it. I can’t depend on your promises. You’ve let me down three times now. Your excuses are used up.”

  “You’re right, man, sorry. Excuses are gone. The worst thing about falling off the wagon again is letting you down. Your friendship is something I never want to lose.”

  “Well, you haven’t. So I think you have a plan in that head of yours about stopping this supposed shooting.”

  “I do and I need you to come with me. We gotta leave at lunch time. It’s a long drive.”

  “I’m in.”

  X - Batesboro

  They drove through the night. Straight shot via I-40 west. They had been on the road for eight hours when Nick woke up from a nap. His hangover was gone.

  “Where are we?” he asked.

  “Gotta be halfway, by my calculation,” said Gene.

  “So we’re still gonna get there in plenty of time, right?”

  “Yeah. We’re real good on time. Traffic’s been light,” Gene shifted in his seat, “I need to tell you a little story. Been thinking about it and I’ve been meaning to share this thing with you. You might not respect me as much afterwards, but I’m gonna tell you anyway.”

  “Well. Then I guess I better get comfortable. Is this a long story?”

  “Yeah. And it’s a doozie,” he took a long pull from his water bottle, “turn off the radio.”

  “Good. I hate country music. Don’t know how you listen to that shit.”

  “You should’ve told me.”

  “Nah. In my book, the driver gets to pick the music. But go ahead.”

  He shifted in his seat and wiped his hand across his mouth. “The shit really started to hit the fan about six years ago. I was drinking all the time. Day and night. Barely keeping it together. Alice had just taken over as the office manager for the station and she was nice enough to pull me aside one day to let me know that she was really worried about me. Told me I better get my shit together if I wanted to keep my job as chief because I was going to screw up something if I kept hitting the sauce all the time.

  “When I say all the time, I mean morning, noon, and night. Would start with vodka in the coffee cup and have a few more drinks during the day. After work, just me and my pal Johnnie Walker. I figure I was downing fifteen drinks a day. I stayed out of the bars. Just me on my own. Pauline had divorced me two years earlier and moved back home to California. She kept telling me that I had to get some help or she was going to leave me. She got me flyers for rehab places nearby. She tried. I was just too stubborn. Knew I could handle it and I didn’t want other folks to find out. She was smart to leave me.

  “While I was sinking faster than a lead balloon, Stick Laskin’s stock was on the rise. He had his lab up and running, pumping out more meth than anyone else north of Raleigh and south of Richmond. Had a guy in each of the five counties surrounding us, and he made a good product. Word got out and his product was in demand. I figured he was pulling in fifteen grand a week. Beats the hell out of driving a cement truck, right? He was smart about it. Stayed quiet, didn’t spend a lot. He did buy a new F-150. But the guy was bright enough not to pay cash for something like that. He financed his truck, just like everyone else.

  “My thing with college football started right after Pauline left. I’d be three sheets to the wind on Friday night, sitting in my recliner with my magazines and all my info printed out from the internet. Called in my picks to my man in Charlotte. Did really well my first year and decent the year after that. Sure as hell didn’t save any of it. New truck for me too, but I paid cash. Now that’s some funny stuff. Course it didn’t last. I went in the hole deep with my guy in Charlotte. I was into him for sixty five grand near the end of the season. No way I had the means to cover that large a nut.

  “One of Stick’s guys got pinched thanks to a sting by the State Bureau of Investigation. He saw the light and agreed to cut a deal. Gave the SBI a lot of details on a murder that took place in Layne County, right ne
xt door to Mt. Rutgers. Folks suspected it was drug related because of the way the hit went down and that the guy was a known dealer. But all the leads that they chased down went nowhere. This guy they pinched pointed at Stick. He knew all the details. He said that Stick did it to eliminate some competition. Plus he wanted folks to see what would happen if anyone tried to move in on his territory.

  So we headed out on a chilly night to bring in Stick. It was six years ago.”

  ***

  They started at the Mt. Rutgers police station at four in the morning. It was Gene and three SBI agents. The friend that invited him to join in the raid was Ben Anderson, the central region SBI director. They had known each other for decades.

  “Hope your station has some decent coffee, Gene,” said Ben.

  “Ha. Our coffee’s just as shitty as any station. I think it’s a combination of the industrial coffee makers with the bulk dry cream and sugar.” Gene handed Ben a cup. “I think you like it black anyway, right?”

  “Yeah. Too many late nights will do that to you.” Ben took a long sip. “It’s crap, just like you said.”

  Gene smiled, “Keeps the lights on.” He drank his black, too. “Maybe after the raid I’ll treat you to Mt. Rutgers finest coffee at Pat’s Diner.”

  “I’m in. Hopefully this’ll be a fast one. You got a feel for whether we’ll have any trouble with this Laskin guy?” said Ben.

  “No way to know. He’s been in this town forever, nothing violent on his record yet. My bet is it’ll go easy. The wife and kid are around and that tends to keep folks from flying off the handle.”

  “Good. Is the guy a night owl or anything like that?” said Ben.

  “Don’t know.”

  “Okay then, time to get on with it.” They both walked outside and got into a Ford Taurus with the other two SBI agents. Gene drove them out of town and they arrived at the Laskins’ home thirty minutes later. They drove half way down the quarter mile dirt driveway that led to the home and pulled off behind a hedgerow.