by N R Brooks
“Oh, I see. Well, this wouldn’t be my first job at a gas station, if that helps. I should catch on pretty quickly.” I noted.
“Well, that is good enough for me. It isn’t a tough job.” She said while heaving a large bucket of ice to dump into the fountain machine. “Just make sure the store is clean, and count your money properly.”
People in the south were much different than those in the North. Jeni was small, but dynamite comes in small packages. I had the feeling that she could more than handle her own in a rough situation.
“I think I can handle that. So, what do you need me to do?” I inquired.
“Well, let’s see your ID, and I’ll get the paperwork for you to fill out.” She walked into the office to get the forms I needed to complete.
I gave her my carefully altered ID with the name Charles Winkle written in capital letters. I winced every time I uttered or even saw that name. Couldn’t have picked a worse ID to steal.
“Okie dokie, go ahead and fill these out and I’ll make a photocopy of your ID.”
“Thanks.” I filled out all the forms I needed to begin my employment here. Just your typical tax info and proof of residence.
When Jeni returned with my ID, she leaned on the counter where she gave me a generous view of her plentiful cleavage. I broke my gaze immediately as I was trying to finish the paperwork as quickly as possible so I could leave.
“So how do you like the South? Quite different than the hustle and bustle of New York I bet.” She said in a very conversational tone.
“Yeah, you could say that. People are pretty friendly down here. You are no exception yourself.” I replied while trying to maintain my focus on the forms.
“Well, of course we are. I love people. You meet all sortsa folks in this job. Some good, some bad. But it is fun all the same.”
“Yeah, you do meet some interesting people in this line of work.” I signed the last form and handed it to her. “Here you go. So, when can I start?”
“Well, I’m the manager here so let me get this entered into the computer and figure up the next schedule. I’ll give you a call probably next week to let you know when you can start. I’ll have you work with me for a few days just to get the hang of things. Mornings are okay with you?”
“Yeah, mornings will work great.”
“Alrighty then. I’ll give you a call probably Monday and let you know when to come in. Welcome aboard, Chuck.” She said with a wide toothy smile.
Her bubbly personality might take some getting used to, but I wasn’t worried. I liked her immediately. She shook my hand with an excessive enthusiasm which made her braided ponytail flop from side to side, and I left the store to walk back home.
When I arrived back home, Ziad was already up and had made breakfast for himself as well as for me.
“Good morning, Stan. I made you a breakfast meal. Eat up.” he said with a smile.
“Thanks, man. You didn’t have to.”
“Say no more. You give me a place to live, I make you breakfast.”
“Fair enough. I can handle that.” I said as I sat down to a plate of scrambled eggs and toast.
“Well, enjoy your meal. I am going to visit the gym for a little while.” He said as he grabbed his car keys.
“Sounds good. Have a good one, Ziad.”
When he left, I had an idea as I was eating my breakfast. I set my fork down on the plate and looked out the window to make sure that Ziad was gone. When I was satisfied, I walked into his room and carefully looked through his belongings to see if there was anything I could take to use as evidence against him at a later time.
Unfortunately, I found nothing out of the ordinary. Just clothes, toiletries, and a copy of the Koran with nothing hidden inside.
I made sure to leave everything exactly as it was before I came in and went to finish my breakfast. I felt no guilt over sifting through his things. Any friendship he and I will have will be on a professional level only. Nothing will change the atrocities that he is guilty of in my own timeline. At least in this one, I can save the world the sadness of reliving it all a second time.
I finished my breakfast—which was delicious—and put the plate away and waited around for a call from Keiko. After resisting the temptation of my attractive new boss, I couldn’t wait to wash it all away with the voice of the one true woman in my life.
Flight training turned out to be incredibly fun. We would engage in classroom work learning the ins and outs of the aircraft on a maintenance level and then proceed to study the various instruments that a pilot uses when they are in the air. When we finally moved beyond the realm of the classroom and into actual flying, Ziad and I partnered up and flew together with the instructor.
At first, I was nervous being the passenger in a Cessna with a pilot who was just learning. It wasn’t until I applied some critical thinking that I was able to ameliorate my fear and just enjoy the rides. If Ziad was going to crash a plane during training, wouldn’t that have also happened in the normal timeline, eliminating the Flight 93 tragedy all together? Granted, my presence here was an entirely new element that could have changed everything, but then again, it could only have an incredibly minor effect. I decided to just settle on my original thoughts.
Home life was uneventful for the most part. Ziad was only home part of the time. Other times he was out doing his own thing or was in his room talking to his fiancé Aysel in Germany. From the few times I overheard them talking, it was always in German. I concluded that Aysel either didn’t speak English, or she did but was just more comfortable speaking German with him.
One odd thing I noticed about Ziad was his habit of car rentals. He didn’t own his own vehicle, so he relied upon rentals to get him around. But rather than simply having one car the entire time, he would switch rentals on almost a weekly basis. It was never the same car. I wasn’t sure if he was doing this on purpose or if he just took whatever he could get whenever his rental agreements ran out. It really didn’t matter to him since he was getting two thousand dollars a month from his family in Lebanon. Money was never an issue for him.
I almost thought about just offering him rides but the amount of time he was gone would really have put a strain on my own car. It wasn’t new, and I had already put quite a few miles on it just driving to New York and then down here to Florida. Not to mention, I was walking far less than I was during my stay in Manhattan due to the fact that everywhere I needed to go aside from my job was much further away.
Work turned out to be no different than it was back in Idaho before my time travel adventure had its abrupt start. The first couple weeks were actually quite fun as Jeni turned out to be a rather enjoyable boss. She was one of those individuals that really had no filter when they spoke—it often made me wonder how she became a manager in the first place. Whatever was on her mind would come out her mouth in colorful expressions and remarks. I wasn’t sure yet if that was common around here or if I had just stumbled upon one of the rare types of people that you either really like or really hate. Regardless, for me, she was definitely the former.
She and I got along great. I made it clear up front that I was dedicated to Keiko, and she was the sole woman in my life. I didn’t want there to be any confusion or awkwardness between Jeni and I. She was more than understanding, and we became great friends. There was never any sexual advances between the two of us and never a moment where either of us had to step back and tone down our actions. That doesn’t mean I never secretly admired her endowments that she was never too shy to show off.
When September came around, Keiko and I agreed for me to come up to Manhattan to spend our birthday weekend together. It was great to be back in the city again. I didn’t realize how much I missed it until I came back.
Probably the biggest thing I noticed was all the advertisements and billboards for the upcoming presidential election. It felt weird knowing the outcome of the election as well as the surrounding controversy in the aftermath. I couldn’t vote because of my
situation. I didn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to myself, plus I already knew what the turnout would be. If I somehow managed to sway the election into Gore’s favor, who knows how much would change in the coming years. It wasn’t like my single vote would make a difference anyways. I already had a major change coming that I would be responsible for.
Keiko and I spent every second together and even spent a bit of time with Ian and Pops at the pizzeria. I was dismayed to hear that someone had broken in one night and stole a bunch of money. Pops filed a report with the police, but so far nothing had come about from it. They didn’t know who did it and probably never would.
I told Keiko about my job and how flight training was going. I described to her my intentions of only getting my private pilot’s license, but she knew I wanted more and succeeded in convincing me to continue my training into getting my commercial license. This would work out to my benefit as it would allow me to stay in contact with Ziad and maybe even go to flight sim training later in the year and into the following year.
Again, when it was finally time to leave, it was another sad moment for the both of us. Keiko was in tears, and I was struggling to hold mine back. We made plans for her to come down at the beginning of November.
When I arrived back home, I was surprised to see Ziad at the house. He was busy reading manuals for commercial airlines and had purchased charts and other types of instructional material to study. I knew what all of this was for. He was getting a head-start on his preparations for next September.
I figured I would play along and ask him what his plans were with all of these new purchases. It would be interesting to see what he comes up with.
“Oh hey, Ziad. What is with all the books and manuals?”
“Oh, hello. I want to become a commercial pilot and fly people across the world. I wanted to start learning now so when we get our licenses for small planes I can start training on the bigger planes.” He said after setting down the manual he was looking through.
I admit I was somewhat disappointed with his reply. I was expecting something more far-fetched and entertaining. I guess there really isn’t much else you could really expect for something such as this.
“Very nice. You picked up quite a bit of stuff there. Must have been a bit pricey. Are you going to stay here in the US and fly or are you going to go back home to Germany or Lebanon?”
“I haven’t planned that far ahead yet. Probably wherever I can get a job. Staying in the US seems like it would be nice but who knows.” He replied with his usual upbeat attitude. I couldn’t help but wonder how a guy like this got suckered into a group of boneheads like al-Qaeda.
“What about your lady back home? How is she doing?” I quizzed him. I had planned on Aysel being a helpful element in my plan. After all, I really felt bad for her and what she would end up going through when Ziad carries out his attack. If everything goes as I plan I would also be saving her a great deal of pain as well as shame.
“She is doing great. I will be visiting her in a few weeks. Maybe someday I will have her visit here. She has never been to America before.”
“Oh, that would be great. My girlfriend is also going to come down here and visit. You will have to meet her.”
“That would be wonderful, my friend. What do you say we go have a few drinks tonight? I found this great pub just north of the city.”
“A pub? Oh, a bar. Sure that sounds great. I just got off a flight so let me go shower and change and we can go have some drinks.” I was never much of a drinker but I figured if Ziad was going to go drinking that must have meant something important was going to take place. I just found it odd that he would invite me along.
I put my bag with my clothes in my room, called Keiko to let her know I had made it home safely, and took my shower. I was feeling a bit drained from all the emotions of leaving her again, but I had more important things to do. I didn’t know what was going to happen tonight, I could either witness something vital, or it could just be a night of having a few drinks with Ziad. Either way, it was something that I felt obligated to do.
I finished my shower and got dressed only to find Ziad still reading through his manuals.
“Okay, I’m all ready. We taking my car or yours?” I asked him.
“Fantastic. I don’t mind driving.” He set down his manual and grabbed his keys.
“Sounds good. Lead the way, my friend.”
Ziad and I left the house and drove to a small bar in the north part of Venice. I was feeling uneasy not only because I was going to be in a social situation which always made me feel awkward but I didn’t know what was going to happen tonight. I just sat in the passenger seat and had a casual conversation with my roommate as we made our way to our destination.
Not long after we left the house, as Ziad and I were chattering with each other, I had a migraine attack, the first in a long time. Ever since I began seeing Keiko and eventually moved in with her, I had not had a single attack. It was very reminiscent of when I was younger and dating Alexis. Strangely enough, I hadn’t had any between the time Keiko flew back to Manhattan from here until now either. I assumed it was due to the stress of having to leave her a second time earlier today.
Ziad offered to take me to a clinic or hospital, but I assured him that there was nothing to worry about and recited the usual spiel I gave someone when they witness one of my migraines for the first time.
We eventually arrived at a small bar—this was closer to a tavern actually—named Shorty’s on the north end of the city. My head was still pounding, and I was quite dizzy when we parked in the parking lot.
“Are you sure you don’t need to see a doctor? You still look like you are in a lot of pain.” Ziad asked me after parking the car and turning off the ignition.
“I am in a lot of pain, but I told you, it will pass. I will just wait it out here in the car. Feel free to go inside, I’ll catch up with you in a little bit.”
“Okay, Stan. If you need anything, you come and get me.”
“I’ll be fine. Thanks though.” I replied, shooing him to go in the bar.
Ziad got out and went into the bar while I sat in the car waiting for the pain in my skull to subside. It only took about ten minutes to get to this place so I estimated it should be going away at any moment.
Sadly, this one lasted another ten minutes, longer than they usually do. Once it finally died down and I could keep my balance again, I decided to go wash my face. In the Florida heat on top of the humidity, I was sweating pretty profusely in the car. A nice splash of cold water on my face should clear my mind.
I walked inside to see quite a few people—odd for a Sunday evening. But upon looking around, I realized why. Florida was home to a high percentage of the nation’s retirees. Most of the people in here on a Sunday were folks that had no obligations to work the following day. They had free reign to pretty much do as they please, whenever they please.
I looked around for some sort of sign or indicator of where the restrooms were. When I finally located it, I walked to the restroom and when I reached out to push the door open, it opened on its own. Someone else was exiting just as I was about to enter.
“Whoops, excuse me,” I said as I stepped back to let the man through.
When I looked up at the man’s face, my entire body felt instantly ice cold. I would bet money that my face probably went as white as a ghost. It was a man I knew quite well. A face that anybody in my time would probably recognize. The man looked at me with his steely eyes and straight mouth. A look of perpetual contempt for everybody and everything. I was staring at the face of Mohamed Atta. The person Ziad would later refer to as boss.
“Hmph.” Was all Atta said as he brushed past me to go back to where he was sitting.
I was instantly thankful that I didn’t have to pretend to be buddy-buddy with this guy. Ziad at least had civility. I attribute his role in the attacks as a result of brainwashing and manipulation. I felt he could still be redeemed. But not Mohamed A
tta. He held too much disdain for America and its many diverse citizens. To him, we were all shit.
I rushed into the restroom and looked at myself in the mirror. Not as white as I felt, but I was pretty flush. All of the sweat on my face and body from sitting in the car acted like instant refrigeration on my flesh during my encounter just a moment ago. Still, I turned on the faucet and splashed my face a few times with cool water. I instantly felt better.
When I dried my hands and face off, I exited the restroom and began to look for Ziad. He was nowhere to be found. I went up to the counter and requested a Bloody Mary. I never did enjoy the taste of beer, and I wasn’t too fond of liquor either. I did have an intense love for tomato juice, so I figured a Bloody Mary was a good compromise.
I received my drink promptly and left the bartender a generous tip. After wandering the establishment for a moment, I finally found Ziad standing at a corner booth with two seated men opposite of him. I knew who the two men were without even seeing their faces. It was time to put on my act. I walked up to Ziad and placed my hand on his shoulder.
“There you are. I was looking around for you and had a hell of a time.”
“Oh Stan, you are feeling better I take it?”
“Yeah. It took a few minutes, but my head finally cleared up. Washed my face and I’m good as new again.” I said, avoiding looking over at Atta or his other hijacker companion, Marwan al-Shehhi.
“That is great, my friend. I want you to meet my friends Mohamed and Marwan.” He said, pointing at each of the men as he named them.
I just gave a childish wave to both of them. Atta just nodded, his deadpan face never once changing. Marwan at least seemed closer in personality to Ziad. He simply waved back and said something like “good to meet you” although his accent was hard to understand with all the background noise in the room.
Both men had large mugs of beer, but Atta’s looked like he hadn’t even touched his. Marwan’s was half empty—or half full depending on how much of a cynic you are. I knew that alcohol consumption was frowned upon in their form of radical Islam, but they were allowed to drink it to help them blend in with American society. Ziad had no qualms with drinking as his glass was already near empty.