by Rex Bolt
And that was assuming Pike got that year part right, from back in the cellar of the old school.
It was all kind of scary, and he gulped and said hello to the officer, who first asked him if he was okay.
Pike didn’t like to lie, especially to the authorities, but he figured it might be his bet best here . . . and he said thank you he’s fine, but he got a ride from Salt Lake and they had an argument and the person unfortunately stopped and told him to get out.
The cop was sympathetic, whether he fully believed the story or not, and told Pike to call him Ron, and where was headed, before he got thrown out--and Pike said the first thing that came to mind, which was downtown Pocatello.
“Old Town or New?” the officer said.
Pike didn’t know there was an Old Town, but couldn’t help laughing just a little and said either one would work, and Ron laughed too, and Pike got in and they talked sports on the way, which Pike had to scramble a bit to keep things straight, as to who was doing what in the football, baseball and basketball world two years ago.
Ron dropped him on North Arthur Avenue, and Pike said thanks, and he definitely meant it, Ron was a good human, the kind of person you’d like to know for real--and before Ron drove away he asked how he was fixed for cash, and Pike hated to, but he said he could use a few bucks, and Ron forked over 40 dollars, and Pike choked up but tried not let Ron see that, and said goodbye.
Ron had sensed something obviously . . . and maybe there were angels in the world, or at least this incarnation of one, after all.
Separately, Pike was beating himself up for not going to a simple cash machine in Phoenix, before all this. They had one right in the hospital lobby for Gosh sakes. What was he thinking?
Speaking of that. How long was it going to take to wrap this up successfully--that is, if it was wrap-uppable?
Pike was counting stuff off on his fingers. The critical point being, how long could Eva survive, and he was fully convinced now that soon enough there’d be a crossroads where she wasn’t going to make it.
And of course a day in travel, equating to an hour back home . . . Unless someone--or something--changed the rules on him, and that didn’t seem likely.
So . . . three days here for example, and that would put you at what, 4 or 5 o’clock back in the hospital?
Pike’s instinct was you’d be okay . . . but don’t screw around either, that’s for darn sure.
The other part he’d been rolling around, and you didn’t want to think about it too directly but maybe you had to--and that was if Eva tragically did pass away, before you could make any alteration . . . did that then make it more difficult, or even impossible to undo?
You thought about Audrey’s mom Mrs. Milburn, and some of Dani’s work as well, and sure, he ultimately reversed some of those things (he hoped), but the difference was, those folks’s situations occurred unbeknownst to Pike.
Here--Eva--not only was he aware of it in time to do something about it, but he caused it in the first place. No one was going to convince him otherwise. So the unknown question again--which Pike feared--was did this therefore play out differently than the others, and you were stuck with the worst scenario present-day outcome . . . if you let it get there?
You didn’t want waste brain cells trying to conceive of the answer.
But, he reminded himself, you might have to, if you didn’t get your butt in gear and get a move on.
And first things, what day was it--and more important, what year? Despite talking the sports with Ron and so on, and being relatively sure you got it right, you needed make sure.
The first parked car he noticed had a sticker on the license plate that said 15 . . . as did the second and third, so you figured this meant the registrations expired in 2015, which was a good sign and hopefully meant next year--if this was indeed November 1st or thereabouts as he prayed it was . . . and he decided let’s not fool around, and at the risk of looking like clueless jerk--like on the college campus in Utah that time, and maybe a couple other places--he asked the first person coming his way on the sidewalk.
“Excuse me m’aam,” he said. “Is today . . . what is today, I’m sorry, I woke up on the wrong side of bed.”
The woman averted her eyes and increased her pace slightly and Pike picked up on something else, that it was legitimately cold here--middle of the afternoon, in the 30s tops, probably less--and he was in a dumb t-shirt, and that fact alone was probably attracting negative attention before you even blurted out the what year is it question.
And that may have been what Ron the officer was thinking too, by offering him some money, and Pike asked the next person where a thrift store might be, and he found a ten-dollar jacket, and at the register he was able to confirm that today was indeed Monday November 3rd, 2014.
So he’d overshot it by two days but that part should still be fine. Here you were, but now what?
Standing there--and you probably were in Old Town, lots of old signs on buildings that were being used for other things, very few modern of anything . . . the exact opposite of Phoenix--Pike wondered how he could have been an idiot in one more way too, which is not asking Dave what the heck high school they went to.
He stopped in a sandwich shop and asked the guy making his, how many high schools there were, and luckily the guy didn’t hesitate and look at him funny, he said 5, and named them off.
This wasn’t a good development either. Pike supposed you could find Dave some other way. After all he had Dave’s current cell number, and it might have been the same the two years earlier, though obviously you couldn’t use your own current phone to call the guy.
Pike realized one more nugget of stupidity, that he actually didn’t know Dave’s last name, if you could believe it. He thought for a moment and remembered though that Eva’s was Jorgensen, from the hospital, the label outside her room. Fortunate that he at least remembered that, and you might find a couple Jorgensens in a simple white pages search, and one could be her family.
Although . . . the flip side, could it screw something up--would you be somehow violating one of the 10 Rules--to reach out to one of them directly? Especially since you’re currently in contact with both of them, in the present? In a circumstance you created . . .
Pike decided that was unknown territory, so why chance it, and in what was a familiar pattern with these trips he asked the sandwich guy where the nearest library might be, and the guy mentioned a city library north of here someplace, other side of the railroad yard and you continued on Center Street and so forth.
Or, the guy said, the state college had one too, and it was closer.
That sounded better, and in fact when Pike finished eating and went back outside there was a big S on a hill, which he’d noticed before but ignored, but now assumed was the college, and it didn’t look all that far.
When he made it to the campus and found the library he’d hit the wall. Admittedly it had been a full day. Not just this part, but the waking up in the middle of the night business too, and there was a section of leather reading chairs and Pike didn’t waste any time making himself at home in one and falling fast asleep.
After a while someone tapped him on the shoulder and he sat up straight, fast, and figured he was doing something wrong, but the person was only telling him his head was hanging way off the arm of the chair, in case he was worried about getting bumped into. Pike said thanks, re-adjusted his position, and was out cold for another hour.
When he woke up it was getting dark outside. He went on the public computer and got the 5 high schools sort of straight. One was a charter, so forget that, unlikely Dave and Eva were charter material. Of the other 4, 2 were local, meaning traditional Pocatello, and the final 2 were in the outlying more newly-developed areas.
Still, he needed this like a hole in the head, all because he didn’t ask Dave the obvious question, and it was sure tempting to find a Jorgensen in the white pages and borrow someone’s phone and make that call. Even if you got the wrong Jorgensen
they’d probably direct you to the right one.
Then Pike got a bit of a brainstorm. Dave played basketball, and if you went school by school you might find something on one of the websites. Which sounded good, but in reality was pretty painstaking. You had rosters and schedules and names but a lot of it was disorganized, plus there were plenty of total guys name Dave and David and you needed a photo to give you a chance.
Plus, Pike realized, Dave would have only played freshman ball so far, if as he said he met Eva in November and remembered that because practice had just started, which would have been jv or varsity by then.
So Pike tried to review the freshman seasons of the 4 schools, and finally there were some photos, not headshots but action ones, and a Dave going for a layup for Cotter High School against Burleson last season sure looked a lot like Dave. Engle, was the guy’s last name in the caption.
Pike roamed around the other teams and groups at Cotter, and eventually there was Eva, as part of the freshmen cheerleader squad, and Gee, looking pretty darn happy, and Jorgensen was in that caption.
Pike let out a big exhale. One way or another he’d be showing up there tomorrow. Not sure what tactic you were going to use. It wasn’t a major problem, was it--it only required stopping 2 people at the same school from ever getting together.
Pike knew he had his hands full, but he had the night to work it around. The thing now, was where do you stay, since he was a little short. He had the $20 he arrived with, plus Ron’s $40, and then the $10 he used up for the jacket and the $7 for the sandwich . . . leaving the grand total $43.
Not good. At least he was here.
Chapter 6
One thing you weren’t going to do on this trip, under any circumstances, was look up Dani. Nor did you want to run into her by accident. Pocatello was decent sized--you figured maybe 75,000 folks including the outlying areas, if they supported the 5 high schools--and that was a lot bigger than Beacon, so the odds were you wouldn’t.
Still, you didn’t want to take any chances, and you needed to leave sleeping dogs lie. The business with Chuck was settled--albeit precariously--and the other stuff, the guy she had the trouble with before, where she ended up wedging him between the wall studs, or whatever . . .
If you did have any more contact with her, it would have to be in real time, that’s for sure. This was uncharted enough territory as it was.
Dani was a friend, and fine, a confidante as well, since they were in this together, however you’d label it . . . and Pike would admit he’d had a mild crush on the woman since Day 1.
But separately, he was ticked off at Dani, because if it wasn’t for her, he wouldn’t be in this mess.
Meaning--he never would have met Dave and Eva if he didn’t get stuck having to come up here and bail her out, when she was no doubt headed to trial or worse for drowning Chuck in that hot tub.
So--even though it was a friendly enough place, Pike was getting real tired of Pocatello, Idaho, and you needed to leave Dani entirely out of the equation.
Meanwhile, Pike came out of the campus library and the scent of hot food in the air got the better of him, and without thinking too hard he followed it.
It was the dorm cafeteria, up a set of stairs from the library and across a big lawn, situated back past a large academic building.
There were 4 multi-story dorm buildings spaced out, with a low, flat building in the center, which had to be the cafeteria.
And dang, poking his head in, Pike could smell roasted meat and something Italian saucy, and some sweet baked desserts as well. He’d had a dull headache since he woke up--in fact forget that, he’d had it all day on account of the 4:30 alert, among other things--so bottom line, he was in one of those moods where you just went for it--and he explained politely to the attendant that he’d forgotten his card.
He’d picked up the fact that you needed one to eat, which was pretty obvious, one student after another sliding theirs into a slot and a little turnstile rotating and they were in, and the attendant sometimes added have a nice meal.
So she was friendly enough, a middle-aged mom type making a few extra bucks a couple hours a day . . . and she said to Pike, “That’s perfectly fine. What is your room number please?”
“Ooh,” Pike said. “You’re asking the tough questions.” The woman smiled, but was waiting.
He said, “This is kind of awkward, but I’m new here, I got a late start. I’m forgetting a lot of things so far, I guess . . . What the devil is my room number?” Pretending to be struggling with it big-time.
“That’s fine,” the woman chirped, nice and upbeat, her name tag identifying her as Sue-Ann, “what I can do, I can swing you a pass. Maybe write everything down next time though?”
Pike said he definitely would and she opened a drawer and pulled out a small form and filled it out and handed it to him and said for him to have a nice meal too.
Pike loaded up, not discriminating between entrees, and stuffed his face, but he decided there’s always room for dessert when everything seems homemade and you can smell the stuff out in the hall, and he did a number on a couple slices of pie as well.
He went to bus his tray and he was going to toss the meal pass, but before he did he read the thing just for the heck of it . . . and what was this, it said Valid: (and then the woman Sue-Anne’s handwriting) 11/3 - 11/7.
Wow.
So, unless he was overthinking . . . he should be good eating here until Friday . . . which hopefully he wouldn’t require, being here that long . . . and that would be 5 extra hours for Eva to be hanging on . . . but man, what a relief even for a couple days that he could keep his piddly cash reserves in his pocket and stay full.
There was a machine where you could stand there and blend your own coffees, like an imitation of something at Starbucks, and you could add the sweet flavored concoctions, and Pike figured what the heck and he whipped something up and brought it back to one of the tables.
There were three students across from him finishing up and one guy mentioned that his roommate Matt flunked out.
“What did he flunk out from?” one guy said.
“That’s a dumb question,” the first guy said. “F’s.”
“He meant,” the third guy said, “was it too much partying? Or he didn’t want to be here anyhow.”
“I didn’t exactly mean it that way,” the second guy said, “but Matty wasn’t a bad dude, he was goofy.”
“Yeah,” the first guy said, “truth was, I think he wanted to go to lineman school.”
“Where’s that at?” one guy said. “And what is it?”
The first guy was explaining it, and the other guys chiming in, all 3 of them sort of droning on now and Pike lost his focus . . . at least on that part.
What he was wondering--trying to put together real quick, since you still had the minor issue of where the heck he might be sleeping tonight--was there any way he could be the guy’s new roommate?
So he waited, and the conversation turned to the three of them updating their opinions on the female population in the dorms, and finally they got off their rear ends and headed out the cafeteria to their particular dorm which above the entry said Unit D, Worthington Hall.
Hmm. So Pike followed along, and there was an elevator and a side staircase and two guys waited for the elevator but the first guy--the one with the flunked-out roommate--took the stairs, and Pike kept his distance but did that too.
It only required the one flight, the guy being on the second floor, and Pike observed him until he went two-thirds of the way down the hall and pulled out a key and disappeared into a room on the left, which Pike identified a minute later as 12.
First thing of course, the roommate flunked out but could he still be here . . . but Pike thinking it unlikely, since this was Monday and they probably let you know on Fridays if you’d flunked out, but he could be way off.
Still . . . why screw around speculating, and he waited a few minutes and knocked on the guy’s door and told him, h
i, he was looking for Room 12, and the guy only opened the door a crack at first but then swung it open wider and Pike could see the roommate’s side, and you had a bare mattress on the bed and nothing else indicating recent human presence.
“What do you need?” the guy said.
“Well hey, I’m Monte. Hamilton,” Pike said, adjusting to the roommate really being gone. “They, uh, sent me here,” he said.
“Oh,” the guy said, taking a second to process it. “That’s cool . . . Jeff.” And they shook hands, and the guy asked if he had any stuff, or whatever, and Pike said it was coming from Arkansas but there was a screw-up--realizing that was a mistake, since would he now have to fake an Arkansas accent--but the guy didn’t seem to care and told him make himself at home, and he’ll catch him later, he’s meeting his girlfriend to study. And the guy went on his phone, and he splashed on a little cologne and grabbed his laptop and a minute later was gone.
Dang.
So you might be able to get some sleep after all, and more important stay warm, since even with no bedding the heat in this place was overpowering--and more important still, avoid spending the money (which you probably didn’t have enough of) on a motel room.
At least until someone figured you out, which hopefully wouldn’t happen for a day or two. The only issue now, really, was how do get in the room. Meaning when the guy Jeff is gone, and even when he’s here, you have to at least demonstrate you have a key.
Pike took a look outside the window anyway, could you climb in, since you weren’t very high. There was a thick pipe attached to the yellow brick outside of the building, and yeah, admittedly you probably could shimmy up it--and Pike knew that with his extra strength he definitely could--but that wouldn’t be the right solution.
There was a stick in the garbage can on the flunked-out guy’s side, the one thing the guy left behind, and it looked like a popsicle stick. It was a little disgusting to use, but Pike wedged it into the top of the door frame so the door wouldn’t close all the way, and he went back downstairs trying to find someone who might give him a key.