Chapter
13
A Serialized Story of the
Not So Distant Future
April 19, 2005
Part Twenty One
When Martha got home that night, Sam told her about his biking adventure, and meeting Vinny.
"Sam, if you're going to go out like that, I'd like you to get a
cell phone. I'm afraid something might happen to you."
"Sure Mom, I'll get one as soon as my check comes in. Oh yeah, I
also have an appointment at the Tai Chi place tomorrow at six."
"Ok dear, just take car service and not the bike, I don't want you
to push yourself to hard."
"Do you still have Dad's old writings?"
"Of course, they're packed away in boxes upstairs. You can look at
them if you like."
"Yeah, I think I'd like that, I don't really know much about him."
"You're a lot like him. He was a very fair man, he never took
anything to extremes, but he was very passionate about fighting for
people's rights. She lowered her voice a bit: "That's why I worry
about you around Robbie."
"I know Mom."
Sam spent that night flipping through his father's old newspaper columns. He had fought against unfair foreclosures by a bank which seemed to specialize in giving high interest mortgages to people who couldn't possibly afford them.
He had also advocated for the rights of seniors in a local Nursing Home, which had a long record of abuse. In his most recent columns though, he had been focusing on the slashing of many domestic programs, and the government's sharp increase in military spending. All of this was back in the early 80's, Sam could see why Vinny had said that his father wouldn't like the way things were right now.
Glancing at the back of one of his father's books: "Keep Your Shirt: Your Rights While Declaring Bankruptcy" Sam was surprised to learn that his father was also a lawyer, and worked for the ACLU from time to time.
Sam also stumbled across a newspaper story describing his father's
death:
Political columnist and writer Michael Quinn was found dead today in Red Rock, Wyoming. Quinn apparently lost control of his car on a patch of black ice and spun off the road and into a creek. Authorities don't believe that alcohol was involved in the accident and said that there would be no further investigation. Quinn leaves behind a wife and two children.
There was nothing to indicate what his father was actually doing in
Wyoming though, Sam had always been told that his father was doing
research, but what sort of research would have led him there?
Sam decided that he had read enough for one night, and packed his father's stuff away. He did feel closer to his father now, getting a feel for the man he was and the things that mattered to him.
Sleep came quickly that night, Sam had forgotten all about Rose's
suggestion for him to remember. He found himself out of his body
again, floating high above Brooklyn.
"Hi Sam." Gaby flew up next to him, "can we talk?"
"Yeah, of course." Sam said "Let's go somewhere quiet."
The scene changed around them, and they were sitting in their usual
booth at the Bay Diner.
"I'm sorry I had to be short with you earlier," Gaby said, "you just
showed up at a really bad time."
"Yeah, I gathered. So what was all that anyway? There were a lot
more people like you there than I met earlier."
"Oh, that wasn't Chapter 13, not really. That was my own stuff, I was working with Rose in the Convalescent Home, when the bomb went off. She decided to come along with me."
"So, you have a career in the after life?" Sam was genuinely
confused.
"Do you remember what my major in college was?" Gaby asked.
"You were a nursing student."
"Right. Now I'm a healer. I help wherever I can."
"But that little girl?" Sam asked.
"She was already dead, so was her Mom, I just helped them move on.
That's not really what I do, but since I was right there."
"I thought anyone who had... passed on, couldn't interact with the
physical world?"
"Strictly speaking, no I can't. For example I can't put a bandage or even pressure on somebody's open wound." She explained, "but I can provide them with energy to sustain or even heal themselves, if that's what they want to do."
"What they want to do?"
"A person has to want to get better, or all the energy in the world
won't help."
"How do you know that you're really having an effect, and it's not
just chance as to whether or not they recover."
Gaby grinned at him, "and what do you think has been behind your miraculous recovery? You want to get better, and I've been giving you energy for the last ten years."
"Oh, wow. Uh, thanks." Sam suddenly felt very small.
"Don't mention it. So have you decided whether or not all of this is
real yet?"
Sam blushed again. "I guess not, it all feels very real when I'm
here, but when I wake up..."
"You can tell yourself it was just a dream and go on with your
normal life, I know." Gaby said.
"Yeah, whatever normal is these days."
"Sam, nobody can tell you what to do, but if you want help
remembering, you can ask Peter. He's very good with memories."
"What if I remember everything, but still don't want to join?" Sam
asked
"It's your choice. But let me ask you, how did you feel about
stopping that bomb earlier?"
"Actually, It was just confusing. I'm not really sure I did anything
at all."
"Why didn't you check the news when you woke up?" Gaby asked.
"I don't know... wait I do know, I put it out of my mind because it
just seems like too much to deal with."
"Like I said, it's your choice. I have to go now, but I'll see you
again soon." She kissed Sam lightly and walked out of the
restaurant.
"Now what?" Sam said as he sat alone in the booth. The scene
dissolved around him and he found himself floating over Brooklyn
again.
"So was that real? Is this? Maybe I should just head home."
He instantly felt almost as if he had been sucked back into his
body. He got up, and turned on the computer. At least he could try
to solve one piece of the puzzle.
He put the words "Bomb Iraq" into Google and hit the News button, as
the list of stories came in he read the first: Bomb explodes in
Baghdad Killing Four, Wounding Seven.
"That could be any day though, however something in one of the
paragraphs caught his eye. "A second bomb nearby failed to go off,
when a defective timer caused the car's battery to short circuit."
"Well that answers that." Sam said, "now I have to deal with this
stuff as being real." He noticed that it was only 1:45am, so he
decided to try and get back to sleep.
"Ok Peter, if you can hear me, I'd like some help in remembering the
last ten years."
posted by John at 11:19 PM | link |
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