Read Online 11/22/63: A Novel by Stephen King - Free Book Online Page B

. I don’t know . . . some kind of cataclysm?” What I was picturing in my mind was a breach in the cabin of an airliner cruising at thirty-six thousand feet, and everything being sucked out, including the passengers. I saw that in a movie once.
    “I don’t think so, but who can tell? All I know is that there’s nothing I can do about it, either way. Unless you want me to deed the place over to you, that is. I could do that. Then you could go to the National Historical Preservation Society and tell them, ‘Hey, guys, you can’t let them put up an outlet store in the courtyardof the old Worumbo mill. There’s a time tunnel there. I know it’s hard to believe, but let me show you.’”
    For a moment I actually considered this, because Al was probably right: the fissure leading into the past was almost certainly delicate. For all I knew (or
he
did), it could pop like a soap bubble if the Aluminaire was even joggled hard. Then I thought of the federal government discovering they could send special ops into the past to change whatever they wanted. I didn’t know if that were possible, but if so, the folks who gave us fun stuff like bio-weapons and computer-guided smart bombs were the last folks I’d want carrying their various agendas into living, unarmored history.
    The minute this idea occurred to me—no, the very
second
—I knew what Al had in mind. Only the specifics were missing. I set my iced tea aside and stood up.
    “No. Absolutely not. Uh-uh.”
    He took this calmly. I could say it was because he was stoned on OxyContin, but I knew better. He could see I didn’t mean to just walk out no matter what I said. My curiosity (not to mention my fascination) was probably sticking out like porcupine quills. Because part of me
did
want to know the specifics.
    “I see I can skip the introductory material and get right down to business,” Al said. “That’s good. Sit down, Jake, and I’ll let you in on my only reason for not just taking my whole supply of little pink pills at once.” And when I stayed on my feet: “You know you want to hear this, and what harm? Even if I could make you do something here in 2011—which I can’t—I couldn’t make you do anything back there. Once you get back there, Al Templeton’s a four-year-old kid in Bloomington, Indiana, racing around his backyard in a Lone Ranger mask and still a bit iffy in the old toilet-training department. So sit down. Like they say in the infomercials, you’re under no obligation.”
    Right. On the other hand, my mother would have said
the devil’s voice is sweet.
    But I sat down.
3
    “Do you know the phrase
watershed moment,
buddy?”
    I nodded. You didn’t have to be an English teacher to know that one; you didn’teven have to be literate. It was one of those annoying linguistic shortcuts that show up on cable TV news shows, day in and day out. Others include
connect the dots
and
at this point in time.
The most annoying of all (I have inveighed against it to my clearly bored students time and time and time again) is the totally meaningless
some people say,
or
many people believe.
    “Do you know where it comes from? The origin?”
    “Nope.”
    “Cartography. A watershed is an area of land, usually mountains or forests, that drains into a river. History is also a river. Wouldn’t you say so?”
    “Yes. I suppose I would.” I drank some of my tea.
    “Sometimes the events that change history are widespread—like heavy, prolonged rains over an entire watershed that can send a river out of its banks. But rivers can flood even on sunny days. All it takes is a heavy, prolonged downpour in
one small area
of the watershed. There are flash floods in history, too. Want some examples? How about 9/11? Or what about Bush beating Gore in 2000?”
    “You can’t compare a national election to a flash flood, Al.”
    “Maybe not most of them, but the 2000 presidential election was in a class by itself. Suppose you could go back to Florida in the fall