He was supposed to tell him something. His mind went back and forth, but couldn’t come up with it. He cursed his leaky memory.
“I’d like this to remain confidential, if you don’t mind. I know that this is not exactly confession, but I need to talk about something sensitive.”
Oliver stiffened visibly, afraid of what he was about to hear.
“Oh my God, it’s nothing like that. I know how that must have sounded, but this is not about me, it’s about her. She’s coming down here, and there are people looking for her, people that I’m afraid want to hurt her.”
Oliver felt relief flood into him. He didn’t know how he would have reacted to someone he had grown to admire confessing to an illicit love affair with his daughter-in-law. “How can I—”
He never finished his sentence. His mind suddenly exploded in pain. It was as if someone has sneaked up behind him and hit him in the back of the head with a baseball bat. For a moment, his identity was lost within the pain, and in that moment, he glimpsed the world through someone else’s eyes. He was inside a moving car; in fact, he was driving the car. He was slowly coasting down a snowy residential street, looking for something or someone. It was at once familiar and disorienting. He worked his fingers and watched as the fingers in the vision opened and closed at his bidding. He turned the steering wheel and felt the car skid along the slick road. Then, abruptly, he was back in the sacristy with Greg Flynn. His head throbbed, but the pain began to recede.
“Father, are you okay?” Greg was standing over him, his hands on Oliver’s shoulders, steadying the teetering priest.
“I don’t know what happened. Just a sudden sharp headache, but it’s better now.” Oliver reached for Greg’s hand, and the pain struck again, only this time he saw himself grimacing in pain through Greg’s eyes. However, the pain and the disorientation were not as intense as with the first attack, and they seemed to pass almost immediately. In their wake, Oliver was left with an almost euphoric feeling. Energy surged through his mind and body. He suddenly felt like he was eighteen again. His heartbeat became strong and regular, his breathing deep and unlabored, his limbs light and powerful. A door opened in his mind, and a fresh breeze blew away all his stale thoughts and self-doubts. Something had freed him, and unencumbered, he could for the first time in his life see the world as it really was. He took Greg’s hand and squeezed it; he felt his own hand as well as Greg’s, and the strange duality made him laugh.
“I know about Amanda, my friend,” Oliver said. “She’s driving down from Boulder to see if your suspicions are correct, and you’re worried that the FBI will try to take her.” The words exploded out of Oliver’s mouth. “And if they do, you’re worried that she will hurt, maybe even kill some of them. She’s been changed; she has grown into something different. I can see it all in your mind.”
Greg pulled his hand away from the priest and stared at him, dumbfounded. “How?” was all he managed to say.
Oliver sagged as the connection was broken. He was sixty-two again. His heart returned to its old familiar, irregular rhythm, and the heaviness found its way back into his limbs, but his mind remained invigorated. It raced with excitement and wonder, the disillusionment and depression that had troubled him for weeks suddenly locked away in the basement of his mind. It was inexplicable and amazing, like suddenly discovering that he had wings, and could fly.
“I don’t know, Greg, nothing like this has ever happened before,” Oliver said, amazement filling his voice. “You touched me, and suddenly I could see myself through your eyes, but it went beyond just sensation. Somehow, I knew what you were going to say. I saw your thoughts. I felt them in my mind in my chest, everywhere.”
“Can you feel them now?” Greg sat back down, eyeing the
“I’d like this to remain confidential, if you don’t mind. I know that this is not exactly confession, but I need to talk about something sensitive.”
Oliver stiffened visibly, afraid of what he was about to hear.
“Oh my God, it’s nothing like that. I know how that must have sounded, but this is not about me, it’s about her. She’s coming down here, and there are people looking for her, people that I’m afraid want to hurt her.”
Oliver felt relief flood into him. He didn’t know how he would have reacted to someone he had grown to admire confessing to an illicit love affair with his daughter-in-law. “How can I—”
He never finished his sentence. His mind suddenly exploded in pain. It was as if someone has sneaked up behind him and hit him in the back of the head with a baseball bat. For a moment, his identity was lost within the pain, and in that moment, he glimpsed the world through someone else’s eyes. He was inside a moving car; in fact, he was driving the car. He was slowly coasting down a snowy residential street, looking for something or someone. It was at once familiar and disorienting. He worked his fingers and watched as the fingers in the vision opened and closed at his bidding. He turned the steering wheel and felt the car skid along the slick road. Then, abruptly, he was back in the sacristy with Greg Flynn. His head throbbed, but the pain began to recede.
“Father, are you okay?” Greg was standing over him, his hands on Oliver’s shoulders, steadying the teetering priest.
“I don’t know what happened. Just a sudden sharp headache, but it’s better now.” Oliver reached for Greg’s hand, and the pain struck again, only this time he saw himself grimacing in pain through Greg’s eyes. However, the pain and the disorientation were not as intense as with the first attack, and they seemed to pass almost immediately. In their wake, Oliver was left with an almost euphoric feeling. Energy surged through his mind and body. He suddenly felt like he was eighteen again. His heartbeat became strong and regular, his breathing deep and unlabored, his limbs light and powerful. A door opened in his mind, and a fresh breeze blew away all his stale thoughts and self-doubts. Something had freed him, and unencumbered, he could for the first time in his life see the world as it really was. He took Greg’s hand and squeezed it; he felt his own hand as well as Greg’s, and the strange duality made him laugh.
“I know about Amanda, my friend,” Oliver said. “She’s driving down from Boulder to see if your suspicions are correct, and you’re worried that the FBI will try to take her.” The words exploded out of Oliver’s mouth. “And if they do, you’re worried that she will hurt, maybe even kill some of them. She’s been changed; she has grown into something different. I can see it all in your mind.”
Greg pulled his hand away from the priest and stared at him, dumbfounded. “How?” was all he managed to say.
Oliver sagged as the connection was broken. He was sixty-two again. His heart returned to its old familiar, irregular rhythm, and the heaviness found its way back into his limbs, but his mind remained invigorated. It raced with excitement and wonder, the disillusionment and depression that had troubled him for weeks suddenly locked away in the basement of his mind. It was inexplicable and amazing, like suddenly discovering that he had wings, and could fly.
“I don’t know, Greg, nothing like this has ever happened before,” Oliver said, amazement filling his voice. “You touched me, and suddenly I could see myself through your eyes, but it went beyond just sensation. Somehow, I knew what you were going to say. I saw your thoughts. I felt them in my mind in my chest, everywhere.”
“Can you feel them now?” Greg sat back down, eyeing the
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