face looked bad. Dark, dried blood crusted the cut above his eye. Some of it smeared across his forehead. A deep abrasion discolored his swollen cheekbone. His left ear was boxed and thick; his cheeks appeared hollowed, and his jawline more pronounced. This was not the same Dan Blakely who had looked back at him from the mirror in the bathroom off his bedroom just a short while ago. This was a man running from Death but apparently not running fast enough.
He had the strange feeling again that he was being followed, pursued. That some gruesome thing was hot on his tail and gaining quickly. Above the sink was a vent blowing warm air into the small room. An easy entrance point for any airborne instrument of Death. Dan tore several long sections from the roll of toilet paper and quickly stuffed them between the wide slats of the vent.
When he finished, he stood back and studied his work, then quickly removed all the paper and tossed it into the toilet. That was something a crazy person would do, and he wasnât crazy. He began to shake and quiver and felt the urge to scream. Panic clutched at his chest and throat and made breathing a chore. Gripping the edge of the sink, Dan said aloud, âPull yourself together.â
Tearing off another paper towel, he ran it under the cold water, then dabbed at his eye. The clot softened and wiped away. He then cleaned the dried blood from his forehead and the abrasion on his cheek. The water stung and made him wince. But his head hurt worst, as though someone had forced it into a vise and tightened until his skull cracked. Fishing two aspirin from the bottle, he popped them into his mouth, cupped his hands under the water, and washed the pills down. Lastly, he applied two bandages to the cut above his eye.
Dan stared at himself again in the mirror. His education had taught him the difference between possibility and probability. Just because something was possible didnât mean it was probable. He concluded that it was entirely possible that all of this was a dream, that he was still pinned beneath the Volvo on the side of Benderâs Mountain, unconscious, his life slowly draining from him, almost gone now. That everything heâd experienced since thenâThomas Constant, the clocks, the confrontation with Erin and Justin, even the cashier and this bathroomâwere all part of a coma-induced dream, the final synaptic firings of a brain about to shut down for good.
It was possible but not probable.
Heâd been beaten and cut, felt the snow on his hands and face, the wind in his lungs. It was all too detailed, too vivid, to be a dream.
But none of that mattered anyway. What mattered was that heâd been given another chance to see Sue and the boys, to hug them and tell them he loved them, to say good-bye. He didnât care if was a dream or not. He didnât give a hoot about probability versus possibility.
After relieving himself and washing his hands, he left the bathroom.
The snow fell steadily now and blew sideways. Sticking close to the building for protection from the storm, Dan made his way back to the front door and inside the small store. He slid the keys across the counter to the cashier.
The kid caught them easily. âHey, thanks, man,â he said. âHey, listen, I didnât mean to get all personal in your business before. I just couldnât help but seeââ
As the kid talked, Dan glanced outside at the Volvo and thought he saw someone crouched on the other side of it, near the front tire.
ââand thought maybe you neededââ
âThanks,â Dan said as he left the counter.
Pushing through the door and into the cold, he saw a man move from the front tire to the rear of the vehicle. There was no mistaking the black suit.
âHey!â He stepped off the curb and onto the parking lot, slipped on some loose snow, and almost went down. Regaining his balance, Dan hurried to the car and rounded the rear
He had the strange feeling again that he was being followed, pursued. That some gruesome thing was hot on his tail and gaining quickly. Above the sink was a vent blowing warm air into the small room. An easy entrance point for any airborne instrument of Death. Dan tore several long sections from the roll of toilet paper and quickly stuffed them between the wide slats of the vent.
When he finished, he stood back and studied his work, then quickly removed all the paper and tossed it into the toilet. That was something a crazy person would do, and he wasnât crazy. He began to shake and quiver and felt the urge to scream. Panic clutched at his chest and throat and made breathing a chore. Gripping the edge of the sink, Dan said aloud, âPull yourself together.â
Tearing off another paper towel, he ran it under the cold water, then dabbed at his eye. The clot softened and wiped away. He then cleaned the dried blood from his forehead and the abrasion on his cheek. The water stung and made him wince. But his head hurt worst, as though someone had forced it into a vise and tightened until his skull cracked. Fishing two aspirin from the bottle, he popped them into his mouth, cupped his hands under the water, and washed the pills down. Lastly, he applied two bandages to the cut above his eye.
Dan stared at himself again in the mirror. His education had taught him the difference between possibility and probability. Just because something was possible didnât mean it was probable. He concluded that it was entirely possible that all of this was a dream, that he was still pinned beneath the Volvo on the side of Benderâs Mountain, unconscious, his life slowly draining from him, almost gone now. That everything heâd experienced since thenâThomas Constant, the clocks, the confrontation with Erin and Justin, even the cashier and this bathroomâwere all part of a coma-induced dream, the final synaptic firings of a brain about to shut down for good.
It was possible but not probable.
Heâd been beaten and cut, felt the snow on his hands and face, the wind in his lungs. It was all too detailed, too vivid, to be a dream.
But none of that mattered anyway. What mattered was that heâd been given another chance to see Sue and the boys, to hug them and tell them he loved them, to say good-bye. He didnât care if was a dream or not. He didnât give a hoot about probability versus possibility.
After relieving himself and washing his hands, he left the bathroom.
The snow fell steadily now and blew sideways. Sticking close to the building for protection from the storm, Dan made his way back to the front door and inside the small store. He slid the keys across the counter to the cashier.
The kid caught them easily. âHey, thanks, man,â he said. âHey, listen, I didnât mean to get all personal in your business before. I just couldnât help but seeââ
As the kid talked, Dan glanced outside at the Volvo and thought he saw someone crouched on the other side of it, near the front tire.
ââand thought maybe you neededââ
âThanks,â Dan said as he left the counter.
Pushing through the door and into the cold, he saw a man move from the front tire to the rear of the vehicle. There was no mistaking the black suit.
âHey!â He stepped off the curb and onto the parking lot, slipped on some loose snow, and almost went down. Regaining his balance, Dan hurried to the car and rounded the rear
Similar Books
