Backtracker (110 page)

Larry must have told the truth.

Finally, Dave had his revelation. Even as the blonde reached for the fifth tube, he reeled from the blow of sudden realization.

Everything that
he'd
feared was true. He was Larry; his future self had slaughtered many, had killed Billy Bristol; his future self had sold his soul, which was Dave
'
s soul, too; Michael Moses might grow up to kill his parents.

Dave had indeed killed himself when
he'd
killed Larry Smith.

Wincing at the screen, he saw the fifth number between the blonde
'
s steady fingertips.

Sixty
-
three.

The fifth number of the drawing was sixty
-
three.

He knew that it was on the ticket; it had to be there, of course. Larry had known all the numbers, had written them
down, written them in order.

Dave glanced at the ticket, then flicked his gaze back to the screen. The young woman and the
"
witness
"
were moving on to the sixth tube; the drawing was almost done.

The blonde extended a hand toward the tube.

Dave frowned.

Sixty
-
three. The fifth number had been sixty
-
three.

Sixty
-
three.

He'd
only glanced at the ticket, had been so sure that the number was there that he
hadn
'
t
bothered to look closely, but...

He looked again. As the blonde opened the sixth tube, he stared at the ticket in his grip.

He could find no sixty
-
three.

There was no sixty
-
three on the lottery ticket. There had been no sixty
-
three on Larry Smith
'
s list.

Larry had missed one.

Puzzled, Dave bobbed his eyes up from the ticket in time to see the sixth number displayed on the television.

Forty
-
one.

The sixth number was forty
-
one.

Again, he searched the ticket. He scanned it once, then checked it a second time.

He went over it a third time.

He could find no forty
-
one.

Larry had missed two.

When Dave again gaped at the screen, the seventh number was in view, the next
-
to
-
the
-
last number of the drawing.

One.

It was a one.

Larry had missed three.

The final ball shot from the drum, erupted to the top of the final tube. The blonde rolled the ball around so that Dave could see the last number.

Twenty.

The last number of the Lucky Seven drawing was twenty.

There was no twenty on the ticket.

There had been no twenty on the list.

Larry had missed four.

Larry had correctly picked three, three in a row, three numbers in order...but
he'd
missed the next four,
hadn
'
t
even been close in the rest of his choices.

Larry had missed four.

So much for his
"
gift.
"
So much for
"
the winning numbers.
"

For a moment, Dave just stared at the ticket in his hands. He frowned at the rows of numbers printed on the face of the card, the wrong and useless numbers which
he'd
bought for a dollar at a convenience store.

He knew...

He knew...

He knew nothing.

It occurred to him that he knew nothing.
He'd
expected to know everything after the drawing...but now that it was all over, he realized that he still knew nothing.

He knew no more than
he'd
known before the lottery drawing, not really. He knew no more about Larry than
he'd
known a month ago.

Before the drawing, Dave had considered the two possible outcomes, and
he'd
decided what they would mean: if Larry
'
s numbers turned out to be correct, then
he'd
told the truth about coming from the future
-
and, probably, everything else; if Larry was wrong about the numbers, then
he'd
lied. Dave had thought that it would be that simple, that conclusive.

He now realized that
he'd
been wrong. There were still no simple, conclusive answers.

Larry
'
s numbers had been incorrect...but if Dave took that to mean that Larry had lied, then there would be no explanations for certain phenomena.

Larry had predicted the arrival of the cop at the party, had pinpointed the cop
'
s reason for stopping at Billy
'
s trailer. If Larry
hadn
'
t
come from the future, then how had he managed such a feat?

Larry had foreseen Boris
'
suicide attempt, had foreseen every detail. If Larry
hadn
'
t
been a time
-
traveler, then how had he accomplished this?

How had Larry known Dave
'
s secrets? If Larry had lied about his identity, as the lottery results suggested, then how had he secured information which should never have come into his possession?

Dave
didn
'
t
know. He still
didn
'
t
know.

He
couldn
'
t
think of any rational explanation for Larry
'
s predictions and insights. The only theory which might account for the anomalies was that Larry had been psychic, as Dave had first suspected; however, Dave found that he could no longer believe that Larry had ever wielded any psychic powers. If Larry had been telepathic, he could have learned Dave
'
s secrets by reading his mind...but if he could read Dave
'
s mind, he also should have been able to manipulate and avoid him far more successfully. If Larry had been precognitive, he could have learned of the cop and the suicide attempt by peering into the future...but he also should have seen what would happen at Cross Creek, and he should have been able to avert it somehow.

Psychic powers
weren
'
t
the answer; the psychic theory raised too many questions. What, then,
was
the answer? If the lottery outcome meant that Larry had lied about his origins, then how had he known what
he'd
known, done what
he'd
done?

Dave
didn
'
t
know.
He'd
thought that he would know, but he
didn
'
t
.

Perhaps, despite Larry
'
s failure to leave behind the correct numbers, his story was still somehow true. Perhaps,
he'd
indeed learned of the numbers in the future, but he
hadn
'
t
memorized them correctly, or his memory had been altered on the trip back through time, or
he'd
simply made a mistake when
he'd
jotted down the note for Dave. Perhaps, the numbers had been correct in the history that Larry had remembered...but when he came back and changed the past, history shifted and different numbers were drawn.

Perhaps, Larry had told the truth after all.

Dave
didn
'
t
know.

Perhaps, Larry had lied; perhaps,
he'd
told the truth. Dave
couldn
'
t
be sure of either alternative.

He wanted to believe that Larry had lied. He wanted to know that he
hadn
'
t
glimpsed his own future; he wanted to know that he could never become like Larry.

He wanted to be free of doubt for his actions at Cross Creek. He wanted to be certain that
he'd
done the right thing in saving the child; he wanted to know that he
hadn
'
t
killed himself when
he'd
killed Larry Smith.

He wanted to know that his soul
wasn
'
t
in jeopardy.

He wanted to know.

He
didn
'
t
know.

Disappointed, confused, depleted, he stuffed the ticket in his shirt
-
pocket and slumped into the sofa cushions.

He
didn
'
t
know.

Darlene returned from upstairs then, carrying a tray. Before he heard her footsteps, Dave smelled the hot popcorn that she was delivering.

"
I thought I
'
d make a little snack,
"
she said pleasantly, slowly descending the stairs, taking care not to spill the bowl of popcorn or the glasses of iced tea on the tray.
"
I didn
'
t know if you were hungry, but I
'
m kind of hungry myself.
"

"
Thanks,
"
said Dave, managing a smile for her.
"
Smells good.
"

"
Oh, I know,
"
she said, and then she closed her eyes for an instant and inhaled deeply.
"
I
love
the smell of hot buttered popcorn.
"

"
Me, too,
"
said Dave.

She brought the tray to him and he lifted the bowl of popcorn from it. He placed the bowl in his lap, then took a glass of iced tea in each hand.

Darlene leaned the empty tray against the side of the sofa, then sat next to him. She drew her legs up underneath her, snuggled against him; she accepted one of the glasses and sipped at the tea.

"
Anything good on TV
?
"
she asked, gazing at the flickering screen.

"
Don
'
t know,
"
he shrugged.

He
didn
'
t
know.

After all that had happened, all that
he'd
suffered, he still knew nothing. Larry was still as much of a mystery as
he'd
been when Dave had first met him.

It
wasn
'
t
fair. It just
wasn
'
t
fair.

Dave had hoped to learn Larry
'
s secrets, uncover what was surely an amazing truth.
He'd
hoped to discover if the supernatural was real, if fantastic, magical forces actually existed outside the imagination.

He'd
hoped...

Though he
hadn
'
t
wanted to recognize it,
he'd
perhaps hoped most of all to learn of his own destiny, discover what the future held for him. Deep down, especially in the beginning,
he'd
perhaps hoped most fervently to divine what course he should follow.

He'd
hoped to know what he should do.

In the end, he knew nothing.

He knew nothing.

He knew nothing except that
he had
another semester of college ahead, an extra semester to make up for the classes that
he'd
failed...

...and he would have to keep an eye on Michael Moses through the years, just in case Larry had told the truth about him...