Backtracker (48 page)

Mr. Wyland loudly cleared his throat, giving Dave a start; judging from the expectant look on the manager
'
s face, Dave guessed that he must have missed something that Wyland had said.
"
Uh, what
?
"
he dumbly asked the boss.

"
I, um, asked if you know some other way to get in touch with Larry,
"
Mr. Wyland said stiffly.
"
I called the phone number in his file, but there wasn
'
t any answer. Is there another number you know of?
"

Dave shook his head. Briefly, he wondered why there had been no answer at the number listed in the file, which Larry had told him was the number of the bar beneath his room; he concluded that the bar was probably empty at that hour,
wouldn
'
t
open until later that night.

Then, he suddenly realized the import of Mr. Wyland
'
s look at the file...the unorthodox, incomplete personnel file of Larry Smith.

If Mr. Wyland had been into the file,
he had
no doubt noticed its lack of appropriate paperwork. If he
had noticed
the lack of paperwork,
he'd
certainly realized that something was wrong, that crucial corners had been cut for unknown reasons; if he realized that, then Larry Smith would
definitely
not be able to return to the Wild West Steakhouse.

If Larry ever came back, Fred Wyland would naturally confront him about the file, ask him why it
didn
'
t
contain the proper forms. Larry could make up a story, perhaps blame Tom Martin for the breach of regulations; however, Mr. Wyland might not believe the story, might just fire Larry on the spot...or, he might think that Larry had been an accomplice in Martin
'
s embezzlement. Martin had hired Larry; the fact that Larry
'
s file
didn
'
t
contain what it should might suggest a
cover
-
up
, a partnership between the two men. If Larry returned, and Wyland suspected that
he'd
been in cahoots with Martin, Wyland might not only fire the guy, but get him into serious trouble as well. Whatever complications might arise, Dave was sure that Larry would want to avoid them at all costs.

Dave wondered if Mr. Wyland would comment on the file, make some mention of its abnormality. The manager, however, said nothing more about it; he told Dave that he ought to get started in the dishroom, that Billy would handle the fry cook station as well as the broiler, and then he marched off to attend to other business. Whatever his thoughts on the file, he was keeping them to himself for now.

With a sigh, Dave retreated to the dishroom; as soon as he entered the place, he saw that it really
was
a mess, just as Mr. Wyland had told him. There were
bus pans
everywhere
,
stacked on every available surface, each one overflowing with slop and dirty dishes. Cups and mugs were piled high in the sinks, silverware was scattered over the floor; apparently, someone had dropped a whole jar of French dressing, for there was a huge, orange burst on the floor, too.

For a moment, Dave just stood by the door and surveyed the wreckage before him. He slowly shook his head, realizing with dismay that he faced an arduous evening
'
s work; it would take him a very long time to restore the dishroom to a semblance of order, and he knew that the dirty dishes and slop would just keep flowing from the dining room. It was highly unlikely that there would be any slowdown in business from that point on, since the dinner hour was swiftly approaching.

Even with another person to assist him, Dave would have been hard
-
pressed to clear away the mess and keep up with the demand for clean dishes during a dinner rush. Alone, he would have to work like a maniac, and he would probably not have any breathing room until the steakhouse finally closed for the night. There was no doubt about it: Dave was in for one hell of an evening.

Of course, he realized, it could have been worse. If he was facing such a staggering workload on a Friday or Saturday night, when the steakhouse was far busier, he would be in truly dire straits. If it had been a Friday or Saturday instead of a Wednesday, he would have found himself caught up in a maelstrom of far greater intensity.

As he began his new labors, Dave tried to focus on the fact that his situation could have been worse; digging into the first
bus pan
-
load of slop, he tried valiantly to remain upbeat, keep his spirits from sinking.

He failed. His hectic and unpleasant assignment inevitably dragged him down; the vigor which had filled him throughout the day was sucked away like water down a drain.

As he grew busier, he grew more depressed. Scooping slop from the
bus pans
, hurling racks of plates and cups and silverware through the dishwasher, he remembered how much he hated working at the steakhouse, how nights like this always made him want to quit. Soaked with sweat and spray from the steaming machine, he wished that he was somewhere else, anywhere else.

As he raced around in a hopeless struggle to conquer the mess, he also thought about Larry Smith. He wondered if the tragic psychic had indeed bailed out for good, and if
he had
, if his departure was Dave
'
s fault. He wondered what Larry would do next, where he would go, whom he would try to help...if he would try to help anyone at all.

Dave wondered if he would ever see Larry again, if he would ever in his life cross paths with the guy who had so mystified him.

He hoped that he would.

 

*****

By the time that
he'd
finished work and driven home, Dave Heinrich was thoroughly exhausted. The murderous shift in the dishroom had taken everything out of him, completely worn him out. His whole body ached, especially his arms and legs; he felt woozy and slow, as if he might instantly fall asleep if he closed his eyes, no matter what his position or location. To top it all off, he was still wearing his soaked, filthy uniform;
he'd
been too tired at the end of his shift to change into his street clothes, had just wanted to get out of the steakhouse as quickly as possible.

It was an inauspicious way to end what had started as such a grand day. When
he'd
awakened that morning,
he'd
been peppy and cheerful, refreshed and optimistic...and when he pulled into the driveway of his family
'
s home, he was weary and doleful, sodden and sour. All the energy and lightheartedness had been wrung out of him like juice from an orange.

As he ponderously marched to the front door of the house, he could think of only one thing...collapsing into bed. There would be no TV
-
watching, no reading, no phone calls; he
didn
'
t
have the strength to pursue any activity save slumber.

He was consoled by the fact that he could sleep as long as he wished, as long as he needed. There would be no reason for him to rise early the next morning, for
he'd
taken his last exam and had no more classes to attend. For that matter, he
wouldn
'
t
have to rise
late
, for he
didn
'
t
have to work at the steakhouse the next day...and, in fact, there was absolutely nothing on his agenda for that day, not even the smallest errand.

Bleary
-
eyed, Dave unlocked and opened the front door, dumped his keys into the pocket of his coat. Sluggishly, he staggered into the house, let out a long, exhausted sigh as he pulled the door shut.

After locking the door, Dave turned and saw that his mother and father were still awake: Ann Heinrich was sitting on the sofa, legs stretched out along its length, and Bob Heinrich occupied the recliner. Lit only by the bluish glow of the TV, on which the late news was playing, Dave
'
s parents had an eerie, shadowy cast, like fish in a dimly lit tank.

"
Hi,
"
Mom said pleasantly.
"
How was work?
"

"
Oh, pretty busy,
"
sighed Dave, dropping his knapsack of clothing to the floor.

"
Had to stay late, huh
?
"
said Dad.

"
Yeah,
"
nodded Dave, unzipping his coat.
"
Somebody didn
'
t show up, so they needed me to close the dishroom. I was only supposed to work till eight, but I ended up stuck there till after eleven.
"
Dave shrugged out of his coat, tossed it onto a chair near the door. He stooped to pick up his knapsack, then had to pause as a lion
'
s
-
roar yawn surged out of him.

"
You look like you
'
re bushed,
"
commented Dad.
"
It must
'
ve been a rough night, all right.
"

"
Sure was,
"
Dave said weakly.
"
I just wanna
'
hit the sack.
"

"
Would you like me to get you a cup of tea, maybe
?
"
asked Mom, raising a cup which s
he'd
been holding in her lap.

"
No, thanks,
"
said Dave.
"
I
'
m going straight to bed.
"
Plucking his knapsack from the shag carpeting, he started to plod toward his room.

"
Oh, by the way,
"
pitched Dad then, stopping Dave before
he'd
taken three steps.
"
One of your buddies from work stopped by this evening.
"

"
Oh yeah
?
"
Dave said listlessly.
"
Who was it? Ernie or Boris?
"

"
No, no,
"
dismissed Bob Heinrich, scratching a spot on his bald pate.
"
It wasn
'
t anyone I
'
d ever met before. It was an older guy.
"

Dave shrugged.

"
He was a really nice guy,
"
said Dad.
"
He had
a lot of good things to say about you.
"
A pleased smile surfaced on Bob Heinrich
'
s face, and he chuckled.
"
You know, he came to see you, and he ended up staying a
nd talking to us.
He
'
s a real talker, I
'
ll tell ya
'
. He was about my age, too, wouldn
'
t you say, Ann?
"

"
I
'
d say so,
"
agreed Mom.
"
He looked like he was in his forties.
"

"
I think that
'
s really something,
"
grinned Dad.
"
You having a friend who
'
s about as old as me. Makes me feel like I
'
m not quite as over
-
the
-
hill as you guys make me out to be.
"

Dave
'
s jaw dropped.

Realization had finally hit him. His parents had practically had to pound the message into his tired, murky mind, punch it in with a sledgehammer...but at last, he understood.

He knew who had been to his home.

All thought of hurrying to bed blew out of his brain. All his attention was suddenly focused on one thing, drawn to it like iron filings to a magnet.

The visitor; he could think only of the visitor.

He
didn
'
t
know why
he'd
been there, but he knew his name.

"
Larry,
"
he said softly.
"
Larry Smith was here.
"

"
Yeah, that
'
s him,
"
Dad nodded cheerfully.
"
Larry Smith.
Real
interesting guy. He said he
'
s been all over the world.
"

"
I guess he hasn
'
t been working with you for very long, huh
?
"
said Mom, lifting her cup for a sip of tea.

"
No, he hasn
'
t,
"
answered Dave. One question stood out in his mind, rose up like the steeple of a church from a low
-
lying village: why had Larry
been
there?

Possible answers fluttered down and danced about like butterflies; he chased them, one at a time.

The first and most sensible explanation: Larry had come to see him one last time before leaving town, had come to say goodbye.

"
Did he say why he wanted to see me
?
"
Dave asked his parents.

"
Not that I can remember,
"
replied Bob Heinrich.
"
Did he tell you
?
"
he asked his wife.

"
No, he didn
'
t,
"
said Ann.
"
He asked for you, but he didn
'
t say what he was here for. When he left, he just said he
'
d get back to you later.
"

Apparently, there had been no goodbyes; it
didn
'
t
even sound as if Larry was set to skip town, since
he'd
suggested that he would see Dave again. The first explanation
didn
'
t
seem satisfactory.

The second, still feasible, answer: Larry had come for the
video
. Since Larry
didn
'
t
know that the
video
didn
'
t
exist, and such an item, if it
did
exist, could do him great harm, it was only logical that he might try to confiscate it. Perhaps,
he'd
hoped that Dave would hand it over as a goodwill gesture; perhaps,
he'd
planned to wrest it forcibly from Dave
'
s possession.

"
Did Larry say anything about a
video
?
"
Dave asked his parents.

"
Uh...no,
"
said Dad, frowning thoughtfully.
"
What kind of
video
?
"

"
Any kind of
video
,
"
said Dave.

Bob Heinrich stared at his wife, tapped his forehead as if that would spur his memory.
"
Do you remember anything about a
video
?
"
he asked Ann.

"
No, I don
'
t,
"
said Mom.
"
I don
'
t remember him mentioning anything about a
video
.
"

"
Me, neither,
"
chimed Dad.

"
What is this
video
, anyway
?
"
Mom asked curiously.

"
Oh, just a
video
I have,
"
Dave replied nonchalantly.
"
He said he wanted to borrow it sometime, and I thought maybe that was what he was here for.
"

"
Well, he didn
'
t mention it,
"
confirmed Dad.

Though Dave
couldn
'
t
discount the second explanation,
he had
a feeling that it
didn
'
t
fit the bill. If Larry had come for the
video
, how could he have resisted inquiring about it, trying to maneuver the unsuspecting Ann and Bob into locating and surrendering it?

The third explanation: Larry had been seeking Dave
'
s assistance in preventing one of his visions from being realized. The night before, Dave had offered to help if Larry ever thought that he could be of use; though he
couldn
'
t
act personally to change the future, since he knew Larry
'
s secret, Dave guessed that he could still guide someone else to intervene and stop one of the
"
flashes
"
from coming true. Maybe, Larry had another
"
flash
"
that he wished to neutralize; maybe,
he'd
visited the house in order to procure Dave
'
s help in the task.

"
You
'
re sure he didn
'
t say why he wanted to see me
?
"
Dave asked his parents.

"
Yeah,
"
nodded Dad.
"
He didn
'
t say a thing about it.
"