Chances Aren't (11 page)

"What?"

"Ben Hunter." Smiling, she hands me back the card. "You're the guy that saved that woman and her baby, right?"

I look around to see if anyone else is listening and discover we're alone. "Um, well, yeah. How did you—"

"Saw your picture on the news last night. You're like a hero. Wow, you could have been killed."

"Yeah." I frown.

When I leave the store, I check my cell phone and find no missed calls or voice mails. If Emily knew, she probably would have called, so I'm sure she has no idea. I arrive at work and slip into my office, passing a few coworkers along the way, but no one mentions anything about the accident.

Inside my office, I close the door and gaze out the window at nothing in particular. I'm back here and I have no idea what to do now. How strange is it going to look to return to the site of the accident and do what I was going to do yesterday? Now I need to pick a new place, and for that matter, probably a new way to do it— this really sucks. If some random cashier recognized me, I'm sure it won't be long before word spreads through the office. Now I've got to wait at least until my story is a forgotten one before I can make any plans.

I open the door to my office and take a look down the empty hallway before returning to my desk. After going through the messages in my inbox, I grab a cup of tea and as I'm walking back to my office I see Greg approaching, briefcase in hand. He gives me a huge smile. "Ben, what the hell?"

"Good morning," I say hesitantly.

"What, uh, you needed to leave early so you could be a hero?"

"No, I—"

When he reaches me, he extends his hand. "Jesus Christ, remind me to keep you close by if I ever get in a car accident. I heard you lifted the car off the woman who was trapped under—"

"No, no, I just pulled her out of the car. It's totally not a big deal."

"Oh..." He makes a face. "Is that all? I heard the man died this morning."

"Shit." Preoccupied with that news, I take a sip of scalding tea and grimace as I walk past Greg toward my office. I mutter, "Shit, the one day it's actually hot…"

"What?" He follows behind me.

"Never mind."

"Was there an explosion?" Greg's eyes widen. "Oh, sorry, we can talk later. I didn't know you were in a meeting."

"Meeting?" Following his gaze, I turn to look in my doorway and discover a man sitting in the chair across from my desk. "Oh, hey, um—"

"Ben." Nodding, the man rises to his feet and approaches the door looking past me to my boss. "Don't let this one get away."

"We wouldn't let that happen," Greg replies, wearing a warm smile.

My mouth drops open confused as I shift my gaze from Greg back to the man in my office. "Did we have an appointment or, uh..."

The man chuckles. "Must be a little confused from all the excitement from yesterday."

"What?" Suddenly, I notice the unmistakable stars bracelet tattoo and I return to study the man's face.

The man slips past me to Greg. "You mind if I steal him for a few minutes?"

"No, certainly not."

The man shakes Greg's hand and turns to me. With a wave of his finger he directs me to my desk. Shuffling my way to the chair, I sit. I make eye contact with my similarly confused looking boss as the man closes the door and returns to the chair. "Ben. Ben. Ben." He shakes his head and gives me a smile.

"Yeah." I'm once again staring at his wrist tattoo.

Raising his arm up, he gives me a better view of it. "You like?"

"Are you..." I narrow my eyes. "You couldn't, um, you're his brother or something with matching tattoos, right?"

"No, I'm him or is it I'm he?" He looks to me for a response.

"I'm not sure," I reply, confused by more than just the grammar question.

"I was never any good at English, and what the hell does it matter now?" He shrugs, smiling.

"Okay... just to be sure we're talking about the same him, which, um, him are you... exactly?"

Chuckling, he rises from the chair and picks up a book from the shelf. "Ben Hunter, what am I going to do with you?"

"Fuck if I know."

"Have you read this?" He asks, holding up the book.

"Yeah, it's great." I reply without even looking at the title and run my hands over my mostly bald head, giving him an exhausted look.

"I should have read more."

"We all should read more... Now, again just to be clear—"

"Yes, Ben." Placing the book back on the shelf, he looks me in the eye. "I'm the guy whose wife and child you saved yesterday."

"Okay." I gaze at him, unblinkingly.

"And by the way, thank you for doing that."

"Sure." I point directly at him. "But, I, uh, thought you died."

"Yep." He frowns a moment then suddenly smiles. "How's it feel?"

"How's what feel?"

"Being a hero."

After pondering that a moment, I reply, "I feel pretty crappy, like I do every other day."

"Cheer up. You're alive."

"That's easy for you to say." Studying his face closely, I hold my chin up with two fingers. "So, um, not that I don't believe you or anything, but can you prove that you are
the
guy?"

Shrugging, he tilts his head. "Don't I look familiar?"

"A little, but yesterday... the guy was in pretty bad shape— bloody and bruised— a mess, really."

"Yeah, but I came back."

"Okayyyy, but, um—"

"Look." He sighs. "I went up." He points to the ceiling and my gaze follows him up. "You could say they patched me up... or the image you see is, I don't know... my best self."

"What?"

"We all look our best up there."

I give him a confused look and say slowly, "That's good to know."

"I'm William, but don't call me Will, I hate that."

I return a nod. "Okay."

William returns to the chair and slumps back crossing his legs. "I understand you were trying to kill yourself yesterday."

"What?"

He shoots me a disapproving look. "You know, he doesn't like that."

"Who?"

William points once again to the ceiling, but I don't bother looking.

"I was not trying to kill myself."

Scoffing, he shakes his head. "You're really going to lie to me?"

"What? No, I, uh—"

"We'll save a lot of time if you're honest with me. I know all about the tree and your wife Emily and the fertility issue... that's sad because kids are great."

"I know, I've heard," I reply with a slightly sarcastic tone.

"Oh and Nina... ohhh, wow, she's hot..." He raises his eyebrows at me for a moment before his expression morphs into a frown. "You really shouldn't have taken advantage of her when she was… she was really upset and—"

"Hey, I didn't…" My jaw drops as I plead, "We were both drinking and she kinda started it so, I don’t think—"

"Well, obviously." He scoffs.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"Come on. She is so out of your league. She never would have slept with you if she wasn't drunk."

"Hey, wait, I'm in great shape for guy my age."

William shoots me a skeptical look.

"All right, in decent shape anyway."

He rolls his eyes. "Whatever. But you saw she was starting to cry after you…" He motions with his hand while making a face. "…you know, did you really need to keep going and going?"

"I thought those were tears of joy." Sighing, I rub my forehead. "How do you know all this stuff?"

"I've been briefed."

"Briefed?" I take a few moments to process all this. "Are you saying, um, He..." I point to the ceiling. "Set all this up to keep me from, you know... He took your life to save mine?"

He laughs.

"What?" I ask, confused.

"Look, don't flatter yourself. I am where I am because it was my time— nobody was up there looking out for you. And my time, I suppose unfortunately for you, but fortunately for my wife and daughter..." He brings his fists together twice to emphasize the point. "...coincided with your plans yesterday."

"Oh..." Turning to look out the window, I ponder that a bit. "So, were your wife and daughter supposed to die yesterday as well?"

"Yeah, and they're not too happy about that up there. Evidently it was their time too."

I return to look him in the eye. "What do they need you all up there for?"

He simply shrugs. "Got me."

I scoff. "I mean, I never understood that God needs a first baseman garbage."

"What are you taking about?"

"Like when a child dies who plays baseball we're all told it was God's plan… he's in a better place and like he needed another kid for his team or some crap."

"It is a better place, but I didn't see any baseball games going on up there."

"Well, you were only up there for what, like half a day, so…"

He nods in agreement.

After taking a deep breath, I raise my palms up in confusion. "Will, so what are you—"

"It's William."

"That's right. William, so, what are you doing here exactly?"

"I came to thank you and I'm also here to help you."

"Help me? How can you help me?"

"You hate your life, right?"

I scoff. "Well, yeah..."

"How'd you like another shot at it?"

"Shot at what?"

"Life. Your life." He gives me a wide eyed look.

"I don't know what you're talking about. How can you give me another shot?"

Rising up from his chair, he motions for the door. "Can we take a walk?"

"Where?"

"I'd like you to show me around the warehouse."

"What the hell does a warehouse tour have to do with giving me another—"

"It just does."

I frown. "It's loud and hot and it smells kinda bad out there. Are you sure?"

He gives me an exhausted look and sighs, waiting.

"All right." I stand and grab my phone off the desk.

We make our way through row after row of office cubicles, then through the break room and out the double doors to the warehouse of building six. I lead my dead friend through this newer section of the complex, pointing out the features in our state of the art distribution system with as much enthusiasm as I can muster. The plant is comprised of multiple, seemingly random, interconnected buildings built at different times spread over decades as the business grew. We leave the quiet high rack bulk storage areas of building six and enter building five, hearing the loud whirl of its intricate rolling conveyor system. It's got to be approaching ninety degrees in the un-air-conditioned huge steel box of a structure. He's looking all around, mesmerized at the equipment, then he stops and his eye follows a single box until it disappears, turning a corner on its journey to the shipping area. We start walking again, keeping to the defined pedestrian path as workers rush around on foot and driving fork lifts all around us.

"There it is," William says and picks up speed taking off ahead of me.

"What?" I ask, but he doesn't respond. When we're twenty feet from the tunnel, which connects the new buildings to the older ones, I stop walking.

Suddenly he turns and gives me a bright eyed look. "This is it."

"Where are we going?"

"Back in time. You do want to go back, don't you?"

"Um... well, it depends on exactly what you mean, because I really hated high school and if I've got to go back and deal with all that crap again then forget—"

"Would you just trust me?" He groans and waits for my reply.

"Okay. All right."

Nodding, he spins back toward the tunnel and heads off.

I follow behind him and ask loudly over the hum of a vehicle pulling a pallet of boxes as it approaches. "But really, exactly where the hell are we going?"

"To the old building," he says. I catch up to him and we walk side by side and he adds, "Do you know when they broke ground on this building we’re standing in right now?"

"No."

He stops walking and turns to look at me. "July third, nineteen eighty eight."

He waits seemingly for that information to sink in. Seconds later when it does, I mumble, "Shit, that's, um, wow…" Smiling, my mind drifts away as I take a deep breath. Then I shake my head, confused. "But, how—"

He shrugs. "All I know is that you
can
do this. I can help you do this, but only if you do it today… now. Are you in?"

"Yes."

He turns and heads into the tunnel, which is over five hundred feet long. It's about fifteen feet wide and passes over a stream and a wide valley that separates the two structures. He walks quickly with me trailing a few steps behind him, and midway through a scooter comes toward us driven by a warehouse manager. I nod without looking at the driver as he flies past us and quicken my pace to catch up to William.