The Missing Boatman Part 23

He stood on the Trans-Canada highway, facing west. A brisk wind blew in from the north and made him squint against its chill. He stared at the asphalt, grey and snaking with white swirls of snow. Couldn't have been more than ninety minutes. This time he tried his best to measure what happened. Tried his best to just grip the wheel and see the land blur by as it should have.

But here he was.

On the shoulder of the road, he stood before a sign with thin white socks of snow gathered around its posts. It was a big yellow and blue one. "Welcome" was printed over a rising sun, coming up over a blue mountain range. Beneath that, against white that Tony a.s.sumed to represent snow, read "British Columbia," with a side note Tony had to tilt his head to read-"The Best Place on Earth." There was a chill in his feet now, and he wasn't sure if it was the cold or not. But he didn't get sick. He swayed a little, shoved by the wind, but stayed in place, staring at the impossible. What he knew was impossible.

And yet, the impossible was right smack before him.

It was certainly funky, and better than flying, as he could still pull over when things got too much for him. The shock of folding time made him think of what a shot of adrenalin to the heart might feel like. No more that ninety minutes on the road, and they managed to cross the vastness of Alberta and pause right on the provincial border.

f.u.c.king incredible.

He stood for a moment more, considering the road sign and the mountains in the distance. He had never been to British Columbia. Always said that when he had the money, he never had the time, and when he had the time, he never had the money. Now it seemed as if he gripped both by the b.a.l.l.s and they were howling at him... and here he stood.

If only all things in life could be so simple.

The cold bit him again and forced him to return to his growling Mustang. He left the motor running for Lucy. He closed the door as softly as possible once behind the wheel, not wanting to disturb the magic he felt. He gripped the wheel as if he were on the edge of something impossibly deep. His knuckles went white.

"You okay?" Lucy asked him softly from the pa.s.senger side.

"Yeah."

"You don't look okay."

"I'm okay."

"You looked s.p.a.ced out," she went on gently. "Can you tell me if you feel funny?"

"I'm okay," he repeated in a whisper. "Really. Just... give me a minute to take this all in. I'll be fine then. Just a minute."

A great sigh left him, and his shoulders slumped. Lucy looked away, granting his request. She did not want to push him any more than necessary. Under the circ.u.mstances, he had handled all she told him the night before quite well. When she finished, Anthony asked if it was okay to just listen to the radio for a while. He needed time then to take it all in, to digest it like a man just given a huge meal after surviving a desert. He had watched the morning light up the sky. He watched the morning news and the coverage of multiple near death accidents and miraculous tales of life. No one perished during the night. Not one soul. One terrible head on collision on a local town road and yet not one person died. The drivers of both cars had been crushed. Crushed.

Yet they lived on.

Whisked off to the emergency ward like slabs of b.l.o.o.d.y meat on magic carpets.

When? Tony asked Lucy then. When would people begin to realize that dying was no longer an option? How would the ma.s.ses react when they found out about their new immortality? What could they do? There, on the corner of Lucy's bed, he held his head in his hands and dropped his gaze to the carpet. He even threatened to jump from the roof, just to see. Lucy scolded him for that. How many, did he suppose, would begin to test that very question? How many sick people-the crazy ones-would go through with their suicides and wake up from their overdose of pills? From their gunshot wounds? How many would simply hang from whatever they attached the hangman's noose to, kicking and twisting in the air until someone discovered them? What would be the ripple effect from these otherwise tried and tested methods to end one's existence? A greater harm to life? Crime perhaps? Or would people just go insane? As much as Tony tried to imagine what would happen, he also thought about the obvious.

Life everlasting.

But to continue to age until your bones were so brittle that a sneeze would rip you apart. Your flesh thin enough that a handshake would feel like an executioner's lash.

All sorts of punishing thoughts ran through Anthony's head, and Lucy comforted him as best as she could.

"Christ," he muttered at the steering wheel. Lucy did not say anything and waited for him.

"Where to from here?" he finally asked.

"That's up to you?"

"Huh?"

Lucy peered at the mountains. "Why here, Anthony? Why did you come here? You picked me up, but it was you that said you were going to BC. You were chosen by Time for a reason. Why? Why you? Why here? What's your lead? Why do you think this Frank is here?"

"Just a guess."

Lucy shook her head. "A guess? You've driven across a county to get here. All this way on a guess. Was it really a guess?"

"Sorta."

Lucy waited. She did not look convinced.

"I dreamed it," he admitted with an embarra.s.sed sigh.

"You dreamed you found him in British Columbia?"

"Maybe. I dreamed-I have been dreaming of some guy playing golf. And the gra.s.s was faded. I only guessed that, if you could play golf anywhere in winter, it would be B.C. It seemed real enough. Weird."

"Very weird."

"But, then," Tony added, "after picking you up, everything's kinda gone that way."

"Yep," Lucy said, popping the 'p.'

"So what do you think?" Tony abruptly asked her.

"Me?" her smile was both sympathetic and hypnotizing. "Doesn't matter what I think. I'm only here as an aide. A co-pilot. Like Freddy."

"You're not like Freddy."

"Thank you."

"I mean..." he was about to swear at the enormity of it all but caught himself. It was a ridiculous long shot finding anyone anywhere, a needle hidden in a haystack amongst a football field of identical haystacks.

Tony released the wheel. Felt the ache in his hands. What the h.e.l.l was he doing here? It was official. He was officially in klicks over his head.

"You okay?" Lucy checked.

Tony didn't answer.

Lucy kept quiet for a moment, and then decided she had something to say. "You know, for all that's happened, and what will happen, despite all the mysteries left unexplained or the forces walling in reality as you know it, there is one thing that remains constant. That is, simply, you. People. Whether you believe in us isn't really important-well, maybe it'll become important, but when things were working and people were dying regardless of their time on earth, we always existed for you. We watched you, and we believed in you, often when you did not believe in yourselves. You are not the only person searching for Frank, Anthony. You are not alone in this. There are others, and they are also being aided by those like me to help them accomplish what needs to be done. Whether or not we succeed is not known, but we are here to help, and we will always be here, behind reality. We believe you will succeed, and we're here to help. We always will be. As weird as it sounds, we believe in you, and we're just amazed that, despite all of our abilities, we can't solve this problem without you. Without any of you."

Tony looked at her, his eyes red rimmed. He was absorbing it better than the night before.

"Believe me," Lucy went on, "if we could do this alone, we would. Who wants to..." she struggled for a moment, searching for the right words, "Who wants to use children as soldiers?"

"So, why me?" Tony asked.

"You? You're special. All of you are special. Think of yourself as a bloodhound. And there is something else." Lucy hesitated for a moment. "You have conditioning against pain."

Tony made a face. He wasn't sure he followed.

"You're tougher than most," Lucy tried to clarify. "You have a high pain threshold. You can take a beating, and not feel it as bad. Isn't that right?"

He nodded reluctantly. He could indeed take a punch. Several punches. It was never about how hard he could hit, but how hard he could get hit, how much punishment he could sustain before his legs dropped him out of a fight. He had never been knocked out. He had sustained deep knife cuts, caught fingers in car doors, hard knocks from accidental falls, and every time, he would simply grimace where others would scream out. He always thought he had nerve damage. His mother was the same way, but hers had beyond her limit.

"That is why Tim-Timechose you," Lucy whispered and smiled at him. "You are very special to us."

"Sorry about all that," Tony said and meant it.

"It's okay. You didn't completely freak out on me."

"Has it happened before?"

"Mmhmmm, you would not believe the things people will say or do sometimes. Or maybe you do?"

"Maybe."

"Well, anyway. You were chosen for those reasons. Following your instincts is exactly what we need. A departure from logic. Believe me, if it were as simple as placing a phone tap we would have done it already."

That made Tony think. Lucy became quiet, recognizing the magic of thought when she saw it.

"Let's find a phone booth," Tony finally said. "Find a listing of golf courses. There can't be that many around. And there can't be that many open in March."

"Do you have a name in mind?"

"Yeah," Tony answered as he put the Mustang into gear. "Anything to do with clouds. And Lucy?"

"Yes?"

"Let's drive slow this time. No more warp? Okay?"

Lucy winked at him and smiled. "Okay."

They drove deeper into British Columbia, looking for a phone booth. They found a new-looking motel just off one of the ramp ways. A huge sign framed with unlit bulbs said "Happy Site." Tony parked the car, which coughed and sputtered bad enough for him to get a wondering look from Lucy. He was thinking it, too. The beast was sick. Hauling a.s.s across the nation just might have taken its toll. They left the Mustang on the parking lot and went to the Happy Site's reception desk. He asked the receptionist for a telephone book, which the young man produced without a word. Tony took it and sat down on a cushy chair, near a window with a view of the parking lot. Lucy joined him, sitting with her hands between her knees, and watching him with interest.

"You got a pen and paper?" Tony asked. She immediately got up and went to the receptionist. She returned with both and handed them over.

Tony wanted to ask her if she went that far for nothing, how far would she go if he actually offered something. It was an old joke, and he kept it to himself. He took the pen and paper, and wrote down what he found. "Mountain Greens," he muttered in a light but clearly impressed tone. There was an address for Party Cloudy Road.

"Got something?" Lucy asked.

"Yeah, maybe," he answered. He tucked the paper inside his jacket. "Follow me."

They left the motel without looking back at the receptionist and walked briskly to the car. The seats were still warm.

"Well?" Lucy demanded as she sat next to him. "What's up? Are you going to tell me or just leave me hanging?"

"Sorry," he said. He didn't want to keep anything from this one. "Can you play golf?"

"Golf?" she repeated sceptically.

"Yeah."

"Still thinking about your dreams?"

"Yeah."

She nodded slowly, understanding softening her features. Truly, she thought, who could really understand where these wondrous creatures came up with their ideas. But, given how they were p.r.o.ne to be wrong with their predictions, Lucy learned long ago to hold her breath. This time though, she felt no doubt at all.

She felt quite lucky instead.

"You have an address?"

"Yup." He held it up, over the steering wheel. "Shouldn't be too hard to find. It's a golf course after all."

Lucy smiled. "Have you ever played?"

"Golf?" he perked up. "Once. Well. No. I went walking around the greens with a buddy once. He played. I watched. Just there for the exercise. And it was summer. Just shootin' the s.h.i.t, y'know."

She frowned slightly at the word. Tony liked seeing the crease between her eyes.

"How did it look?"

"Boring. Much rather club a seal. But I was with a buddy, so it wasn't bad. I knew nothing of the game really, and I remember asking him how long it was going to take to play. Two or three hours, I figured. He laughed at that. Five hours later, we were done."

"Oh, well," Lucy said, not impressed. "Maybe I'll try it sometime."

"You can swing a club?"

"I can swing anything," she grinned.

Tony grinned back. "I bet you can. Let's drive."

One hour later they arrived at the golf course-there hadn't been the slightest bit of fast time, Tony thought. Perhaps 'fast time' was only for the highway driving. There were no walls barricading the course, only open fields that could be seen from the road. The greens were more crab apple yellow, and deserted. But Tony had a hunch. A mighty powerful hunch. He felt it when he first saw the ad. He felt that if he had his eyes closed and were just tracing the page with a finger, he would have stopped on that same ad. The feeling was that powerful. He opened his door and glanced at Lucy.

"We're here," was all he said.

Chapter 30.

The world.