Page 13 of Shifting Years (Whispering Hills #5)

American Pie played on the semi's radio as the nighttime lights of New York faded in the tall passenger mirror. Everyone else had fun with celebrations, but I had to get out of there. City life with its traffic, noise, and smells suffocated my soul.

Mike mentioned Dallas or New York, so I flipped a coin, and I think it landed wrong. What if I went to Dallas instead? Would I see him in those bookstores he loves so much?

We found each other twice. If I were still in my old hometown, we might have seen each other again, but staying was a bad idea.

Like calling Dad. Figured letting him know I'm alive was decent.

He used our conversation to say Donna was still 'hysterical' when people mentioned a fiancé she's sure she never had.

I cost him the election since the town was convinced I did something to her. Rumors ranged from an attack to giving her drugs. I'd never do that , although I kept Mike's old acid tab.

The warm scent of steaming coffee pulled me out of my daydream. Bill was a stout Black man in his mid-twenties and eligible for Vietnam. The metallic smell from his left leg suggested an implant and a medical deferment. If the war went on much longer, he'd probably get drafted anyway.

I accepted the coffee in the nighttime chill with a thanks. Bill was the type of man my dad would have pulled over, but this stranger picked me up in the cold. "Appreciated." I gestured to the coffee and truck.

"Well, can't leave someone out on the road before Christmas. Don't seem right." The final notes from American Pie played and he turned off the radio. He stared, probably wondering if I were on the run. Canada wasn't too far away.

Not quite. For the first time in my life, I did what I wanted even when I didn't know what Todd liked. So, I listened to jazz in New Orleans, swam in the Gulf of Mexico, fed alligators in Florida, and bathed in Hot Springs, Arkansas. Overall, I stayed in the bottom half of America.

"They call your number?"

His eyes suggested pure curiosity, but I've been yelled at a few times and accused of being a draft dodger. That would have made Mike laugh.

"No… at least I don't think so. My father threw me out." His eyes narrowed. "He's a sheriff."

Three words gave him a world of understanding, and he nodded to himself. "Hell. Must have been something." He tapped The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test book with colorful psychedelic patterns on the cover.

"A friend talked about it."

"Never heavy into LSD myself. More of a mild-stuff, sorta guy."

"Someone gave me a stamp," I said before frowning. "Didn't have the balls to use it."

With one hand steady on the wheel, he rolled up a joint and lit the end. It was both impressive and terrifying. "Suppose that means you're cool?"

Before Mike, I would've said no, but he changed me in ways I was only beginning to understand. He puffed and passed, so I politely accepted.

"Takes the edge off, you know? The loneliness." He was already looking ahead, but now he stared at something hard in the darkness. Was there something more in the rolled-up papers?

"You do anything harder?"

"Once." He mimed putting a stamp on his tongue. "Saw how I was going to die," he said with a smile.

"You believe it?"

"Not sure. If I do, I think it'll happen. If I don't, then I avoid that life. You know, like the kids going up to Canada or down to Mexico."

"So, don't believe."

"Can't. There's a beautiful girl and she's my wife. At least in the vision. If I avoid my death, I won't meet her." He took another long puff and the red tip reflected in his shiny eyes. "I dream about her, you know? A hell of a lot lately."

I made sure my voice was kind. "If you marry her and die, won't that be cruel?"

"Maybe, but I'd decide her life if I never give her a choice. Might turn out, she'd be worse without me." He smiled. "I'm not a bad guy, 'cause I gave a kid in the December cold a lift."

The conversation felt random at first, but minutes later made sense as the semi coasted to a stop. A little town lay less than a mile away. Up ahead was a forked road, with reflective yellow signs showing arrows in two directions.

He pointed. "Looks like every other sign, but I've seen that one."

He didn't say get out, but I got the unspoken message. He handed me a few crumbled bills and enough for a dinner or two. "I'm going left. Town's to the right."

"What's left?"

"The rest of my life. I know it because it's in my bones and every second is hourglass sand slipping away." He paused. "You'll be okay?"

If what he said was true, his wife and love waited for him, but he wanted to make sure a stranger stayed safe.

"Yeah, and thank you." After sliding out, I pounded the passenger door twice before the horn blared.

Thousands of pounds of metal slowly rolled forward, heading toward a future he seemed to know.

The smartest thing would be to get food and shelter, even if the cold didn't really bother me.

Hitchhiking with no real plan didn't find Mike, but I lived life.

There was 'something' to just taking the other path.

With no thought, I found myself deep in the forest, instinctively avoiding holes and tricky branches.

Several minutes away from the dark highway, I discovered a circular grove.

Soon, I had a small stamp out of a sealed baggie and on my tongue.

Nothing happened for half an hour while I lay on the ground feeling like an idiot. Maybe Mike was right. Do I need music to kick it off?

Seconds or maybe minutes ticked by. For the first time in ages, I shivered, and the overhead stars glowed brighter. Sparkling trails followed my hands as I waved them in front of my face.

Cool.

Mike said this would open my mind. As I lay there, I wished I could see him again.

A few blinks later, there he was, standing in the shadows.

He wasn't looking at me but at someone else, with a sad smile on his face.

He flickered like television static before disappearing.

I rushed up and my body was there on the ground, but another version of me stood!

Oh, man…

My dad was a jerk, but he was right about some things. Would people find me here days later, dead from an overdose?

My chest shook as frigid, invisible 'ice' surrounded me. Up into the sky, I went, screaming through the trees with black night around me. Was this reality? Further up, I rocketed like the astronauts, with nothing below except dark land and spiderweb lights from cities. And I didn't slow down.

Stop!

Suddenly, I did, seeing the vastness that was the United States, Mexico, and Canada.

The howling wind swirled like a constricting snake, or maybe it didn't, because this might be my imagination.

City lights twinkled, but one more than others.

Near east Texas or Louisiana, one dot flared like campfires do before going out.

I've had great eyesight my entire life, but trying to see anything from hundreds of miles away was foolish. Yet, my vision sharpened. Hills in the southern nighttime rose and lowered as if breathing. No, not that. They said… no, whispered something I couldn't hear.

I 'stood' in the air. Mike was right about opening my mind, but I wasn't wrong. I needed a plan. What do you do when you can't hear someone? You get closer.

Down I flew toward Louisiana or Texas as sweat I shouldn't have pooled in my hands. Wind pounded, and reality around me dimmed. Slender, shadowy shapes darted in and out of my peripheral vision, too fast to focus on.

Sleepiness came along with a primal fear I felt once before. It was from a perp in my dad's cell with black, inky eyes. He did nothing except stare back from behind cold bars, and it was enough to make me leave.

It was the same heart-racing terror now. Something deep in my bones screamed. Going to the light would be my last idea, ever.

What would happen if I flew somewhere else while my body stayed hundreds of miles away?

I turned toward New York. A silver cord attached to my chest pulled tight.

Glowing flakes dropped, making it thinner in places like a rope about to snap.

More shadows streaked at the edges of my vision, and I dared not look closer.

Back I flew, knowing with absolute certainty an oily blob of black shapes was behind. Miles passed in a blur, and my body lay under me. How do I get back?

In and out through unconscious flesh I went as the swarm closed in. A thought came. Don't try. My father for all his faults, at least taught me how to fight. You don't think about punching, you just do. You don't debate a block but go with muscle memory.

There was no sense of slipping back, but my eyes opened to a bright glaring sun with trees overhead. "Augh!" It felt like someone had stabbed them with a knife. My bones ached and my stomach twisted as if I hadn't eaten in a day or two.

The hunting shadows were gone or maybe I just couldn't see them anymore. Leaving sounded great.

After struggling to my feet and swallowing the foul taste in my mouth, I faced the highway. I listened to my father and Mike, but it was time to trust myself and plan.

I'd grab a hamburger and go down to the flickering dot from my vision. Whatever I'd been missing in my life waited where Texas and Louisiana met. Like Bill the truck driver, I had to take the fork, because as much as I needed him, something screamed to go save Mike.

***

Kim nodded. "I get it. You took a chance, did what your mate was into, and learned a valuable lesson about listening to the other. Mates really love each other and listen. If you didn't take the acid tab, you wouldn't have opened your mind to magic. You came here and tada!"

God… was I ever that young?

"There was no 'tada.' The closer I got to the Texas-Louisiana border, the stronger the pull and yes, I found Whispering Hills." I took a deep breath. "And Mike with another man. His—"

"—mate. I was taken."

***