As soon as Sarah saw that the Cummings were well down the steps and heading to their car she turned to face her husband. "What was that? Whats wrong with you?" Paul squirmed, unsure which direction to proceed. "I guess I lost control Sarah. I'm sorry." "Sorry? That's all you have to say? You attack our neighbor and beat him half to death in our house and in front of all our friends and all you can say is I'm sorry? We will be darn lucky if the police don't start knocking on that door any minute now! Paul, seriously, what going on here? "I, I overreacted. That's all," Paul answered, trying to regain some credibility. It didn't seem to be working. "Look Sarah, I went outside looking for the guys and when I didn't see them out front I walked around to the back. I saw the window open, I looked in and the guys were in there smoking. That's fine, I didn't care about that but then I saw Carl put his cigar on the edge of the dryer and he walked out and left it there. It fell down beside the dryer and I ran in and grabbed it before it caught something on fire. Fortunately, nothing did but it was close! The lint was starting to smoke and there is a burnt mark on the floor! Plus, somebody had disconnected the smoke detector. Sarah, it was, I mean, it could have been a horrible tragedy." Sarah shot back, "That's still no reason to attack the man and beat him like you did. Paul you scared me. You scared all of us! If any of those people ever want to spend one minute around us again then I'll be shocked. So let me ask you one more time. Whats wrong with you?" He answered her back as calmly and cool as he could. "Nothings wrong with me hon. I love you and Tim and I just got upset when I thought that someones stupidity could result in harm to you or our son. That's it." "I don't think that is all it," Sarah came back at him with. "You've been acting strange ever since you got back from town. First off, you show up here two hours after you left to go there and you were walking. The car that you love and maintain religiously suddenly breaks down and you just leave it and walk back. You show up wearing clothes that I've never seen before. Then you start acting all weird like you haven't seen me in years. Do you want me to keep going? Have I listed enough reasons yet?" Paul didn't know which way to go or what to say in his defense. If he told her the truth she would try to have him committed. Yet on the other hand if he did tell her so what? The clock on the wall behind her head showed the time to be 10:02. His ride back to where he came from was 5 hours and 18 minutes from showing up. Naturally, she would think he had gone completely insane. But she wouldn't have much time to think that. He started to open his mouth to give her a answer. What kind of answer he wasn't sure of but he was suddenly spared from having to give it. The moment was broken by the sound of his son's voice coming from near the top of the stairs that led up to the bedrooms. "Dad, what's wrong? Paul and Sarah locked eyes and silently spoke to each other. Time to cool it for awhile. Paul turned and walked towards the bottom of the stairs and looked up. There stood his son. He could see that he had been crying. His eyes were red and Paul could still see the tear streaks on his face. "Hey Timmy. Nothings wrong. How long have you been awake?" "I woke up when you were screaming at Mr Demmings dad. What did he do so bad?" asked his son. Paul quickly scaled the steps up to where his son was standing. He knelt down to where he was eye level with the boy. "Ah son, I'm sorry I woke you up. Mr Demmings made a mistake and I overreacted, that's it. Really, I'm okay." "Are you sure daddy? I heard you screaming like you were really mad. And then all of our friends were screaming at you. Now you and mommy are fighting. I'm scared dad," Timmy told his father as fresh tears started to form in his eyes. "Come here son," Paul said as he pulled the boy tight against him. "I promise you, I'm better then Ive been in a long time. I'm okay son. You don't have anything to be afraid of. I'm here for you. I'm not going anywhere and neither are you. Okay? Please believe me!" "Okay dad, I do," and a smile started to form and soon spread across his face. "Good son. Come on, let me tuck you in. AGAIN!' and now it was Paul's turn to smile. He reached out his hand and Timmy eagerly took it. Before walking away he turned and called out to Sarah. "Hon, I'll be back down in a few. I'm going to get Timmy back in bed." "Okay, I'm going to start cleaning up,' his wife answered back. "Come on champ," and Paul started down the hallway with his son, still clasping hands and both of them feeling much better.
For the second time tonight Paul stepped through his son's room and pulled the door shut behind him. Timmy, seeing his dad calm, had calmed down also. Paul had helped him back in bed, tucked him in again when that old feeling of familiarly hit him head on. He had tucked in his son every night, just like this and it was a habit that had been as natural to him as breathing. In all the grief that he had felt since his death he had forgotten the small things, small things like tucking his son into bed every night, and how much they had meant to him. The little things were where the father and son bond were born and strengthened and it was supposed to be forever. Sadly, that bond was destroyed when the flames had taken his son. And he had experienced pain like no one should have to every day since. All this still seemed like a dream to him. The old man appearing to him on the street that day. The old abandoned bus stop the man had told him about. And he was still trying to comprehend in his mind WHAT exactly that thing was that had showed up to pick him up and bring him to this dimension. He had been in a daze when he stepped off that bus but he hadn't had time to reflect on it. Immediately he was thrust back into this day that he had wrote down on that slip of paper and he had been so overwhelmed with seeing his wife and son that he hadn't give the old man and bus much thought ever since. Paul quietly walked down to his bedroom and peeked inside. The lit up alarm clock on his bedside table showed 10:18 pm. The countdown was now at 5 hours and 2 minutes before he needed to be back out on the sidewalk where he was dropped off. Just as quietly, he walked inside the dark room and sat on the side of the bed. He thought about how long it would take to wake up, slip out of the bed without Sarah (hopefully) hearing him, get dressed and get outside and make it down to where he was supposed to meet his bus (if you could call it that). Didn't the old man tell him his ride back would be there 3:20 sharp and not to be late, even one minute, or he would miss the bus and be here for good and not be able to get back? Yes, Paul remembered he had. He MUST be out there at the correct time. Everything that the old man had told him that day had been true up to this point. It would be safe to assume that part would be as well. If he set it for 3 that should give him plenty of time. Maybe 2:50 would be better, just in case something happened and he needed a little more time. Maybe Sarah would be awake and not able to sleep. Maybe Timmy would wake up before that from having a bad dream. Maybe HE would wake one of them up trying to get ready to leave. He had to be prepared for anything. "Okay, 2:50 it is then," he thought to himself. With a quick click of a couple bottoms it was done. It was time to go back downstairs to check on his wife. Hopefully the interruption of their son had allowed her to cool down some and divert her thoughts to something else for the moment. He left their bedroom to go downstairs to find out.
When he got downstairs Sarah was in the middle of cleaning up the remainders of the gathering of the night. As she was filling the dishwasher with dirty plates Paul went to the pantry closet and grabbed a plastic trash bag and started filling it with empty bottles and any other trash he could find. "Sarah, again, I'm sorry. I overreacted. Please forgive me. I love you. It might take our friends a few weeks to be able to feel comfortable around me again but there good friends and I know they will. Carl and Ellen? I don't know if we'll be seeing much of them anymore. I'd guess they will write us off their friends list." And with that Sarah smiled and actually began to laugh. That smile and giggle brought Paul instant relief. He returned her smile with one of his own. Sarah walked over to her husband and brought her arms up and around his neck and clasped her hands behind him. "You know Paul, I never really liked them anyway. And all the girls thought Ellen was a stuck up witch. Maybe you did all everyone a favor. But darn boy! Next time be a little more diplomatic about it! Okay?" asked his wife. "Babe, I promise. I will." and he pulled his wife close so that her face was inches from his. Her eyes looked deeply into his and searched them, looking for something that might sound a alarm inside of her. She didn't see it. All she saw was love. Love for her. "Oh Paul, I love you," and she pulled his lips to hers and four years plus of more pain, this time the pain of losing the love of his life, disappeared as he kissed her like he had dreamed he would if ever given the chance to do so again. "Lets go to bed. We can leave the rest of this for in the morning," suggested Sarah. "Agreed," he answered. Feelings were building up quickly that he hadn't felt for along time and they felt good. As they released their grip on each other he gave that same clock on the wall a quick glance. It was 10.40. The last time he was here Sarah had gone up to bed and Paul had stayed downstairs to clean up some and ended up falling asleep watching TV. This time was going to be different. He had accomplished what he came back to do and this time he was going up with her. "Come on babe. I'm tired. Lets go up." She gave her another one of her cute smiles and took his hand. "Lets go. And we have to be quiet. We can't wake up Timmy," she replied. Then it was Paul's turn to smile as he took her hand and led her upstairs to their bedroom.
Upstairs, more waves of familiarity rolled over him. Sarah getting ready for bed. Using some type of women's facial cleaner. Removing makeup, cleaning her skin, brushing her hair. Paul, like most men, only had to brush his teeth and he was done. He lay in the bed, watching her as she went through her nightly before bed ritual. He was happy to see tonight was one of those nights where there was a little extra preparation involved. A spray of one of her better perfumes here and there, making sure she smelled special for her husband. She was wearing a silky lingerie that left little to the imagination. Soon she finished and turned out the bathroom light. "What do you think? Do you like this?" asked his wife in her best seductive voice. "Come me and let me show you how much I like it," he answered, already feeling those old stirrings inside him building. Building fast, making up for the years of dormancy that they had been in. Sarah came to the bed and laid down beside her husband. Like he had done downstairs, he took her and pulled her tightly against him. Their lips embraced again and now those stirrings had escalated into something else. Desire took over him and slowly his lips left hers and moved on to other parts. First her ear, then behind it. Her neck was next for him to explore and he covered every inch of it. Her perfume and the silky fabric against her skin only increased the rush of hormones he was experiencing. Sarah laid back and enjoyed the attention her husband was giving her. Her soft moans prodded Paul further along. This night had been a dream that he had dreamed about so many times since the fire and here he was, living out those dreams. Soon he was down at her inner thigh and it taste as good as her lips had. Sarah's moans continued but they weren't soft and quiet anymore. She reached down and pulled his head up and met his lips again. Desire took over both of them and soon he was taking her. Any doubts that he had about this night being real were lost in the moment. This was as real as any of their times together had been. They were here, together again as one. As their encounter continued Paul put his mouth over his wife's in a attempt to keep her from waking up their son who slept across the hallway from their room. It seemed to work. There was no knock on the door. No voice calling out to them. After a little while longer the very air around them seemed to join in with them as the moment exploded and ran over. Exhausted, Paul let his head come to a rest on his wife's shoulder. They both were breathing in quick gasps and he could feel Sarah's chest heaving up and down as it keep pace. After several minutes he slowly gathered himself back together and eased his way to Sarah's side. He pulled his wife in close to him. He savored the moment and didn't want it to end. Sarah must have felt the same way. She molded her soft body around his and offered no resistance to his pull. Their oneness continued as sweet sleep started to sneak up on them and unlike the nights of past Paul didn't resist. He knew his alarm was set and he knew he had a few hours to rest before it would let him know it was time to go. Soon sleep won out and Paul welcomed it with a smile.
Like before, there were dreams. Dreams like he had dreamed a thousand times. Only these dreams had different endings. First there were the dreams of his son. The two of them out in the yard playing. First with Timmy's electric car. Then in the house laying on the floor. Paul tickling his son and Timmy laughing as hard and loud as he could and then he stopped. Just like in the other dreams his eyes would widen and he stared that horrible stare at him. His clothes started to smolder, as before. But in this dream, they stopped as suddenly as they had started. Then his son's eyes softened and a small smile started to form. "Thank you Daddy for coming. I knew you would save me." said his son and just like that he was himself and the tickling and laughing started again. Then there were the dreams of Sarah. Them dating in college. Their wedding. Then the dream where they were in bed with each other and Sarah's smile turned to a stony frown and her skin started to draw up as if all the moisture in it was being sucked out right before his very eyes. That same look of concern covered her face. But then the dream took a turn like the one with his son did. Sarah's skin replenished itself and her smile returned. "Babe, you stayed. I knew I would be safe as long as you were here." his wife whispered in his ear. Even in the dream relief washed over him and he took her again and it was wonderful and sweet and full of innocence. The way his Sarah had always been. But then the dream made a turn and went in another direction. No longer was he in bed with his wife but now he found himself standing in a vestibule of a building. A funeral parlor perhaps? He was wearing a black suit and looking out at the rows of people he saw that they all were wearing black also. This was a funeral for someone. Up front was a dark casket with flower arrangements on both sides.The lid was open but Paul couldn't see who was inside it. In that slow, dream like way he found himself starting to make his way toward the front. None of the mourners looked over at him as he slowly moved along. They were all focused straight ahead. Even though Paul was walking towards the front, the coffin didn't appear to be getting any closer. The rows of mourners went on and on. There were at least a hundred of them here, maybe even two hundred, all dressed in black and motionless. Men, women and children as well. Staring ahead, watching, and waiting. They were waiting for him. After walking for what seemed like a hour (in dream time) he finally approached the casket. Still the body was hidden from his view. Two more steps and he was right on top of it. Even in his dream he felt the grief that he had felt so strong for the last four years come exploding back up. In the coffin lay his wife. Tears that seemed so real came pouring out of him as he reached out and took hold of the casket to try to steady himself. His subconscious mind reminded him that he had already played out this scene. Except for the fact that there was no body to look at the last time. The fire had taken care of that. The real casket had contained remains. He had never gotten to see her like this. But he found no comfort in being able to. At least not in this dream. Sarah's face was gaunt. Her dark, full hair seemed thin. She looked like she had suffered much before death took her. She looked old. Nothing like the woman he had known. Then, a creaking noise stopped his crying. As he rubbed his hand over his eyes to wipe the tears away he heard it again. Then he discovered where the sound was coming from. Sarah's head was turning towards where he stood. Startled, Paul drew in a sharp breath and took a step back. Then she opened her eye's. They stared at him, no, looked towards him was a better way to describe them. They were black and soulless. When she was alive her eye's were beautiful and he could stare into them for hours. These eye's had no life in them. Looking into them sent chills down his spine. They were the eye's of the dead. Paul's slapped his hand over his mouth to keep from screaming out and managed, somehow, to hold it in. Then the thing in the box began to speak. "Paul, where did you go? I've been looking for you. My love, why did you leave me?" The scream tried harder to escape but he held it back. With the same slowness that it took him to make his way up to his wife's coffin Sarah began to sit up. Her arms, which had been placed on each side of her and crossed over her chest, began to reach up and out towards her husband. They moved in stiff, jerky movements and her fingers opened and closed on air. "Darling, I knew you would come back. Come to me, I've been waiting for you." Now there was no holding back the scream anymore. It rushed out with a vengeance and he stepped backwards to avoid the grasping hands of the thing in front of him. His legs got tangled with themselves and he fell backwards. But instead of landing on the floor his butt fell down on a seat. A old, dirty, filthy seat. He looked around at this new place he found himself in. He recognized it immediately. He was inside the bus that had picked him up and brought him back to his wife and son. The old bus, not the new one that had arrived back to that fateful day he had requested to go to. He looked around and realized that they were moving. Driving towards somewhere. The fog and mist outside once again rolled up and over the side windows. Dim light illuminated the inside of the bus. Most likely from the street lamps outside. Maybe it was on it's way to the old bus stop? Maybe they were going to be picking up someone else who needed to go back to fix something. Paul could see from his seat the same dark, hooded figure driving the bus. He got up slowly and began to approach the thing from behind. Terror had filled him when he boarded this bus and he had been afraid to move. Now, in his dream, he found courage. The driver that had emerged after their trip back in time had no interest to him. But this strange figure did. He took slow steps towards it. If the thing knew he was behind it then it wasn't showing it. It continued to make it's way towards whatever it's destination was. Coming up completely behind the thing now Paul took a deep breath. As he exhaled he reached forward and grabbed the hood that covered the things head and snatched it back. Horrified, he once again stumbled backwards and fell back into a seat. The driver was him. The hands that gripped the wheel were still the same skeleton hands that he had seen before but it was his head and face. HE was driving the bus. As his brain worked feverishly to digest this nightmare the bus slowly came to a stop. The thing/he reached over and flicked the lever that opened the front door. The thing that looked like him slowly turned it's head and looked down at the door. Paul was looking at a cruel imitation of himself. A big smirk covered his face. His right eye looked broken and stared up into nothing and the other one rolled along lazily in its socket. Patches of hair shared space with flesh and bone on his head. But the real fright came when the passenger who was waiting stepped on the stairs and began to board the bus. It was Timmy. His son. Paul jumped up and screamed at the boy. "NOOOOOO! Timmy, get out of here!" But he was oblivious to anyone else on the bus and didn't hear Paul's warnings. The thing in the seat pointed at a box mounted on the dash and Paul watched as his son dropped eight quarters and a slip of paper into it. As it turned the switch to shut the door it threw it's head back and let out the loudest, most sinister laugh Paul had ever heard in his life. "SON, NOOOOO!"
Paul sat up in bed with a jolt and came close to screaming in real life. His heart was racing and his head was covered in sweat. He gasped for air and his breathing couldn't keep up. After a minute or so he began to get himself together. His mind had been racing trying to figure out his where abouts. It was dawning on him. He was still in bed with Sarah. Timmy was across the hall tucked in his bed. He had fallen asleep and been dreaming. And had he ever! Those were like some of the few dreams you have and you tend to remember them for the rest of the day. Maybe even a week or two. Heck he doubted he would ever forget these dreams. They had seemed so real! He gave the alarm clock next to the bed a quick glance. It was 2:45. "How about that," he thought to himself. Five minutes before the alarm was supposed to go off. He reached over and turned it off. He was thankful that he had caught it before it did and possibly wake Sarah up. Ahh, Sarah. He laid back down beside her and softly stroked her hair. She seemed to sense it and exhaled deeply and a small smile tried to form on her lips. He thought back to the day when he had the encounter with the old man that had told him about the chance of being able to go back to fix things. He had thought the man was crazy and still would have never believed and yet here he was. In bed with his wife once again. Just like things used to be. After a few more strokes of her hair he quietly eased his self out of the bed. Sarah stirred lightly but she only rolled over and found a new position to sleep in. Paul walked over to the window and opened the blinds. The moon was almost full and it was high in the sky. Soft moonlight lit up the room like a child's nightlight. "Beautiful," he thought to himself. With the soft light in the room he easily made his way across the room to the bathroom. He eased the door shut and flicked the light on. Brief pained stabbed at his eye's as the bright bathroom lights forced themselves on him. He turned the faucet on and splashed cool water up and on his face. He needed to wake up and start getting a move on it if he was going to meet the bus and be there on time. The water did the trick of washing the sleep from his eye's and clearing his head. He ran his fingers through his hair and wet it down a little. He took the comb from the drawer and ran it through his hair. "Do I need to look good for the ride back?" he amusing asked himself. "No, I don't think anyone really cares." That thought hit him like a ton of bricks. Two people cared. And those two people were right here in this house. His house. Their house. Before he came back here today no one else had cared. His friends and scattered family members said they did but no one did like the two people here did. The ride back here had been a success. He had accomplished what he came here to do. The fire was prevented. His wife and son were alive. He had been reunited with them. But now what? What would be waiting for him when he got back to where he had left from? Would Sarah and Timmy be there? He supposed they would be. Four years older maybe, like he was? Or would they somehow jump ahead to the present time that he had come from. Actually thinking about it like this, did he even WANT to go back to where he was? Those four years had been devastating for him. What if he went back and Sarah and Timmy were there and everything was normal for them but he had still lost four years of his life. Something else to consider was the dreams he had just experienced. Sarah dead, asking him why he had left her. Timmy getting on the very bus that had brought him here and HE was the one driving it. What it he went back and then something else happened to his wife or son before the date that he had left to come here? Suddenly it seemed like the biggest risk of his life was to get back on that bus to go home. Home brought more thoughts. THIS was his home. With Sarah and Timmy. If he stayed he would be with them and they were his life. But then the image of the old man out on the street invaded his thoughts. "Don't be late to meet the bus to come back home Paul Jenkins of you'll be stuck there forever." is what the old man had told him. He ran the comb through his hair again, confused to what he should do. He placed the comb down on the counter and turned the light off. He slipped out of the bathroom and sat on the edge of the bed. The clock read 3:01. "Still plenty of time to do this," he thought to himself. He leaned down and kissed Sarah gently on her forehead. Gosh how he loved her. If he went back she just had to be there. He had almost died when he lost her before. He couldn't stand losing her again. He slipped up off the bed and opened the bedroom door. He silently made his way over to Timmy's room. He eased open the door. Timmy's nightlight was on. Just like always. He quietly made his way over to the boys bed and sat down next to him. He leaned down and kissed his forehead as well. His son. His love for him was as great as it was for Sarah. Losing him had probably hurt even more just for the fact that he was young and had yet to really experience life. He rubbed his hand over Timmy's check. As he did so Timmy stirred. "Daddy? Are you okay? What's wrong? "Nothings wrong son. Just came in to kiss you goodnight. That's all." "Okay Dad. I'm glad you woke me though," said Timmy. "Oh yeah? Whys that?" asked Paul. "I was having a scary dream. I was dreaming that I was in the city late at night all by myself and I was waiting for somebody to come pick me up. I don't know who but I was really scared." Paul's blood ran cold when his son said those words. He didn't know what to say. He could only stare at the boy. "Daddy, what's wrong? You don't look like you feel good. Are you sure your okay?" I'm, I'm, I'm fine son. Get to sleep now. It was only a bad dream. Good night, I love you," and he gave his son another kiss. "I'll see you in the morning." "Okay, I love you to Dad." Paul forced his legs to work enough to get him standing and then made his way out of his son's bedroom.
Paul leaned against his bedroom door after returning to his room. He had made up his mind. He was going to stay. It was just to risky to leave. Now especially, after the nightmares. And why would his son have the same dream that he had just had. It was like someone was telling him something. He had been given a second chance to come back and take care of things. He had done that. His wife and son was safe. But what if something else happened to them between now and the time that he had left to come here? There might not be another chance after this night. Plus, if he stayed he could get those four years back that he had spent alone. The four years that he had spent mourning their deaths had been agony. He never wanted to go through that again. He wouldn't go through that again. The alarm clock now read 3:10. Ten minutes and the bus would be out there down the street waiting to pick up it's passenger that it had dropped off here. Only there wouldn't be anyone to pick up. He walked over to the window and looked out over the front yard and street. The moon was glowing orange and it's light cast eerie shadows that danced in the night air. Maybe the bus would wait a few minutes in case he was running late? Maybe it would roll through and not even stop if there was no one there waiting to be picked up. Either way, he was happy with his decision. They would have a wonderful life together and he would be a new man. He would appreciate the little things that he had taken for granted from now on. Tomorrow he would wake up with his wife in his arms and later on he would take his son to his birthday party. Maybe the three of them could go together. He would see that they did. He walked back over to his side of the bed and crawled in next to Sarah. The clock showed 3:15. Paul pulled close to Sarah. She was even more beautiful when she slept. He reached out with his hand and stroked her hair gently. Two more minutes passed by. He stared at her and remembered the dreams. For so long he had been visited by the dreams of her and his son. Beautiful dreams that turned ugly at the end. They would be over after tonight. All good dreams with good endings after tonight. He turned his head around to look at the clock. 3:19. He had the urge to get out of bed and go to the window. When the clock hit 3:20 he wanted to be looking outside. Maybe he would see the bus going by, maybe not. As he watched the clock it finally hit the magic time. 3:20. He looked at the window and peered as hard as he could down the street towards where the bus had dropped him off. Nothing appeared at of the ordinary. The moon still cast it's light out over the street and houses. No fog, no dirty headlights, no anything. "Well, time to start fresh," he thought to himself. As he turned to head back to the bed the clock switched to 3:21. And right away he noticed it. The alarm clock had been castings it bright green electronic light out over the bedroom but now it was different. Not as bright, dimmer. Matter of fact, the whole room looked dimmer. He turned back to the window and looked out over the yard. It was different as well. The moon was still high in the sky. But it's light was dull. The dancing shadows were gone. The light wasn't bright enough to make shadows anymore. Starting to feel slightly uneasy, he walked over to his bed. Sarah was there and she was still in a deep sleep. But even she didn't look right. He couldn't describe it. It was just the way she looked. Empty, transparent almost. He quickly sat next to her and put his hand on her shoulder. It sank down inside of it. "Sarah!" he said, no screamed, at her. "Wake up!" She didn't. He turned frantically to check the time. 3:22. Now the room surrounding him WAS darker. The things in it had the same look as his wife did. They were there. But at the same time they weren't. It was like they had become images instead. He jumped up and his son raced into his brain. "Timmy!" he thought and snatched open his door and ran across the hall. He burst into his son's room and it had that same dull, grainy look. He flew across the room and nearly jumped on Timmy's bed. He also was still asleep "Timmy! Wake up son!" and he reached out to the boy to shake him awake and now panic and fear took over him completely. Both hands went right through the boy and the adrenaline that was pulsing through his body pushed them down in the mattress that his son rested on. Paul stood up and took two steps back. He felt paralyzed. What was happening? A quick look around him showed him that his son's room had the same look that his bedroom had. Furniture that had once been in the room now looked more like picture. Old pictures. This was Timmy's bedroom but it was disappearing. Right in front of his eye's. Now with panic and fear in complete control he bounded back out and headed towards his room. The clock showed 3:25. Barely showed it. The light was almost out. He had to strain his eye's to see the time. Five minutes since he should have left. A thought entered his mind and he ran in the bathroom. He slapped the switch to turn on the light and it did but it wasn't the same light as it had been. The bulbs came on but it was more like candle light then incandescent light. Still it was enough to see himself. He didn't look like his surroundings. He hit himself and slapped his chest. He was still here. His hands didn't sink into his body like they had his wife's and son's. He ran back out in the bedroom and it was even duller now. The room was almost completely dark. One more look at the clock showed it move to 3:26. Then it went out completely. "No, no, no it can't be. Please don't let this be happening!" A understanding began to creep in his head. He had stayed and the past was moving forward. Only it wasn't taking him. He was being left behind. He had been out of place here. Really only a visitor. This world was moving towards the place he had left. But he wasn't making the trip. He was stuck here. Alone. Now their was hardly any light at all coming in from the window. The room was almost completely dark. As any trace of normal thinking was pushed out of his head by the incoming rush of fear he ran out of the room and headed for the stairs. When he got to them he almost fell head first down them. He managed to stay upright somehow and descended them in three leaps. He bolted for the front door. Maybe he could still catch the bus and get back home. Before it was to late. He flung open the door and ran out as fast as he could. Outside was more of the same. It looked like he was in the middle of a big picture. Nothing out here looked real. Just images. And they were fading fast too. He sprinted down the street and almost started laughing as he realized he was running with nothing on except his underwear. What if the neighbors woke up and saw him? They would really think he had lost his mind. And guess what? They would be right. Still running as fast as his rubbery legs would carry him, he started to slow as he had some hope creep in. Up the street where the bus had dropped him off was that big, rolling mass of fog and mist. "Is it possible it's still here waiting for me?" he thought out loud to himself? Then he did start laughing out loud. "It's here! It waited for me! I'm not to late!" He ran some more and the brief hope he had felt was soon snuffed out. He ran into the mist and the fog but there was nothing inside it. The bus was gone. And any hope he had of returning back had gone with it. The laughing started again as the last part of his sanity was lost and he laughed louder as he thought of what had happened. He had come back to save his wife and son and in the process he had lost himself. They would live. But not with him. In a moment the mist and fog dissipated and the whole world around him was barely visible. As his laughs turned to screams the last light around him died out. Everything was gone. And so was Paul Jenkins.
EPILOGUE
The yellow cab pulled up to the corner of Bryn Mawr and Windsor Park. It was late at night and the cab was the only vehicle around. The back door opened and a young, tall man exited the car. He walked up to the drivers window. The driver rolled down his window and looked around nervously. He hadn't wanted to come out here but the amount that the man had offered to pay was enough to calm his nerves enough to get him to agree. Twenty one year old Tim Jenkins pulled out his wallet and removed a large sum of cash. "Here and thanks a lot. Here's a extra twenty as well. If you come back here at 12:15 and I'm still here then I'll pay you double to take me back. If I'm not here then you will know that I found another ride." "Okay mon but I still say your crazy for wanting to come out here. They say this place is cursed." answered the cabbie. Then he grabbed the money and took off, leaving the tall man alone on the corner. Tim Jenkins couldn't believe he was really out here. He was normally a reasonable thinking man. At least now he was a reasonable thinking man. It had taken him a long time to get over his fathers disappearance. He was seven years old when his dad had left and it had devastated him and his mom. His mom never did recover after his dad left. At first she refused to believe he would stay away for long. They had awaken the next day after that party and his father had simply disappeared. His wallet was on the dresser. All his identification and credit cards were in it. Their luggage was still in the closet. Nothing missing. All his clothes still folded and put away. No note, no explanation, no nothing. They had called the police. They found his car at the grocery store parking lot that he had gone to that afternoon. Paul had told his mother that it had broke down on the way home and he had walked the rest of the way so they were surprised to find it where they did. Still, there were no signs of foul play in or on it. The police even questioned Carl Demmings after they heard about the violent outburst from Paul the night of the party. Carl assured them that he was home that evening trying to stop the bleeding from his nose and that Paul was lucky that he hadn't called the police himself. His wife Ellen verified his story so they had ruled Carl out as a suspect. They put up posters and offered rewards but it was like he had vanished into thin air. His mother never did recover from the loss. She always held out hope that one day he would return to her, to them. She slowly withdrew from the things that she used to love. She cut off communication with her friends and family after they had tried to coax her along to the fact that she would probably never see her husband again. Every time the phone would ring or the doorbell rang she would jump up and her face would light up with hope but it always ended in disappointment. As the years went by she grew weaker and frailer. She just seemed to give up on life. Her health deteriorated to the point where she couldn't take care of her son anymore. Sarah's sister Kathy and her husband Gary offered to take Timmy in and care for him until Sarah got better. She never did. Two years after that she collapsed one day out at the mailbox and Rick from next door called 911. They rushed her to the hospital. They doctors were shocked to see how thin and frail she was. They discovered she hadn't been eating. The doctors did all they could do for her but she was just to sick to help. And she had lost her will to live. Three days later Sarah Jenkins died of a broken heart at the age of 35. Five years after her husband had vanished. Tim had taken his dads disappearance bad enough but after his mom's death he nearly lost it. He was twelve years old and it took a lot of counselling and therapy for him to get through his losses. Night times was the worse. At night, almost every night, the dreams would come. Him a little boy again, playing with his dad. Or the three of them out in the yard playing or around the dinner table. It was hard but kids have a way of bouncing back. Sometimes even better then grown ups do. His aunt Karen and uncle Gary tried their best to give him a loving, normal home and they had. He loved them for being there for him when his parents weren't. He shook his head and returned his thoughts back to the present. He couldn't believe he was really out here. He wouldn't be out here if the old man hadn't been so convincing. He thought back to their encounter. He was running his morning jog and like always he cut through Brysons Park on his way to the walking and biking trail that ran along the Chicago river. He had seen the man lying on the side of the trail way before he got close to him. Other joggers in front of him slowed to look but pasted by the man. When Tim got close to him he could see why. The man was obviously homeless. His clothes were grimy and dirty. His hair was worn and tattered. He looked like he hadn't seen a shower in years. He had fallen down and seemed to be in pain. He moaned and grimaced as he tried to get up. He didn't look like the kind of person you really wanted to be grabbing and pulling on. Still, he had stopped to help the man. He couldn't just leave the guy there. He had reached out his hand and the old man had taken it. Tim pulled with all his strength and helped the man to his feet. He gave him a smile that showed decayed teeth that hadn't fared much better then his hair over the years. "Thank you Tim. Or should I say Timmy," said the old man. "How, how, how do you know my name?" Tim had asked the old man. "Lets just say I know things. You stopped and helped me and I'm most grateful for that. Now I want to help you." the old man replied. Tim, suddenly feeling uneasy, held up his hand. "Hey, keep your money. I don't want it." "I don't have money to give you Timmy but I have something else even better. How would you like the chance to go back and keep your dad from leaving and then your mom from dying? I can tell you how." Tim's eyes had grown wide with shock when he heard the man say that. "How do you know that about me?" Tim had asked the man. "Oh, lets just say I have a way of knowing these things. Listen and listen good. You must follow my exact instructions." And now here he was. Standing on this street corner by this deserted bus stop. Here before twelve midnight. Waiting for a mystery bus that will take him to his destination. He had eight quarters (exact change) and a slip of paper in his pocket. The paper had his old address on it and it was dated for fourteen years back. Back when he was a seven year old boy and his dad hadn't left and his mom was still alive and they were a happy family. The man had told him that he had twelve hours to fix things and he must come back not a minute later. But secretly, he had thought, if this works and he sees his mom and dad again well who knows, he might just stay.
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