I sat back against the wall, stunned.
That guy at the hospital, he said I’d find the computer here.
So, that was a dream?
I was seventy-nine years old, dying. He knew I’d end up here, my home when I was fourteen. I’m in my body as a teenager, but I have all my memories and knowledge of seventy-nine years!
This is one hell of a hallucination, and so elaborate.
I glanced around. Every detail perfectly recreated.
I died before Caitlion got back with my Big Mac. That must be what happened. Then what is this? Afterlife? No, I don’t believe in any of that crap. I’m lying in that hospital bed, hooked up on wires and tubes. Damn it. ‘Do Not Resuscitate.’ What’s the point of signing a legal document if no one reads it? I should have had it tattooed on my forehead.
My body died, and they’re pumping life support shit through my veins. My brain is alive but hopped up on painkillers. And my mind, with no control over my dead body, has to do something.
So, I’m constructing this elaborate fantasy to entertain myself?
Two minds. Conscious and subconscious. When we sleep, the subconscious takes over, feeding dreams to the comatose conscious part. Now I’m inside the subconscious, playing this ridiculous game of reliving my high school years.
How long can it go on?
Until Caitlion gets back from McDonalds. She’ll tell them to pull the plug. She knows very well I don’t want to exist as a vegetable.
How much time do I have?
In here, in my fantasy, time may not matter. And I won’t even know when they cut my life support.
Until that happens, I’m going to enjoy this little piece of make-believe.
I opened the iPad and tapped the screen.
Uh-oh. Password.
He didn’t tell me the password.
Probably in the ‘Instructions’ folder, which I can’t get to without the password.
Down in the lower right corner of the screen was a stylized thumbprint.
Could it be?
I wiped my hand on my overalls and pressed my thumb to the icon.
Bam!
‘Hello, Charley.’
They–or I–had thought of everything.
I found the ‘Instructions’ folder and opened the file called ‘Instructions.’
Hard to miss that.
‘One. You are not immune to anything. There are very few vaccines in 1945. Measles, mumps, diphtheria, and especially polio, are all prevalent. You can probably get a small pox shot. Remember, don’t touch sick people, and wash your hands often.’
Polio, I bet that’s what Melody has.
‘Two. You can’t tell anyone about your mission. They’ll think you’re crazy, and you’ll be locked away in an insane asylum.’
Mission? What mission?
‘Three. Your mission is to prevent global warming.’
Oh, is that all?
‘When you left 2019, the world was already past the tipping point. Icecaps were melting, sea levels rising, climate warming at an accelerated rate. Two hundred years from now, the Earth will start correcting that, but the human race will be long gone.’
That’s not good.
‘You have to start the change to green energy—wind and solar.’
I’m just a kid. What can I do?
‘You’re only fourteen years old, but you have all the knowledge of mankind at your fingertips. All you have to do is design a wind turbine and solar panel.’
Yeah, right. Any teenager could do that.
‘And lastly, don’t forget to wash your hands.’
That’s it? All I have to do is stay alive and invent technology from fifty years in the future?
Polio. Wow, I forgot about that. When I was little, I saw lots of kids in leg braces. I wonder how old Dr. Salk is in 1945. He has to get to work on his polio vaccine.
I don’t want to end up in an iron lung.
I clicked on the tab for Wikipedia.
And Albert Einstein. I need to talk to him, too.
I read about obesity and polio. One link led to another. Cause and effect. History of research. Treatment and cures. Polio is caused by a virus, obesity caused by many things. Polio is highly contagious.
Before I knew it, an hour had passed.
“Charley Eye! Where are you?”
Oh, no! Mom. The eggs!
“Coming, Mom.”
“What are you doing up there?”
I clicked off the iPad, put it in the box, and covered it with hay.
“Looking for eggs.”
“The chickens can’t get up there.”
I climbed down the ladder. “Sometimes they fly up there.”
“Yeah? Let’s gather some so I can finish supper. Your dad will be home soon.”
* * * * *
During lunch in the bleachers, Patsy, Melody and I talked about the classes we shared. Melody and I had English together. All three of us were in the same history and Spanish classes. Patsy and I had science.
“Can we study history together,” I said, “after school?”
“Sure.” Melody pulled her coat collar tight against the cold wind. “It would be much easier with the three of us working together.”
“I know,” Patsy said. “I’m always running into words I don’t understand.”
“Okay,” I said. “Where?”
“Me and Patsy live next door to each other, so maybe at one of our houses?”
“That works for me,” I said.
“I’ll ask Mom if we can study at my house,” Patsy said. “But I’m pretty sure it’ll be okay.”
“Cool.” I folded my empty brown bag and shoved it into my hip pocket.
“Cool?” Melody asked.
“Yeah, fine, good, cool.”
“Okay, cool.”
“We better go,” I said. “Lunch hour is almost over.”
As we walked toward the school building, I said. “Hey, watch this.”
I ran for the flagpole, grabbed it with my left hand, swung around in the air, then gripped higher up with my right hand. I then air-walked up, moving my feet as if they were going up a wall. When I was vertical, I air-walked back down, then back-flipped to the ground.
“Wow!” Patsy said. “How’d you learn that?”
I noticed a few other kids had stopped to watch. “Um…it’s just something I learned in our backyard.”
“That was really…cool,” Melody said.
“So cool, it was almost cold,” Patsy said.
We laughed, then hurried for the doors as the bell rang.
* * * * *
The next day at lunch, I sat with Patsy and Melody in the bleachers.
“Mom said we can study at my house,” Patsy said. “She wants you and Melody to come to supper tomorrow night, then we can use the dining room to study.”
“Awesome,” I said. “How about you, Melody?”
“Yeah, I’ll be there. Can we work on Spanish, too?”
“Sure. What’s your address, Patsy?’ I asked. “I’ll tell my dad to come pick me up around nine tomorrow night. How’s that?”
She gave me her address, and I wrote it on my lunch bag.
“You want to walk home with us tomorrow?” Patsy asked.
I thought about that for a moment as I studied her address. I didn’t mind walking, but it seemed a shame since the school bus went right by her house.
“Okay.”
* * * * *
The next day after school, the three of us started down the street, walking toward Patsy’s house.
“Wait a minute,” I said.
Patsy and Melody stopped, turning toward me.
“We’re taking bus number three.”
“No,” Patsy said. “I’d rather walk.”
“If you walk home every day, Ember wins. You know that.”
“I don’t care if she wins. I hate that song.”
“We can sing, too,” I said.
Melody smiled and nodded.
“I don’t—” Patsy began.
“How about if we sing a different song?”
“What song?”
I told them what I was thinking of. We then joined the line waiting for bus number three. Ember was ahead of us, talking and laughing with her friends. She didn’t notice us.
The bus pulled up, and the kids filed on. We were the last ones.
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