Chapter Two: Sometimes Everything is Wrong
March 17, 2003
Silver City, NM
The phone rang just after 6 am. It was still dark, and Marc was still asleep. It didn’t take much to rouse him from his sleep, however. By the fifth ring, he had located the phone and picked up the receiver.
“Yes?” His voice was clear, but still a bit unsure. He was still adjusting back to his life in his old world.
“Good morning. Sorry to call so early. Is this Mr. Marc Churchill?” An unfamiliar male voice came through the line.
“Yes.” He answered simply.
“This is Detective Ken Powell with the Salt Lake City CAR Team. Your father is Jason Churchill, correct?”
Marc’s heart seemed to stop beating. Had it been a week since he last thought of that name? Or was it sixty years ago?
“Yeah. That’s my dad.” He said.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry to have to tell you that there has been an accident.”
Dread filled his chest.
“Is it ok to talk? I need to discuss some things with you.” The officer said.
“Yeah. Is he Okay?” Marc spat out mechanically.
“I regret to tell you… I’m sorry. Your father was killed in a traffic accident.”
Marc realized there was a ringing noise in his ears. He didn’t notice when it started, but now it was howling. He could still hear the voice on the phone, but this buzzing in his ears was almost deafening now.
“Marc, Marc! Are you there? Can you hear me?” The voice on the phone continued. It spoke in a calm but determined tone.
Marc took a deep breath. The noise was still there, but he could hear perfectly well. It’s like the noise wasn’t in his ears at all, but somewhere in his head.
“Y… yeah. I’m here. When? When did it happen? Where is he? He crashed his rig?” Marc blurted the questions out.
“No. It was a hit-and-run. He was at a truck stop near the airport. He was hit at… approximately 9:30 Thursday evening. He was taken to the trauma center at the University hospital. He passed away at 4:23 am on Friday morning. I’m very sorry for your loss.” The detective relayed.
“He was hit? By who? What happened?” Marc asked, unsure why it mattered. He just felt he needed to understand.
“We have completed a preliminary investigation of the accident. Unfortunately, there is not a lot I can share with you. He was parked at the truck stop. His rig obscured the accident from the cameras at the gas station, so we don’t have any witnesses. He was found by an attendant who heard the sound of a vehicle pulling out of the tuck stop at high speed and went over to check but did not see the vehicle. An ambulance was called and arrived within 10 minutes. Unfortunately, he did not regain consciousness.”
Marc wasn’t sure how to respond. He did feel the pain of loss, but at the same time, it was different than the feelings he had in the other world. When he had lost people who had been close to him. His family there. This felt empty. Unreal somehow.
“Marc?”
“Yes. Sorry. Just don’t know how to respond. Thanks, officer… I mean detective. Sorry. I don’t know what to say now.”
“No, it’s perfectly normal. Do you have any other relatives there? Anyone, you need to tell? I’m sorry. We tried to contact you before but it took a while to get your phone number. We couldn’t locate your father’s employer. We finally got your phone number from his insurance company.”
“No, it’s ok. He was self employed… There’s no one else. No other family. None that I know about anyway.”
“I see.” The detective said, then added. “For now your father is at the Grand Street Mortuary. His rig is in the Police impound. We’ll need to make some arrangements. Do you think you would be able to come up here?”
“Oh, umm. I don’t know. Can I get back to you? I need to figure some things out.” Marc replied.
“Certainly. That’s no problem. Let me give you my contact number. If your father was an owner-operator he should have had a lawyer helping him with his business. They may be able to help with any details. Feel free to contact me if you have any questions.”
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
The officer gave Marc his information and was about to end the call when Marc suddenly thought of something.
“Wait! I mean. Sorry. What was the time of the accident again?”
“Around 9:30 pm. Thursday night.”
“Ok. I see. Thanks. Sorry. Thanks… um, Detective Powell.” Marc read the name off the notes he had been scratching.
“No problem Marc. Again, sorry for your loss.” He said and disconnected the line.
Marc was stunned. Since his return three days ago he hadn’t even thought of his father once. In all the years in the other world, he had rarely dwelled on the events of this one. He had all but forgotten his absentee father.
Their relationship had never been bad. It had not been close either. In practical terms, they were more like roommates than family, and his father spent nearly his whole life on the road as a long-haul trucker. Once in a while he would just show up, spend a couple of days sleeping in his room. Swap out a bunch of his gear, then he would be gone. They might share a breakfast but never talk about anything more than the weather or the traffic. Marc had once been convinced his father had a second family in some other state, but then he decided he didn’t care one way or another.
Not knowing what else to do, Marc got ready for work. He would figure things out when he got back.
Work that day was strange. Everyone seemed to be excited and on edge. Things were getting bad in the Middle East it seemed and many of the television monitors were tuned to cable news channels rather than the live call statistics. The bright side was that calls were very light. It seems like fewer people were playing games with the news talking about an imminent war.
After lunch, Ryan said that due to the low volume, he was looking for volunteers to cut their shifts. Intraday said they were overstaffed for the afternoon. Marc was fine with that, so he told Ryan to take him off the afternoon shift.
“Thanks, No one else wants to give up the easy hours. Sure it’s ok?” Ryan asked. He seemed a little uneasy.
“Yeah, I have some… family stuff to deal with. It’s actually good for me I guess.”
Ryan gave him an odd look, then turned to try and recruit a few more volunteers.
“You ok?” Marc asked.
Ryan turned, brows furrowed.
“To be honest, I’m kinda freaked out. You know I’m in the Guard, right? 200th out of Cruces.” He said.
Marc didn’t know that but just nodded.
“They say it’s going to be a real war this time. Not like the last one. My unit supports Air Defense. We’d be the first ones who get called up.” Marc could tell that Ryan had missed some sleep. There were bags under his eyes and he seemed a little uneasy on his feet.
Marc hadn’t cared much about politics and global events before. He hadn’t realized that things were this serious.
“I’m sure it will blow over soon. Just people blowing off steam.” He tried to sound reassuring.
“No, it’s really bad this time. They say he has bioweapons and all sorts of stuff. Maybe nukes. I had to go through CBRNE training. They are definitely going to call us up. It’s really messed up. I don’t know… It’s messed up you know?”
Marc felt bad for the young man. He remembered going out for his first hunt. He was sure he was going to get ripped up by beasts the first time they stepped into the forest. He monitored his map every second to make sure that nothing slipped past the front guard and came up from behind. In the end, he lost half a week’s worth of sleep and did little more than act as the party’s cook.
“I’ve heard that the worst part is just waiting. You end up always waiting for other people to tell you to move over here, then move over there. The thing soldiers do more than anything else is sit and wait for other people to tell you what to do. Sounds pretty cushy if you ask me.” He said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood.
“As if. Yeah. Maybe.” Ryan looked up. Some of his usual cockiness returned in his smirk.
“Well, you might as well get out of here. I gotta go round up more volunteers.” As he was about to move he turned back again.
“You said family stuff. Everything Okay?”
“Yeah. Nothing big. Just some paperwork.” Marc deflected. He wasn’t sure why he said it that way.
Marc drove back home in a daze. He didn’t have a plan. Wasn’t sure what he should do. The events happening around him were like a movie that he was watching. He wasn’t involved but was simply observing. His memories of the other world were so strong so vivid. Meanwhile, everything here seemed to have a cloud, a barrier between himself and what he was seeing.
For the hundredth time since he had returned, he tried to access his Mana, call up his interface, or use any of his abilities. Once again, nothing happened. He took a deep breath and felt the tightness and slight pain between his chest and shoulder blades from his smoking. He had no cravings which was a relief. Just as he had discovered that coffee was now completely unpalatable to him. At least the cheap free stuff from the office.
As he drove he saw a quick movement out of the corner of his eye. Not knowing why, he slowed and pulled the car off the road. He got out and leaned back on the side of the car, taking in the surroundings.
Halfway to Silver City, there was nothing to see for kilometers… miles. Had to get used to using those insane measurements again. It was completely deserted and empty other than some telephone poles running wires to who knows where.
At the base of a small hill, he could see the coyote. No, it was too big, maybe a Mexican wolf. It was rare to see one so close to the road. He could see it clearly, the rounded ears, larger snout. Definitely a wolf.
They both sat there for a while, looking at each other. Marc felt no fear. This wasn’t a beast, driven to attack by energy burning in its veins. It was likely a solo lobo. It might track him for a while, but soon enough it would decide he wasn’t worth hunting.
Sure enough, after a minute or two the wolf bounded off. Either to search for better game or to circle around and observe him from a better angle.
Marc got back in the car and drove on to his house. He was glad for the distraction. Somehow, watching the animal in the wild felt more normal to him than sitting at his desk at the call center or even staying in his own home. As he pulled up, he noticed another car parked in front.
Pulling up to the front of his house, he came to a stop and parked his car. As soon as he stepped out, an older, somewhat plump woman with glasses and red hair got out of the other vehicle and approached Marc.