In August of 2014 I submitted this story for Round 34 of our writing group. Even though there would be three more writing rounds, this was the last one I ever submitted. It had been extremely fun and productive being part of that group and submitting stories on a semi-regular basis. This one was an alternate version of a story I had previously written for Round 3, and as I mention in the story introduction below, I just couldn't stop thinking about it for many years. When that happens I take it as a sign that the story needs to be written down - and that's exactly what I did!
Do you remember way back in 2006 when we held our 3rd round? That was the one where we all started with the same sentence. That was quite a fun contest, and I really liked the story that I submitted for it! What you may not know, however, is that I had planned to write an entirely different story, about a boy who gets several chances to change the worst day of his life. I outlined that first story and even started writing it, but somehow got side-tracked and lost interest in it before deciding to write the one I eventually submitted. Well, that partially finished story has haunted me for many years (eight, to be exact) and I finally decided to do something about it! Here is that beast of a story, which I have finally set free after all this time.
Another Chance For Johnny
by Rusty Keele
The sky was turning blood red as the sun set behind the hills. Leaning over the wooden railing, he pretended to watch the water as two men in dark trench coats made their way towards him. It was odd seeing men wear coats like that these days, and he wasn't sure but that was probably the style back when his mom was a teenager. Luckily, teenagers like him had better fashion sense these days. He kept his back to them as they passed by on the sidewalk, but he still caught a fraction of their conversation.
“...you're really lucky, you know. Not everyone gets another chance like this.” said one of the men.
“That's right, there must be something very special happening.” replied the other, before the noise of the traffic zooming across the bridge drowned out the rest of the conversation.
He watched the river run under the bridge for a few more moments – in spite of the truck that honked its horn very loudly - then looked at his watch and decided it was time to go find his mother. He turned around and kept a close eye on the busy traffic as he waited for just the right moment to jay-walk to the other side. When it came he jogged casually to the other side of the road, only to find a gang of skateboarders gathered at the top of the stairs. He slowed down, and watched momentarily as several of them hopped their boards up on the railing and began sliding down the handrails. The rest of the boys laughed and cheered on their counterparts as they slid perilously towards the plaza below – obviously out of control. They were a tough looking bunch, so he gave them plenty of time and plenty of space before making a wide berth around them to make his way jarringly down to the lively, crowded, river-side plaza.
The plaza, covered in cobblestone, had been the lively gathering spot for jubilant crowds for hundreds of years, but even Johnny could sense the extra excitement tonight as people made their way around and through the crowds. The yearly festival that was happening gave the crowd a slightly different feel this day. Perhaps the conference was meant to coincide with it? He made a mental note to ask his mother about that when he got there. For now, though, he was happy to take in all the sights, including the children splashing about in the fountain, and the many entertainers happily keeping the crowds occupied.
He was surprised to hear a telephone ringing! He looked around and saw one of those old fashioned booths which he thought didn't exist anymore. It only rang a couple of times before some man walked up to it and lifted the receiver. The man didn't say anything, but appeared to listen for a few moments before hanging up the handset.
There were other fun, if old fashioned, sights as well: the two men on stilts who were juggling torches and passing them back and forth to each other, the man dressed in frilly, white clothes who was riding a unicycle erratically around the plaza, the policeman strolling leisurely about while whistling a tune and the book seller pushing his cart and loudly advertising his wares.
The excitement in the plaza was almost matched by the business of the nearby river. There were many small boats shuffling passengers to the plaza, as well as the regular river traffic. One large barge seemed like a behemoth, swarmed by the pesty insects of the smaller vessels. The barge let loose a long, bellowing blast of its foghorn – much to the delight of several people, mostly children.
As much as Johnny would like to stay and take part in the festivities, he knew that he had to get to the conference soon or his mother would be angry with him. He began walking through the plaza and eventually into the narrow street leading away from it. He didn't have far to go, but he enjoyed the cozy street with its many outdoor restaurants. The street buzzed with the many excited conversations.
Just past the outdoor dining tables, Johnny made his way into the lobby of the fancy hotel where the conference was being held. There was a sign pointing to the elevator: La Conférence Internationale de la Recherche sur les Cellules Souches. Several people, including a bellman with a cart full of equipment, were waiting patiently for the elevator to the top floor. Johnny noticed that many of them were wearing lab coats or business suits.
Johnny took the second elevator, and found himself pressing against the side wall in order to make room for the baggage cart and the other passengers. He tried to keep his eyes down, and not intrude on anyone's privacy, but he couldn't help noticing the man who had answered the telephone in the booth on the plaza. He alone of all the people in the lift seemed out of place – well, besides Johnny himself. The man had scraggly brown hair and an unkempt beard, and was wearing a comically over-sized gray coat. The man looked straight ahead and seemed to notice no one. Johnny thought it was an odd way for a lab technician or doctor to act, but then again maybe he wasn't one of the conference attendees.
He was mildly surprised when no got off the elevator before his stop, and the whole group exited on the top floor along with himself.
There were hundreds of people milling about the large convention area that occupied the entire top floor of the hotel, but he quickly spotted his mother near one of the check-in tables. He walked over to her and tapped her shoulder, “Mom – I'm here.”
She flashed a silent smile at him and continued to talk to the person next to her. When she was done she excused herself and pulled Johnny aside. “Alright, John, you're all set for tonight? You've got money? What are you planning on doing?”
Johnny made the face that badgered kids make everywhere. “Yes, mom – I've got money. I'm just going to check out some of the activities going on at the festival. What time do you want me to meet you back here?”
His mother started to speak, but wasn't able to say anything before several people on the other side of the room began screaming. Both Johnny and his mother looked in that direction and saw the unkempt phone booth man – who had removed his gray coat to reveal several bombs strapped to his torso! He was yelling loudly and violently in French – but his message was clear enough: he was opposed to the controversial practice of stem cell research. The people around him were quickly moving away and were looking very nervous.
One man, who looked like a doctor in his white lab coat, and another man in a business suit were slowly making calm, open gestures with their hands as they spoke soothingly to the terrorist. The unkempt man, however, only seemed to be getting angrier and angrier. He kept demanding something, and from his tone it sounded quite important and urgent.
After nearly a minute of both sides trying to make their point, the man in the suit suddenly lunged at the terrorist. That was the last straw, apparently, for the unkempt man instantly pressed the detonator in his hand and the whole place erupted in a loud, violent explosion.
***
At first everything was white, but as Johnny looked around he began to notice people – all sorts of people. They, too, were just sort of milling about looking at the others in the area. It wasn't a room, so to speak, and there weren't any walls – or even anywhere to sit down. But he didn't feel the need to sit, or the need to do anything really – he was just content to wait.
After a while (it could have been hours or just a few minutes – time didn't really seem to exist in this place) a man wearing a dark and immaculate 3-piece suit came over to Johnny. “Hello. What religion are you?” he asked in a very soothing voice.
Johnny had to think for a moment, but then replied, “I'm Catholic – although I hardly ever go to church.” He smiled sheepishly at the man.
The man returned Johnny's smile, and then slowly began to change his appearance. Like some sort of low budget movie, the man morphed from a middle aged gentleman to an old, white haired man. He was now wearing a simple white robe and sandals, and had a bushy white beard. He spoke again, and Johnny noticed that his voice had aged as well, “Welcome Johnny, I am Peter. Have you figured out where you are?”
“Yeah, I think I just did.” said Johnny, glancing around the area and taking more notice of the people there. There seemed to be some small, wispy clouds floating around now, and he also noticed some sort of gate – it was white and very shiny.
The old man produced a clipboard from somewhere and began flipping through several pages. When he stopped his eyes became a bit more serious, and he concentrated on reading for a few moments. “I'm afraid I have some good news for you – or bad news, depending on how you feel about it.” He cleared his throat and then continued, “It appears you have been given another chance, Johnny. This is a rare opportunity you know – a chance to make things right. Be careful not to waste it huh?” The old man smiled and crossed something off the list. “Goodbye Johnny – and good luck!”
Johnny suddenly felt very tired, and the room began to fade to black.
***
The sky was turning blood red as the sun set behind the hills. Leaning over the wooden railing, he pretended to watch the water as two men in dark trench coats made their way towards him. It was odd seeing men wear coats like that these days. He kept his back to them as they passed by on the sidewalk, but he still caught some of their conversation.
“...you're really lucky, you know. Not everyone gets another chance like this.” said one of the men.
“That's right, there must be something very special happening.” replied the other, before the noise of the traffic crossing the bridge drowned out the rest of the conversation.
He watched the river run under the bridge for just a moment before it started to come back to him. He had been here before! He remembered this, and then his mind began to replay the events that followed: his journey across the crowded plaza, the elevator ride and eventually the man who... I was dead he thought! Suddenly his mind jumped – if he really had been given another chance, then he must not waste a second of it!
He quickly spun around and started across the road, but it only took two steps before he realized he had made a grave mistake. The was a loud horn, a screeching of brakes, and poor Johnny looked up just in time to see the big freight truck bearing down on him!
***
Everything was white again. As Johnny looked around he began to notice that it wasn't bright white – there was some dull gray mixed in with it. A sense of déjà vu asserted itself, and he began to look for other people – especially an old man with a white, bushy beard. The only person he could see, however, was a being sitting on the ground inside a ring of boulders and thick, bushy trees. It was a mysterious figure too, with an elephant head, muted red skin and four arms. He tried to approach the figure, but the ring of obstacles made it rather difficult. He had to try several different paths over the boulders and between the trees before he hit on the right one.
The figure appeared to be in some form of meditation when Johnny finally arrived, and its eyes remained closed and its breathing steady. “Hello?” offered Johnny tentatively.
It opened its eyes and looked directly at him, then held out one pair of hands in an open, welcoming gesture. His voice had an Indian accent, “Hello again – I didn't expect to see you so soon.”
“What? Who are you?”
The figure looked down at himself and remarked, “Oh! My goodness, of course you don't recognize me!” With that he began to morph into a human. After a moment it was the old man, Peter, who was sitting before him. He flashed a grandfatherly smile at Johnny and extended his hand, “Well! Don't just stand there staring... help me get up!”
Johnny took Peter's hand and helped him to his feet, then said rather sheepishly, “Yeah, I'm here again – that didn't take long did it?”
Peter gave him a slight frown and began flipping through the pages of his clipboard again. He stopped on the relevant page, and spent a few more moments reading through the notes there. “I see,” he finally said, “you completely blew it didn't you? Well, no harm done...” He glanced and Johnny again and added, “...except that you died again! Anyway, it appears that you have yet another chance to make things right!”
Johnny felt relief at Peter's words, and as the old man crossed something off the paper again the room began to fade to blackness.
***
The sky was turning blood red as the sun set behind the hills. Leaning over the wooden railing, he pretended to watch the water as two men in dark trench coats made their way towards him. The memories and déjà vu came more quickly this time. While his brain pieced together the previous events, he kept his back to them as they passed by.
“...you're really lucky, you know. Not everyone gets another chance like this.” said one of the men.
“That's right, there must be something very special happening.” replied the other, before the noise of the traffic drowned out their conversation.
Johnny felt an overwhelmingly urgent desire to act, and he spun around quickly. He was just about to start across the road when he remembered the truck. The driver must have seen him because he laid on the horn and Johnny was able to stop himself before getting killed... again.
I've got to be more careful this time he thought as he watched for a break in the traffic. It took a few moments, but he was finally able to weave his way across the street and to the top of the plaza steps. There was a group of boys there, laughing and cheering. He remembered them from before, but didn't wait this time and plunged headlong into running down the steps.
Running down the stairs turned out to be a bad idea. Hadn't his mother always told him not to do that? In his rush to get to the hotel he lost control and began to fall. Somehow he desperately lunged towards the handrail and was barely able to clutch on to it and break his fall.
Grabbing the handrail turned out to be a bad idea too – for he did so just in front of a group of skateboarders who were sliding their boards down it. The first boarder tried to jump out of the way but didn't manage to do it in time and he crashed into Johnny! That started a chain reaction of crashes as the next two boys also piled into them. All of them tumbled to the ground and bounced roughly off several steps before coming to a stop.
Johnny felt bad about what he caused to happen, but he couldn't afford to waste time explaining it to them, so he got up quickly and continued to run down the steps. Another bad idea. The skate board boys chased him down and caught him just as he reached the plaza. Yelling obscenities the first boy forced Johnny to the ground, and several others quickly formed a circle around him. Wiping blood from their recent scrapes and cuts, the boys yelled as they kicked and punched him.
Johnny screamed out in pain and frustration, “Stop! Let me go! I have to get to the hotel!” But it was no use, they continued to pummel him and there was nothing he could do. After what felt like an eternity, they finally had their fill of beating him and began moving back up the stairs.
Slowly and painfully Johnny got to his feet and wiped the blood that trickled from his lip. One of the large boats in the river blasted its horn and that jolted Johnny into action. I'm late! he thought, and he tried to run across the plaza, but he was too sore to move at anything more than a slow limp. He moved past the children in the fountain, and saw the two men on stilts bowing to the cheering crowd. The man dressed in frilly, white clothes had stopped his unicycle and was talking to a group of children.
Johnny knew he was too late but he stepped up his pace as much as he could. As he made his way past the outdoor restaurants he was trying to think what he could do to stop the terrorist – but nothing came to mind. He knew he had to get there and make some sort of effort, though, or lots people would die. Just as he was about to enter the hotel he heard a loud explosion above him. He looked up and saw smoke and debris coming out of the top of the hotel. Unfortunately for Johnny, he was directly under the chunks of building that rained down on the crowds below.
***
This time not everything was white. In fact, the mist that enveloped him was a dull gray. He began to look around for Peter, and when he didn't immediately see him he picked a random direction and started walking that way.
The mist began to part, and Johnny could hear the sound of quietly lapping water. As the mist withdrew he saw that he was standing on the shore of a large but mild river. There was some kind of long, finely carved rowboat in the water near him, and at its helm sat a tall, hooded, decrepit figure holding a long pole. The figure pushed the boat slowly to the shore where it beached lightly on the sandy bank, then held out a bony hand – as if begging for a handout.
Johnny patted the pockets on his jeans, but knew he didn't have any money. “I'm sorry – I don't have anything to give you” he said.
At the sound of his voice the figure looked up at Johnny and pushed back his hood – revealing a bony, almost skeletal, head with dry skin stretched tight over it. As he watched the figure Johnny saw a familiar change take place – and soon it was the white haired Peter who sat in the boat before him.
“Really? You again?” asked the old man. Johnny gave another faint, sheepish grin. Once again Peter produced a clipboard out of nowhere and began to petulantly flip through the pages until he reached the one that apparently pertained to Johnny. Peter wasn't smiling this time as he made some sort of check mark on the paper and added “I'm not going to keep doing this forever, you know? You really need to make an effort to fix the problem this time.” Before Johnny could respond everything began to fade to black.
***
The sky was turning blood red as the sun set behind the hills. Leaning over the wooden railing, he pretended to watch the water as two men in dark trench coats made their way towards him. Johnny instantly remembered this scene, and just continued staring at the river while he waited for them to pass.
“...you're really lucky, you know. Not everyone gets another chance like this.” said one of the men.
“That's right, there must be something very special happening.” replied the other.
As soon as they were past him Johnny spun around and waited for the truck to pass by. The driver honked the horn anyway, but Johnny just grimaced at him.
Once again he wove his way across the street and to the top of the plaza steps. The group of boys were there, laughing and cheering again. He was careful to give them lots of space as he made a wide berth around them and down the steps into the plaza. He was a little slower going down this time, but he felt that safely reaching the bottom out-weighed the consequences of rushing down the steps.
He wanted to sprint across the plaza towards the hotel, but was still a little bit leery of what might happen to him should he blunder this chance – so he forced himself to walk. After a few moments, as he approached the end of the open plaza, he saw the unkempt man walking away from the phone booth – heading straight for the hotel!
Since the man was only 20 or 30 yards away, Johnny thought he might be able to stop him somehow. He looked around and realized that he was next to the book seller's cart. Not knowing what else to do he grabbed a small, hardback book off the cart and quickly lined it up with the unkempt man. Then he reared back and gave the book his best pitch – hoping to hit the man in his head.
His aim was pretty good, but his timing was terrible. He had been so focused on the unkempt man that Johnny hadn't noticed the unicycle rider pedaling towards him! It all seemed to happen in slow motion: the rider, in his frilly white shirt, came barreling straight into the path of the book and was hit smack in the face by the flying hardback! Johnny cringed and sharply sucked in his breath when he saw the rider crash to the ground.
He felt terrible about the rider, but he was more determined to stop the unkempt man, so he just ran past the downed cyclist – but someone grabbed hold of his arm. He looked up into the angry eyes of the policeman. The constable gripped his upper arm tightly, and asked him something in French. Johnny didn't quite understand the words, but the meaning was clear.
Johnny, frustrated and keenly feeling time slip away, pointed to the unkempt man and said “Officer! That man there is going to blow up the hotel! You've got to let me go – you've got to stop him!” This only made the policeman more angry and he began shouting at Johnny and smacking the boy's head. Johnny tried to break free of his grip, but wasn't able to do it. He felt the tears of frustration burning in his eyes, “Please, sir – you've got to stop that man!” he bawled out, but it was no use.
As the unkempt man vanished into the hotel lobby, a small crowd had gathered around the scene of the alleged book attack. The unicycle rider, who had blood trickling down his forehead, was rather unpleased with the whole affair and was loudly explaining something to the policeman. As the minutes wore on Johnny became more and more frustrated, and felt quite trapped. Finally the rider finished his case and both he and the policeman looked at Johnny and asked some more questions in French.
Johnny was about to make another plea to the policeman when there was a loud explosion. Everyone ducked in reaction to the violent sound, and they all looked towards the hotel – where smoke and debris could be seen. Within a matter of seconds hundreds of people came running towards the plaza from the area under the hotel. Johnny and his informal jury were still in a bit of shock and unable to move out of the crowd's way quickly enough. Johnny was bowled over by several of the people fleeing the explosion. He tried to keep his balance but was unable to defend himself against the onslaught, and was eventually thrown violently against the cobblestone. His head struck a big stone, and he started to black out once again. “No! Not again!” he cried – but, like several times before, there was nothing he could do about it.
***
Once again all was a white mist. As it began to clear Johnny saw that he was in a large but primitive mansion, and not very far from him sat a woman on a raised throne. She looked rather gloomy and downcast, but even more strange was the fact that the left side of her was black, while the right side was flesh colored. She was listening to three tall, blond men talk about something, but when she spied Johnny she held up a hand and signaled them to stop. They stopped immediately and turned to see Johnny standing just a few steps behind them. They stepped aside when the woman beckoned to Johnny and he went towards her.
She looked at the men and dismissed them with a wave of her hand, and when they had gone she turned to him and spoke, “I'm not even going to change my appearance this time, Johnny. I assume you know who I am?” When he nodded she continued, “You're almost as bad as those darn cats – always going back and forth!” She looked him in the eye and shook her head. “Listen to me, this is your last chance. If you don't resolve your problem this time you're done – got it?” He nodded his head.
She looked at him, and it seemed to Johnny that she was about to smile – but she never did. Instead she produced a clipboard where she turned to his page and emphatically crossed off something. As everything began to fade, she waved limply with her hand. “Good luck Johnny.” she called just as everything went black.
***
The sky was turning blood red as the sun set behind the hills. Leaning over the wooden railing, he pretended to watch the water as two men in dark trench coats made their way towards him. Wait - he remembered this! Johnny closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then quickly turned to face the road before the men had passed him. He look left and saw that the truck was still a little ways off, so he quickly scanned the traffic, figured he could make it, and darted across the road.
The truck driver saw him and honked his horn loudly, but Johnny was well out of the way by then. Looking rapidly back and forth he proceeded a lane at a time, and eventually he made it to the other side. He was elated and looked back at the two men on the other side. One of them cupped his hand to his mouth and yelled, “You're really lucky, you know!” The other man nodded in agreement, then rolled his eyes at Johnny. Then they began moving along the sidewalk again.
Johnny hurried to the steps, and realized that he was ahead of schedule this time – the crowd of skateboarders was just beginning to gather at the top. Wasting no time he jogged carefully down the stairs while holding the handrail for support. He got to the bottom and began rushing across the plaza. He was still trying to figure out how he could stop the terrorist – but nothing had come to mind yet. It didn't help that he knew this would be his last chance to make things right.
Then he saw the old fashioned telephone booth, and he froze. He began to look around for the unkempt man, but didn't see him. He walked closer to the booth, and stopped just an arm's length from the folding glass door. He kept his eyes glued on the telephone inside, and after a moment it began to ring. Quickly he slid the door open and picked up the handset, “Hello?”
There was a faint click on the other end of the line, and a recorded message began to play. It was in French, and the quality was far to low for Johnny to comprehend it. After the message played the line went dead. Johnny looked at the receiver, then slowly hung it back on the hook. He turned to exit the booth and saw the unkempt man standing just a few feet away – glaring at him!
Johnny kept his eyes down, and slid the booth door open carefully. He stepped out and began walking away from the bomber, but the man moved to intercept him. He was furious, and Johnny could see his pulse in one of his sweaty veins over his left eye. He asked him a question in a low voice, but Johnny didn't understand and indicated as much. Then the man began yelling at him and grabbed Johnny by the jacket. Johnny proclaimed his ignorance but the unkempt man only began to smack him with the flat of his hand.
As Johnny tried to dodge the blows a foghorn sounded from the river, and it startled the terrorist enough that he looked up. Johnny looked around and saw the policeman who had stopped him from reaching the hotel on his previous attempt, and he began to scream loudly for help. The policeman, seeing what was happening, started towards the two of them and was speaking sternly to the unkempt man – who let go of Johnny's jacket and backed off a few steps.
The constable and the bomber held a short, tense conversation before the terrorist finally shouted something and threw open his bulky, over-sized coat to reveal the bombs strapped to his body! The policeman pulled his gun out and pointed it at the unkempt man and began shouting warnings at the people nearby. Some of the festival-goers started screaming and moving away from the scene
Johnny noticed that the unkempt man didn't have the detonator in his hand, and was now making motions with his arms – indicating that he wanted the policeman to drop his gun and raise his hands. The policeman argued but the bomber just threw his own hands more violently in the air.
Out of the corner of his eye Johnny saw the two jugglers on stilts. They had stopped performing and were sneaking around behind the bomber unnoticed! When the larger of the stilt walkers was directly behind him, he reached down and grabbed the bomber's wrists – then hoisted him into the air! The crowd screamed at this daring maneuver, and the policeman rushed forward to subdue the terrorist – but it was too much. His momentum knocked the bomber sideways and caused the stilt-man to stumble – but not before he half-flung half-pushed the unkempt man over the plaza's edge and into the river!
People were already beginning to run away when the under water explosion went off – causing drops to rain down on several people who were near the edge of the plaza. There was quite a commotion then as people screamed and yelled and tried to get away. But Johnny only noticed that the bomber hadn't made it to the hotel conference room – the one with his mother and all the other attendees in it. In fact, no one else had even died in this version of his alternate reality. Johnny slumped to the ground and didn't try to hold back the tears that came freely now. He covered his eyes with his hands and sobbed.
After just a few minutes Johnny felt a gentle touch on his shoulder, and he looked up into the eyes of one of the dark trench coat men from the bridge. “Are you OK?” the man asked. It was the one who had said something about being lucky. Just behind him was the other man, who looked at Johnny in a very concerned manner.
“Yes... I think so.” Johnny nodded.
The man smiled and Johnny thought he saw something familiar in those eyes. He looked a moment longer, and realized that they were from his after death experiences – they were Peter's eyes!
“Peter?!” asked Johnny.
“Hmm? Me? Oh no! But I can definitely help you,” he said, lifting Johnny gently by the arm. “Come on now, let's go find your mother shall we?”
Johnny just smiled and let the man help him.
The End
With special cameo appearances by:
St. Peter – Guardian of the Pearly Gates
Ganesha – The Hindu Lord of Obstacles
Charon – Greek mythology's ferryman of Hades
Hel – Norse goddess of the underworld
This story copyright © 2014 by Rusty Keele. All rights reserved.
