Fate (Wilton's Gold #3) (34 page)

April 17, 1981

Vinny Manelo was just happy to be back to work, so he wasn’t about to let the drizzle bother him. He’d been laid off from his construction job for over three years, taking menial handyman work wherever he could find it to feed his wife, Angela, and their five-year-old Anthony. It had been a terribly tough time and he was glad to have seen the ‘70s go by the wayside. The ‘80s had much more promise.

Even though he’d dropped out of high school after 10th grade, he was smart enough to know that the strength of a country’s economy could easily be gauged by how many shovels are in the ground and cranes are in the air. There hadn’t been a lot the last several years, which was why his union had pretty much had him on standby all that time. But suddenly there was work. He’d been called to do grading and site prep for a new office building on a piece of vacant land west of where the Meadowlands Sports Complex had opened a few years before, and when this was done, there was another job right after it in Metuchen, about a half-hour south. This building here would be office and lab space. Though, he didn’t care what was in it – just that he had a chance to work on it, and that it stood for the next fifty years.

A bulldozer passed in front of him and pushed a clump of mud and brush out of the path. It was swampy here in parts of North Jersey, but the city had zoned this area clear for construction. He wasn’t going to question the guys who gave the permits.

As the machine pulled around for another pass, Vinny stepped forward to inspect a gray area that had been unveiled when the mud was removed. It was an enormous rock - at least four feet across and buried deep – that the bulldozer wouldn’t be able to get. He stood and did a spin to find his foreman so they could wave over the backhoe. He yelled to him over the noise of the machines. Man, it felt good to be back at work.

The foreman, a guy he’d just met named Carl, strode over to him, his boots sinking in the mud with each step. “What’s going on?” he yelled back to him.

“Won’t be able to bulldoze this one out,” he said. “We have to dig underneath it.”

“That’s a big son-of-a-bitch, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir.” Normally, he wouldn’t have called his foreman “sir,” but he was so pleased that later that night he’d be able to go home and have his Angela greet a working man at the door, he was feeling over-the-top.

“Alright, I’ll get the hoe.”

A few minutes later, Carl came back, directing the driver of the backhoe toward the place where the rock was embedded in the ground. The dipper was thrust into the mud and, after a few minutes of maneuvering, the boulder was successfully excavated, leaving a giant hole behind it. By the time they were done, a small crowd had gathered. The men cheered and then went back on their way. For Vinny, it was pretty cool to see the rock come out, but it had been necessary before the foundation could be poured.

As he stood at the top of the hole, though, looking in, a glint of silver caught his eye, embedded in the wall that had lined where the boulder was resting. He took a look around and saw no one was paying attention to him, so he leaped down into the hole to inspect it. It was a metal stick half protruding from the mud, so he grabbed and pulled. It came out easily, and he stared at it in amazement.

The stick was about ten inches long and had a small screen and a series of buttons like a fancy calculator. There was a compartment in the back that was closed tight, and a red button that fit his thumb. Other than that, there were no distinguishing markings. It was an astonishing find.

“Manelo!” Vinny heard a voice call from above him, though he didn’t see anyone. While it was taboo to take anything from a dig site, he couldn’t help himself, and he slid the metal stick underneath his protective vest. A moment later, he saw the foreman approaching. “What the hell are you doing in there? We’re not paying you to play in a hole.”

“Sorry,” he said, climbing out. “I thought I saw something.”

Carl looked past him into the hole. “Jimmy Hoffa down there?” He laughed and slapped him hard on the arm.

“I thought it might be.”

“Fat chance,” he said. “Get back to work.”

Carl walked away and left him standing there, holding his prize under his jacket. When he was sure no one was watching, Vinny situated the stick in the inside pocket of his coat so it wouldn’t fall out.

After putting in a full day of work that felt really good, Vinny took the Turnpike to his home in Edison. He came through the front door just like a husband and dad should, and was greeted with a big hug from Angela, proud of her man. Life was good.

“Are you hungry?” she asked as he pulled his boots off in the doorway. “I’ve got chicken started, and those little potatoes you like.”

Vinny smiled. “It sounds perfect,” he said. He walked up the stairs to their bedroom and changed out of his clothes, then slipped into a five-minute shower. It was refreshing and rewarding, and when he got out he could smell the spices that Angela had put on the chicken before putting it in the oven. It seemed even his senses were heightened by his new sense of worth. Thank goodness.

Before going downstairs, he grabbed the metal stick he’d found on the site that afternoon and went down the hallway to Anthony’s room. He could hear him playing inside, so he rapped on the door.

“Who is it?” his six-year-old son, his pride and joy, called from inside.

“It’s your father,” he said. A moment later, the door opened and he ducked inside. Anthony was playing with action figures, which were strewn all over the floor. “What’s up, pal?”

“Not much. Just playin’.”

“Hey, look what I found today at work,” he said, pulling the stick out from behind his back and showing it to him, enjoying the shouts of “cool” and “neat” that the futuristic-looking stick earned him.

“What is it?” Anthony asked, taking it from him and inspecting it.

Vinny shook his head. “I don’t know. Looks like some kind of computer that you hold in your hand. Probably some secret spy equipment or something.” He hammed it up for him.

“What are you going to do with it?” Anthony asked, looking up at him.

“Doesn’t look like it works. You can have it to play with.”

“Cool!” he said, pushing the buttons on it and talking at the screen like he was James Bond. “I’m glad you got this job.”

“Well, I probably won’t be able to bring home new space technology every day,” Vinny said, laughing. “Just be careful with it. It’s not for playing rough.”

“Okay, Dad. But can I take it for show-and-tell on Friday?”

“I don’t see why not,” he said. He loved to see both his kid and his wife smiling. “Dinner in three minutes. Wash your hands, then come downstairs.”

“Okay.”

Vinny closed the door and headed downstairs, where Angela greeted him with another hug. Moments later, the three of them were seated at the table digging into chicken, salted baby potatoes and brown sugar carrots. Angela had splurged and bought Heavenly Hash ice cream for dessert.

Which was more than enough to make everyone forget about the mysterious metal stick.

End

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Fortune

Fulfillment

Fate

Craig W. Turner
has worked in government, politics, PR, media and economic development in Western New York for over 15 years. He is a graduate of the University of Buffalo, and is a two-time winner of the Buffalo News Short Story Contest. Craig lives in Wheatfield, New York (near Niagara Falls) with his wife, Nadine, and their four children. While it is an admitted fantasy of his, he has never, personally, traveled through time.