The Secret Manuscript (2 page)

In a haze of
confusion, Ben rose from his bed and followed the elderly man, who
Ben figured was most likely a neighbour.

“Who are you?
How did you get into my apartment?”

“There’s no
time for that, Ben.”

“Wait, I need
to get my things,” Ben said, turning around to collect his
belongings.

“Come on!” the
man insisted, grabbing Ben by the arm and pulling him out of his
room.

Just then, the
floor beneath Ben began to crack and distort. He leaped from where
he was standing just in time before the floor beneath him
completely gave way. His bed fell through the floor, sending a
thunderous crash of rubble to the apartment below. A large swirl of
dense smoke quickly engulfed the room. A blaze of hellfire was
quick to follow. The crackling fire crept up from the apartment
below and climbed up the walls. This time, Ben did not hesitate. He
quickly followed the man out of his apartment and into the hallway.
There were no other people in the hallway, except the man, who was
heading toward the exit stairwell.

Ben froze for
a moment. “What about the others?” he asked.

“Everyone has
made it out already, you’re the last one. Now come on!”

The hallway
quickly filled with smoke and Ben started to cough heavily. He took
a few staggered steps then collapsed.

Ben’s eyes
lazily scanned his surroundings as he slowly regained
consciousness. While not fully aware of what was happening, he was
able to deduce where he was. A man wearing a uniform was leaning
over him affixing an oxygen mask to his face, while another one
covered his body with a thick wool blanket. As far as Ben could
tell, he was in the back of an ambulance. He inhaled deeply and
began to cough, which fogged up the inside of the clear mask.

“Easy,” one of
the paramedics said, placing his hand on Ben’s shoulder. “Don’t try
to take such deep breaths. You may have sustained smoke-inhalation
damage to your lungs.”

Ben was still
a little buzzed from the whisky and was not quite sure if he was
dreaming. He tried to sit up, but the paramedic forced him back
down. With just his head tilted up, he looked out the back window
of the ambulance and saw the street lights whiz by him. Eventually,
his head became too heavy to hold up and he collapsed onto the
pillow. He was still very drowsy and tried to fight off the effects
for as long as possible, but as soon as he closed his eyelids, he
fell back asleep.

The next
morning, he woke up hoping the events from the previous night had
been just a nightmare, but he soon realized that was not the case.
He was lying in a hospital amongst a row of beds separated by
curtains. There were doctors and nurses hustling about, tending to
the new arrivals and distraught tenants from his building. Most
people had no injuries at all, but as their apartment building
caught fire at 4:00 a.m., the hospital was the only place many of
them could go. Ben sat up and looked around.

The hospital
was small, so all around him were conversations he could not help
but overhear. One couple a few feet away looked familiar, but he
did not know them personally. The woman was hysterically crying in
her husband’s shoulder.

“I can’t
believe we lost everything,” she bellowed. “All our precious family
heirlooms are gone!”

“We don’t know
that for sure, Martha,” the husband said to comfort his wife. “We
should be thankful nobody was hurt. Anything we may have lost in
the fire can be replaced.”

“What about
our photo albums and my collection of—” she broke down before
finishing her sentence.

“Honey, until
we know the extent of the damage, we should not worry too much. Our
unit might be fine; it’s the people on the third and fourth floor
who should worry.”

As the man
said that, he made eye contact with Ben and gave him a sympathetic
smile. Ben got out of the bed just as the nurse was making her
rounds.

“How are you
feeling, Mr. Owen?” the nurse asked.

Ben’s throat
was a little sore, but he was able to muster a few words to let her
know he was okay.

“I’m glad to
hear that,” she said. “We’d like to keep you here for a little
while longer to monitor your condition. Would you like me to notify
anyone for you — family, friends, your employer…?”

“No, that
won’t be necessary.”

Ben sat on the
edge of his bed and scanned the familiar faces in the crowd, trying
to spot the elderly man who had helped him, but the man was nowhere
to be seen. Ben had not made a great deal of effort to get to know
anyone from his building except for Patrice, a retired mechanic who
shared Ben’s love for muscle cars. They never hung out as friends,
but anytime they ran into each other in the hall, they would stop
and have a conversation.

Patrice saw
Ben and moseyed over to him.

“Hi, Ben,”
Patrice said. “How’re you holding up?”

“Hey, Patrice.
I’m doing okay. How ‘bout you?”

“Could be
better,” he said. “I don’t know the extent of the damage, but from
what I heard and saw, the fire started on the third floor. I’m just
thankful I made it out alive.”

“I am too, but
I’m pretty sure I lost everything.”

“Yeah, it will
be tough for a lot of us, but the fire department was quick to put
the blaze out. I would hate to hear that you lost all your
stuff.”

“To be honest,
I’m not really too worried for some reason. Unlike some people, I
didn’t really have anything of value.”

“What about
your stories?”

“What about
them?”

“It’d be a
shame to lose them.”

“Doesn’t
really matter,” Ben shrugged. “Either they burn in a fire or sit on
my hard drive forever. Nobody was ever going to read them.”

“Ah, don’t say
that. I’ve read some of your stuff, you’re really talented.”

“Thanks,
Patrice.”

“Who knows,
through all this, you may have something new to write about.”

That was the
last thing Ben needed, another tragedy to write about. The
conversation with Patrice ended and Ben spent the rest of the day
relaxing and walking around the hospital. The nurse was vague about
when he could leave, which was fine by him since he was in no rush
to get out. Not only did he not have any obligations to be
elsewhere, he also did not have another place to stay. Staying in
the hospital provided him with necessities that he was unable to
provide on his own — a clean shower, food, and a roof over his
head. If he could stay longer he would. However, he knew eventually
a nurse would come around and tell him it was time to leave. When
that time came, he was not sure what he was going to do.

On Sunday
morning, a nurse came by to tell Ben that he was cleared to go.
With nothing but the clothes on his back, Ben set off on his own.
Upon heading toward the exit he approached a tiny counter and
informed the nurse of his name.

“Ben Owen
signing out,” he said.

“Okay, Mr.
Owen, if you could just sign your name on the bottom of this form,
I’ll go get your stuff.”

“My stuff?”
Ben asked in confusion.

The
receptionist swiveled her chair around and stood up. Ben watched as
she walked over to a small storage locker and searched through the
various cubbyholes. When she returned, she was holding a sealed
envelope.

“Here you
are,” she said, handing Ben the envelope.

“There must be
some mistake, this doesn’t belong to me.”

“It has your
name on it,” the woman said.

Ben flipped
the envelope over and saw his name scribbled on the front. “Do you
know who left this for me?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,
honey, my shift just started.”

“Alright,
thanks.”

Ben headed
toward the exit while attempting to wedge his thumb in the back of
the envelope. When he reached the exit, he triggered the automatic
doors to open, allowing the crisp morning air to hit his face.
Standing under an awning, Ben casually opened the envelope and
found a folded piece of paper inside. He pulled out the paper and
read it.

DON’T GIVE UP,
YOUR LIFE HAS A PURPOSE — 40 35 55 81 11

It was
obviously a letter from a friend, Patrice perhaps, but he was
unsure what the numbers signified. Ben shoved the papers in his
back pocket, flipped up the hood on his sweatshirt, and proceeded
to walk back to his apartment.

When Ben
arrived, he stood in awe. The fire had destroyed the upper levels
and rendered the rest of the building unliveable. A fire crew, made
up of mostly volunteers, was on scene. They were working diligently
to investigate the cause of the blaze and to ensure the perimeter
was fenced off. A high-pressure water cannon, which extended from
the back of a lone fire truck, was still in position in case the
fire started up again. Between the flames, smoke, and the water,
the damage was substantial. Ben was doubtful there would be
anything left of his suite.

Realizing
there was nothing he could do, Ben decided to go to work to see if
he could get some food. He began to walk, but conveniently saw the
bus approaching. He crossed the street and waited at the nearest
stop. The doors opened and he boarded last. He explained to the
driver that he had lost everything in an apartment fire the
previous night, and therefore had no means of paying the fare.
Obviously, the driver was aware of the fire and allowed Ben to ride
for free.

The bus
started to move and Ben clumsily shuffled down the aisle, holding
onto the handrails until he found a seat. He swung himself into
place, took a deep breath, and then stared out the window.

“Don’t worry,
everything’s going to be okay,” a middle-aged woman said.

Ben looked
over at the lady, but didn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry to
be a bother,” the lady continued, “I overheard what happened to
your apartment and I just wanted to tell you that the universe
works in mysterious ways. Despite things seeming gloomy and
hopeless now, you have to keep your head up. Sometimes in life,
things happen for a reason, life is strange that way. Even the bad
things can turn out to be blessings in disguise.”

“Thanks,” Ben
mumbled.

“You know, it
could have been worse, right? At least you made it out alive.”

Ben scoffed at
the remark, thinking maybe he would be better off dead. Feeling as
though there was no reason for his existence, Ben carried a look of
despair on his face.

In an attempt
to cheer him up, the lady quipped, “Look on the bright side, it’s
one less bill you have to pay, right?”

The joke
missed its mark. Ben mustered an insincere smile then went back to
looking out the window.

“Do you have
anywhere to stay?” the lady asked.

“I don’t know…
no,” Ben said.

“You can’t
sleep on the streets now, can you? Here, take my number and call me
if you need a warm meal and a place to stay while you get back on
your feet.”

The lady
handed Ben a folded up piece of paper with her number written on
it.

“My name is
Velena,” the woman said.

“Nice to meet
you, Velena. I’m Ben.”

“Well, this is
my stop. I hope to hear from you, Benjamin. Take care of
yourself.”

Ben
acknowledged the sentiment and bid the nice woman farewell. He was
not too keen on living with a stranger again, but did not dismiss
the idea either. Although it would not be the first time, he had
thought that part of his life was behind him. With no friends,
family, or girlfriend, he did not see a whole lot of viable
alternatives. Perhaps a makeshift relief shelter would be set up
where he could stay until he found another apartment.

The doors
closed and the bus began moving again. Ben waved to Velena, but
when she was out of sight, he opened up the folded piece of paper
she had given him. Scribbled on the paper were the words:

DON’T GIVE UP,
YOUR LIFE HAS A PURPOSE — 403-555-8111

When he read
the words, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He was
transfixed by the note, thinking it was either some kind of joke or
a major coincidence.

What are
the odds I would receive two notes an hour apart from each other
with the same message?
he wondered.

Ben reached
into his back pocket and pulled out the other note he had received
earlier. Comparing the two, he stacked the papers on top of each
other so that one line was right above the other. The notes were
practically identical with only a slight variance. Ben was not much
for coincidences, but the eeriness was enough to give him goose
bumps. He folded up both notes and shoved them in his back
pocket.

The bus
stopped on the other side of the street from the grocery store. Ben
waited for a car to pass before crossing, and then cut through the
parking lot to head inside.

Ben left the
grocery store with a few snacks and a large drink.

He
contemplated calling the woman he met on the bus for a place to
sleep and a warm meal, but did not even have the money to use a pay
phone. His plan was to keep moving for as long as possible to stay
warm. When he became tired, he figured he would find a park bench
to sleep on, or curl up on somebody’s patio furniture.

The town was
so small that it only took a couple hours to walk from one end to
the other. It was now eleven o’clock at night and Ben had been
walking for hours. He was exhausted and desperately needed a place
to rest. He decided to head to a park in his old neighbourhood. It
would provide him privacy and also the peace of mind of being in a
familiar setting.

On the way to
the park, Ben walked by the remnants of his old apartment building.
He looked across at the destruction. The fire had ripped through
the upper levels, leaving the building in shambles. He spotted the
exterior of his suite, which was one of the units that was hit the
worst. The windows were blown out and the walls were black with
soot. However, from his vantage point he could not properly assess
the extent of the damage.