The Secret Manuscript (26 page)

“Trust me, you
can do and you will do it. And if it’s any consolation, you don’t
get caught. Ben Owen won’t ever be a suspect because he will be
holed up in a police cell when it happens. It’ll be the perfect
alibi.”

“I don’t feel
comfortable doing this.”

“Neither did
I, but it has to be done.”

“Why don’t you
do it?”

“Because
that’s not how the story goes. This is your destiny.”

“To hell with
my destiny, I’ve changed it before, proving I have free will.”

“No, your free
will was just an illusion. You only think you changed your destiny,
but look at what has unfolded. Everything is happening the way it
should, and you will eventually come to your senses and do what
needs to be done.”

Ben just stood
there with a blank expression on his face.

“This is your
destiny, Ben, and there’s nothing you can do to change it. I’ll be
back in a bit; I have to drop off this note.”

Ben walked
back into the hotel with a heavy head. He entered the elevator and
rode it up to the third floor. The whole time he was trying to wrap
his mind around everything that was happening. The moment he walked
through the door, Vanessa could immediately tell something was
wrong. Ben sat on the bed and told her everything he had to do.

“If he knew
you were just going to tell me the moment you came upstairs, why
didn’t he just say it in front of me?”

“Because
that’s not the way the story goes. It didn’t happen that way to
him.”

“I don’t like
the older you, he seems like a stickler for destiny.”

“Let’s just go
to bed and deal with all this in the morning.”

The entire
restless night Ben tossed and turned, barely catching a wink of
sleep. He was dreading having to kill Charles Gringer and wondered
if the future Ben was manipulating him. He wondered why Gringer
needed to die, why it needed to be him who killed him, and did he
really have a choice?

Ben woke as
the morning sunlight came through a crack in the curtains and fell
upon his face. He rolled over and saw Vanessa was still sleeping.
On the other bed was his older self. Ben quietly got out of bed and
put his clothes on. He needed some fresh air and more time to
think.

By now, it was
around 7:00 a.m. on Saturday morning. His younger self was still
sleeping in the hospital. He would wake in a few hours and begin to
have a series of strange events unfold. Ben considered paying him a
visit, but decided not to mess with fate.

Walking down
the barren streets, Ben had his head down and was not watching
where he was going. Abruptly, a man stiff-shouldered Ben, knocking
him off balance.

“Hey, watch
where you’re going, asshole,” the man said.

Ben looked up
and saw Chad walking away. Since Ben was operating on little sleep,
his judgment was a bit off. Without thinking, he did something he
had always wanted to do.

“Hey, buddy,”
Ben called out, as he ran toward him.

Chad stopped
and turned around. Before he could get a good look, Ben punched
Chad right in the face, knocking him to the ground. Ben then got on
top of him and punched him a few times in the ribs. He eventually
stopped when Chad started to cry.

“Leave me
alone!” he wailed like a little kid. Ben actually felt bad for him.
Underneath the tough exterior, Chad was just a frightened little
boy. There was no way Ben could continue to hit him in good
conscience so he withdrew and ran off.

On his way
back to the hotel, he saw future Ben waiting outside for him.

“What are you
doing?” young Ben asked.

“It’s about
that time, Ben.”

“What
time?”

“It’s time to
go, get in.”

“Where’s
Vanessa?”

“She’s
sleeping in the backseat.”

Ben looked in
the back and saw what appeared to be a body with a blanket covering
it. It hardly seemed legit, but Ben didn’t question it. He figured
his older self would not lie to him, so he jumped in the passenger
seat and they drove off.

“It felt good
to punch Chad in his smug face, didn’t it?” the older Ben asked

“How did you
know that I… never mind. Yeah, it felt really good until he started
to cry.”

They both
shared a laugh.

***

Vanessa woke
up to discover her boyfriend was not sleeping beside her. She sat
up on the bed and looked over at the other queen bed – future Ben
was gone as well. Vanessa noticed a folded note on the nightstand
by her bed. She picked it up and read it:

Dear
Vanessa,

I have to go
to Calgary and take care of some things. It may be dangerous and I
don’t want you to get involved. I paid for the hotel until the end
of the week; I should be back by then.

Love, Ben.

***

“Vanessa has
been sleeping a long time,” Ben said, as he looked in the backseat.
“Hey, wake up, sleepy head,” he said, reaching in the back and
pulling the blanket off. Underneath were a couple of pillows
arranged to look like a sleeping body.

“Where is
she?” Ben yelled.

“Don’t worry,
she’s fine. She’s back at the hotel. I left her a note from you.
It’s a good thing we have the same handwriting.”

“Turn around,
we have to go back for her,” Ben demanded.

“I understand
you are upset, believe me, I went through the same thing.”

“Turn this car
around, now!”

“We can’t do
that, Ben. There isn’t enough time.”

“Time for
what? What are you not telling me?”

“It’s going to
get a little dangerous over the next few days, Ben, and time is of
the essence.”

“If you’ve
been through this before, then you know what I’m willing to do. If
you don’t turn this car around, you’ll regret it.”

“Okay, don’t
do anything foolish. There’s a rest area up ahead, we can turn
around there.”

Young Ben sat
in the passenger seat, fuming with rage. A part of him knew they
would not turn around for Vanessa. If she was meant to be on the
trip, then she would be with them already. Without the foresight of
upcoming events, Ben just did what he would naturally do. The older
Ben seemed to be keeping him in the dark about a lot of details,
which frustrated him. Future Ben said it was to ensure younger
Ben’s reactions to events were organic. Having too much knowledge
of a situation may alter the course of history and have unforeseen
consequences in the future.

Future Ben
pulled the car over and turned off the engine. “Listen, Ben, I know
what you’re thinking and you don’t want to do that.”

“You don’t
know what I’m thinking. I want you to get out of the car.”

The older Ben
complied with young Ben’s request and got out of the car. Young Ben
got out as well.

“You don’t
want to fight me, Ben. I know every punch you will throw before you
even decide to throw it.”

“Shut up.”

“Aww, you are
so young and naïve, it’s almost embarrassing to watch you. You are
being pushed around by your emotions; you have to learn a little
self-control.”

“Put your
hands up, old man,” young Ben said, as he circled his senior
counterpart.

“Ben, you’re
not a fighter. You sucker punched your old boss while he stumbled
to work half asleep. That doesn’t make you a tough guy.”

“I’m done
talking with you. Get out of my head.”

“You know, you
should never admit to someone that they’ve gotten into your head,
it makes it easier to manipulate you.”

“You’re not
manipulating me. I’m not a puppet, okay? I have free will.”

Young Ben
lunged forward with a right fist. The older Ben moved slightly to
avoid the punch and slapped young Ben in the face. This enraged and
humiliated young Ben, inciting him to attack again. Full of
aggression, young Ben swung wildly. His future-self manoeuvered to
avoid the entire combination with minimal effort. At the end of the
flurry, the older Ben kicked younger Ben’s legs out from under him,
knocking younger Ben to the ground.

“Trust me,
this isn’t a fair fight,” the older Ben said.

Still on the
ground, young Ben looked up at himself with anger and
frustration.

“Ben, there’s
no shame in losing a fight against yourself. In a sense, you never
really lose. Let this be a lesson. Only when you stop fighting
yourself are you capable of achieving greatness. Sometimes our
issues and ego stand in our way and prevent us from being
great.”

Ben got up,
dusted himself off, and conceded to defeat.

“Are you
calmed down now?” future Ben asked.

“Yeah, I’m
good. I’ll go along with your plan. Whatever you want me to do,
I’ll do.”

“Glad to
hear.”

“Give me the
keys; I’m driving the rest of the way.”

The car pulled
up in front of Charles Gringer’s house and the two Bens exited the
vehicle. They approached the front door and knocked three
times.

Being at the
house was a very surreal moment for both of them. For young Ben, he
had only known this house when it was his. To stand on the front
porch and knock was bizarre. It was perhaps even more bizarre for
the older Ben since he had not seen the house in over forty years.
The last time was when he was standing in young Ben’s shoes,
literally.

After a few
moments, young Ben set eyes on Charles Gringer for the first time.
The resemblance to his future self was uncanny.

“Can I help
you?” Mr. Gringer asked.

“Hi Charles,
my name is Ben Owen and I’m from the future. May we come in?”

“I don’t know
what you two are selling, but I’m not interested.”

Young Ben
chimed in, “Please, if you allow us just a few minutes of your
time, we will make you a very rich man.”

“Go away, I’m
not interested,” Gringer said as he attempted to slam the door.
Future Ben stuck his foot out and prevented the door from closing.
Mr. Gringer looked worried.

“Look, I don’t
want any trouble,” Mr. Gringer said.

“That’s great,
now get in the damn house,” future Ben said as he held a small
caliber pistol about waist high. Mr. Gringer took notice of the gun
and had no choice but to comply. Young Ben had no idea why future
Ben had a gun, but he went along with it on blind faith.

“Mr. Gringer,
we’re not here to hurt you. May we please come inside and
talk?”

With great
reluctance, Mr. Gringer stepped aside and allowed the two Bens to
enter. When they walked in, they both looked around. It was a lot
different from when they lived there. Mr. Gringer had a lifetime of
personal effects collecting dust all over the house. He led them
into the living room where they could sit. On their way inside,
young Ben demanded the gun from his future self. The older Ben
handed over his weapon and smiled.

“Mr. Gringer,
to prove we’re not here to hurt you, I’m going to give you my gun,”
young Ben said as he handed Mr. Gringer the gun. Mr. Gringer took
it and aimed it at both of them.

“What’s to say
I don’t shoot y’all right where you stand? I’d be perfectly within
my right to do so.”

“Mr. Gringer,
please don’t insult my intelligence,” young Ben said. “Do really
think I’m dumb enough to give you a loaded weapon? You have a gun
with no bullets, and I have bullets with no gun. The point is we’re
not here to hurt you. So would you please have a seat and listen to
what we have to say?”

Mr. Gringer
begrudgingly took a seat, but held onto the gun for comfort.

“I know this
may sound hard for you to believe,” Ben continued, “but we are both
from the future. I am from a year into the future, and this version
of me is from forty years into the future.”

“Prove it,”
Mr. Gringer said.

Young Ben took
a small knife from his pocket and held out his arm. Older Ben held
out the same arm. Ben then sliced his skin, drawing a small line of
blood on his arm and causing a small scar to form on his older
body.

Charles
Gringer looked like he had seen a ghost. He wanted to freak out,
but remained calm. He was from a much simple time, when things made
sense. Science and technological advancement were far beyond his
level of comprehension. He knew what his eyes saw, but a part of
him still thought it was a trick, refusing to completely give into
the possibility that two time-travellers were in his presence.

“Okay?” Ben
said, asking Mr. Gringer if he was ready to proceed.

Charles
Gringer just nodded his head without saying a word.

“What we are
about to tell you is very important. We need you to do something
for us.” Ben took out his wallet and handed Gringer a small piece
of paper.”

“What’s this?”
Mr. Gringer asked as he unfolded the paper.

“That, sir, is
yesterday’s winning lottery ticket; it’s worth twenty-two million
dollars.”

“What’s it got
to do with me?” he asked.

“We need you
to cash the ticket for us. If you do that, we’ll give you ten
million dollars.”

“What’s the
catch?” Mr. Gringer asked.

“You’re a
smart man, Mr. Gringer. Of course, people don’t just show up at a
person’s front door offering ten million dollars without wanting
something in return.”

“Go on,”
Charles mumbled.

“You’re right,
there is a small catch,” the older Ben said. Since he had been
through this once before, he decided to take over. “First, we need
you to cash the ticket. Take your ten million and do whatever you
like with it. Then, you’re then going to wire transfer some money
to a lady named Velena Scott — I’ll give you the details later.
Finally, you are going to transfer the rest into an account of man
named Benjamin Owen Gringer.”

“Who’s
that?”

“That’s us,
we’re your grandsons.”

On Sunday
morning, Ben sat on the edge of his bed holding a revolver. He had
the chamber open and was spinning it with his thumb as he was
contemplating what he had to do. Just then his concentration was
interrupted as the older Ben walked in the room and saw his younger
self, contemplating the proposition.