The Secret Manuscript (5 page)

Ben cycled
through a lifetime of memories, searching for the relevant data. He
finally came up with one word — “Who?”

“Charles
Gringer,” the lawyer repeated. Ben was still drawing a blank. “Mr.
Gringer left everything he owned in your name.”

“Are you sure
you have the right Ben Owen?”

The lawyer
confirmed some details with Ben, making it clear he was speaking
with the right person, then discussed what Ben needed to do
next.

“The good news
for you, Ben, is that Mr. Gringer had no debt and there are no
liens on his property. So, if you can come to my office in Calgary,
we can take care of this for you. You just need to sign some
documents and the estate will be transferred in your name.”

“Did you say
there was a house?”

“Yes, and it’s
in a decent neighbourhood too.”

“And it’s all
mine?” Ben asked sceptically.

“It’s all
yours. You just have to maintain the property tax, otherwise you
could sell it. If you do not claim it within the next sixty days,
the house will be put up for auction.”

Ben had heard
all he needed to hear. Finally, something was going right for him.
Receiving this news was a huge windfall, especially just days after
losing everything he owned.

“Got it, I’ll
be there,” Ben said.

Even if the
plan was short term, Ben now had a reason to leave Cold Lake and
would focus all his efforts on going to Calgary, Alberta. After
writing down the necessary details, Ben hung up the phone and left
the office. He practically ran down the hall in celebration and
pounded on the elevator button impatiently as if he had somewhere
important to go.

When Ben
stepped outside, the wind was at his back and boundless
opportunities lay before him. He flipped up the hood on his
sweatshirt and kept moving. Although walking made him warmer, it
also consumed more calories, something he could not afford at the
moment. To appease his growling stomach, Ben reached into his
sweatshirt pocket and took out his last banana. It was not much,
like tossing a small log on a fire, but it would at least keep him
going for a bit longer.

As Ben walked
to the bus depot, the same nagging voice from the other night
persisted in his head. This time it was telling him to return to
the apartment where he had stashed the goods and extract them. The
consequences of getting caught would be dire, but most of the hard
work had already been done.
It would be a shame to just leave
all that stuff there
, he thought. Ben weighed the pros and cons
in his head and eventually decided to make a play for the stolen
goods.

He altered his
course and headed back to the apartment building. He had no idea
how he would manage to sneak in and out of the building in broad
daylight with a pile of stolen items while remaining undetected,
but he had a long walk ahead of him to figure it out.

With his head
down, Ben kicked rocks the whole way as he mumbled to himself. He
was now about a block away from his building and had yet to devise
a plan. In the distance, he heard some chatter and looked up. In
front of his building was a small congregation of people just
outside the fence. As he approached the group, he recognized their
faces as fellow tenants. Ben saw Patrice standing with the others
so he walked up beside him.

“Hey,
Patrice,” Ben said.

“Hi, Ben. How
are you?”

“I’m good,”
Ben replied. “What’s going on here?”

“Didn’t you
get the notification? They’re allowing residents in to retrieve
some of the items from their units.”

“I had no
idea, I just happened to be walking by.”

“Lucky for
you, because after today, they’re going to demolish this
place.”

“So where are
you going to stay?” Ben asked.

“Since I
didn’t win last night’s lotto, I guess I’ll have to apply for
social housing until I can find a new place. Right now, I’m staying
at the shelter, but who knows how long that will last.”

“What
shelter?” Ben asked.

“The town set
up a makeshift facility at the rec. centre. I didn’t see you there
so I figured you were staying with some friends.”

“I didn’t even
know about the shelter or the demolition. Where are you hearing
about all these things?” Ben asked.

“It was at the
Town Hall meeting we had yesterday.”

“Oh okay, I
didn’t go to that.”

The guard at
the gate was checking people’s IDs as they shuffled in. Ben moved
along with the crowd while continuing to talk with Patrice.
Suddenly, a new plan had revealed itself.

Maintaining
his spot in line, Ben funnelled in through the gates along with the
stream of fellow tenants. When he got to the guard, he presented
his ID and was permitted access. Ben had no idea which one of these
people, if any, lived in the first floor apartment on the west
wing, but he was willing to roll the dice. Patrice was next in
line, but was stopped by the guard. Since Patrice did not have his
ID with him, the guard would not let him in.

“I’m sorry,
sir,” the guard at the gate said. “For security reasons, I cannot
allow you to go in.”

Ben doubled
back and vouched for his identity.

“It’s okay,
Ben, I’ll sort this out. You go on ahead and I’ll catch up with you
later,” Patrice said.

If Ben was
really going to go through with this, it was actually better that
Patrice was not around. Ben looked over his shoulder one last time
before entering the building and saw Patrice still being held up.
The whole time, Ben kept repeating the mantra ‘in and out’ as a way
to psych himself up. His adrenaline started to flow and he began to
sweat nervously.

Once inside,
fire personnel were on scene directing people as certain apartments
were still off limits, but they had no idea which units belonged to
whom. It was a noble effort that relied heavily on the honour
system, another symptom of living in a small town — people were
quick to lend their trust. As for Ben, he was happy to take
advantage of it.

Ben kept his
head low and walked down the first floor hallway. When he got to
the apartment door, he pretended to take a key out of his pocket
and insert it into the lock. He knew the door was unlocked so he
twisted the knob, pushed his way into the apartment, and locked the
door behind him. Once inside, he quickly ran to the window and
grabbed what he could take in one trip. He threw the backpack over
his shoulder and zipped up the suitcase. He took the down jacket,
pulled the arms inside out to make it unrecognizable, and draped it
over the luggage in an effort to disguise it.

In and
out
, he said to himself.

Getting in had
been relatively easy, he just hoped for the same smoothness on the
way out. The hard part was exiting the building without anyone
recognizing he was in the wrong apartment or that he had any of
their belongings. He needed to be quick, since many of the tenants
who lived on the first floor had showed up and might spot Ben
coming out of an apartment that was not his.

Ben extended
the handle on the luggage and wheeled it to the door. He looked
through the peephole, and when he did not see anyone, he opened the
door a crack and peered through. The hallway was deserted since
most people were probably still inside their apartments, blaming
their spouses for misplacing their things — oblivious to the fact
that Ben was about to march passed them with their former
possessions. When he felt the time was right, he casually exited
the apartment and wheeled the luggage out the front door.

In and
out
, he said to himself.

With his
suitcase in tow, Ben headed down the walkway and out the gate. He
gave a gentle nod to the guard as he made his exit. He proceeded
toward the bus depot and never looked back.

When he
arrived at the bus station, he checked the schedule. As luck would
have it, there happened to be an overnight bus to Calgary that was
leaving at 10:00 p.m. Ben laid out his cash on the counter and
bought a one-way ticket. Next stop — Calgary, Alberta.

Ben sat low in
his seat and stared out the window as the bus left the station.
While the bus navigated toward the highway, Ben gave one final look
at his godforsaken town and vowed never to return. As far as the
people in the town were concerned, Ben Owen was a ghost. He had no
contact information, no fixed address, and no living relatives. Ben
reclined his seat, made some adjustments to get comfortable, and
then dozed off.

It was early
in the morning when the bus slowed to a stop. The change in
momentum was enough to wake Ben from his slumber. He opened his
eyes and noticed people standing in the aisle and reaching overhead
for their carry-on luggage. Ben did likewise, first rising from his
chair and stretching. The long bus ride in the uncomfortable seat
had put a kink in his back and he was trying his best to massage it
out. It did not help that he was out of shape and soft. Getting fit
was one idea he was considering — a part of Ben 2.0.

He looked out
the window and was happy to see the weather was nice. When the line
started to move, Ben exited the bus with his fellow passengers. The
cool air hit Ben’s face and he inhaled a deep breath. It felt great
after having breathed in the same stale recirculated air from the
bus all night. He looked around to take in the sights and was a bit
overwhelmed by the large city. Unsure what to do next, Ben watched
what everyone else was doing. Nearly all the passengers from the
bus headed inside the station, so that was what he did as well.

The station
was noisy as it was bustling with people. It was such a drastic
difference from the small town in which he had grown up in. He
wheeled his luggage through the station and looked at all the
fast-food chains, some of which he had never seen in Cold Lake. The
glorious smell of pancakes, bacon, and fresh breads wafted in the
air and found its way into Ben’s nostrils. Immediately, his stomach
growled and he decided to stop for breakfast and collect his
thoughts.

Ben ordered a
combo meal and when his order came up, he took his tray of food to
a vacant table. He sat down and parked his luggage by his side. For
the first time in a long while, he had a smile on his face. He was
delighted to get out of Cold Lake and have a new experience.
Although he had never been on a vacation before, he had a feeling
this was what it would be like. It was as if he were living someone
else’s life.

As he chowed
down on his food, he looked around at all the new faces. None of
them had any idea who he was. Arriving in Calgary was a new
beginning for him — a chance to start fresh. He could reinvent
himself and become whoever he wanted to be. He had no idea what
possibilities lay ahead for him in the future, but he was eager to
find out.

After his
meal, Ben continued to walk through the station until he found an
exit. When he went outside, he entered into an awaiting taxi.
Everything seemed to be coming together for him so nicely, he just
hoped his luck would continue and that the title transfer would go
just as smoothly — in and out.

The window in
the back of the taxi only rolled down halfway, otherwise Ben would
have stuck his entire head out of it. The cab made its way through
the busy downtown streets, providing Ben an opportunity to take in
the sights. The tall sky-scrapers, packed sidewalks, and congested
traffic were all new to him. Coming from Cold Lake, Calgary seemed
like New York City by comparison.

The law firm
of Epstein, Windsor, & Associates was among the largest in the
city. The taxi pulled up curbside in front of the large building.
After paying his fare, Ben lugged his suitcase from the trunk up to
the revolving glass doors. It was the first time Ben had been in a
door like that and was thrilled to give it a try as if it were some
kind of carnival ride.

Once inside,
Ben stood still, casting his gaze upward at the enormous
entranceway. He was transfixed by the ornately-decorated ceiling,
which extended over two-storeys tall. The interior of the building
suggested it was a place where the city’s richest and most powerful
business people conducted multi-million dollar mergers and
acquisitions. Whether that was true was yet to be determined. The
place was complete with modern fixtures, polished tile floors,
marble columns, and dark wood accents. Ben felt a little out of
place, but tried not to let his discomfort show. Like he had done
with the process server, Ben located the firm on the directory and
rode the elevator up to the top floor.

As it was one
of the city’s largest law firms, the office was easy to find. Ben
exited the elevator and entered through the glass doors. Sunlight
poured in from the floor-to-ceiling windows, which surrounded the
prestigious office. Ben was greeted by the receptionist and was
told Mr. Windsor would be with him shortly. Ben walked over to the
window and looked out at the magnificent view of the city.

“Can I get you
a beverage while you wait, Mr. Owen?” the receptionist asked.

“A water would
be great, thanks.”

“Certainly.”

The
receptionist disappeared for a moment before promptly returning
with an ice-cold bottle of water.

“Here you
are,” she said, handing it to him.

Ben accepted
the water and thanked the woman kindly. He was not used to being
treated so nicely, but assumed most people who had an appointment
with Mr. Windsor were fairly well off and expected a certain level
of treatment.

While
marvelling the view and sipping his water, Ben felt a tremendous
sense of gratitude. He could not help but feel grateful for the
fortune that had been bestowed upon him, especially after suffering
such a harrowing loss four days prior. Despite being only ten
floors up, he felt as though he were on top of the world, both
literally and figuratively.