 
## The Secret Manuscript

Edward Mullen

Copyright Edward Mullen 2014

Published by Imperium Publishing at Smashwords

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The Secret Manuscript

Copyright © 2014 by Edward Mullen

All rights reserved.

This book is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and events are a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to any person (alive or dead) or event is purely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a published review.

Published by Imperium Publishing

Vancouver, BC, Canada

ISBN: 978-1-928196-00-6

## The Secret Manuscript

Also by Edward Mullen

The Art of the Hustle

The Art of the Hustle 2

Destiny and Free Will

Prodigy

Prodigy Eternal

Prodigy Returns

Eden

I am Rome

Zero

The Rider

# Chapter One

Ben pulled out a knife from his back pocket and extracted the blade. Piercing the sharp edge into a corrugated box, he slid the razor between the two flaps that were being held together by a strip of tape. He proceeded to slice off the flaps to prepare yet another box for the floor.

For the most part, Ben kept his head down and worked diligently and unsupervised all morning. He fought the temptation to look at the clock as he knew that would only make time seem to go slower. The only joy of working in the stockroom of a grocery store was that there would be several deliveries throughout the day, giving Ben a chance to be outside and enjoy the fresh air and sunshine, even if it was just from the loading docks. The rest of the day, he was stuck in the chilly stockroom under the dim lighting, contemplating his life choices.

A small radio played soft rock while he worked. Over the tunes, Ben heard a voice shout to him.

"Hey, B.O., I need you in aisle six!" his manager, Chad, demanded.

Ben retracted his knife and put it in his apron before heading onto the sales floor. Chad had a disgusted look on his face as if Ben was the cause of all his problems.

"Somebody dropped a jar of pickles," Chad said.

"Okay, I'll get right on it," Ben replied.

"I'll be deducting the cost of the pickles from your paycheque."

"What? You can't do that."

"First of all, don't talk back to me," Chad said aggressively as he approached Ben in threatening manner. "Second, someone has to pay for those pickles. Pickles aren't free you know."

It was the worst logic Ben had ever heard, but he decided to let it go. Unfortunately for him, he needed the job to support his meaningless existence.

"Yes, sir," he said submissively.

Ben hung his head low and begrudgingly walked to the back to retrieve the usual clean-up supplies. He returned to the sales floor, wheeling a mop and bucket with one hand and carrying a broom and dustpan in the other. The resentful look on his face caught the attention of an attractive girl who was about his age. She must have overheard the discourse between Ben and his manager because she approached him and offered some words of encouragement.

"Don't worry about him, he's a jerk," she said.

"Thanks," Ben replied. He looked at the woman in awe. In his mind, he quickly made the following deductions — attractive woman in Cold Lake, must be from out of town, must have a boyfriend, probability of getting her... zero. Whatever Ben's confidence was before he started mopping up pickles in his dorky uniform had now been reduced substantially. The only sensible thing to do was to forget about her and get his work done before he got into any trouble.

As Ben pushed the dirty mop back and forth through the sticky pickle juice, a thousand thoughts ran through his mind. He questioned whether the flack he received from Chad was worth it. Being a stock boy for the local grocery store was not how he envisioned his adult life, but he took solace in the fact he was at least not making minimum wage. For all that the job did not offer, there were a few perks. The main one being the discount he received on all his groceries. Having that reduced his cost of living, making it seem like he was earning more money than he actually was.

It was a task-based job comprised mostly of stocking shelves, handling incoming shipments, and doing the occasional clean up. He could simply come into work, put his head down for a few hours, and not have to deal with people. In fact, he enjoyed the solitude. That way he could get the real work done — creating characters, plotting stories, and developing dialogue. He would store all this information in his head throughout the day, then after his shift, he would go home and write.

However, his one-time dream of being a published author was being crushed with every waking moment. The reality was that he lived in a small town of less than 2,500 people, so being anything other than what he was — a menial worker — was an unlikely prospect.

Upon completing high school in Cold Lake, kids usually did one of three things: move to a bigger city to attend college, move to a bigger city to find work, or stay in town and work some dead-end job. The latter was what Ben had chosen to do — the typical choice of the unaspiring working-class citizen. Nobody really wanted to stay in Cold Lake, Alberta. Those who did slowly withered away leaving behind a hollow legacy of nothingness. Ben did not want that to happen to him. Instead, he wanted to find his purpose, a reason for existing, but from his current standpoint, his future looked bleak.

What made matters worse was the grocery store manager, Chad. He was a few years older than Ben and by this point in his life had worked his way up to a management position. The gross abuse of power was evident in nearly every decision and directive he made. For the unaspiring, having authority over others quickly fostered delusions of grandeur. Those who wielded the minutest of power rationalized their position as having a natural superiority over their subordinates. Chad was no exception. He made everybody's life there a living hell, especially Ben's. Ever since Chad was promoted, Ben had been looking for a way out — any way.

# Chapter Two

Ben sat alone in the dark, drinking a glass of cheap Scotch and staring at his computer screen. This time, the words did not come. The little cursor kept blinking on the white page, taunting him. He looked around his crumby one-bedroom apartment, hoping inspiration would magically come to him, but it did not.

No matter how hard he tried, he found it incredibly difficult to write about experiences he had not actually been through. Since he had lived in a small town his whole life, he had not experienced much. He wanted to write a happy story as a form of escape, but there were not too many happy memories from which he could draw upon.

_What am I doing with my life?_ the twenty-four year old asked himself.

Whenever his mind was not occupied with some task, it would default to self-loathing. He was on the cusp of one of those instances, and the booze and writing were not enough of a distraction to hold back the tsunami of pity that was heading his way. Eventually, it occupied his mind and completely stifled his creativity. Instead of fighting with it, he tried to use it as inspiration for a story — in a sense, ride the wave.

"Chapter One," he dictated as the words emerged on the screen. "Ben was a pathetic man, a waste of existence, really. Both of his parents died when he was a boy and..."

He stopped typing.

Slumped in his chair, Ben cupped his hands over his face and exhaled a deep breath. He felt trapped, as if the weight of his situation was pinning him down. He shifted his attention to some meaningless tasks to distract him. He checked his email — there was nothing — watched some YouTube videos, searched IMDB, then took another drink. Now holding an empty glass, Ben was looking for a remedy for his despair, but the alcohol only seemed to make him feel worse.

Frustrated, Ben got up from his computer desk, went into the kitchen to pour another glass of Scotch. He looked at the clock on the microwave; it was nearly 1:00 a.m. Deciding to go to bed, he walked over and turned off the computer screen. A twenty-year-old television flickered in the background, providing the only light and sound. The evening news was replaying; they were announcing the week's winning lottery numbers.

" _Tonight's jackpot is an estimated twenty-million dollars, Alberta's largest jackpot. It has created quite the buzz. We took our cameras out and asked people what they would do with twenty-million dollars, and here's what they had to say...."_

The footage continued to play as Ben shuffled a few papers aside, looking for his ticket in the dim lighting. His apartment was a mess, which made finding a tiny piece of paper next to impossible. Ben went over to the TV and turned up the volume. As he continued to search, he could hear the broadcast in the background _._

" _The first number in tonight's mega jackpot is... 40," the news anchor said. He continued to read out the numbers as they came up. "The next number is 10..."_

The next four numbers were read out, "30... 18... 20... 1"

_That's an odd set of lotto numbers_ , Ben thought. Fortunately for him, they were easy to remember. As he scrambled to find his ticket, he kept repeating the numbers over and over in his head, 10, 20, 30, 40, 1, 18 — 10, 20, 30, 40, 1, 18 — 10, 20, 30, 40, 1, 18...

Ben finally found his ticket, which was in his wallet, and recalled the numbers one last time. After cross-referencing the numbers on his ticket he found he was not even close. He had not even gotten one number right _._

_Last time I play the lottery_ , he said to himself as he crumbled up the ticket. He shoved his wallet in his back pocket and attempted to throw the crumbled ticket into the garbage bin. Even though he was standing less than two feet away from it, he missed completely — reminding him of yet another thing he was not good at.

Leaving the kitchen, he walked across the room and turned off the TV. The room went black. Being slightly inebriated, he tried his best not to bump into anything as he stammered through the small apartment. He ploughed through the doorway in his room and flopped face first onto his bed. With his clothes still on, he passed out into a deep slumber.

At around 4:00 a.m., the fire alarm sounded, causing blaring bells to ring throughout the hallways of the four-storey apartment building. Panicked tenants quickly shuffled out the nearest emergency exits and gathered on the front lawn in their robes and slippers. They stood with fright as they watched their homes being engulfed by flames. Evidently, the fire had started on the third floor and was quickly consuming the upper levels. Windows shattered from the immense pressure, allowing clouds of black smoke to billow out.

"Everyone, get back!" one resident shouted.

One of the rescuers had entered Ben's apartment and found Ben still lying face down in his bed. He had not moved since passing out a few hours earlier. Ben lived on the fourth floor and his bedroom was directly above a blazing inferno, so it was imperative he woke up.

After a few forceful nudges, the man finally woke Ben up.

"Come on, Ben, wake up. We gotta get out of here," the man pleaded.

A groggy Ben rolled onto his side and was startled at the mysterious man standing at the edge of his bed. He reeled up in a defensive position as he was not accustomed to having strange men suddenly appear in his room in the middle of the night.

"Who are you? What are you doing in my room?" Ben asked.

"The building is on fire, we have to get out of here," the man yelled over the loud alarm.

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.

# Chapter Three

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.

# Chapter Four

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.

# Chapter Five

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.

Standing under the soft glow of a streetlight, Ben tried to ignore a persistent thought that kept creeping into his mind. It was as if there was a devil on his shoulder, whispering in his ear. It was telling him to sneak into his apartment and see for himself what was left. With a little luck, there would be something he could salvage. At the very least, there may be something to eat in the refrigerator. Perhaps it was a lack of sleep or nutrients, but the suggestion resonated with him. In the absence of any competing thoughts, the voice permeated his conscience and convinced him to take action.

Ben did a couple passes of the premises to scope out the scene. The building was entirely fenced off with a seven-foot-high steel fence — the kind used around construction sites. Getting past that would not pose too much of a problem. The main issue would be avoiding detection by the onsite security guard. As far as Ben could tell, there was only one guard watching the entire property — an middle-aged man who had fallen asleep in his car. Ben's eyes were getting heavy as well, so he decided to act quickly.

Emerging from the bushes, Ben darted across the street and stopped at a small gap in the fence. As a customary precaution, he looked around even though he knew the likelihood of someone watching him would be low. He wasted no time prying the fence open just enough for his slender body to squeeze through. The clouds overhead blocked the moonlight, providing the perfect veil of cover. However, without a light source, navigating the rubble would not only be difficult, but also dangerous. The only light was from the street lamp, which was not much, but it would have to do. While staying low, Ben quietly ran toward the west side of his old apartment building. The whole time, he kept a watchful eye on the security guard.

Getting into the apartment was easy since most of the windows were either opened or unlocked. Ben chose the nearest apartment on the ground floor and crawled through the window. Once inside, he no longer feared detection, so he took his time. Many of the apartments on the first floor were relatively unscathed. Aside from the smell of ash and damp wood, the apartment was much like it was before the fire, only it looked like a disaster zone. Most of the tenants probably thought they were about to lose everything they owned and tore through their apartments searching for items they could not live without. Fortunately for Ben, a flashlight was not one of those items. That was one of the first things he discovered when he opened a drawer in the kitchen. He grabbed the flashlight and turned it on, but kept the beam pointed toward the floor to avoid creating shadows that could be seen from the outside.

With a ferociously growling belly, Ben could not help but take a quick peek into the fridge and see if there was anything to snack on. His plan was not to rob the place, but he was willing to take some food in order to survive. He found a stack of cold cuts and cheese, and wasted no time scarfing them down. He justified the theft, considering the electricity to the building had been cut and without proper refrigeration the items would soon perish anyway.

After satisfying his hunger, he exited the apartment and entered the hallway. The door to the unit across the hall was tempting him. He stared at it a moment, contemplating whether or not to go in. He told himself if it was locked, he would carry on with his original plan, which was to go upstairs to his apartment, but if it was open, he would go inside and see what he could find. He casually tried to open the door and to his surprise it was unlocked.

For a moment, Ben hesitated on what he was about to do. So far the stuff he had taken was nothing of value; nothing people would even notice was missing. He could go upstairs, get what he came for, and leave without causing any more harm. But he was desperate, tired, and not thinking clearly.

With no one around to keep him honest, Ben wilted under the incredible temptation to go into the second apartment. The door swung open and Ben aimed his flashlight inside. The circular glow hit a faux flower decoration hanging on the wall in the foyer. Ben stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The apartment layout was much like his own, so it was easy to navigate. He crept through the entrance and down the dark hallway until he reached the bedroom. On the dresser was an expensive-looking men's watch next to a jewellery box. His hands shook nervously as he lifted the watch and fastened it to his wrist. He then opened the lid of the jewellery box and reached in with both hands, grabbing as much as he could.

He spent the next fifteen minutes in the apartment, checking all the hiding spots he could think of. Figuring people were likely to hide their valuables in their sock drawers, that was the first place he looked. Among the treasures he found were money, jewellery, and credit cards. He took the money and the gold, but left everything else. Next, he entered the closet and found some clothing he wanted, and took those as well. He quickly moved throughout the apartment, gathering everything in a pile by the front door. When he looked in the resident's storage space, he found several pieces of luggage in varying sizes. He then came up with the bright idea to fill up a suitcase with all his newly acquire loot.

By now, greed had completely clouded Ben's judgement. Just as he had done with the previous apartment, he decided to move onto the neighbour's place and grab as much as he could. He hurried throughout the different rooms, taking various items and placing them by the front door. When he had enough stuff to fill the suitcase, he dragged it across the hall and into the first apartment he had crawled into earlier. He had deviated so far from his plan, he almost forgot why he was there in the first place.

On his third trip, Ben casually brought another haul into the first apartment and added it with the rest of the stuff by the window. He had not begun the extraction yet, but so far he had a decent-sized stash of goodies, including a down jacket, some designer clothes, a suitcase, and a backpack. He realized that by having nothing left to lose, he actually had a lot to gain. By looting the abandoned properties, starting over would be easier than he thought. He kicked himself for not coming up with the idea sooner.

It was now well into the early hours of the morning, but Ben was oblivious to the time. The thrill of the heist invigorated him. He was on such a natural high from the adrenaline that he hardly felt tired at all. After looting the entire first floor, Ben stopped for the first time to take a break. He entered the kitchen of one of the apartments and made himself a sandwich. In between bites, he checked the time on his new watch and was shocked to see it was nearly 5:00 a.m. That meant the sun would be up soon. He quickly ate the rest of the sandwich and chugged a glass of warm juice. He figured he had enough stuff and decided to go upstairs.

Leaving everything behind, Ben entered the hallway with his flashlight in hand and headed toward the stairwell. This time, something was different. Within a few steps, Ben had an uneasy feeling consume him; it was as if he was being watched. Suddenly, a voice yelled out from the other end of the hallway.

"HEY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" a man shouted, causing Ben to nearly have a heart attack.

# Chapter Six

The onsite security guard stood tall, pointing his flashlight in Ben's direction. Evidently he had woken up and discovered the intruder.

"You can't be in here," the guard shouted from the other end of the hallway.

The adrenaline in Ben's body spiked and his heart was pounding violently in his chest. He swallowed hard and tried to suppress his nerves. He was ridden with guilt from the looting, but as far as he knew, the guard was unaware of what he had done. At this point, if Ben was caught, the security guard might just ask him to leave the premises and the police would not be involved. Unsure what to do, Ben stood frozen in his tracks, allowing the guard to come closer. Ben's back was to the guard and there was still a good twenty-foot distance between them so if he decided to run, not only would he have a head start on the guard, but his identity would remain hidden.

The guard approached cautiously and Ben remained still. By now, the guard was within an arm's reach. So far, any attempts to communicate with Ben went unanswered.

"You gotta leave now," the guard demanded, this time grabbing Ben firmly by the arm.

The contact determined the fate of the situation. Ben had experienced physical abuse in the past, and when the guard touched him, he completely freaked. He went into a blind rage, which was no doubt amplified by his already heightened state of adrenaline. Without saying a word, Ben turned around and swung his fists wildly at the guard with a combination of looping haymakers, any one of which could do serious damage if they connected cleanly. The guard must have anticipated the potential for a physical confrontation since he avoided many of the sudden blows. Ben kept pressing forward and eventually one of his punches found its home and landed squarely on the guard's jaw. The guard stumbled backwards and dropped his flashlight on the floor. The impact caused it to turn off, making it even more difficult for the stunned guard to see.

Ben generally avoided violence, so instead of staying to finish the fight, he decided to flee. He ran down the hallway and reviewed the possibility of choices that were before him.

The first option was to continue running straight through the fire escape door, which was located at the end of the hallway. On the surface, this seemed like the soundest choice, but Ben thought otherwise. Even though it would be the easiest route of escape, it would also be the easiest exit for the security guard. Success with this strategy relied on a footrace to the perimeter fence and Ben did not have a lot of confidence in his athletic ability. Once at the fence, he still needed to squeeze through. In the time it would take him to do that, the guard could easily nab him. That would most certainly result in Ben receiving a beating before being hauled off by the police.

The second option was to run back into the same apartment he had come in from. This strategy presented an advantage over the first by allowing Ben to get inside the apartment and lock the door behind him, thus creating a barrier between him and the pursuing guard. However, the guard would likely just leave through the fire exit and apprehend Ben as he crawled out the window. Alternatively, the guard could just kick the door down and follow Ben into the apartment. This would be the best case scenario, but then he would likely discover Ben's secret stash by the window. Even if Ben managed to elude the chasing guard, he could not be sure another guard was not waiting for him outside.

The third option, the one he went with, was to enter the stairwell and run up to the fourth floor.

By the time the guard retrieved his flashlight and turned it back on, he only caught a glimpse of Ben entering the stairwell. The heavyset guard ran after Ben, but was not able to catch up to him. Once the guard reached the entrance, Ben was nowhere in sight. The guard continued to pursue up a few flights of stairs, but had no idea which floor Ben had run to. Tracking a man through the building would be incredibly time consuming. With so many apartments in the building, the likelihood of finding Ben was slim. Instead, the guard opted to retrace his steps downstairs and patrol the perimeter of the building until the police arrived.

Out of breath and anxious, Ben made it to the fourth floor and entered his old apartment. He shone the flashlight around and was devastated at what he saw. The fire had ravaged his apartment, rendering it unrecognizable. There was nothing left. His furniture had been destroyed, his computer was burnt to a crisp, and his bedroom was no longer existent. The floor creaked beneath his feet as he walked. Remembering what had happened to his bed, Ben took each step with caution.

Just then, red and blue flashing lights from a squad car below shone through his living room and lit up the blackened apartment. Living in a small town showed yet another disadvantage — the police could get anywhere within minutes. Ben contemplated running, but was too exhausted. The only sensible thing for him to do was surrender.

# Chapter Seven

Ben figured the cops would be lenient on him since he was trespassing on his former apartment building. Technically he had broken several laws including breaking and entering, burglary, and assault, but there may not be enough evidence to convict him.

When Ben emerged from the building, he had his hands in the air to show the police he was unarmed and willing to cooperate. The lone RCMP officer read Ben his rights, handcuffed him, and placed him into the backseat of the cruiser.

The trip to the station only lasted a few minutes, but during the short ride, Ben nodded off. Perhaps being arrested was the best case scenario since he would be provided a warm place to sleep for the rest of the night. The police cruiser pulled up to a small building. The officer took Ben from the backseat and escorted him up the steps to the police station.

"What do you got, Glen?" one officer asked the other.

"Just a minor trespassing charge."

The officer instructed Ben to take a seat while he drafted the necessary paperwork. Ben plopped down in the chair and almost immediately passed out from exhaustion. His chin sunk to his chest and he began breathing heavily. He could hear the voice of the arresting officer as he discussed with his partner what they planned to do with Ben, but he could not precisely pick out their words. With his eyes closed, he focused on the other sounds in the room — the buzzing from the fluorescent lights, the clacking from a computer keyboard, and finally the heavy footsteps of boots as they progressed toward him.

"Mr. Owen, stand up please," an authoritative voice demanded. "I need you to come with me."

Ben's eyes slowly opened and he staggered to his feet. He shuffled along as the officer trailed behind him. At the end of a short hallway was a tiny cell that had a metal toilet and a small cot.

"We're going to keep you here for a few hours," the officer said. He selected a long key, which was connected to his belt, and unlocked the metal door.

Without saying a word, Ben entered the cell and headed right for the bed. Fortunately, Ben did not have to share the cell with any drunkards or dangerous hooligans. Since all the bars had been closed for hours, there was a good chance he would be alone for the rest of the night. The large metal door slammed shut, sealing him in. Without hesitation, Ben shut his eyes and went to sleep.

Ben was released on Monday morning with nothing more than a petty summary conviction offence. Ben had encountered a few of these before, but had put those days of petty larceny and vandalism behind him. Either the security guard did not mention the assault, the police officer forgot about it, or he simply ignored it. Regardless, Ben was happy to catch a break.

Ben proceeded to the processing clerk to obtain his personal effects — one pocket knife, a wallet with identification, roughly $200 in small bills, and one really expensive watch. Now with the bit of money he had looted from the apartments, Ben could at least afford to feed himself for the next few days until he received his paycheque.

Ben stepped outside as a free man, but figured his freedom was temporary. Surely it was only a matter of time before tenants were allowed access into their apartments to gather the rest of their things. Once they realized their apartments had been robbed, Ben would likely be the prime suspect. He did not want to remain in Cold Lake and wait for the RCMP to arrest him again so the only option seemed to be leaving town for good. However, given his circumstances, that did not seem like a viable option.

# Chapter Eight

Given that it was nine o'clock in the morning and his shift started at eight, Ben thought for sure he would be fired. He ran inside Ray's Grocery store as if shaving a few extra seconds off his tardiness would somehow matter. Considering the store was usually empty in the morning, he figured his manager would go easy on him.

The store was small and not an easy place to hide from someone, but when Ben walked in, Chad was nowhere in sight. Ben rushed through the store and into the stocking area where he donned his apron and began to work. He was greeted by a few coworkers and was in the middle of explaining why he was late when Chad burst through the back doors.

"B.O., you're late," Chad said.

"I know, my apartment burned down early on Saturday morning and I was in the hospital. I came in as soon as I could."

"I don't see any burn marks on you."

"Fortunately, I made it out okay, but I suffered severe smoke-inhalation damage. They wanted to keep me for observation and I—"

"Look, I don't want to hear your excuses, okay? Work is work, and when I schedule you to be here, I expect you to be here."

"Okay, you're right. I'm sorry, it won't happen again."

"That's right, because you're fired."

"What? No, please don't do this. Chad, I just lost everything, I need this job."

"I'm sorry, Ben, but rules are rules. Do you know what would happen if there were no consequences for our actions? There would be chaos. As a manager, it's my job to ensure there's order, and that operations run smoothly. How do you expect things to run smoothly when one of my employees decides to take the morning off without notice?"

"I didn't—"

"I'll tell you what," Chad said smugly. "As it turns out, a position for a stock-boy just opened up, but for minimum wage."

"Come on, Chad, please. I've worked here for three years."

"You should be lucky you have a job."

Ben did not say anything since he had no leverage to negotiate. Feeling powerless and humiliated, he accepted Chad's patronizing offer, and went back to work. As soon as Chad left, a few concerned coworkers asked him how he was doing. He offered them a few details, but for the most part kept his head down to avoid being on Chad's radar.

A few hours into his shift, his stomach began to growl. He had not had anything substantial to eat all day, but since he worked in a grocery store, Ben was surrounded by food. Sometimes a box of granola bars would get damaged or a package of muffins would pass its expiry date. Instead of having it go to waste, the owner let employees take it home. Ben had been eating stale granola bars all morning and desperately wanted some fresh fruit.

Stacking boxes of shiny red apples, Ben casually looked around. As it was typically the case, there was no one else around. He picked out one of the apples and slipped it into the pocket of his hoody. Then he went over to a shipment of bananas that had just arrived, took out his box cutter, and ran it along the seam of the box. He reached in, snapped two bananas from a bunch, and concealed them in his apron.

During his fifteen-minute break, Ben stepped out back to where some employees would typically congregate, but this time he was alone. He reached into his sweatshirt pocket and took out the apple. In an effort to clean it, he rubbed it a few times on his shirt before taking a big bite. As he chomped down, his mouth was filled with nourishing juices. To him, an apple never tasted more delicious. It was something he had previously taken for granted. Before he could sink his teeth into the apple for a second time, he heard an angry voice yelling at him.

"B.O.!" Chad shouted.

Ben was so startled that he nearly dropped the apple. He could feel the blood rush to his face as his anxiety rose. He thought for sure he had been caught.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I... uhh..." Ben didn't know what to say. Showing up late was one thing, but stealing would certainly be grounds for dismissal. A medley of feelings consumed him; the most prominent being guilt, regret, and hunger.

"You must not want this job," Chad began his tirade. "I hire you back after showing up over two hours late, and now I catch you slacking off. Eat your apple on your own time. Get back to work!"

"But I'm on my break."

"You don't get a break, not today."

Chad gave Ben a dirty look and shook his head in disappointment. He turned around and went back inside. Before he was fully in, he turned back around to face Ben. Ben was prepared for the worst — another tongue lashing, or perhaps he changed his mind and was going to fire him. Instead, he said, "By the way, some man was in here looking for you."

"What man?"

"I don't know, I told him you were busy and were not allowed to have any visitors."

"Was he an older man?" Ben asked.

"Listen, I'm not going to play twenty questions with you. Here, he left you his card." Chad extended his arm to give Ben the card. When Ben went to accept the card, Chad flung it at him. The card hit Ben in the chest and fell to the ground.

"Don't let me catch you calling him on company time either."

Chad walked away, leaving Ben to pick the card up from the ground. After Chad left, Ben picked up the card and turned it over. Printed with simple black letters on a white card was the name:

Carl Saunders – Process Server

Saunders & Associates

_A process server?_ Ben thought. _What would a process server want with me?_

Ben had a limited knowledge of the law, but knew a process server was a person who delivered documents for a law firm, typically when someone gets sued. _Am I being sued?_ he asked himself. His imagination ran wild. The most logical explanation for a process server contacting him was due to the fire. Perhaps some insurance company was looking to settle, or someone was putting together a class action lawsuit. The other logical, albeit unlikely possibility, was that he was being sued, but he could not think of a single person who would sue him. Besides, suing him would be pointless since he had nothing left.

Ben put the card in his pocket and finished the remainder of his shift. When it was time for him to go, he punched out and snuck out the back to avoid Chad.

# Chapter Nine

It was shortly after 4:00 p.m. when Ben arrived at the plain office building in the business district of the small town. He entered through the front doors and approached the building's directory. With the business card in his hand, he looked at the name once again, and then checked for it on the list. Saunders & Associates was located on the eighth floor.

Ben entered the old elevator and rode it to the top floor. The doors opened and he stepped out into a drab hallway with a low ceiling. Something about the place made his stomach churn. He felt claustrophobic, resurfacing painful memories from his childhood. He did not want to spend one moment longer than he had to in the place. He looked both ways, but was unsure which way to walk. At one end of the hallway appeared to be an office of some sort so Ben proceeded in that direction. There was a door with small black letters imprinted on the glass and when he came close enough to read it, he knew he was in the right place. Ben entered the office and looked around nervously.

"Can I help you?" the receptionist asked.

"Yes, my name is Ben Owen. I'm here to see Carl Saunders."

"Please have a seat, Mr. Owen. I'll let Mr. Saunders know you're here."

"Thanks."

Ben took a seat on the edge of the sofa, but never got comfortable. He looked as if he were about to bolt out the door at any minute. Being an orphan, Ben had major trust issues. He bounced around from different foster homes throughout his entire life. Even though he had been legally declared independent at eighteen, he never truly embraced that fact. Offices and authority figures made him nervous, but he was there to see what the process server wanted.

"Hello, you must be Mr. Owen," a portly man said.

"Uh... yeah. You can call me Ben."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ben. My name is Carl. Please, come into my office."

Ben rose from the plush leather sofa and followed the stout man into his tiny office. When they entered, the man apologized for the mess. Scattered papers and filing boxes covered nearly every surface, including the floor. Wall-mounted cabinets were filled with sloppy binders and overflowing dossiers. The desk was also completely consumed by what appeared to be countless case files.

The rotund man walked behind his desk and squeezed into an overused office chair that had been stretched to its limits. He invited Ben to have a seat.

Ben analysed the man's features and mannerisms, and stored the information away in his brain. He did this with everyone he met. He figured he may be able to use him as a basis for a character someday.

"So, Ben, how are you doing today?" the man started.

"Could be better," Ben replied.

"Well, I have some news that might cheer you up. I was contacted by a lawyer in Calgary who wanted me to get a hold of you regarding an estate settlement."

"Estate settlement?" Ben repeated. "What does that mean?"

"Did you have any relatives living in Calgary?"

"I don't have any known relatives," Ben said confused.

"You must have had someone, because from what I understand you are the sole benefactor of an estate. The lawyer will be able to provide you with all the details. Here's his information."

From a sitting position, the man's belly was pressed firmly against the desk. Even reaching over to hand Ben the lawyer's information was putting a strain on him. Ben rose from his chair slightly to accept the piece of paper before sitting back down.

"Just give him a call and he'll explain everything to you."

Ben looked at the note for a moment and then asked if there was a phone he could use.

"Certainly, follow me."

The small windowless conference room was about seven-feet wide by eight-feet long — just enough space to fit a small circular table with a couple of chairs around it. Ben sat alone in the room with the phone in his hand. On the table was a piece of paper with a name and a long distance number scribbled in pen. It was barely legible. Ben had received a few pieces of paper with numbers on them recently, but this was the only one he was eager to act upon. The mere thought of finding a relative trumped all other competing interests. He dialled the number, then held the phone to his ear. Within a couple of rings, a middle-aged women's voice came on the line.

"Epstein, Windsor, & Associates," she said.

"Hi, I'm looking for Barry Windsor," Ben said.

"May I ask whose calling?"

"Ben Owen."

"One moment please."

Ben waited on hold for more than five minutes. He grew restless, but since he had nowhere to go he continued to wait. At the ten minute mark, he was about to hang up. Just as he was about to do so, he heard a voice come on the other line.

"Barry Windsor here."

"Uh... hi, Mr. Windsor, my name is Ben Owen. I was instructed to contact you."

"Yes, Mr. Owen, thanks for getting back to me."

"Please, call me Ben."

"Alright, Ben, the reason I wanted to contact you is that I'm the attorney for Charles Gringer's estate. I'm sorry to inform you that Mr. Gringer has passed away."

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.

# Chapter Ten

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.

# Chapter Eleven

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.

"Mr. Owen," a man's voice said.

Ben turned around and saw a dapper man dressed in a navy pinstripe suit. He approached Ben with an extended palm.

"Gary Windsor, pleasure to meet you."

"Hi," Ben said with as much confidence as a lost puppy.

"How was the trip?" Gary asked, leading Ben into his office.

"It was good, I guess."

The office was nothing like the process server's in Cold Lake. For starters, it was nearly four times the size and was kept immaculate. Everything seemed much more high-end from the various art pieces, the imported rug, and of course the furniture. There were even a few more framed degrees hanging on the wall.

"Did Wendy offer you a beverage?" the lawyer asked.

"Yes, she did, thanks," Ben said, holding up his water.

With his clothes still smelling like a campfire, Ben sat hunched over in the lawyer's office waiting to become the benefactor of some mysterious inheritance. Until Ben actually saw the documents, he would not fully believe it was true. After all, he kept asking himself why some stranger would leave him with his entire estate. The whole thing was a little surreal, but Ben had nothing to lose and a lot to gain.

"Let's get started, shall we?" the lawyer asked, placing a file folder on the desk.

"So you said you have never heard of Charles Gringer?" the lawyer asked out of curiosity.

"Is that a problem?"

"No, not at all. I was just making conversation."

"Before I spoke with you, I had never heard the name Charles Gringer before in my life."

"He obviously knew you."

"Is this type of thing common... you know, where someone leaves their estate to a complete stranger."

"Well, not quite like this. We get the odd case every now and again where people donate their estates to charities. This is kind of the same thing, except you are the sole benefactor."

"Is there any more information in your file regarding why he chose me?"

"No, there's nothing to explain Mr. Gringer's motivation for doing what he did. Maybe he's your long-lost relative."

Ben did not say anything.

"Alright, why don't we start with the big one?" the lawyer said as he slid the first document in front of Ben to sign.

"What's this?" Ben asked.

"This is the title transfer document for Mr. Gringer's house. I just need you to read it over and sign at the bottom."

Ben did as he was instructed. As a first timer in this kind of situation, he relished the opportunity to ask a lot of questions and learn as much as possible. With each answer from the lawyer, Ben did his best to comprehend, but was not educated enough to grasp everything. In those instances, he just nodded and then signed the rest of the documents that were slid in front of him.

At the end of the process, the lawyer asked Ben if he had any final questions. Ben had none. They both stood up and the lawyer walked Ben back to the main entrance of the firm.

"Take care of yourself, Mr. Owen," the lawyer said as he shook Ben's hand. "My card is in the folder; don't hesitate to call me if you need anything."

"Thanks."

# Chapter Twelve

Ben left the law firm and rode the elevator back down to the lobby. He could hardly contain his excitement and nearly shouted at the top of his lungs. He never thought in his wildest imagination he would become a debt-free homeowner at the age of twenty-four. He continued to pull his luggage across the lobby and through the spinning doors.

Once outside, Ben was hit by the intense summer heat of the sun overhead. The rays were radiating off the glass building and amplifying the temperature. Ben removed his hoody and shoved it into his bag. He then walked to the curb to look for a taxi.

While waiting on the street, Ben thought he heard someone call his name from a distance. There were several reasons why Ben chose to ignore the sound, the most prominent of those being that he did not know anyone in Calgary.

"Ben," the voice said again, this time much closer.

Ben had no choice but to acknowledge the speaker. When he turned around, much to his surprise, he was staring at the face of a long-lost friend. Ben was completely caught off guard. He thought he had left his past behind him, but apparently it was harder to escape than he had realized. He had been in Calgary for only a few hours and already he bumped into someone he knew.

"Kyle," Ben finally said, embracing is friend with a hug.

"Wow, I hardly recognized you, Ben. You're all grown up."

"Yeah, you too. What has it been... ten years?" Ben said.

"Something like that. How the hell are you, man?" Kyle asked.

"You know, same old, I guess."

"Are you going somewhere?" Kyle asked, taking notice of Ben's luggage. Similarly, Kyle had a suitcase with him.

"Actually, I just arrived," Ben said. "Where are you going?"

"I'm moving to Cold Lake. Rent here is too expensive."

"Trust me, you don't want to move to Cold Lake, I just came from there."

"What am I supposed to do? I have no choice." Kyle asked.

"If rent is the only issue, why don't you move in with me? I literally just inherited a house," Ben said, as he held up the keys.

"You inherited a house? Who gave you a house?"

"It's a long story. I'm on my way there now to check it out. Why don't you come with me? If you like it, you can stay there with me rent free."

"How could I possibly say no to that?"

The last time Ben and Kyle had seen each other was when they were about fourteen-years old. They had both been fostered by the same family — a farmer and his wife. The couple was getting old so they thought it was a good idea to adopt two young strong boys to do manual labour around the farm.

It was more like a slave camp. Every day, Ben and Kyle would have to wake up at the crack of dawn to feed the chickens, herd the cows, and bale hay, among other tasks. They would work all day and come home around 6:00 p.m. for dinner, then were home schooled until their bedtime. This had gone on for years. The couple become greedy and asked for more boys from the child welfare agency. This raised suspicions, which prompted an investigation. After that, the boys were removed from the home and had not seen each other since. They had bounced around various foster homes for the next two years until they turned eighteen. The only saving grace in the whole situation was that for a two-year period, they had spent every waking minute with each other and had formed a bond that was as strong as brothers — perhaps even stronger.

Bumping into each other was like a sign from God — as if the actual brush strokes of destiny were visible.

"So where is this house anyway?" Kyle asked.

Ben handed him a sheet of paper with the address on it. Kyle studied it for a minute, then said, "I know where this is. It's actually quite far from here, but I know a bus that will take us there."

Ben and Kyle walked to the next block where there was a bus stop. They chatted the whole time until the bus came. Ben briefly described how his life had turned out since they last saw each other, and then explained some of the more recent events that led him to being in Calgary. The bus finally arrived and they both hauled their suitcases aboard and found a seat together.

"So the last couple days have been a rollercoaster ride for you, huh?" Kyle asked.

"Yeah, there have definitely been some highs and lows and everything in between. It all seems surreal to me. Even bumping into you is tripping me out. It makes me think this is all happening for a reason."

"Like your life has a purpose?"

"It's funny you use those words because that's the third time I've heard them in the past few days. The morning I woke up in the hospital, as I was about to leave, one of the nurses handed me a note."

"A note?" Kyle repeated, "what did it say?"

"Hold on, I'm getting to that. After I left the hospital, I walked back to my apartment and then from there I boarded a bus. It was less than an hour later, but when I sat down, some random woman on the bus handed me a note."

"What's with all the notes?" Kyle asked.

"That's not even the weird part, check this out."

Ben reached into his back pocket, pulled out both notes, and handed them to Kyle. The look on Kyle's face said it all. Much like Ben, he could not believe his eyes.

"What are the odds you get identical notes saying your life has a purpose?"

"I don't know, but it's pretty strange, right?"

"Strange indeed," Kyle replied, "and then you receive notification that someone wants to give you a house?"

"Yep."

"Huh," Kyle grunted, almost in disbelief.

"Crazy, right?"

"Yeah, I'd say that's a little crazy. You're not pulling my leg, are you?"

"No, this is the God's honest truth."

"As opposed to a dishonest truth? And isn't God considered the most trustworthy of sources, so this is like a triple whammy of redundancy."

"Hey, it's a figure of speech, leave me alone."

"Wait, something still doesn't add up," Kyle pondered.

"What?"

"You said you lost everything in the fire, right?"

"Yeah."

"So where did you get the luggage from?"

"Well, that's another story."

# Chapter Thirteen

Buried deep in the suburbs of Calgary was a row of houses on a quiet street. Midsize sedans and SUVs were parked along both sides, leaving the driving lane barely wide enough for two vehicles. Old-growth trees sheltered the neighbourhood from the sun with their long, flowing branches.

After walking several blocks from the bus stop, Ben and Kyle approached the house.

"It should be this one on the left," Kyle said.

They set their bags down and observed their new residence for the first time. The house was a little more rundown than they were expecting, but it would have to do. It was a small two-level dwelling with a rickety porch and peeling paint. By Ben's estimation, he figured it was at least fifty years old. The landscaping looked like it had not been done in years. Tall grass and weeds took over what was probably a nice lawn at one point. It was the only house on the block that looked like that.

"Welcome to your new home," Ben said.

"Likewise."

Although it lacked curb appeal, there was no telling what the interior looked like, and there was only one way to find out. They picked up their suitcases and lugged them to the house. Once up the front steps, they saw the porch littered with soggy newspapers and a worn out welcome mat.

"Whoever left you this house sure wasn't worried about what the neighbours thought of him," Kyle said.

"Based on what I've seen so far, I wouldn't be surprised if we find Mr. Gringer's skeleton still sitting in his favourite arm chair."

"Do you think we're going to find a dead body in there?" Kyle asked.

"Let's hope not."

Ben opened the screen door and inserted the key into the lock. He pushed his way into the house and a strong odour pushed back.

"Dang, it sure smells like someone died in there," Kyle remarked.

"It'll be fine. We just need to open some windows and air the place out."

The curtains were drawn, preventing light from penetrating. Ben tried flipping on the light switch, but nothing happened. He had not expected the electricity to still be running, but it had been worth a shot. When Ben's eyes adjusted to the light, he concluded the interior of the house more or less matched the exterior. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling, the décor was dated, and it had thick, orange shag carpet throughout. There were stacks of junk lying about — newspapers, mail, books, and dirty dishes were scattered over the entire floor.

As Kyle followed Ben inside, the pair felt like a couple of tomb raiders. It was not clear when anyone had been in the house last, but from the stench and the thick layer of dust on everything, it must have been a while.

"So, what do you think? A little paint should do this place wonders, right?" Ben said, taking pride in his new house.

"Do you have money for paint?" Kyle asked.

"Not yet, but once we get jobs, we can fix this place up, good as new."

"Shall we take a tour?" Kyle asked.

They set their bags down at the front door and proceeded to go further into the house. With every room they entered, Ben drew the curtains back and opened the windows. It did not take long to cover the first floor. Unfortunately for Ben, there did not appear to be any hidden relics worth any money. The first floor did not offer much, just an expired kitchen, living room, dining room, and a grimy bathroom. They walked in and out of each room on the first floor, taking notice of anything that might provide them clues to who the previous owner was. Remarkably, there were no photographs framed on the walls and no photo albums lying around.

Without saying a word, Ben led the way upstairs to where there were a set of bedrooms. The master bedroom had the typical stuff one would expect to find in a master bedroom — a four-poster bed, a night stand with a lamp, and a dresser.

After a brief look upstairs, they went back downstairs and walked around idly. "So there it is," Ben said. "It's not so bad."

"What's this door for?" Kyle asked, pointing out a door they had previously overlooked. The entranceway was covered with debris so he used his foot to push it away.

Ben walked over to assist him. With his hand on the doorknob, Kyle paused before opening the door.

"If there are any dead bodies in this place, they'd be stored in this closet. I just want to make sure you're ready for that."

"I'm ready."

With a quick jolt, Kyle yanked the door open. Much to their surprise, there were no skeletons in the closet; in fact, it was not even a closet.

"Hey, what do you know, this place has a basement!" Ben exclaimed with delight.

"After you," Kyle offered.

They stood at the top of the stairs and peered into the abyss. The basement was completely underground and had no windows so it was freezing cold and pitch black. This was apparent just from standing at the top of the stairs. They both had chills running up their spines from the temperature and eeriness.

"I don't suppose you have a flashlight on you?" Kyle asked.

"As a matter of fact, I do," Ben said, as he retrieved one from his backpack.

"Lead the way. I'll be right behind you," Kyle said.

Ben turned his flashlight on and the beam of light pierced through the darkness. The wooden staircase leading down to the basement creaked with each step. When they reached the bottom, a new odour presented itself. The damp basement smelled like an old shoe. Years of condensation seeping into the porous concrete had sprouted mould and other bacteria growth that created a retched stench.

They stayed close to each other; neither of them was willing to admit they were a little scared to be down there. Nevertheless, since it was part of the house, it too needed to be explored. Despite being scared, their curiosity made them proceed.

The basement was equally as unimpressive as the rest of the house. It was unfinished, with concrete walls and visible rafters in the ceiling. The main area of the basement was just an open space with no furniture. There was a fireplace at the far end and nothing hanging on the walls. A little bar occupied one corner, but there was no alcohol or glasses. Through a small doorway, they were able to access the remainder of the basement. There was a small furnace area on the right, and just beyond that was a pair of bedrooms side by side. Ben shone his flashlight into each of them. The rooms were empty, but something about them caught his attention.

"Hmm," he said, as he stood there peering in.

"What is it?"

"I don't know, it's probably nothing," Ben replied. "Take a look at these rooms, don't they seem a little shallow to you?"

Kyle took another look. He did not notice anything unusual. "Shallow in what way?" he asked.

"When we did the tour of the main floor, one thing I noticed was the breadth of the house. It was very wide. But looking at the basement, I get the opposite impression. It's much narrower. It just strikes me as odd."

"Basements are dug in the ground, and there's no rule that says they have to be the same layout as the floors above it," Kyle said.

"That's true."

"Or perhaps it's the absence of light that's not allowing you to properly gauge distances."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Ben replied.

"Either way, can we get out of here? This place is giving me the creeps."

# Chapter Fourteen

Over the next few days, Ben and Kyle worked diligently to get the house in order. They worked well as a team and were no strangers to manual labour. It was especially satisfying working for themselves for a change. The place was dusted, scrubbed, and polished. They bound up fourteen large garbage bags filled with old junk and hauled them out to the curb.

"Are you sure the garbage collectors will take all this?" Kyle asked.

"I'm not sure; I've never owned a house before."

They did an inventory of the house, but did not find anything of value. Nor did they find any of Mr. Gringer's personal effects. Any letters lying around were just junk mail and not assigned to anyone specifically. It was as if the previous owner had just vanished one night without leaving a trace. It was a peculiar mystery indeed; one that Ben had a hard time wrapping his head around.

He stayed indoors mostly, only leaving when necessary. One such trip was to a pawnshop where he pawned the jewellery he had stolen from his old apartment building. It was the only money they had and it was keeping him and Kyle afloat until they found work. It was enough to get the electricity turned back on and for Ben to buy a cheap computer from the pawnshop. Due to the recent events in his life, Ben was actually inspired to start writing again. It had been over a week since he last touched a keyboard, and he was brimming with new ideas.

Ben sat at the dining room table; he had been writing all morning. During a break, he opened up a browser and typed 'Charles Gringer' into a search engine. When the results populated, Ben could not believe his eyes.

"Hey, Kyle, check this out," Ben said.

"What is it?"

"Read this."

"Charles Gringer of Calgary wins Alberta's largest lotto jackpot — twenty-two million dollars," Kyle read the headline aloud. He then skimmed the rest of the article. "So Charles Gringer, a man who you claim to have never met, wins the lottery, dies the next day, and then for no apparent reason, decides to leave everything to an orphan kid from Cold Lake, who presumably he has no relation to."

"Yeah, that sounds about right," Ben said.

"Where's the twenty-two million? Shouldn't you get that too?"

"Not sure, maybe he gave it away to charity."

"Aren't you his charity of choice?"

"Maybe he buried it in the backyard."

"This guy was old, right? Maybe all that digging gave him a heart attack."

Kyle was half kidding, but still, it was a possibility. They both looked at each other and then bolted to the backyard. They paced around like a couple of hounds sniffing out a trail. Unfortunately, there were no disturbances in the land. If Charles Gringer hid the money, it certainly was not in the backyard. Disappointed, the boys sauntered back into the house and contemplated their next plan.

"Wouldn't the obvious explanation be that this Gringer guy is related to you somehow?" Kyle said.

"I thought about that, and it still might be a possibility, but it doesn't explain why he would do such a kind act for me at the end of his life. Why not reach out to me earlier?"

"Who knows? Maybe he just recently found out you were his grandson or something."

"Hmm, I doubt it."

"I've got an idea. Follow me," Kyle said.

"Where are we going?"

Kyle did not respond. He simply marched out the front door, down the porch steps, and across the yard to the neighbour's house.

"Kyle, what are you doing?" Ben asked.

"I'm going to get some answers. Somebody in this neighbourhood must have known him."

Kyle pulled back the screen on the neighbour's front door and gave three hard knocks. They only waited a moment before someone answered.

"Yes, what can I do for you?" an old lady asked. She looked slightly nervous that two unfamiliar young men who did not appear to be selling anything were standing on her doorstep.

"Hello ma'am, my name is Kyle Watson and this here is Benjamin Owen. We just moved in next door and wanted to introduce ourselves."

"Well, hello. I'm Gladys. Would you boys like to come in?"

"Sure, we'd love to," Kyle said as he looked at Ben and smiled.

"But we can only stay for a bit," Ben added.

Ben and Kyle entered Gladys's home and took notice of the familiar layout. The furniture was similarly dated, but in much better condition than theirs. Little figurines and trinkets, which had most likely been collected over the past fifty years, occupied shelves behind glass cabinets.

"Please, have a seat. I'll put on a pot of tea."

"That would be great, thank you," Kyle said. "By the way, this is a lovely home you have here Ms... Gladys."

"Thank you, dear," she called out from the kitchen. Moments later, she returned with a plate of biscuits.

"So how long have you lived in this neighbourhood for?" Kyle asked.

"Oh, let's see," she said, taking a moment to think. "It's been about thirty years in this house. My husband and I moved out from Ontario. We ran a shoe repair business in the neighbourhood. It wasn't much, but it paid the bills and put a roof over our heads."

"Are you and your husband still together?"

"In spirit only. He passed away last August and it has been a really hard adjustment for me."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Kyle said.

"Gladys, did you know Mr. Gringer?" Ben asked.

For some reason, that brought a smile to her face. "Which one?" she said, as she chuckled a bit. Ben and Kyle looked at each other, confused.

"The one that lived next door to you."

"I've known Charles for thirty years. He's a wonderful man; keeps to himself mostly. He used to come by often for tea and biscuits. He and my husband got along quite well. That reminds me, perhaps I'll invite him over this afternoon."

"Gladys, I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but Charles Gringer passed away recently."

Gladys did not respond the typical way one would expect upon hearing such news. Instead she looked down at the crumbled napkin in her hands, which she had been fidgeting with ever since she sat down.

"Can you tell us about him? Did he have any kids, or grandkids?"

"Charles? No, he never married and did not have any children as far as I know."

"Did that strike you as a bit odd?"

"Why are you two so interested in Charles?"

Ben looked at Kyle, then back at Gladys. He decided to be forthright with her.

"Mr. Gringer left his house to me in his will, and I'm just trying to find out why."

Gladys took another moment before she spoke. She opened her mouth at the precise moment the water in the kettle began to boil. The sound of steam whistled from the kitchen.

"Please excuse me," she said, getting up from the couch and heading into the kitchen.

Ben and Kyle chatted amongst themselves until Gladys returned. She brought out three cups on a tray, accompanied by a pot with some sugar and milk. She set the tray down and they each took a moment to sort out their tea.

"So, Gladys, you were going to say something about Mr. Gringer," Ben said.

"Well, you asked me if Charles' behaviour seemed odd... I've known the man for thirty years and the oddest thing about him was winning the lottery."

"What was odd about that?"

"Charles only played the lottery once in his entire life. I know this because he would give me grief for playing. He always referred to the lottery as tax for the poor. Then the one time he plays the lottery, he wins."

"Yeah, you're right, that is a bit odd," Kyle said, trying to goad her into revealing more information. "What else did he do that was odd to you?"

Again, Gladys took her time to respond. "Well..." she paused.

"What is it?" Ben probed eagerly.

"Perhaps I have said enough, I don't wish to get involved any further."

"Gladys, please."

"Whoever left you that house looked like, sounded like, and dressed like Charles Gringer, but he wasn't the man I knew for thirty years. I know that probably sounds crazy, and I don't know how to explain it, but trust me, it wasn't the same man."

"Surely you have some thoughts about it though, right?"

"Oh I don't know, I guess it could be a number of things: split personality, amnesia, alien implant..."

"Alien implant? Do you really believe that?"

"I'm not sure what to believe."

"You seem pretty convinced it wasn't the same person."

"Call it an intuition or a gut feeling, but something was definitely different about him."

"We appreciate your help, Gladys."

"I'm sorry I couldn't be of any more service to you boys."

"Your hospitality was enough. Thank you for the tea," Kyle politely said.

They rose from the couch and headed toward the door. On their way out, Kyle offered to be of future service. "We're next door if you need anything, just give us a call and we'll be right over."

On their walk back to their house, they discussed what Gladys had said.

"So, did that go how you had expected?" Ben asked.

"Not really," Kyle replied. "Now I'm more confused than ever."

"What do you make of her story about this so-called 'new' Charles Gringer?"

"Who knows, but I think the simplest explanation is that the money changed him," Kyle said. "I heard a saying once — money doesn't change a person, it just reveals who they naturally are when they are no longer required to be nice to people. Perhaps that explains why Gringer behaved so differently after he won the lottery."

"Perhaps, but that still doesn't explain why he played the lottery in the first place, nor how he won on his first try."

"We don't know for sure that it was his first time, all we know is what Gladys told us, and what he told her. For all we know he was playing the lottery his entire life."

"Still, the odds of winning are astronomically small – something like fourteen million to one."

"True, but despite the narrow odds, people still win it... especially old people from quiet neighbourhoods."

"Then die the next day?" Ben added.

"It could just be a stroke of bad luck. Who knows, the guy was old, right? Isn't it possible that there's no grand mystery in it all, that all the answers are really that simple?"

"Alright, even if I was willing to accept that, how do you explain the fact that he left me his house, and died completely broke?"

"We haven't ruled out the grandfather hypothesis just yet. Perhaps in his old age, he felt guilty for not being a part of your life and wanted to do one final gesture to make it up to you."

"Okay, but he didn't have any children, and where'd all the money go?"

"Maybe he gave it to charity, gambled it away, someone robbed him. There are a million different complex scenarios that could explain all this, and we would be foolish to think we could independently unravel the complexity on our own. I say we forget about Mr. Gringer, his mysterious alter ego, and count your blessings."

# Chapter Fifteen

Fall arrived and with that came the start of a new school semester. Kyle had earned a scholarship, enabling him to continue his studies. He was pursing his Master's degree at the University of Calgary, and spent most of his time on campus either working in the lab, or attending classes.

Ben awoke to an empty house, which was exactly what he needed to start the day writing. He went downstairs, made a pot of coffee, and sat in front of his computer. His writer's block had ended. When his fingers hit the keyboard, words emerged on the screen.

The rough concept of the story was to describe a character, similar in nature to himself — a misanthropic orphan riddled with issues. He used the name Ben as a placeholder, but vowed to change it to something else later. Ben had not really outlined the plot, but decided to start writing anyway and hope some bolt of creativity would continue to come down from the muses and inspire him until the end.

At one point in the afternoon, Ben decided to walk around the house to increase his blood flow. Now that the house had electricity, the basement was not so dark and scary. Other than the first exploration down there, he had yet to return. However, with the courage of a brave soldier, Ben marched down into the cold and eerie basement once again. Looking around from the midway point of the staircase, he envisioned what the basement would look like if it were completely renovated.

He sauntered around the basement without an agenda. He headed down the narrow corridor and into each bedroom. The breadth of the rooms still bothered him. He walked into one of the rooms and pounded his fist on the far wall. There was a hollow echo, indicating it was not concrete on the other side. Without having a fully formulated hypothesis, he casually walked into the neighbouring room and again pounded his fist on the far wall. It emitted the same hollow sound.

He looked around, but did not see anything unusual so he exited the room. On his way out, he flicked the light switch off and proceeded down the corridor the same way he came in. Once at the end of the corridor, he stopped and turned around. Something unusual caught his eye that he had taken for granted before. At the far end of the corridor, there was a large cabinet nestled against the wall. It was peculiar indeed since the rest of basement was devoid of any furnishings. Had there been any other furniture down there, he would not have thought anything of it, but on its own, it stuck out. Given that Mr. Gringer was known for his occasional odd behaviour, Ben was especially perceptive to spot any oddities.

Ben walked down the corridor to take a closer look at the cabinet. Upon inspection, he did not notice anything particularly unusual about it. There were no strange markings, nothing in the drawers, and nothing underneath it. There it was, on its own, without any indication to what it was doing abandoned at the end of a lonely hallway in the basement.

Ben casually tried to move the cabinet, but it would not budge. He tried again, this time using both hands and was able to move it about a foot away from the wall, allowing him the space to inspect all around it. He was not sure what to expect; he was merely satisfying his curiosity. The wall behind the cabinet was bare. Similarly, the back of the cabinet was devoid of anything of interest.

When he had seen enough, he shoved the cabinet back into place. With one mighty push, the unit hit the wall behind it, emitting the same hollow echo as the other walls. It was obvious the walls were built in front of the concrete retaining wall, but why? In a house this small, it would not make a lot of sense to do that since it would decrease the square footage. Ben struggled with this mystery, but came up with no viable explanations. He walked into the main room and started checking the rest of the walls. He pounded his fist against each one and they all made a solid thud sound.

_Very peculiar_ , he thought.

He convinced himself it was nothing more than his imagination and dismissed the investigation completely. He went back upstairs and did not give the issue another serious thought.

# Chapter Sixteen

Ben and Kyle had been living in the house for a few months. Other than Gladys, they had not made any effort to get to know their other neighbours.

Ben's days were mostly filled with writing, drinking, and applying for the occasional job. With the amount of money he had left, there was no way he could sustain his current lifestyle, and he knew it. He tried not to think about it, but Kyle, the more responsible one, kept insisting he develop a plan.

After a long day of writing, Ben was exhausted. His face carried the marks of a depressed alcoholic. His hygiene was poor and he looked like he was in rough shape. Despite his appearance, however, he was still happier than he had been in Cold Lake.

Similarly, Kyle had been working all day. It was a little after eleven o'clock at night when he stepped through the door. He noticed Ben still sitting in the same spot he always sat — at the computer in the dining room. It looked like Ben had not showered or eaten anything all day, which caused Kyle to be concerned.

"Hey, man," Kyle said, hanging his jacket on a nearby hook.

"How was work?" Ben asked.

"It was good I suppose. How was your day?"

"It was actually quite productive. I wrote a few new chapters in my novel."

"That's great. How's the book coming along?"

"It's going really well. Any day I spend writing is a good day. It doesn't feel like work, you know? Sometimes I have to remind myself to eat or sleep because I am so focused on the story. I think this is what I'm destined to do. I can't remember the last time I felt like this."

"Can you make any money at it?"

"Some people can, but I don't really care about that. I write because it's the only thing that makes me happy."

"That's great and all, and I'm really happy for you, but I have some bad news."

"What is it?"

"I found this foreclosure notice taped to the front door. It's to notify you of back taxes owed on the property."

Let me see that," Ben said as he snatched the notice from Kyle's hands. "When did you find this?"

"Just now."

"Weren't you home today? I'm surprised you didn't hear them knocking."

"They must have come when I was in the basement."

"Okay, so what are we going to do about this?"

"Don't worry. It says here that we have sixty days to pay the property tax. If we don't get caught up with the payments by that time, there will be a court hearing. I'm sure we'll have enough money by then to cover our expenses. Worst case scenario, we'll sell the house and use the money to rent a new place."

"Alright, I'm sure we'll figure something out," Kyle said as he exhaled a deep sigh. He began to walk into the kitchen, but then paused, turned around and asked, "What were you doing in the basement?"

"Just checking things out."

"Did you find anything worth checking out?"

"Not really."

"Alright, I'm going to bed. I'll see you in the morning."

After Kyle went to bed, Ben continued to sit in front of his computer. It was getting late and his brain was starting to fatigue. Ironically, that was when an idea popped into his head.

Venturing into the cold and damp basement was something he had only done a few times, but this was the first time he had done it at night. As long as he got over that fact, he would be fine. Once down there, there were no external clues providing any indication as to what time of day it was. With flashlight in hand, he marched downstairs one last time before bed. There was something about the basement, some nagging feeling that was bothering him that refused to go away.

Ben walked over to an area he had not really explored up close before — the fireplace. There was nothing particularly fancy about it; it was just an ordinary brick fireplace. When he got close to it, he noticed that it looked like it had not been used in a very long time. There were no ashes or remnants of charred logs, just a thick layer of dust. The fireplace was large, but not large enough where he could fit comfortably inside. He turned the flashlight on, placed one arm on the mantel, and contorted his body into the fireplace. He was not sure what he was looking for exactly, but he had never owned a house before so perhaps more than anything, he wanted to inspect every square inch of the place, including the fireplace.

While poking his head inside, his initial instinct was to look up the smoke chamber, which he did. His light penetrated the pitch-black flue all the way to the top. He was surprised at how large the opening was.

_Someone could crawl down here_ , he thought.

He figured it was the first time eyes had set sight on the dark chamber in many decades. Ben then aimed the flashlight all around him, everywhere but down.

After satisfying his curiosity, he backed out of the fireplace. For a brief and accidental moment, his flashlight pointed downward. That was when he noticed something very unusual. There had been a disturbance in the dust that was rather unsettling to him because he was very sure he had not caused it. On one side of the fireplace, there was what appeared to be the back half of a footprint, the front half was concealed behind the side wall. Logically speaking, that meant the side wall was not always in its current position, and that it had been moved recently.

Ben's excitement rose as he was now convinced he was about to find Mr. Gringer's stash of twenty-two million dollars. He recalled old episodes of Scooby-Doo and feverishly started pushing bricks as if one of them were a button that would open a secret door. He pressed every brick on the fireplace, but nothing happened. The next thing Ben did was step completely inside the fireplace and try to physically move the side wall of the fireplace, but that did not work either. At this point, he was out of options, but was unwilling to give up hope. He stood up straight inside the fireplace and shone the flashlight all around. Again he started pressing on all the bricks, but nothing happened.

Feeling defeated, he was about to give up. That's when he noticed something he had previously missed. Nearly every brick inside the fireplace had been scolded black, except for one. That implied that it was newer than the rest of them. Ben figured it must have been installed after the fireplace ceased to be used as a fireplace. At this point, he was unsure what was special about it, but knew it was something worth exploring further. When he pressed it, nothing happened. However, when he pulled on it, it moved. The brick was a decoy. He pressed it downward and it slid out to reveal a secret button. Ben's excitement shot through the roof.

Without giving a second thought, Ben eagerly pressed the button. Just then, a large stone slab dragged across the concrete, creating a loud sound that echoed throughout the chimney.

# Chapter Seventeen

The sound filled the empty space and startled Ben. He turned around and saw the side wall of the chimney moving slowly, revealing a secret passageway. For a moment, Ben contemplated going upstairs to wake Kyle, but his curiosity urged him to proceed without his friend.

Despite his fear of confined spaces, Ben had no choice but to enter. He crouched low to duck his head under. With flashlight in hand, he shone the light in the opening before warily poking his head inside. There was not much to look at, just a long narrow hallway about two feet wide. From Ben's vantage point, it appeared to go the length of the house and then stop. There was nothing in the hallway and there were no markings on the walls.

Ben squeezed through the tiny opening and entered the dark chamber. Once inside, he was able to stand up and shine his flashlight all around. He cautiously walked about fifteen feet before reaching the end. Once at the end, he realized the hallway did not just abruptly end, it wrapped around the house at a ninety-degree angle. Suddenly, it all made sense to him. This explained why the walls sounded hollow — because they were.

He had no idea what would be waiting for him, but figured if someone had gone to all this trouble to hide it, it must be valuable. The greediest part of Ben's conscience came to life. He envisioned all the treasures that awaited him at the end of the tunnel. The best case scenario would be a room filled with precious gems, gold bars, priceless ancient relics, expensive artwork, and a mountain of cash — hopefully the twenty-two million Gringer had won. The worst case scenario would be to find a dead body. His greed quickly consumed even that version as he imagined the skeleton holding a map which would lead to hidden treasure. Ben picked up his pace until he reached the end. Once there, he was confronted with a solid steel door.

_What the heck?_ he thought.

There was no handle on the door, so he tried leaning his body weight into it, but it did not move. He then noticed a numbered panel to the right of the door, undoubtedly requiring some kind of code. Ben had no idea what it would be, but punched in a series of random numbers anyway just to see what would happen. Upon pressing enter, the device beeped and the display read:

INVALID ENTRY

Ben lightly pounded on the area surrounding the steel door — it too was solid. The room was clearly encased in concrete, so unless he wanted to chisel his way through, he needed to get the code.

The task demanded more energy than Ben could devote at the moment, so he decided to go upstairs and get some sleep. On his way down the hallway, he had a sudden moment of clarity. His posture stiffened and his eyes grew wide. Frantically reaching into his back pocket, Ben pulled out two pieces of paper, and shouted, "The notes!"

Returning to the panel with trembling hands, Ben held out both notes stacked on top of each other. He was so sure the numbers would work. He could have kicked himself for not thinking of them sooner.

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

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

Comparing the two notes, Ben decided the first number he should input was 40, then so on down the sequence until all five double-digit numbers were entered.

_Here we go, moment of truth_ , Ben thought as he pressed enter.

The device beeped like it had done before, but this time the display read:

ACCESS GRANTED

The door made a series of noises from the internal locking mechanism. When the sound stopped, Ben leaned against the door and pushed his way into the room.

# Chapter Eighteen

Ben had no idea what he was about to uncover. His eyes set sight on the room on the other side of the steel door for the first time. Much to his dismay, it appeared to be just an ordinary room. There were no jewels or stacks of money. The disappointment soon set in, replacing any previous thoughts of discovering riches. However, there was still enough excitement to continue. After all, there had to be a reason why someone went to all the trouble of hiding this room, and Ben was well aware things did not always appear as they seemed.

The room was about the size of the adjacent bedrooms in the basement. The one distinct difference, aside from it being hidden, was it was completely furnished. It looked like a philosopher's office. Bookshelves lined two opposing walls, a dark brown leather sofa rested snugly up against the north wall, and a large wooden desk was placed in the centre of the south wall. Ben slowly walked around the room, taking notice of the book titles.

Although the books were not hidden treasures, they did provide him some comfort. Ben had been an avid collector of books, and since all his books were destroyed in the fire, he was overjoyed to be able to restart his collection.

As Ben neared the desk, he noticed a strange looking gadget on top of a stack of papers. It was metallic and had strange markings on it. He picked up the object and studied it for a moment, but could not determine what it was. He set it back down and took a seat in the large leather chair. Leaning back, Ben swivelled around taking full view of the secret room.

_What is this place?_ he asked himself.

On the table, beneath the gadget, was a stack of papers. The cover page was blank and made no reference to the author's name or title. Ben picked up the stack and flipped to the first page. As he began reading, the narrative told the tale of a young mother named Anne, and her baby:

Anne was sixteen, still attending high school, and trying to balance the stress of adolescence and motherhood. The weight of this hardship was overwhelming for her. Although she was trying her best, she was ill-equipped to handle the workload. During the day, she would drop her baby off at a neighbour's house while she attended school. Being so physically exhausted all the time, Anne found it difficult to focus and often fell asleep during class. As expected, she was failing nearly every course.

The school sympathized with her and gave her all sorts of breaks. They kept the passing grade at 50%, but drastically reduced her workload. Even then, she failed to maintain a passing average. The school tried a number of options, including assigning make-up exams and making appointments with counsellors, but it was no use. She had missed too many classes and could not get caught up. With great reluctance, the school had no choice but to hold her back a year. Adding to her woes, her life at home was filled with strife.

Her parents were no longer together and she lived with her dad, Charlie, who worked for the Canadian postal service as a package handler. He hated the job, but at his age, he had no marketable skill sets. He was, in effect, forced into a life of servitude. Every day, he trudged into work and sorted packages in a stuffy warehouse. His physical health was declining concurrently with his mental health. At the end of the work day, he would come home, grab a beer, sit in his favourite chair, and watch TV. Some nights his migraines were so bad he just went to bed. Needless to say, he did not offer much guidance or support for his daughter.

One day, Anne left school early to come home. She was upset and frustrated with her life. Without saying a word to anyone, she packed a bag and left town — leaving her child behind. It was the mark of yet another poor decision. However, as she explained in the note she had left, she just wanted to escape her current situation and start fresh. She urged her father not to come looking for her and vowed to one day return. She never did.

Ben became more engrossed in the story, which went on to describe the challenges Anne's father had with his health. As for the baby, it was put in a foster care facility and never saw his mother or grandfather again.

Still reading the manuscript, Ben rose from the chair and stretched out on the couch. The story shifted from the point of view of the mother to the young boy in foster care.

Without proper family support, the boy became withdrawn. He remained mostly to himself through his early years and rarely did he make friends or interact with others. Despite being shy and reserved compared to other children his age, he displayed artistic talent well beyond his years. His teachers would often praise him by saying, "Ben you are very creative."

Ben's heart nearly skipped a beat when he read the line. The story had obvious parallels between his life, but never once did he think it was about him. Since he did not remember many of the early details of his life, he had not made the connection.

_This has to be a coincidence_ , Ben thought as he scooted to the edge of his seat.

Once he actually thought about it, the full picture came into scope. Charles must be referring to Charles Gringer — my grandfather.

Being completely enthralled with the text, Ben continued to read. He breezed through the next nine chapters, which contained incredibly detailed accounts of his childhood. Throughout the chapters, there were several points where the story described events he actually remembered. Any previous doubt had been eliminated; he now knew this was the story of his life. As to where it came from and who wrote it, that was a mystery that had yet to be solved. The strange thing about it though, was the narrative was written in the third person, almost as if it were written by the hand of God or some all-seeing observer.

He spent the next few hours flipping through the pages at a rapid pace. He was learning so much about himself — where some of his behavioural patterns came from, his commitment issues, and his insecurities. He realized he had the unique advantage of having nearly every detail of his life documented and laid out for him to analyze. Presented in such a manner, it was easy for him to recognize the error of his ways.

# Chapter Nineteen

Morning came and Ben woke up still clutching some of the pages of the unbound manuscript, while the rest lay scattered on the floor. He rubbed his eyes and wiped the drool from the corners of his mouth. Unsure what time it was or how long he had dozed off, Ben rose from the couch and reassembled the manuscript.

Ben exited the room and walked back down the long winding corridor and through the fireplace. On his way upstairs, he saw sunlight pouring through the windows and he could not help but smile. He felt unusually invigorated. It was the first time in a long time that he actually looked forward to his day. Now having been fully charged, Ben was excited to explore the events contained in the secret manuscript. Unfortunately for Kyle, he was at school and would not get to share the joy of Ben's discovery.

Ben set the manuscript on the kitchen table and opened the refrigerator. The fridge was nearly empty aside from a half empty carton of milk, a two-litre of pop, and a box of pizza. Ben lifted the lid to the pizza box and saw there were only two slices left. He glanced at the time on the microwave — it was just after ten o'clock. He grabbed the milk instead and decided on the more sensible breakfast option — a bowl of cereal. In addition to inheriting the house, Ben had also acquired Mr. Gringer's dishes and cutlery. After opening a few cupboards and drawers, he eventually found what he needed and sat back down at the table to read the manuscript while he ate his breakfast.

As he continued on, he came to a part in the story he had almost forgotten. It described a situation where he was getting bullied and Kyle had come to his rescue.

Ben curled up on the ground in a turtle position, protecting his head from the repeated blows. The commotion caught Kyle's attention, but he did not react right away. Off to the side of the scuffle was another bully going through the contents of a distinct red backpack. This was when Kyle knew the victim of the attack was his brother, Ben.

Kyle rushed into action and lunged at the group of kids — shoving two of the boys and punching a third one in the mouth. The group of boys spread out unsure whether to stay and fight, or just leave. Kyle stood his ground and eventually the boys decided not to continue the fight. Once they left, Kyle grabbed Ben by the arm and helped him to his feet....

A few chapters later, there was yet another account of Kyle's heroism. Again, Ben's recollection of the event had almost completely vanished. The memories were so vague that it was hard to know with any degree of accuracy how much of it was factual. As he continued to read, parts of it slowly started to come back, but he could not remember how exactly the story turned out. In addition to it being a long time ago, Ben had done his best to put his past behind him.

The next morning Ben and Kyle woke up at 7:00 a.m. to do their morning chores. The first thing they had to do was feed the animals. They went into the stable and started shovelling hay into the horse stalls. Next to be fed were the pigs.

They went back to the barn to get the slop buckets. That's when Ben noticed the padlock on Bob Wibley's garage was unlocked. This was unusual since it had always been locked in the past. There were no windows to peer into, and there were explicit instructions to never go near the garage. Naturally, a healthy curiosity brewed as to what Wibley stored in there. With a hurried pace, Ben walked toward the garage to see what was inside.

Kyle, being the more sensible of the two, stayed back and urged Ben not to act on his curiosity. He knew the only thing to come from it was likely to be trouble.

" _Ben, come on, quit messing around," Kyle shouted in a hushed manner._

Ignoring Kyle's advice, Ben unlatched the lock, opened the large wooden door, and disappeared into the mysterious garage. Once inside, Ben's heart raced as he snuck around in the dark. The only light came from a tiny sliver through the doorway. When his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realized what was concealed in the off-limits garage.

Ben was staring at a custom-fitted dust cover draped over some kind of automobile. Based on the outline of the car, Ben had an idea of what model it was. Still, he could not help but look. Reaching down, Ben grabbed the cover from the bottom and flipped it up over the hood. He almost gasped when he saw the shiny chrome and pristine red paint. Even though he was just fourteen years old, he had a deep appreciation for American muscle cars. He walked the length of the car with the cover still in hand. With each step, a little more of the car was revealed. Once he reached the end, he tossed the cover onto the dusty floor. He was now staring at a mint-condition, 1967 Ford Mustang convertible. He had never seen Wibley drive it nor had he ever heard him talk about it. For a brief moment, Ben actually had a little respect for his foster father.

The car had momentarily hypnotized Ben, causing a distortion in his moral judgement. Placing one hand on the front seat, and the other on the windshield, he jumped inside the vehicle — muddy boots and all. He slid into the vintage leather seat and immediately gripped the steering wheel. The '67 Mustang was one of Ben's favourite cars. He had never sat in such a nice car before, and doubted whether he would ever get the chance again. He took full advantage of the opportunity. After cranking the steering wheel a few times and playing with the knobs, the excitement of pretending to drive was fast wearing off.

He inspected every square inch of the car's interior, running his fingers along the smooth leather and vinyl surfaces. He opened the glove box and even looked under the seat. When he flipped open the sun visor, a set of keys fell into his lap. He stared at the keys for a moment before picking them up. Much like he had done with the rest of the car, he carefully studied the details on them. It was at that point that a little devil appeared on his shoulder, whispering terrible ideas into his impressionable ear. With a more mature individual, the suggestion would probably have been dismissed as foolish. However, this restraint mechanism had not yet fully developed in Ben's adolescent mind. Ben's impulses were in control and he had no choice but to act upon them. Without wasting any time, he inserted the key into the ignition and fired the car up.

The massive engine came to life with a ferocious roar. Nothing in the world gave Ben more joy than being in control of all the harnessed power that the car possessed. With one foot on the gas pedal, and the other foot on the clutch, he gave two pumps with his right foot. The car growled like a caged beast, echoing throughout the tiny garage. Kyle heard the sounds and knew there was about to be trouble.

The next thing Ben saw was the massive garage door swing open and Bob Wibley standing in the entrance with an angry look on his face, almost as if he were about to explode. Ben panicked and released his foot from the clutch, while keeping his right foot still on the gas. A deafening symphony of raw power consumed the small space as the needle on the RPM gauge shot up to 6000. The thick tires spun in place until they became warm and found traction. The car jolted forward, spitting up all kinds of dust. Mr. Wibley had to dive out of the way to avoid being hit as the Mustang charged out of its stable like a reckless stampede.

The car accelerated in tandem with Ben's adrenaline, forcing his mind to think quickly and try to keep up. He immediately gripped the shift knob and forced it downward, engaging the second gear. The meaty throttle drowned out any screams coming from Wibley. With the wheel cranked and the gas pedal near the floor, the car threw up a large cloud of dirt. Ben knew he would be in heaps of trouble already, so he decided to make the most of it. Before the dust could settle, Ben was gone. Ben sped down the single-lane dirt road and headed toward the city.

By the time the police found him, it was night time. They hauled him back to the farm where he would undoubtedly be on the receiving end of some old-fashion justice.

Just as he had expected, he was properly dealt with. Wibley had a way of striking the worst fear inside his heart. Ben was so afraid that he began crying before the lashes even began, yet he did not say a word. Kyle listened in agony from his bedroom upstairs. This time there was nothing he could do. He knew any sort of retaliation toward the Wibleys was not the best way to deal with the situation. Besides, any attempt to intervene would likely make matters worse.

The thick leather strap whistled through the air as it came down on Ben's back. The slaps could be heard from anywhere in the two-level house. Each time, Ben let out a horrific shriek, sending chills up Kyle's spine. Kyle clutched the covers on his bed and flinched every time Ben was whipped. Kyle too had firsthand experience with Wibley's disciplinary measures.

The next day, Ben and Kyle woke up at 7:00 a.m. like they had always done. They went into the stable to feed the horses, then the pigs. Not many words were spoken between the two. For the most part, they kept their heads down and focused on their chores to avoid getting in trouble. Ben hobbled around with open wounds on his back. Each movement was excruciatingly painful. Kyle told Ben to take it easy as he worked twice as hard to carry the load for them both.

The chapter ended and Ben pulled himself out of the story. His eyes were a little misty as the graphic story struck a chord with him. As painful as it was to recall those experiences, he had never thought about it from Kyle's perspective. He discovered Kyle was a much more loyal friend than he had given him credit for, and Kyle expected nothing in return. He began to weep, feeling pity for himself. His whole body shook as he sank deeper in despair and became consumed with emotions. He recounted the horrible memories from his past, which until that point he had done his best to suppress. The painful emotions flooded in and Ben wailed louder.

After a while, he took several deep breaths and regained his composure. Recalling the memories had been somewhat therapeutic as it had allowed him to confront his demons.

# Chapter Twenty

Ben could not wait for Kyle to come home. He wanted to tell him all about the secret room and the manuscript he had found. Above all else, he just wanted to give Kyle a hug and thank him for being such a good friend throughout some of the toughest times of his life.

Ben continued to read through the pages of the manuscript. He was thoroughly enjoying the story and actually admired the writing style. Instead of recounting every mundane detail of Ben's life, the story seemed to focus on significant events that had been instrumental in shaping him.

The next passage Ben read changed everything.

Ben sat alone in the dark, staring at his computer screen. This time the words did not come. He wanted to write a happy story as a form of escape, but in all of his twenty-four years of existence, there were not too many happy memories he could draw upon.

In a drunken stupor, Ben stumbled to his room and passed out in his bed. At 4:00 a.m., he awoke befuddled. The sound of the fire alarm blared in the background while a mysterious man pleaded with him to get up.

Ben sat at the dining room table and was completely stunned. It was strange enough to read stories about his past experiences, but not like this — this was recent. He eyed the rest of the manuscript and saw he was about halfway through it. The remainder was undoubtedly about his future. The implications were immediately apparent. He considered for a moment jumping ahead and reading later chapters, but chose not to. Instead, he followed the natural progression of the story.

After describing how the fire had ravaged his residence, the story went on to describe Ben being demoted at work, meeting the lawyer in Calgary, meeting Kyle, finding the secret room, finding the manuscript, then finally sitting at the dining room table reading the manuscript.

_What is this thing?_ Ben asked himself. _How could it possibly know all this?_

Whatever the manuscript was, he needed to share it with someone, and there was only one person he could think of to share it with.

It took Ben a little over an hour before arriving at the University of Calgary. He had never been there before and was unfamiliar with the layout. Upon arrival, he entered the first building he saw and asked someone where the science buildings were located. He was given directions and began walking. Once he approached the general area, he realized the odds of finding Kyle were astronomically small, but he remained optimistic.

_If I can find him randomly in a city the size of Calgary, surely I can find him on a university campus_ , he thought to himself.

It was nearly four o'clock when a lone raindrop came down and hit him in the face. He looked up at the sky and saw dark rain clouds overhead so he sought shelter in the nearest building.

Once inside, he was overwhelmed with students walking every which way. His social anxiety kicked in, as the busy university campus had more people than he was used to. He found a bench located down a quieter hallway and sat down. It was at that time a wild thought occurred to him. He reached in his bag and pulled out the manuscript. He began reading from the last place where he had left off. The story described Ben arriving at the university.

A rain cloud loomed overhead so Ben went into the nearest building. After finding a quiet bench to rest, he looked up and was struck by the beauty of an attractive woman wearing a long green jacket. In an uncharacteristic manner, Ben initiated contact with the woman by saying hello.

The woman did not stop, but she at least acknowledged Ben by looking at him and offering a polite smile. It was a small gesture, but it was enough to satisfy him.

Fortunately for Ben, something about him caught her eye. Ben was holding a manuscript in his lap, which caused the woman to slow her stride and comment on it. She must have deduced Ben was a writer based on his scruffy appearance and the stack of papers in his hands. It was obvious from the typeface and format of the document that it was a manuscript of some kind.

" _Are you a writer?" the woman asked._

Ben looked shocked that a woman was showing any sort of interest in him. He stumbled to find the right words, and eventually managed to speak.

" _Uhh... yeah... I am a writer. What about you?"_

" _What about me?"_

" _Umm... are you... what are you studying?"_

" _I'm majoring in earth and ocean science and minoring in English literature."_

" _My name is, Ben," Ben said as he extended his hand._

The woman obliged. "Hi, Ben, I'm Vanessa."

" _Nice to meet you. So... earth and ocean science, huh?"_

" _Yeah, I just love learning about the planet, animals, and ecosystems. But don't get me wrong, I also love reading and writing."_

" _That's nice," Ben said._

" _So what is that you're reading?" the woman asked._

" _Oh this, it's just a manuscript."_

The woman laughed at his awkwardness — she thought it was cute. "So do you go to school here?" the woman asked.

" _Me? Umm... no. I'm actually just looking for a friend, he's a student here. His name is Kyle Watson. You wouldn't happen to know him by chance?"_

" _No, sorry. There are a lot of students attending this school. But if he's a science major, you might want to try the labs upstairs."_

The moment Vanessa walked away, Ben kicked himself for not asking her out, but that was not his style. Throughout his life, he had never once asked a woman out because he had always lacked the courage.

Ben stopped reading the manuscript and looked up, hoping to see the woman from the story. Just then, he saw her. A beautiful woman walked by with a beauty that surpassed the description in the pages. She too was wearing a long green coat. Oddly enough, she looked familiar, but he could not quite place her. Being that he was mischievous by nature, Ben decided to have a go at talking to her.

"Vanessa?" Ben said, deviating from the script of the story.

The woman turned around with a confused look on her face. "Yes. I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"I should hope so; I sat beside you in earth and ocean science class last semester. I think we even had an English class together, but I'm not sure."

The woman looked perplexed, but gave him the benefit of the doubt.

"Nice to meet you... again," she said.

"So are you still writing?" Ben asked.

Vanessa played along, but the confused look never left her face. "I'd like to write a novel one day, I'm just far too busy at the moment. This is so strange," the woman said, interrupting her own thought. "I can't believe I don't remember you, I'm usually pretty good with faces. What did you say your name was again?"

"Ben Owen," he said, extending his hand with a smooth confidence that was unprecedented for him. "Don't worry about it. There are a lot of students at this school."

"I'm Vanessa."

"I know."

"So, what are you reading?" she asked, looking at the manuscript.

"This happens to be my first novel. I'm just revising it."

"That's so awesome, I admire your discipline. I've written a lot of short stories, but never a full book."

"I've learned many tips along the way that may help you, perhaps we can get together sometime and discuss them?" Ben asked. He could not believe the words that had come out of his mouth. It was as if he were on autopilot and was just a passive observer in the exchange. His sentences formulated cohesively and flowed effortlessly. This in turn inspired confidence in him, allowing him to take chances he would otherwise not take.

"Umm... sure," Vanessa replied. "Let me just get a pen and I will write down my number."

Ben accepted the number and then said farewell. He was overjoyed as he suddenly discovered a new-found value in the manuscript. A surge of energy consumed him and he thought he might explode if he did not expend it quickly. He felt like shouting from a rooftop, but instead he took off running.

# Chapter Twenty-One

Ben darted up the staircase, nearly ploughing into several students along the way. He paid no mind to the annoyed pedestrians and kept an ear to ear grin stretched across his face. He had no idea if Kyle would be upstairs in the lab, but figured it was the best place to look.

Ben enthusiastically ran down the hall, searching every science lab on the top floor. In the last one, he found Kyle. As soon as Kyle saw Ben, he did a double-take. For one, it was strange to see Ben on campus in a science lab, and two, he looked as if he had just won the lottery. There was a zest about him, a new-found fervour for life — whatever it was, Kyle could immediately tell something was different about his friend.

"Ben, what are you doing here?" Kyle asked.

Ben was completely out of breath and was panting. "I have to speak with you, now," he replied with a sense of urgency.

"Is everything okay?"

"Everything is great!" Ben said loudly.

"Okay, take it easy. Calm yourself," Kyle said. "How did you find me?"

"I'll explain later. Is there a place where we can go that's private?"

Kyle led the way down an empty hallway to a locked supply room in which he had access. There was a numbered panel just below the doorknob. As Kyle pressed his thumb against the buttons to enter his code, Ben couldn't help but look. When they entered the room, Ben shut the door behind him.

"So what's going on?" Kyle asked.

"Kyle, I'm going to tell you something incredible and you're not going to believe me."

"Okay, but make it quick, I have a lot of work to do."

"Last night, I was poking around in the basement and found a secret door in the fireplace."

"Let me guess, you found twenty-two million dollars?"

"No... something better."

Kyle crossed his arms and focused intently on what Ben was saying. He restrained himself from interrupting, allowing Ben to speak freely.

"I flipped a switch and one of the side walls retracted to reveal a hidden doorway. I crawled through and discovered a long corridor that wrapped around the house and eventually led to a steel door. The door was locked, but I was able to gain access by entering a ten digit code... and guess where I got the code from?"

"Tell me."

"From one of the notes I had received in Cold Lake. It was still in my back pocket."

"You haven't washed those pants since Cold Lake?"

"I don't like to wash my jeans often because... you know, that's not important."

Kyle continued to listen in a state of suspended disbelief. A part of him did not want to believe the fantastic tale of his mischievous friend, who was known to concoct stories to get a rouse out of people. However, what Ben had said so far was certainly plausible given that the house was old and its origins were still a mystery. The entire time, the scientist in Kyle looked for holes in his friend's story and empirical evidence that could be verified. If in fact Ben was lying about his account, it should be fairly easy to prove him wrong once they both went down into the basement and inspected the fireplace together.

"So I entered the code and the door opened. On the other side of the door was a room that looked like something out of a Sherlock Holmes novel. It was filled with shelves of books, a desk, and a couch," Ben paused a brief moment to catch his breath.

"As it turns out, I found something of great interest down there," Ben said, reaching into his backpack and pulling out the secret manuscript.

Kyle was not really sure what to say. He took the manuscript from Ben's hands, flipped through it and read a few bits at random, then handed it back. "Okay, so what is this?" he asked.

"This here..." Ben said, stalling for dramatic effect, "is a manuscript of my entire life."

The words hit Kyle's ear, but did not induce the expected result.

"What do you mean?" Kyle said, sounding confused and unimpressed.

"Kyle, don't you realize what I just said? I found a story about my life — every major moment from past, present, and even future — buried behind some secret door, which I just happened to have the code for in my pocket."

"Look Ben, I'm not sure what inspired you to come all this way to tell me this nonsense, but I have a hectic schedule and a lot of work to do. So if you don't mind..."

Ben repositioned himself in front of the door, blocking the only exit. "Kyle, you don't understand. Read this." Ben shoved the papers in his face and he began reading. It described Ben coming to the university to look for Kyle. In an effort to save time, Kyle skimmed the rest of the text. The last part he read described the preceding events, which led to the precise moment they were in. This definitely caught Kyle's attention. Even though he had yet to say a word, the intrigue was written on his face. His eyebrows furrowed as his logical mind tried to make sense of it.

"You see now?" Ben asked. "How did I know you would lead me into this back room?"

"Is this your idea of a joke, Ben? Is this the story you've been working on?"

"No, I swear on anything. I'm telling the truth." Ben shouted.

"Okay, okay, calm down."

"Want to know something even stranger?" Ben asked as he frantically flipped to the part in the story where he met Vanessa. "Okay, here. In this version, it says I met a beautiful woman in a green coat moments before I found you. I said hello, she said hello back, blah-blah-blah, right? Listen to this," Ben said as he began to read:

' _The moment Vanessa walked away, Ben kicked himself for not getting her number. But that was not Ben's style. Throughout his life, he had never once asked out a woman because he had always lacked the courage.'"_

"This actually happened," Ben said. "I was outside looking for you and then by chance decided to enter this building. Of all the buildings, I chose this one. I did that because it looked like it was going to rain. So I entered the building, sat down, and started to read the manuscript. I wanted to find you and so I figured the story might have a part in it where I find you. I read the part that I just read to you, except instead of being a coward and not asking for her number, I asked for it and she gave it to me," Ben said, still with an overly excited tone. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper with the name and number of the alleged woman in the green coat.

Kyle wanted to doubt Ben so badly, but Ben was actually quite convincing. He had never seen Ben so excited in all his life. In addition to that, many other aspects of Ben's story seemed to be cohesive — the fact he found Kyle, the scene where they talked in the storage room, and the phone number from the woman.

"Ben, if what you're saying is true, then it's beyond comprehension."

"I know. Believe me, I am just as perplexed as you are."

Kyle struggled to find the right words to say since the manuscript had so many implications that challenged his core beliefs. It seemed to imply the concept of fatalism — the idea that there are some events that inevitably happen regardless of the agent's choosing. Since Ben was still free to choose to act contrary to what was in the story, the concept of free will was not completely challenged. Nevertheless, it was a major breakthrough in human history. The next obvious question was, where did it come from?

"So what do you make of all this?" Ben asked.

Kyle was dumbfounded. He just stood there with a perplexed look on his face, shaking his head in disbelief. After careful deliberation, he offered a hypothesis.

"So, you found this in Gringer's house, right? So the logical conclusions to draw are one of two: either Gringer is clairvoyant and can predict the future, or he happened to write a story that ended up coming true."

"Oh, by the way," Ben added, "according to the story, Charles Gringer was my grandfather."

"Interesting, that explains a lot actually."

"It does?"

"Sure. Charles Gringer knew details of your past and wrote them down. He then made predictions about your future and perhaps even helped to orchestrate some of the events in your life, such as giving you a house, which undoubtedly influenced your decision to move to Calgary."

"Do you think Gringer burned down my apartment?"

"Who knows?"

"But Kyle, even you have to admit, if Charles Gringer was somehow pulling certain strings and manipulating events in my life like some evil puppet master, he was very specific. How did he get me and you to bump into each other, and how did he know about the woman in the green coat?"

"Maybe she's a plant," he suggested. "He could've hired her to walk by at that moment just to mess with you. I mean, he definitely has the money now to pull off a prank like that."

"Why would he do that? And if so, does that mean you're a plant too."

"I can assure you I am not a plant. As far as why he would do something like this, I mean, either he is really twisted and gets enjoyment out of manipulating events in people's lives, or he is testing you in some way. Or maybe he's just old and senile and this is what passes for amusement for bored rich people."

"Let's go back to the clairvoyant hypothesis for a minute. Explain that to me."

"It's the idea that some people have senses beyond the ordinary human senses of smell, sight, hearing, touch, and taste. A clairvoyant is thought to have the special ability to know information about a person or a physical event through some extrasensory perception."

"Like a psychic?"

"Yes, exactly," Kyle said. "But I think the simplest explanation is the most likely one."

"Which is?"

"I think you may have told someone these events, forgot you told them, and they wrote them down."

"Believe me, I didn't tell anyone."

"Perhaps at some point in your past, you went to a hypnotist or a therapist... or a hypnotherapist."

"Okay, but I haven't been to a hypnotherapist."

"That's just it, if you were hypnotised, you may not be able to recall that experience."

"Like amnesia."

"Sure, that's one way, but people have selective memory. The science is not fully understood. Basically, there are a number of ways a person can forget. Sometimes people just have too many memories and their brain pushes out old memories to make room for new ones."

"But I'm only twenty-four, I should have lots of room."

"Well, people's brains work differently."

Ben did not feel like they were making progress. He exhaled a deep breath and clasped his fingers behind his head.

"Okay, what else?"

"Perhaps you abused some sort of substance that damaged certain memory banks in your brain."

"Do you really believe that?"

"Who knows? All these possibilities are on the table at this point. Besides, that is better than my next suggestion."

"What's that?"

"Have you ever considered the possibility you have a split personality disorder? Think about it, you didn't write this, Larry did!"

"Shut up."

"I'm just saying, sometimes people develop these kinds of disorders to block out bad memories, and you've said so yourself you've had a lot of bad memories."

"Anything else?"

"Sometimes a traumatic experience can make a person forget. It's another coping mechanism. The brain deletes the memory in order to protect itself."

"But I still remember terrible events," Ben rebutted.

"Again, the science is not fully understood yet."

"Kyle, all your theories so far revolve around me telling someone my story, or me writing the story myself and then forgetting about it. What about you, did you tell my story to anyone? After all, I found this manuscript in Calgary, a city in which you spent a lot of time in."

"Definitely not."

"How do you know, maybe one of your other personalities did... or maybe your just forgot about it!"

"Very funny."

"So far, none of our theories satisfactorily answer the question about the author of this manuscript seemingly knowing future events."

"Yeah, that is a bit puzzling," Kyle said. "There is one really farfetched idea that we have yet to consider."

"What is it?"

"Some scientists are studying the possibility of something called remote viewing."

"Remote viewing? What's that?"

"It's basically when you hijack a person's brain and view their memories."

"Is that possible... in theory?"

"Well, in scientific terms, there's a process. Something first becomes a hypothesis, then a model, then a theory, then a law."

"And where does remote viewing fall?"

"It's not even in the theoretical stage yet."

"Okay then, so hypothetically, how would remote viewing be possible?"

"I suppose it would work the same way a computer hacker would hack into someone's computer and access all their files. Obviously, it wouldn't be through a computer, but the idea would work the same way."

"Is it possible?"

"I guess. Anything's possible, right? However, I wouldn't even begin to come up with a plausible scenario where someone could do that with today's technology. Scientists have been able to hijack the brains of insects and animals, but they first have to implant a chip into their brains. And they have to be in close proximity to their subject. But we're talking about remote controlling the basic movements in primitive species, not reading people's thoughts and memories. Even if that were possible, why would anyone want to hijack your memory bank? No offence."

"None taken."

"But even still," Kyle continued, "how could they know future events?"

# Chapter Twenty-Two

Ben took the note out of his pocket and stared at the number. This time, it would not be used to unlock a mysterious door to a secret room; he had a much more common use for it. Standing in front of a payphone, Ben inserted some coins and then dialed the number.

After a few rings, a soft voice answered and Ben did his best not to sound nervous. He had read a few more chapters in the manuscript and there was no mention of her at all. For this conversation, he was flying solo. In the original story of Ben's life, he never got the girl, so it was now up to him to keep her — a task that was easier said than done. Any ongoing relationship that transpired between him and Vanessa would rely solely on Ben's wit and charm, which up until that point in his life was non-existent. Ben mustered a few cohesive sentences and attempted a few jokes. Eventually, he convinced her to see him.

The bus arrived at the university campus a little after four o'clock. Ben exited and ran to the coffee shop. When he finally arrived, he burst through the door and looked around. Panting and sweaty, Ben looked at his watch — he was twenty minutes late and Vanessa was nowhere in sight.

_Dammit!_ he thought.

Figuring that Vanessa grew tired of waiting and left, Ben went to the washroom. He thought about how he had toyed with fate to get a girl he was never supposed to get, and presumed this was the universe's way of correcting course. Ben dispensed a large swath of paper towel and dried his hands before leaving.

As he exited, he saw Vanessa coming through the front doors of the coffee shop. Being caught off-guard and nervous, blood rushed to his face. She looked around, and once she spotted him, she waved.

"Hi Ben," she said as she approached. "Sorry I'm late."

"It's okay."

"My class ran a little bit longer than usual," she said, taking off her jacket and sitting down. "Our prof was handing back our assignments."

Vanessa looked stunning. Her toned body suggested she was no stranger to the gym, or yoga perhaps. Her clothes were new and fashionable. She was the complete opposite of Ben. His thin and wiry frame had never seen the inside of a gym and he was wearing the stolen clothes of a stranger. Fashion was definitely not his forte, but Vanessa didn't seem to mind. She actually seemed to respect that part about him. Unlike many other guys she had encountered, Ben was just being himself and not trying to impress her. It was obvious he did not care what others thought about him.

"So how did you do on your assignment?"

"I got an A-, but I think I could have done better. It's just really hard to know what the profs are looking for, you know?"

"Yeah."

"So, what have you been up to?" she asked.

"Not much."

"How's the editing coming along?"

"What editing?"

"You were editing your manuscript the last time I saw you."

"Oh yeah, right. Um... it's going okay, I suppose."

There was a noticeable difference between their first meeting and the second. To Vanessa, Ben seemed unusually awkward, and she could not figure out why. On their previous meeting, Ben had exuded so much confidence, but after only a few short sentences, she felt like he was a completely different person than the one she had met before. Without the aid of the manuscript, it was as if Ben were a superhero who had suddenly lost his powers. He was back to being his regular self and had to think of something quickly.

"Can I get you a drink?" he asked.

"Sure, I'll have whatever you're having."

Ben returned a few minutes later holding two medium-sized hot chocolates.

"Here you go," he said as he carried the cup over to her. Due to his nerves, his hands were shaking uncontrollably. He fumbled to set the drink down, and when he finally did, he tipped it over, spilling the hot liquid all over her. Vanessa reacted quickly and avoided the scolding beverage, but it drenched her jacket.

"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry." Ben pleaded. "Here, let me get you some napkins," he said as he rushed off.

He considered the incident to be another sign from the universe telling him not to meddle with the natural order of things. It seemed as though some external force was trying to sabotage him, or at least that was the story he told himself.

When Ben returned, he saw the full extent of the damage — the coat was ruined. Though he had less than fifty dollars to his name, he still offered to buy her a new coat.

"No, it's okay. I'll just have it dry cleaned."

"At least let me pay for your dry cleaning," he insisted. Ben reached into his wallet, took out a twenty-dollar bill, and handed it to her. "If it costs more, just let me know."

Ben was too humiliated to continue the date, so he apologized profusely, and then ran out the door.

# Chapter Twenty-Three

Ben sat alone in his room reading the manuscript. After his date debacle, he wanted to redeem himself somehow. This time, as he was reading, he approached the text with a slightly different lens. He was intrigued at how he could use the contents of the story to manipulate situations and even exploit them for his own personal gain. It worked so well with getting Vanessa's number, he wondered if it could work to get other things, such as money.

His motives were not purely based on greed, he owed a lot of back taxes to the city for his house and wanted to make sure he and Kyle would continue to have a place to live. After all the things Kyle had done for Ben, it was the least Ben could do in return. He considered going back to work, but he did not want to subject himself to working some menial job with an egomaniacal boss again. Instead, he combed through the text with a meticulous eye for the subtlest clue he could use to make money.

One problem he encountered, however, was timing. Not every detail of Ben's life was written in the manuscript, only the prominent events. This made it incredibly difficult for him to navigate the future. Since nothing in the story was dated, it was left up to Ben's best guess as to when the events would occur. One method he used was to recognize when past events happened and then use those as a compass to navigate forward. It was a bit like walking in the dark. He also found having too much knowledge of future events would alter the course of his destiny. In some cases, events would not unfold exactly the way the story described because his reactions were no longer genuine and spontaneous. In other cases, entire events did not even take place at all. He discovered this when an event in the story transpired, but the prior event had not. This problem puzzled him for several days, until he figured out what was happening.

When he used the story to get Vanessa's number, it just so happened he read that part of the text moments before the actual event, but with prior knowledge of the events too far in advance, it seemed to unravel the entire situation before it could transpire at all. His solution to this problem was to stop reading the manuscript for extended periods of time to allow his destiny to enter him into situations naturally. Then, he would try to time it so he would read the text moments before the event actually came to be. This proved to be difficult, but at least this way he avoided having the knowledge of the forthcoming event get in the way and alter his path.

Within a few weeks, he figured his destiny had caught up with him and his placement within the story was running parallel with his actual life.

After a short bus ride, Ben stepped off and continued the rest of the way on foot. It was the nearest bank in his neighbourhood. He was down to his last few dollars and was desperate for a loan. When he arrived at the bank, a strange feeling came over him — a feeling of déjà vu. Seeing as he was a huge believer in signs, he stopped right outside the bank door, took out his manuscript, and began reading. As he read, it described the trip to the bank. Ben was ecstatic since his hypothesis had worked. He had timed it perfectly, and was now running in tandem with the contents of the story.

Ben entered the bank and waited in line like everyone else. In front of him was a man wearing a dark military jacket and combat boots with the pant legs tucked in. Ben took notice of the man's attire and felt a little uneasy. When the next teller became available, the man casually approached the counter and slipped the teller a folded piece of paper. The whole time, Ben kept an eye on the situation. Immediately, he could tell what was happening, but did nothing.

The look of pure terror on the teller's face spoke volumes. It was a situation they had all trained for, but hoped to never be in. The teller did as she was trained to do and complied with the robber's request. She promptly placed several stacks of bills into a bag and handed it to the robber. Nobody but Ben seemed to notice; the rest of the bank staff and customers were oblivious to what was happening.

As the robber turned around to leave, he saw Ben watching him. The robber walked right up to Ben, which caused Ben to get really nervous, and said, "Say a word and you're a dead man."

At that point, the robber was home free; all he needed to do was leave. Even though Ben knew an altercation was unlikely since the robber would not want to do anything to risk getting caught, Ben was still frightened. He did not say a word to the robber, he simply watched the robber nonchalantly walk out of the bank and head east down 12th Avenue.

Just then, Ben was bumped from behind. The impact caused him to drop his papers. As he bent down to pick them up, he noticed a set of black military boots step into his field of vision. He looked up and saw a man wearing a dark military jacket much like the one described in the text. It was undoubtedly the robber.

Ben's adrenaline kicked in as he quickly contemplated what to do. He stood up, went over to the window, and cupped his hands together. Now peering through the window, he saw the robber standing in line. Ben looked around for a weapon he could use to attack the robber with when he came out.

_Oh who am I kidding?_ Ben thought. _I'm no hero._

Ben reasoned that any man willing to rob a bank in broad daylight was probably armed and dangerous. At the very least, he was probably someone who was not to be messed with. Nevertheless, Ben could not just ignore the opportunity. This kind of moment was exactly what he was looking for. He wanted to come up with a way he could capitalize on the situation, but nothing came to mind. What he decided to do was run across the street and safely observe from a distance, hoping a better plan would reveal itself.

A few moments later, the robber exited the bank. Concealed in his jacket was a canvas satchel. Just as the manuscript had said, the robber headed east down 12th Avenue. With no real plan in mind, Ben followed him. The robber walked to the end of the block and turned right. Ben lost his visual on the robber, so he picked up his pace.

Ben ran to the end of the block and rounded the same corner the robber had. In that short time, however, the robber was gone. Ben stood still and surveyed the area. He saw countless pedestrians going about their day, but none of them were wearing military clothes. He was disappointed in himself to say the least, but was unsure what the end result would have been. Perhaps losing his visual on the robber was a blessing in disguise.

Ben still needed to go to the bank, but he was not about to go to one that had just been robbed. He decided to head home and go back the next day. He walked to the bus stop on the next block. As was his natural inclination, he kept his head down and avoided making eye contact with the other people waiting for the bus.

The bus arrived shortly after and Ben boarded, paid his fare, and found a seat. The bus pulled away and Ben stayed occupied by looking out the window. After a few stops, he focused his attention to the man sitting next to him, who seemed oddly fidgety. Ben briefly looked over at the man, but did not notice anything out of the ordinary, until he looked at the man's footwear. The man was wearing military-style combat boots. Ben now realized why this man seemed so anxious — he had just gotten away with robbing a bank.

Not knowing what to do next, Ben continued to sit coolly in his seat next to the robber. Ben looked on as the bus passed his stop. He stayed on for another fifteen or twenty minutes as the bus entered a rundown neighbourhood. At a certain point, the bus slowed to a stop and the robber quickly got up and rushed out the back door. Had he not been so hasty with his exit, he would have noticed Ben get up shortly after and follow him out the door.

The robber walked with a frantic pace as he was undoubtedly surging on adrenaline. Given the nature of the crime and the neighbourhood, Ben thought there was a good chance he was high on some kind of drug as well. Ben kept his distance, but observed where the man was headed. In the short distance from the bus stop to the robber's house, he only looked back once. Fortunately, Ben was wise enough to have crossed the street so he went unnoticed.

The robber entered a house, which from the exterior looked a lot like Ben's house. Ben figured the interior layout was probably similar as well. Without a fully developed plan in mind, Ben walked by slowly, casing the place. After a few passes, he decided to leave.

# Chapter Twenty-Four

Kyle came home a little after midnight and discovered Ben was still up. In fact, Ben had been waiting for him.

"Hey, man," Kyle said as he entered the house.

"What's up?" Ben replied. "How was work?"

"Exhausting."

"How long are you going to keep this up?" Ben asked.

"Until I graduate... unless school suddenly becomes free."

"What if I told you I have a way you could make a little money?"

"Let me guess, your little book told you a way to rob a bank."

"No... but close though. Fortunately for us, the bank has already been robbed. All we need to do is rob the robber."

"Count me out."

"Oh come on, you're always so sensible, why don't you live a little?"

"Why am I so sensible? Did you hear what you just said? I'll take sensible over foolish any day."

"I know exactly where the robber lives. All we need to do is go there with a couple of masks, give him a good scare, and take the money from him."

"You know, sometimes your brain entertains the wildest ideas. You're better off writing stories about heroes rather than trying to become one yourself."

"Don't worry, nobody will get hurt."

"Oh really, and how do you know that? How does it all play out in your little life-guide?"

"Well, actually, I don't know. It's not in the manuscript. In the story, I... never mind. Are you in or out?"

"Sorry, dude, it's late and I just want to get some sleep. I suggest you do the same," Kyle said before trotting off upstairs.

Ben sat alone at the table, contemplating what he should do. He was not adverse to dangerous or foolish things — he had stolen a car, robbed some apartments, and tricked a woman into going on a date with him. He figured robbing a robber could not be any worse than those things. After mulling it over, he reached a decision.

While Kyle was in the shower, Ben went upstairs and grabbed a few items and tossed them in his backpack. After changing into some darker-coloured clothes, Ben went downstairs and left out the back door.

The bus slowed to a stop and Ben got on. There were a few people on the bus, but none of them paid any attention to Ben as he sat inconspicuously at the front under the dim lighting. His backpack was on his lap. He unzipped it and took out a small container, which contained a few shots of alcohol. He opened the container and took a big swig to calm his nerves. It also served to give him courage for what he was about to do. After he choked back the cheap scotch, he wiped his mouth, and put the container back in his bag along with the other contents he had brought to assist him.

When it was time, Ben signalled for the bus to stop. Ben stepped out and began walking down the sidewalk as he had done earlier in the day. The streets were quiet and bare, which allowed the perfect opportunity for Ben to get into position without being seen.

He looked at his watch and saw it was nearly 1:00 a.m. As he approached the house, he noticed none of the lights were on. This either implied the robber was home and asleep, or was out. Ben looked up and down the street, took a deep breath, and contemplated turning back. The alcohol circulating in his bloodstream silenced any inhibitions he had. He proceeded as planned.

Dressed in all black and under the guise of darkness, Ben crept around to the rear of the house. He slowly tiptoed up the back porch and placed his hand on the doorknob. It was unlikely to be left open, but it was at least worth a try. Just as he had suspected, it was locked. He contemplated breaking a window, but that would cause all sorts of problems. Not only would it awaken the robber or a neighbour, Ben would risk being lacerated by the shards of glass on the climb in. Besides he had no faith in his athletic abilities. What he did have faith in was his ingenuity.

Being careful not to make the old wooden planks creek, Ben slowly exited the porch. He went around to the side of the house, looking for something — anything — that would assist him in getting into the house. He searched all around his feet, looking for a rock that seemed to be out of place. Hopefully with a little luck, the robber would have hidden a spare key under one of them. Unfortunately, there was nothing of the sort.

Just then, a small creature emerged from the shadows and scurried past him. Due to his heightened state of alertness, Ben nearly had a heart attack. He screamed and jumped backward, tripping over a small bush. He quickly cupped his hand over his mouth and remained still. He waited in the shroud of night to see if anyone would look out the window or enter the backyard. Given the type of neighbourhood he was in, he figured the neighbours were probably not the type of people to be too bothered by bumps in the night.

Ben waited for what seemed like a long time, trying not to move a muscle. In the distance, a dog barked, but other than that, all was calm and quiet. In the moonlight, Ben was able to see the creature that frightened him was just an ordinary house cat, and was nothing to be afraid of. The cat watched him for a moment, but continued on his way. He slithered through some tall grass and jumped on top of a fence. Not knowing what to do, Ben continued to watch the cat. From the fence, the cat jumped onto a large tree branch and began to climb up. Ben's eyes followed the cat's movement as it ascended to the top. Once at the top of the tree, the cat leaped onto the roof of the house. Ben had not realized it until that very moment, but the cat was showing him a way in, almost as if it were a sign from God.

Ben quickly rushed over to the fence and attempted to pull himself up. Nearly every muscle fibre in his body twitched as he struggled to scale up the six-foot-high barrier. He eventually found a foothold and climbed on top, but not without scraping his shin first. He winced in pain, but pressed on.

Like a tightrope walker, he placed one foot in front of the other with his arms stretched out to the sides to aid his balance. His lack of coordination and the buzz from the alcohol made this extremely difficult. He wobbled back and forth, then decided to crawl on his hands and knees. Inching his way along the top of the fence, Ben maintained his balance until he finally reached the tree.

Once at the tree, Ben reached out and grabbed the highest branch he could. At that very moment, he lost his footing, leaving him dangling from the tree. The rough tree bark dug into the palms of his hands, causing excruciating pain. He bucked and kicked his legs wildly as he struggled to maintain his grip. Eventually, one of his feet found its place on one of the lower branches, allowing Ben to steady himself. Then he began to climb.

Heights were a problem for Ben, especially at one in the morning when he had been drinking. As he continued to make his way up the tree, he tried his best to block out any fear, and to constantly remind himself not to look down. He kept climbing, and after a while he could tell he was really high off the ground. Then he looked down. Vertigo set in and nearly caused him to fall out of the tree. He was at least forty feet off the ground and a drop from that height could be deadly. That was a scenario he could not afford to have happen or even think about happening.

Ben regained his composure and pressed on. Climbing a tree was one thing, but making the transition to the house was a completely different feat altogether. He looked up and saw the cat perched atop the house, staring at him. He waited a moment to catch his breath and plot his next move. Luckily for him, the tree extended to the roof, so all Ben needed to do was crawl across the branch and he would be on top of the house.

Without looking down, Ben straddled the large branch and slowly moved across. Inch by inch, he continued to shimmy himself until he could touch the edge. From there, he positioned his body to make the transition onto the house. He placed one foot on the roof, then the other until he was lying face down. Ben now felt a little more at ease.

He repositioned himself so that he was sitting down. In the distance, the city lights sparkled. It was like nothing he had ever seen before. He remained in a gaze, enjoying the view, almost as if he had forgotten why he was there.

Still sitting, the cat sauntered over to Ben. After a cautious sniff, the cat realized Ben was not a threat and began to purr and rub up against him. Ben extended his hand and petted the cat. The purring grew louder as Ben scratched the cat behind its ears and underneath the chin. It was at that moment that he read the name on the collar — Santa Claws. Ben laughed to himself as if it were another sign from God.

When it was time to go, Ben pivoted onto all fours and slowly ascended up the steep roof in a crouched position. He reached the chimney and ensured his feet were stabled before peeling off his backpack and setting it down in front of him. He went through his bag until he found what he was looking for. With his multi-purpose knife in hand, he stood up and used it to disassemble the chimney crown. Fortunately, the chimney did not taper at the top. The exhaust chamber was as wide at the top as it was at the base. With a little work, Ben eventually unfastened the chimney crown and set it aside. He then shone the flashlight down the smoke chamber. Just as he had hoped, it was free from obstruction.

Ben placed the flashlight and the tool back in his bag and slung the pack over his shoulders, but the opposite way so the main compartment was in front of him. Without wasting any more time, he hoisted himself onto the chimney top and swung his legs inside. He placed one foot behind him so the sole of his shoe was flush against the back wall and put the other foot in front of him. His arms gripped the top of the chimney as he lowered himself down. Using his back and all four limbs for support, he began his slow and steady descent into the black pit.

The chamber was filthy and covered in a thick layer of soot that had accumulated over the years. The soot transferred to Ben's hands and shoes, making it difficult to maintain traction. On top of that, he was out of shape and his muscles began to fatigue quicker than he anticipated. With each movement, the once-sedentary soot was now being disturbed. It filled the chamber with an ashy cloud of debris, which inevitably found its way into Ben's lungs. Now breathing heavily and inhaling the dust particles, Ben began to get lightheaded and knew he had to move quickly. He coughed profusely, creating a lot of noise and also making his body even more unstable. The muscles in his arms and legs began to shake from bracing his body weight. Immediately, Ben knew he would not be able to hold himself up much longer.

When he was at about the halfway point, his footing gave way and before he had time to react, he slid down uncontrollably about twenty feet and crashed to the basement. Upon impact, Ben's skinny legs did little to brace his fall. His whole body folded up like a compressed accordion before he tumbled out into the basement.

Covered in soot, and in pain, Ben sprawled on the floor. His whole body hurt, but he was relieved one part of the mission was now accomplished. Alive and well, Ben had successfully entered the house.

# Chapter Twenty-Five

Ben rose to his feet and dusted himself off. When he put weight on his right foot, a sharp pain radiated from his ankle. He shifted his weight and grimaced in discomfort. Fortunately, the adrenaline alleviated some of his pain and he would most likely be able to walk it off, but he knew he would definitely be hurting the next day.

He took his flashlight out once again and turned it on. The light pierced through the darkness and one by one illuminated several objects stored in the basement. In its circular glow, the light revealed a Ping-Pong table, an old TV, and a ragged couch. In one corner, there was a small weight bench and a punching bag. As Ben shone the flashlight around the room, he made a mental inventory of some of the larger pieces of furniture he would have to avoid. The odd thing about being in the basement was that it reminded him of being in his own house, but in an alternate world. The robber's basement was unfinished as well; however, he had much more clutter than Ben had.

Out of curiosity, Ben walked past the bar area and through the furnace room. From the furnace room, he shone his light straight ahead. Instead of a secret room, there was a laundry room. Ben walked over and opened both the washer and dryer. Since most criminals were not too bright, he figured there was a chance the robber would try to launder the money, literally. However, upon inspection there was no money in either machine. Ben shut the washer and dryer doors and then headed toward the stairs.

The wooden staircase creaked with each hobbled step Ben took. At the top of the stairs, the door squeaked loudly as Ben tried to open it. It was a surprise that with all the noise Ben was making, the robber had not woken up. Ben proceeded anyway, gripping the handle and slowly pushing the door open a sufficient amount to allow him to slip through to the other side. Once on the main floor, he had to be extra cautious. With each step, he was trying to tread as softly as possible, but probably ended up making even more noise.

As he had suspected, the layout of the house was the same. The fact he knew the floor plan was a huge advantage. Not only could he sneak around with the lights off, but at this hour, there was a good chance the robber would be upstairs in the master bedroom. He also figured the robber would have stashed the money somewhere in his room, but for safe measure, Ben still decided to search everywhere else first. He would rather not have to saunter into the lion's den unless it were necessary. In a perfect scenario, the money would be left out in the open for Ben to grab, but that was not likely to be the case.

The flashlight was off, but remained in his hand. Having it provided Ben a sense of security as it was one of the heavy metal flashlights, the kind police use. In case he needed to use it as a weapon, he wanted it to be ready.

Ben intended to search the entire main floor, and decided to start with the living room first. He checked in and around the couch, flipping over the cushions, and looking underneath it. He then examined the coffee table by pushing aside some of the junk that cluttered the surface. He even looked inside a discarded pizza box that was lying on the floor. When he was satisfied that he had checked all possible hiding spots, he went into the kitchen.

As quietly as possible, he opened all the cupboards, drawers, and even the oven. Again, he found nothing. He unlocked the back door in case he needed to make a quick getaway and even contemplated aborting the mission at that point while he was still in one piece. If he had any other options he may have chosen to walk away, but Ben was desperate. He needed the money so badly and was willing to risk his safety to get it. Once the kitchen was fully inspected, Ben moved on to the upstairs.

Ben did not take the risks he was facing lightly, and with each passing minute, the stakes escalated even further. With his heart rate elevated, his legs trembling, and his sweaty hand gripping the heavy-duty flashlight, Ben slowly ascended up the stairs to where the bedrooms were. His breathing was stifled as if there were a heavy weight pressing down on his abdomen. He felt he could vomit at any moment if he paid even the slightest attention to it. Blocking it out, Ben ignored the discomfort. With each step, he inched closer to the sleeping robber.

On the top floor, Ben made a revelation he had not previously considered. Peering into the guest bedroom, Ben realized at that moment the robber did not live alone. Fortunately, the roommate was not home. Had that not been the case, the mission would have been twice as dangerous. It was a beginner mistake not to consider the possibility of more than one person being in the house, and Ben knew he had just received another stroke of luck. If he wanted to keep it that way though, he needed to hurry as the roommate could return at any moment.

Since there was no way of knowing for sure which of the rooms belonged to the robber, Ben had to check them both. For obvious reasons, he began with the vacant room. He entered the guest room and searched it thoroughly. As quietly as possible, he opened every drawer, rifled around the closet, and lifted up the filthy mattress. There was no sign of the money anywhere. That only left one other place it could be.

The door to the master bedroom was closed. Ben paused for a moment and took several deep breaths to calm his nerves. _Okay, you can do this,_ he said to psych himself up. Standing on the other side of the door, Ben pulled his shirt up and over his nose to conceal the bottom half of his face. Carefully extending his hand, Ben placed it gently on the door handled and gripped it tightly. With a slow and steady turn, he pushed his way in. He had no idea what would be waiting for him on the other side, but expected the worst. For all he knew, there would be a guy on the other side holding a gun to his face.

The dim light from a streetlight poured in through the window, creating an eerie ambience. It allowed Ben to see a lone body stretched out on a tattered single-sized mattress. Ben slithered in undetected like a ninja, then tiptoed across the room. Ben's laboured inhalations were muffled through his shirt, which actually made him breathe heavier.

Now standing at the side of the bed, Ben watched the robber sleep. He began to question why he was there — a thought that had occurred to him more than once. It was a fool's errand, but at this point, it was one he was committed to. The only thing left to do was to follow it through until the end. Ben gripped the flashlight tightly, raised it above his head, and took a small step forward. When he shifted his weight, the floor creaked and the robber's eyes popped open.

# Chapter Twenty-Six

Since the window was at his back, Ben's silhouette was perfectly visible. The robber wasted no time jumping into action. In one fluid motion, he sprung out of bed and kicked Ben in the stomach, knocking the wind out of his lungs. With great force, Ben launched backward and crashed against the window. The impact caused him to drop his flashlight and keel over in pain. On his way down, Ben clutched a fistful of curtains and ripped them from the pole.

The robber immediately jumped on Ben and tried to wrap him up in the drapes, which had inadvertently fallen on top of Ben. A tussle ensued, during which Ben managed to rise back to his feet. The robber was able to land a few solid blows on Ben's midsection before losing his balance and stumbling backwards. In that time, Ben saw a brief window of opportunity to stage his attack.

With some distance between him and the robber, Ben charged forward and tackled the robber onto the bed. Ben swung recklessly and landed a few shots of his own. Stunned, but not hurt, the robber came back with a vengeance. He overpowered Ben and reversed the position so that Ben was now on his back. While mounted on top of Ben, the robber clasped both his hands tightly around Ben's throat and leaned all his weight into him. Ben's legs bucked and kicked desperately as he squirmed. During the struggle, Ben even tried to pry the robber's hands off him, but nothing worked. Ben was not a fighter and had no business being in that exchange. It was never more apparent to him than in those last few moments before he was about to be choked unconscious. There was no telling what the robber would do to him if he went out, though he was quite sure the robber would not be inclined to call the police. It was absolutely imperative that Ben free himself.

Ben did not recall reading the part in the story where he gets strangled to death, but he knew it was certainly a possibility. After all, Ben had proven before that situations in the story could be altered. In those final moments that the life was being squeezed out of him, he thought about what a terrible mistake he had made. He recalled what had happened to him on his date with Vanessa and thought this debacle was one he may not be able to walk away from.

The robber's grip was so tight that it was both crushing Ben's windpipe and pinching the two main arteries in Ben's neck, cutting off the blood supply to his brain. Ben began to feel faint and his vision started to tunnel. He only had a few more seconds before the lights went out. He made peace with the fact he was about to die and said his last prayers.

Just then, a large crash occurred outside the bedroom window, which serendipitously reversed Ben's misfortune. Outside on the roof, Santa Claws the cat was on the prowl. The chimney crown was the object of his investigation. As cats are known to do, he thoroughly inspected this strange and indeterminate object that was resting haphazardly against the side of the chimney. As it turned out, the cat swatted at it a few times and dislodged it from its resting position. In a thunderous crash, the large metal crown tumbled down the roof, causing all kinds of ruckus. Once it reached the edge of the roof, it became airborne for a brief moment before crashing down on the back porch.

The burglar jolted in surprise. The distraction caused him to loosen his grip enough to allow Ben to cling to life.

With every ounce of energy in him, Ben made a concerted effort to free himself from the grip of death. In an act of total desperation, Ben sunk his teeth in the robber's arm and chomped down as hard as he could until the robber let go. Ben followed that up with a punch directly into the robber's groin. The robber stumbled back in agony, enabling Ben a chance to scramble to his feet. Still lightheaded, Ben stumbled out of the room and disappeared from the robber's sight.

The robber let out a ferocious roar and then equipped himself with an aluminum baseball bat that he had stashed under the bed. With the bat in hand, he took off after Ben.

Ben had darted into the adjacent bedroom and used his black clothing to hide in the darkness. He was leaning up against the wall and breathing heavily. The blood flow was restored and was circulating to his brain. Within a few seconds, he was feeling much better. He could hear the snarling grunt of the robber as he came closer. Ben was absolutely terrified and had no idea what to do. He was trapped with no means of defending himself. He closed his eyes tightly as if somehow he would be magically transported far away to safety, but his nightmare was far from over and he had no one to blame but himself.

By the time the robber rushed out of the room, he had no idea where Ben was. He stood at the top of the stairs and listened. That was when Ben used the element of surprise to emerge from his hiding place at full charge and shove the burglar down the stairs. In a violent commotion, the burglar tumbled down the stairs like a chimney crown on a steep roof. Ben immediately rushed down the stairs after him and began to pummel the robber with relentless fists of fury.

Once the robber was noticeably dazed, Ben scrambled for his backpack and ripped it open with jittery hands. Reaching into the bag, he pulled out a long piece of rope and tied the robber up with it. He then took a roll of duct tape and used it on the robber's hands, feet, and mouth to ensure the robber could not escape. Lastly, Ben slipped a pillowcase over robber's head and tied a knot in the back to obstruct the robber's vision.

Ben went back upstairs and returned to the bedroom. This time he flipped on the light switch and the whole room lit up. He walked over to where his flashlight was and picked it up off the floor. For the next few minutes, Ben frantically searched the entire room. He used his logic and prior burglary experience to quickly go through the entire room. He first checked the back of the sock drawer, then under the mattress, then in the closet. He knew there was a strong possibility the money was hidden in the closet, and he was not about to leave without it.

Ben went into the closet and started pulling everything out — clothing, boxes, shoes — it was all taken out and thrown onto the floor. Once the closet was empty, Ben shone his flashlight all around. Given that he was no stranger to finding secret stashes, he had some ideas of where to look. In the back of the closet, Ben noticed the carpet was curled up a bit. He knelt down, and with both hands he pulled the carpet back to reveal a wooden floor with a large hole in it. Ben picked up his flashlight and shined it into the hole. Inside the small makeshift chamber were stacks of money and piles of jewellery.

_Jackpot!_ he thought. The very sight of all that treasure made him salivate. Ben opened up his backpack and started shoving everything in. When he was done, he stood up and slung the backpack over one shoulder and proceeded out of the room. The bag now had some considerable weight to it, which excited him. He could not wait to go home and count it.

On his way out, he flipped the light switch off and then bounced down the stairs with his newly acquired bounty in tow. The robber was still lying at the bottom of the stairs, right where Ben had left him. Although Ben had not known it at the time, the flashlight, rope, and multi-purpose tool he had stolen from his old apartment building came in handy for a home invasion. A part of him wanted to untie the robber just so he could get his rope back, but figured it would be his last home invasion, and he would have no other purpose for the rope. Besides, he had just stolen thousands of dollars in cash and prizes so the rope was a justifiable loss. Ben patted the robber on the head before fleeing into the night.

# Chapter Twenty-Seven

It was nearly 3:00 a.m. when Ben arrived back at his house. Despite the hour, he was not tired at all. In fact, he was elated and riding a natural high. He wanted to wake Kyle and tell him everything that had happened, but instead he ran down to the basement to count his loot.

He accessed the hidden passageway in the fireplace and ran down the corridor to the secret room. He quickly punched in the ten digit code, which he had by now committed to memory, and then entered the room. Like a kid coming home from Halloween, Ben dumped the contents of his bag all over the floor. A mound of cash and jewellery spilled out in a pile around his feet. Ben had not seen so much money before in his life. He got down on the floor and began rolling around in the money, swiveling his arms and legs as if he were making a snow angel. With both hands, he pinched wads of bills and threw them up in the air and watched them rain down on him. In that moment, he could not have been happier.

After he was done wading in the loot, he gathered it all up along with all the jewellery in a big messy pile and began to organize the money into neat stacks. When he finished counting it all, there was a total of $8,130.00. As for the pile of gold jewellery, he did not know exactly how much it was worth, but given his recent experience in selling gold, he estimated the value to be over a thousand dollars.

After a long and exciting night, he was now coming down from his high. Almost instantly, his exhaustion kicked in and depleted any desire he had to stay awake. He let out a big yawn before getting up and exiting the room. He locked the door behind him and trudged upstairs to bed.

In the morning, Ben was woken by a loud knock on the door. He ignored the first few, but after persistent knocking, he dragged himself out of bed and made his way downstairs. Peering through the peephole, Ben noticed two well-dressed men. Judging by their suits and long trench coats, he knew they were not the city building inspectors. Still groggy, he opened the door.

"How may I help you gentlemen?" he greeted them, rubbing his eyes.

"Are you Ben Owen?"

"Yes."

"We'd like a word with you please," the two detectives said as they flashed their badges.

"What's this about?" Ben asked, trying to suppress his nerves.

"May we come in?"

Ben hesitated a moment, but then complied.

"Sure, come on in?" he said as he swung the door open and stepped aside, allowing the two men to enter.

The two detectives entered the house and followed Ben into the living room where they could all sit down and talk. One of the officers looked around, while the other one took a seat on the couch.

"So, what's this about?" Ben asked.

There were a few reasons why two detectives might be at his house, none of which would produce favourable outcomes for him.

"Where were you yesterday at 3:00 p.m.?"

"Yesterday?" he repeated. "I was... I was nowhere."

"You weren't at the bank on 12th Avenue at 3:00?"

"Nope, not me, wasn't there. Why do you ask?"

One of the detectives opened up a folder, took out a picture, and showed it to Ben. "Is this you?"

The photo showed Ben peering through the window. Although the quality of the photo was not perfectly clear, it was unmistakably him. In fact, Ben was wearing the same outfit he had on in the picture. Ben looked down and took notice of his attire, as did the detectives. They shot him a look as though it was foolish for trying to deny it. Ben handed the photo back to one of the detectives and said, "No, this isn't me. This is just a blurry image of a guy peering through a window. That could be anybody."

"Did you rob the bank on 12th yesterday?" one of the detectives asked bluntly.

"How dare you come into my home and accuse me of robbing a bank."

"Nobody accused you, Mr. Owen. My partner simply asked if you robbed the bank."

"Listen, if I robbed the bank yesterday on 12th, then you would have a picture of me robbing the bank, but you don't. All you have is an image of some guy who shares my likeness, standing outside the bank."

"You're getting awfully defensive, Mr. Owen. Are you sure you don't have any information you'd like to share with us?"

"Of course I'm getting defensive. I'm an honest guy and you're suggesting I had something to do with a bank robbery. You have no proof I even stepped foot in the bank yesterday."

"Maybe not, but I'll tell you what we do have. We have surveillance footage of you waiting outside the bank and making physical contact with the robber, then watching the robbery through the window. After that, it appears as though you waited for your partner across the street and then followed him onto a bus a block away. So, what's it going to be Mr. Owen, are you going to talk now, or do you want to contact your lawyer?"

Ben had to admit, on the surface it did not look good for him. Even though they did not have any substantial proof connecting Ben to the bank robbery, they had enough circumstantial evidence to convict him as an accomplice.

"Okay, okay. Look, you'll have to forgive my outburst earlier. I didn't get a lot of sleep last night. Hypothetically speaking, suppose I was at the bank yesterday, and this is me peering through the window. I know it may appear I was an accomplice to the robber, but I had nothing to do with any bank robbery. Still speaking hypothetically, I may have been going to the bank yesterday to seek out a small line of credit when I was bumped from behind by a man wearing combat boots and a military jacket. Those two pieces of apparel inside a nice bank like the one on 12th Avenue would have aroused the suspicions of most people. Now, if it was me, not saying it was, but if it was, I probably would have stayed outside and observed through a window at a safe distance."

"What about following the robber onto the bus, was that a safe distance?"

"That was purely coincidental... I mean, not saying I did that or anything, but if I did, then it would be a mere coincidence. I probably had no idea I was getting onto a bus with a bank robber."

"Another surveillance footage we obtained shows you two sat right next to each other, you're saying that was purely coincidental."

"Could be, who knows? Like I said, I wasn't there."

The two detectives continued their questioning until they had extracted everything they needed to know from Ben. For every question, Ben provided a valid response. After a while, the detectives seemed satisfied with Ben's story — he had become a dead lead. They got up to leave and handed Ben their cards.

"Call us if you remember anything else, Mr. Owen."

Ben accepted the card and looked at the name — Detective Barry Todd.

# Chapter Twenty-Eight

Over the next several hours, Ben was consumed with reading the manuscript. Considering its value, he kept it locked in the secret room at all times, even when reading it. He was aware of how easy it would be for someone to come into his home in the middle of the night and take it from him. With the manuscript in hand, Ben stretched out on the couch, fully engrossed in the text.

The silent alarm was triggered and within minutes, the place was surrounded by cops. Detective Todd was the officer in charge. He and his partner entered the bank with caution and when they realized the bank robber was no longer there, they began their formal investigation. While one interviewed the bank manager, the other spoke to the teller involved in the incident. Everyone else was told to wait.

Other than the bank teller, who was noticeably shaken up by the incident, Ben was the only other person who had made contact with the robber. Ben waited around the bank like everyone else. It was a minor inconvenience, but during the wait, he made small-talk with the fellow customers to pass the time. When it was Ben's turn, he was brought to a corner of the bank and was asked to recount his version of the event. He offered what little information he could and then asked a few questions of his own.

" _Do these guys usually get caught?" Ben asked._

" _Most of these 'note passers' are repeat offenders with prior criminal records. We send our best detectives out to follow any leads. With some luck, we will be able to make an arrest."_

It was not exactly the most confidence-inspiring answer, but the police did not want to start advertising how easy it was to get away with robbing a bank.

Less than a week later, Ben was reading the newspaper and a particular headline caught his attention. Upon reading the article, he learned the police had caught the guy who had done it. The article stated the robber had attempted to hit up another bank a few days later and during the robbery, there was a shoot-out where the man was shot and killed along with an innocent bystander. As Ben read the article, it made him really appreciate his life by reminding him how one event could change everything.

It was two in the afternoon when Kyle came home, a time when he would normally be at work.

" _Kyle, what are you doing home so early?" Ben asked._

Kyle let out a big sigh and was noticeably perturbed.

" _I'm having the worst week," Kyle said. "First my team loses and now this."_

" _Now what?" Ben asked. "What's going on?"_

" _We'll most likely lose our research grant."_

" _Really?"_

" _Yeah, right now my team is working on a new treatment that would stave off the effects of Alzheimer's disease. But today it was announced that a competing lab in Switzerland released a similar medication."_

" _So?"_

" _You don't understand. Whoever goes to market first has a huge advantage. We may as well pack up our bags and move on to something else."_

" _That's terrible, Kyle. I'm sorry to hear that... but, it's great for Alzheimer's patients though."_

" _Yeah, I guess."_

" _So what are you going to do?" Ben asked._

" _I don't know. I suspect our funding will be cut, and when that happens, I'll have to start an entirely new thesis. It definitely sucks, but there's really nothing I can do about it."_

Ben's eyes became heavy and he decided to put the manuscript down for a while. The stuffy room did not get proper ventilation so he rose from the couch and headed down the long corridor. Ben crawled through the fireplace and sealed it behind him. Once upstairs, Ben walked over to the large window in his living room. He saw his neighbour Gladys attempting to haul a garbage pail to the curb on her own. Ben saw the struggling senior and dashed outside to offer his assistance.

"Here, let me help you with that," he said, cutting across his front lawn.

"Oh, thank you, dear. You know, I don't mind doing it on my own, it gives me an excuse to get out of the house."

"I hear ya, I often have to create excuses for myself to get out as well."

"I find that hard to believe," Gladys said.

"It's true, in fact, right now I have absolutely nowhere to go."

"Well, that makes two of us."

Ben thought for a moment and then did something uncharacteristic of him, "Would you like to go for a walk?" he asked.

"Sure, that sounds lovely."

Ben and Gladys headed down the sidewalk at a leisurely pace without any direction or purpose other than to get some exercise, fresh air, and enjoy each other's company.

"I'm sure a nice man like you has plenty of dates," Gladys said.

"Honestly, you're one of two women I've talked to since moving here and the other one... well, that didn't go so well."

"I'm sorry to hear that. What went wrong?"

"I got in my own way," Ben said, reflecting on the event. "But it was probably for the best, I didn't really deserve her."

"Why do you say that?"

"I don't know, I guess I had it in my mind what kind of guy a girl like her would want to be with, and then I pretended to be that guy instead of just being myself."

"So pretending to be this other guy didn't work out?"

"Not at all, it completely backfired on me since I couldn't maintain the charade."

"How do you know what kind of guy she wants? After all, she agreed to go out with you in the first place, right?"

"Yeah, but I may have misrepresented myself when we first met."

"How so?"

"It's complicated, but let's just say I wasn't really acting like myself."

"Oh, I see. Well, what's done is done. Now, all you can do is try to learn from your mistakes and hope for a better outcome next time."

"Thanks. So what do you like to do in your spare time, Gladys?"

"I like to meet with the gals at the community centre; I do that three times a week. We knit and play Canasta. I like to watch my shows — Law & Order, CSI, and a few others. What else? I like to read, bake, work on my garden... what about you?"

"I like to read, write, and... well, that's pretty much it."

"You're still young and have plenty of time to discover what else the world has to offer. That's one of my greatest regrets in life, not seeing the world."

"It's not too late."

"I'm afraid it's not so easy to travel at my age."

Ben and Gladys continued to walk and get to know more about each other. For some reason, he found comfort in talking with people who were much older than himself. Perhaps he liked their wisdom and non-threatening nature. The pair circled the block and arrived back where they had started.

"Thank you for the company, Ben. I had a lovely time."

"I assure you, the pleasure was all mine. We can do it again whenever you like, just come knocking, I'm usually always home."

"If you and Kyle have no plans this weekend, you are more than welcome to come over and watch the big game."

"What big game?" Ben asked.

"The Grey Cup is this weekend."

"Grey Cup, what's that?"

"I guess you don't watch sports. The Grey Cup is the championship game for Canadian football, and this year my team is in it."

"Your team?" Ben asked.

"Yes, the Calgary Stampeders are facing the Saskatchewan Roughriders."

"Gladys, I didn't realize you were into sports."

"There are plenty of things you have yet to discover about me," she smirked.

"Very true. I'll talk to Kyle and see if he watches—"

Just then a thought entered Ben's brain midsentence and before he finished, his eyes bulged wide.

"What is it, dear?" Gladys asked.

"Sorry, it's nothing, I just remembered I have something important to do. If you'll excuse me," Ben said, dashing across his lawn. "It was nice talking with you, Gladys. I'll see you soon!"

# Chapter Twenty-Nine

Ben arrived at the university by bus, and ran across nearly half the campus before arriving at the main science building. Panting for breath, Ben entered the building and located the elevator to avoid taking the stairs. When he found the elevator, he slipped inside just as the doors were about to close, and crammed in with the other passengers.

Ben generally avoided confined spaces, but he reached the top floor before his claustrophobia became an issue. Upon exiting the elevator, he walked at a brisk pace down the west wing where the science labs were located.

Wearing safety goggles and a long white lab coat, Kyle was busy at work. When he saw Ben walk in, he stood up and removed his goggles.

"Hey, man," Kyle said, wondering why Ben was there.

"Hey, sorry to bother you, but I need to ask you something... actually I need to ask you two things."

"Is everything okay?"

"Everything is better than okay," Ben said, hardly being able to contain his joy. "Can we please go somewhere private. I promise I won't take up too much of your time."

"Yeah, sure," Kyle said, leading the way to the usual storage room. "What's in the backpack?"

"I'll explain later."

They entered the supply room like they had done previously and as soon as the door closed, Ben began his inquiry.

"What's your favourite football team?" Ben asked.

"My favourite football team?" Kyle repeated in confusion. "You came all the way out here to ask me that?"

"Just answer the question," Ben insisted.

"The Stampeders, why?"

"Are there any other sporting events other than the Grey Cup taking place this week where 'your team' is playing."

"I don't think so."

"Fantastic. Kyle, I happen to know with one-hundred percent certainty the outcome of the Grey Cup this weekend, and I plan to make a lot of money. Do you want me to tell you who wins?" Ben said with an ear-to-ear grin.

"Is this another one of your scams, because you remember how that turned out for you the last time you tried to mess with fate."

"What am I supposed to do with this information — nothing?"

"I suggest you throw that book away. It doesn't do a person well to know their future in advance, and I think it will bring nothing but bad karma in your life."

"You're wrong," Ben shot back. "What if instead of me trying to make a little bit of money on a sports bet, I came here and told you that you were going to be hit by a bus today? What should I do then, just let you die?"

"If it's God's will, then I accept whatever fate He has chosen for me."

"And what about me?" Ben retorted. "What's my fate? What if God placed this manuscript in my path for a reason — to save your life and to win some money to save our house from becoming foreclosed?"

"Condemned."

"Whatever."

"If that were true, then I suspect it would likely be because God is testing you, to see if the book will corrupt you or if instead you avoid the evil temptation and do the right thing. I'd say right now, the evil part of your soul is dominating over the good part."

"You 'suspect' that's God's will, but you really have no idea. Look, man, we need this money more than you even know."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kyle shot back.

"Never mind."

"Where are you even going to get the money to place the bet?"

Without saying a word, Ben slipped his backpack off his shoulder, unzipped the main compartment, and held the bag open for Kyle to see. Kyle peered inside and saw the wads of cash bound together with rubber bands.

"Ben, where did you get this money?" Kyle asked with great concern.

"God gave it to me," Ben replied. "And He's going to give me a lot more."

"Do whatever you're going to do, but keep me out of it."

"I can't do that, Kyle, our fates are entwined."

"You said you needed to ask me two things, what's the second thing?"

"What's the name of your lab's main competitor — a Swiss company?"

"Why do you want to know that?"

"I just do. Are you going to tell me or shall I go down to the lab and start asking around."

"I'm not really sure; labs aren't really in competition with each other."

"Come on, man, think. What lab does similar work to your lab and is based out of Switzerland?"

"The only one I can think of is Lucius Labs; they're a big pharmaceutical company based out of Switzerland."

"And they're working on a cure for Alzheimer's disease?"

"I seem to recall hearing something like that."

"Alright, thanks," Ben said as he was about to walk away.

"Wait, what's this about?"

"Let's just say there's a bus heading your way."

# Chapter Thirty

Ben branched out from the campus, searching for various convenience stores where he could place bets on the upcoming CFL game. He had a little over eight grand with him and planned to spend every last dollar on the bet. It never occurred to him that the manuscript could be wrong and he could lose all his money. He also did not think of the consequences of his actions. As far as he was concerned, the universe had placed the manuscript in his possession to be exploited — a way of paying him back for dealing him such a crummy hand in life.

Ben arrived at the first store and took off his backpack. Using the inside of his backpack as a shield, he reached in and counted out one thousand dollars in random denominations, and then walked inside.

The game was Sports Select — a sports gambling game offered by the provincial government. Ben was familiar with it, but since he was neither into sports nor gambling, he had not played it before. In this case, what he was about to do could not even be considered gambling.

Ben found a small stand at the front of the store that was for filling out the paper ballots. He picked up one of the small pencils and etched in his bet, betting one-thousand dollars on Saskatchewan to win. The Roughriders were a four-to-one underdog so Ben stood to make a lot of money on the upset.

When he was done, he took the ballot to the cashier and laid down the cash. The clerk didn't even look up while validating the ticket.

Ben left the store and moved onto the next one. He went to seven more convenience stores and placed the same bet each time. He did this to avoid suspicion and also as a way to launder the stolen money, just in case it was traceable. Now all he needed to do was wait until Sunday's Grey Cup game and cash in all his winning tickets.

# Chapter Thirty-One

Kyle came home at two in the afternoon, a time when he was normally at work. He walked in, hung his coat, and came into the kitchen where Ben was sitting at the table. Ben was reading a newspaper, and eating a mid-afternoon snack.

"Hey, man," Ben greeted him with a mouth full of food.

Kyle let out a big sigh and was noticeably perturbed. "I'm having the worst week," he said. "First my team loses and now this."

"Let me guess, the new treatment your team was working on to stave off the effects of Alzheimer's disease was developed by Lucius Labs?"

"Yeah, how did you—"

"I believe they are based out of Switzerland if I'm not mistaken," Ben said with a smirk. By this point, Kyle made the connection and realized Ben's secret manuscript had let him know in advance.

"As you know, Kyle, whoever goes to market first has a huge advantage. I suspect your funding will be cut and you will have to start an entirely new thesis. It definitely sucks, unless of course you have Alzheimer's, but there's really nothing you can do about it, right?"

"What are you getting at, and why do you have that stupid grin on your face?"

"My friend, do you remember the time I was getting beat up and you came to my rescue?"

"Which one?"

"Good point. I suppose it doesn't really matter. What I'm getting at is you've always been there for me. You're a very loyal friend and I've never really had the chance to repay my debt to you. As a matter of fact, I haven't even really said thank you."

"Ben, enough with the theatrics, what are you trying to say?"

"First, I want to say thank you for being such a good friend to me. Second, we don't have to worry about money for a little while."

"What did you do, Ben?" Kyle said, not sharing Ben's enthusiasm.

"I think it's best if you don't know too much. You should remain innocent?"

"Ben, if you've done something illegal, I want to know about it. As you said, our fates are entwined. Whatever you do affects me too."

"If you must know, it all started when I robbed the robber a few weeks ago."

"You didn't."

"Oh I did," Ben said proudly. "Why don't you have a seat, I think you're going to like this one."

Kyle pulled out a chair opposite to Ben and sat down.

"So the night I asked you to rob the robber, I ended up going on my own."

"Wait, how did you know where the robber lived?"

"Sorry, I thought I told you. I followed him."

Kyle stared back with a blank look on his face.

"I knew the bank was going to be robbed, so I waited outside for the robber to come out and when he did, I followed him. Actually, it wasn't my original intent, I thought I had lost him, but we coincidentally ended up sitting next to each other on the bus."

"Strange coincidence."

"I know, right? Anyway, I went back to his house at night, but I went prepared. I brought a knife, some rope, and some other supplies. Oh, and I was dressed head to toe in black so I would be camouflaged."

Kyle rolled his eyes.

"I made my way onto the roof like a ninja and unfastened the chimney crown. The thing was awkward and heavy, and I was also trying not to make a lot of noise. I struggled to remove it, and when I did, I ended up just resting it against the side of the chimney while finding the sweet spot to balance it on the peak of the roof. Keep this in mind because it's going to become an integral part of the story later."

"So let me guess, you entered the house through the chimney like Santa Clause?"

"Yes, exactly!" Ben said laughing. "Actually, it's funny you say that because the only reason I was able to discover this method of entry was because a cat showed me how."

"A cat?"

"Yeah, and guess what the cat's name was?"

"No clue."

"Santa Claws! Get it, like claws," Ben said, demonstrating a scratching motion.

"Cute... and ironic."

"So I scale down the chimney and nearly break my leg on the dismount, but I'm happy because I made it inside. I turn on my flashlight and start to sneak around like a cat burglar. As I'm shining my flashlight around, I notice this guy has a punching bag and a weight bench and I start to freak out a bit. At this point I'm thinking about turning back, but I can't exactly climb up the chimney, right, so I have no choice but to go upstairs. I should also mention that I had been drinking a bit too, so by the time I reached the top of the stairs, my buzz started to kick in. The alcohol and adrenaline circulated in my blood and formed a powerful concoction."

"Alright, so you're in this guy's house, you're feeling invincible, then what happened?"

"I search the entire first floor, but found nothing. By the way, the guy had pretty much the identical house we have. I knew the layout without needing the flashlight. So after searching everywhere, I crept up the stairs, and entered the man's bedroom. He was sleeping so I quietly tiptoed over to his bed and from there we got into a little tussle."

"You attacked a man in his sleep?" Kyle asked, stating his disapproval.

"No, he woke up and attacked me first. I fought back in self-defence."

"And what if he didn't wake up? You would've attacked a man in his sleep."

"Something like that. I didn't exactly have a fully formed plan in mind. I figured I would think of something."

Kyle put palm to face and shook his head at Ben's stupidity. "And you won this tussle?" he asked.

"Hey, don't look so surprised. I can get down when I need to."

"Sorry, go on."

"So yeah, this guy was really strong and overpowered me quite easily. He was on top of me, strangling me, and then something incredible happened."

"What's that?"

"You remember the cat, right?"

"Santa Claws."

"Yes, well my guess is that the cat was playing around with the chimney crown that I had haphazardly leaned up against the chimney, and it fell. It tumbled down the roof and caused the loudest commotion. The robber got distracted for a moment, but that was all the time I needed to kick him off me and run away."

"Great, I can't wait to hear how this ends."

"What I did was actually quite brilliant given the short amount of time I had to make a decision. As I ran out of the room, I figured I had two options. One was to make a mad dash out the front door and begin a foot race down the block. But this guy was much more athletic than I was and would have undoubtedly caught up to me and beat my face to a pulp. Besides, I had just been nearly strangled to death and I hurt my ankle getting into the house so I might not have even made it past the front porch. So instead of having this maniac chase me, I thought my only option was to hide and instigate a sneak attack."

"A sneak attack?" Kyle reiterated.

"Yes, and it was really quite effective too. When the robber came out to look for me, he stopped at the top of the stairs and listened for my footsteps. But I was hiding in the adjacent room, which was equivalent to where your room is. Then unexpectedly, I came charging out and shoved him as hard as I could down the stairs."

"You shoved a man down a set of stairs?"

"It was in self defense, Kyle. The man was trying to kill me."

"Do you blame him?" Kyle asked.

"No, but I was justified in what I did, and I would do it again."

"Alright, whatever," Kyle said letting out a big sigh of disappointment. "What happened next?"

"I tied him up and searched his room. In the back of his closet, I found a makeshift cubbyhole where there was over eight grand in money and jewellery in a secret stash. I took it all."

"Wow, I can't believe you did all that."

"I know, right?"

"So what did you do with the money? — which is probably traceable."

"That's what I thought. I ended up placing small bets all over the city, betting against the Stampeders, and as you know, the Stampeders lost."

"So how much money did you make?"

"Enough to get us by for a while."

"You're crazy," Kyle said, unsure what to make of his friend's actions.

"Kyle, I haven't even told you the craziest part yet."

"What's crazier than breaking into a known bank robber's house, robbing him, and using the money to win a bet, which you happened to know the outcome based on a book that foretells the future?"

"You're right, that is pretty crazy, but let me try to convince you anyway."

Ben took the financial paper that was in front of him and slid it across the table to Kyle.

"What's this?"

"That my friend is today's newspaper with yesterday's stock report. Remember those winnings I made on the Grey Cup? I took them into a financial firm where I opened a trading account. I then bought stock in a small company called Lucius Labs — you may have heard of them. Yeah, as it turns out they released this really promising drug to treat the effects of Alzheimer's disease and their stock surged. Fortunately for me, I happened to have placed a buy order before the news was announced. Call it a hunch," Ben said smugly as he winked at Kyle.

The expression on Kyle's face was of total disapproval.

"Ben, how can you be so foolish!" he said "You can't just walk into a brokerage firm, buy a large stake of a company nobody has ever heard of, and then sell it the day after they announce their new drug."

"No, Kyle, you're wrong, you can do that! That's exactly what I did."

"Ben, don't get smart with me. I'm being serious, you could get into serious trouble."

"How so?"

"Don't you think it's a little fishy that a person who was broke, suddenly goes on a hot streak and everything he touches turns to gold like he's King Midas? They investigate this kind of stuff, and once they find out your roommate works for a competing drug lab, they'll assume I gave you insider information. Both of us could get arrested and go to jail."

"But you didn't give me insider information."

"Good luck proving that. Besides, what are you going to tell them when they asked you how you got the money for the stock?"

"I'll tell them the truth, I got it from my Sports Select winnings."

"Okay, and where did you get the money for the Sports Select?"

"I'll say I found it."

"Oh great, you found eight grand, which happens to be the exact amount stolen from a bank in your neighbourhood, which you are a suspect in the case! Come on, Ben. You have to be smart about this stuff."

Although Ben did not want to admit it, Kyle was making a lot of sense. Ben was starting to feel quite anxious. To calm his nerves, he poured himself a glass of Scotch and choked it back.

# Chapter Thirty-Two

With every dime he owned tied up in the investment account, Ben was back to being broke. The only things of value he had left were the manuscript and his computer, which he decided to move down to the secret room in case people came after him.

"Do me a favour Ben, don't mess with fate anymore. Your actions could have serious unforeseen ramifications on human history."

"Yeah, but that is true regardless of what I do. The future isn't written yet, Kyle."

"Yes, it is, and it's in that little book of yours."

"It's not a book, it's a manuscript. A book is what a manuscript becomes once it's published."

"Well, whatever it is, I say you destroy it."

"But what about the science behind it?"

"What science? We don't know where that thing came from. The only other person who knew about it is now dead, the day after he won the lottery. The universe has a way of self-correcting. If you're not supposed to have all that money, the universe will make sure you don't end up with it."

"So now you are an expert on the universe?"

"I'm just saying, you shouldn't poke a stick at something you're unfamiliar with. Eventually, it will bite back."

"That's great. You'll have a lot of time to sit around and think of really witty metaphors now that you're broke and out of work. Meanwhile, I will be living the good life. You're welcome to join me if you reconsider."

Ben and Kyle agreed to disagree. Kyle went upstairs and Ben went downstairs into the secret room to read more of the manuscript. Reading the manuscript became an addiction for Ben. This time, he was not necessarily looking for ways to profit from it. Instead he was trying to find out what happens to him. Kyle had planted the idea in his head that all the things he had done to make money would raise some red flags. If the SEC or the RCMP were to question him, he would have a hard time talking his way out of it.

Another problem Ben had was the manuscript no longer reflected his life. He had altered his destiny and veered so far from the storyline that it was becoming ever more difficult to use it to predict the outcome of his life. Unless he found a way to realign himself with the story, his future would be unknown to him. Page after page, Ben continued to read events that did not happen to him.

Frustrated, Ben went upstairs to get some fresh air. When he arrived at the top of the stairs, he heard a loud knock. Curious and paranoid, Ben cautiously approached the door. Whoever it was, he had no intentions of opening it. He tiptoed to the peephole and peered through. On the other side of the door were two well-dressed men, but not the same two men as before. They knocked again and demanded Ben open the door. It was as if they knew he was on the other side looking at them.

Ben slowly backed away from the door just as it was kicked off its hinges. The thunderous crash struck fear into Ben's heart. He panicked and froze like a deer in headlights. Ben was staring at two large men, neither one of whom presented any sort of ID or badge.

One of the men lunged forward, grabbing Ben by his shirt. Ben struggled to get free under the man's powerful grip, but it was no use, the man easily outmuscled him.

Even though Ben had very little time to think, he wondered who the men were and what they wanted. Whoever they were, they were not complying with the standard protocol of a lawful arrest. This indicated they were not law enforcers.

From upstairs, Kyle heard the commotion and came running. Upon his descent down the stairs, he witnessed two very large men apprehending Ben. The two men were oblivious to Kyle standing in the stairwell and proceeded to beat Ben to a pulp. For a moment, Kyle thought it would be best to stay out of it since both men were humungous. They were each around 6'5" and had athletic builds. For all intents and purposes, Kyle would not be of much help against the aggressors, but he knew he had to do whatever he could.

Harbouring recessed childhood memories, Kyle became enraged and leapt into action. He grabbed the nearest man from behind, spun him around, and punched him in the face. The man staggered backward and tripped over his partner's foot. Kyle then lunged forward with a superman punch that landed squarely on the jaw of the second man, causing him to let go of Ben. The punch was not enough to knock the man over, but it at least backed him up. Kyle grabbed Ben and yelled at him.

"Come on, let's go!" Kyle shouted.

With Kyle's help, Ben got back to his feet. Clutching his rib cage, he and Kyle ran out of the house. The two men did not move as fast, but were still quick to follow. As Ben and Kyle ran, the two men fired several shots in their direction. A series of loud pulsating gunshots echoed throughout the neighbourhood as speeding bullets whizzed by Ben and Kyle's heads, narrowly missing them.

"What have you gotten me into this time?" Kyle asked.

"I have no clue, just keep moving."

Despite being the beginning of December, there was very little snow on the ground, which made it easier to run away. The temperature, however, was frigid, but their constant movement and adrenaline negated the chilling effects of the brutal Calgary winter. They both knew they would be dead if they did not find some place to hide. They rounded the side of a house, hopped a fence, and traipsed through several backyards. Clothes lines, half melted snowmen, and various kiddy toys were no match for the two as they darted over, around, and through the backyard obstacles like they were CFL running-backs. It was the fastest Ben had ever moved before. His legs were moving so quickly, it was as if he were no longer in control and instead was operating on pure reflexes.

The two thugs soon realized they lacked the necessary agility to chase the two younger men. They wisely abandoned their pursuit on foot, but continued the chase in their car.

A few blocks away, the sound of screeching tires could be heard, striking even more fear into the two boys. Ben and Kyle decided to stay put, finding refuge in a backyard storage shed huddled in the dark next to a lawn mower, a tool bench, and some indeterminate junk. Unless the men were to search every backyard in the neighbourhood, Ben and Kyle figured they would be safe for a while.

"Who were those guys?" Kyle asked in a whisper.

"I have no idea," Ben said, still panting heavily.

"What happened?"

"They kicked in the door and then proceeded to accost me."

"Are you okay?" Kyle asked.

"I'm a little banged up, but I don't think anything is broken," Ben said, feeling around for any damage. "Whoever those guys were, they're definitely not cops. I'm no expert in the law or anything, but I think they should've showed me their badges or a warrant at least."

"Maybe they work for the same guy who robbed the bank — they could all be part of one big criminal enterprise. When you... you know... got involved and thwarted their operation, they must have found out who you were and decided to teach you a lesson and get some payback."

"They did try to kill us," Ben added.

"Yeah, that sounds about right. Any idea how they found you? You didn't leave behind your ID when you 'visited' the robber, did you?"

"No, and besides, my ID doesn't have my new address on it. The only people who knew I was at the bank were two detectives."

"I'm assuming there were also a handful of customers and bank personnel, right?"

"Yeah, but they wouldn't know my name and where I live. I didn't even step foot in the bank, remember?"

"Well, the detectives figured out you were there, maybe someone else did as well. Or the detectives are on the take."

"Corrupt cops?" Ben said sarcastically. "That can't be!"

"So hired goons or corrupt cops, those are our two hypotheses?" Kyle asked.

"Does it really matter who they are? Right now we need to figure out where we are going to sleep tonight. We definitely can't go back to the house, and neither one of us have any money. Any ideas?"

"Just one. Come on, follow me."

# Chapter Thirty-Three

Ben and Kyle waited until it was dark before they emerged from the storage shed where they had been hiding. Their foggy breath dissipated in the freezing air as they cautiously snuck through the backyards, retracing their steps until they eventually reached their house.

"You see anything?" Kyle asked.

"Nah, nothing, I think we're clear."

Continuing past their house, they showed up at their neighbour's backdoor. Kyle gave a couple light knocks and then took a few steps back. Gladys answered promptly and opened the door with delight.

"What are you two boys doing outside with just those flimsy sweaters? Please come inside before you two catch a cold."

Ben and Kyle gratefully stepped inside.

"Is there a problem with the front door?" Gladys asked.

"It's a long story," Ben said through chattering teeth.

"Let me fetch you boys some blankets, and put on a pot of tea. Are you hungry?" she asked. "I can heat up some leftovers."

"That would be great, thanks."

"What was all that commotion earlier? It sounded like someone setting off fireworks."

"Actually they were gunshots," Ben said.

"Gunshots?" she repeated. "Oh my, this neighbourhood just isn't what it used to be."

"I think the neighbourhood is fine, Gladys. It wasn't gang related or anything like that. There were two men after us... well, after me."

"Heavens, why were they after you?"

"I'm not sure," Ben said. "Was Mr. Gringer involved with anything that would have two goons show up at his house?"

"Charles? No, of course not. He was a kind man and as far as I know he wasn't involved with anything like that?"

"Did he owe anyone any money or..." Ben stopped.

"What is it?" Kyle asked.

"Do you think those men were after his lotto winnings?"

"I doubt it," Kyle responded. "If they thought you won the lottery, why would they want to kill you? It just doesn't make sense."

"Whoever they were, it's a matter for the police," Gladys said as she got up to make a call.

"Gladys," Ben called out. "I would prefer if you did not get the police involved. I... I just don't know if I can trust the police."

"What on earth are you talking about? Of course you can trust the police."

"The police are just people and people are corruptible. I think for now I'd like to just lay low for a while and figure out someplace safe we can go."

"You boys are welcome to stay here as long as you like, that is if you don't mind sharing a bedroom with each other. There's a spare room upstairs, I'll put on some fresh linens and give you boys some towels."

"Thank you, we really appreciate it."

"If you need to do laundry, I can put a load on as well."

Ben and Kyle stayed at the house and exchanged stories with their elderly neighbour until it was time for bed. She had lived a fascinating life and had a lot of wisdom to impart. To show their gratitude, they offered to do any chores that needed to be done. Eventually, Gladys showed the boys to their room and said a prayer with them.

"Dear Lord, I ask you to bless these young boys in their journey through life. Please ensure they remain safe from the dangers of the world, strong when tested with temptation, and resilient when faced with adversity. Please remove the evil from within the hearts of anyone who wishes harm upon them. Thank you for blessing our lives and we hope in your grace you will continue to provide us with many more days to come. In Jesus's name we pray. Amen."

"Amen."

"Amen."

Later that night when Gladys went to bed, the boys continued to stay up and talk in their room.

"Do you think they're setting a trap for us?" Ben asked. "I bet they're waiting inside for us and the second we step through that door, they'll blow our heads off."

"Who knows?"

"That is of course if we entered through the front door."

"What are you saying?" Kyle asked.

"I'm saying that I need to get in the house, more specifically the secret room."

"Let it go, bro. We don't want to take any unnecessary risks with these guys."

"I need my manuscript and my wallet. Without them, I've got nothing."

Kyle considered what Ben was saying for a moment. He realized they could not stay in Gladys's house forever. Ben had lots of money, which they could use to make a life somewhere else, but without a means to access it, it would not be of any help to them.

"How do you suggest we get in?" Kyle asked.

"I'm so glad you asked. Don't worry, I have a plan."

Kyle followed Ben downstairs and into the kitchen. While trying to make as little noise as possible, Ben opened up several drawers until he found what he needed. Among the things he took were a multi-purpose tool, a flashlight, and a knife.

"What are you doing?" Kyle whispered. "Put those back."

"I will, I just need to borrow them for a bit," Ben said.

"What's the knife for?"

"Protection."

"You're really going to bring a knife to a gun fight?"

"Well, unless Gladys keeps a Glock next to the can opener, I think this is my best bet."

Ben walked over to the back door and made sure it was unlocked before leading the way back upstairs. The next stop, oddly enough, was the bathroom. Just like in their house, the bathroom had a large window that could open wide enough to climb through. Getting from the bathroom window to the top of the house was a little scary, but definitely doable. Just below the bathroom window was a little ledge that conveniently wrapped around the side of the house.

Ben lifted up the window and stuck his head outside.

"It's just like ours," Ben confirmed.

"So what are you waiting for?" Kyle asked.

"I don't know, I was kind of hoping you'd want to go first."

"No thanks, this was your idea so you should lead the way."

"Fine," Ben said as he proceeded to climb out the window. With his bum resting on the window sill, his feet dangled two stories off the ground. He was still a little afraid of heights, but once again summoned the courage to momentarily set aside those fears. Once he found his footing, he completely exited the window. The crisp night air made his muscles tense up, but it was nothing too debilitating. He inched across the ledge slowly, making sure not to look down. Kyle watched him to see how it was done. When Ben was a good distance ahead, Kyle reluctantly followed after him.

Kyle carefully climbed outside and shuffled along the side of the house in the direction of the backyard. Together they gripped the slopping roof for support until it was low enough to climb onto. With both hands planted firmly, Ben used his legs to pull himself on top of the roof. He was now laying belly down and had his head dangling over the edge, encouraging Kyle to continue. Kyle was close behind him and eventually climbed up as well.

The ascent was steep, but Ben showed Kyle how to scale the roof by crouching low and walking up on all fours. Once at the top, they approached the crest and peered over.

"Think you can make it across?" Kyle asked, being mindful not to speak too loudly.

"I don't know, it's a pretty big gap," Ben said. "Should we roshambo to see who goes first?"

"Man, I always lose those. Alright, whatever, let's do it."

Silently, on top of the roof in the biting cold air Ben and Kyle played an important game of rock-paper-scissors. As usual Kyle lost.

"Alright, move. I need to get a good run up."

Kyle backed up all the way to the opposite end of the roof and stopped. He stared at the gap with an intense focus. After a few deep breaths, he felt prepared. At full speed, he sprinted past Ben and leapt off the edge. Once airborne, time seemed to slow down. His legs kicked in a manner that resembled riding an invisible bicycle. As the gap grew smaller, he knew he would make it. He hit the opposing roof with such velocity that he stumbled forward and tripped over himself. To brace for impact, he put his forearms down and skidded on his elbows for a bit before tumbling down the steep decline. He spread his arms and legs out to gain control. After some bumps and bruises, he stopped just before hurling over the edge.

Ben watched on in horror. Whatever reservations he had before the jump were now amplified. Nevertheless, he had no choice. Following Kyle's example, he backed up to the far edge of the roof. He wanted to clear the distance, but did not want to overshoot it like Kyle had. After mumbling a few words of encouragement to himself, he took off and launched himself over the gap. In the middle of his jump, he realized he may have miscalculated. Ben undershot and hit the edge of the roof. The lower half of his body ploughed into side of the house creating a tremendous thud. His hands quickly clasped onto anything within reach that would prevent him from falling. He clamped down on the edge of the roof, but did not have the grip strength to sustain his bodyweight for long. His legs dangled precariously over the edge of the house, looking for a foothold. Just when he was about to lose his grip, Kyle grabbed him under the armpit and assisted him up.

"Thanks, man," Ben said, taking a moment to regain his composure.

"No problem," Kyle replied.

Without wasting any more time, Ben and Kyle silently ascended the roof and got into position. Ben took out the flashlight and handed it to Kyle, while he used the multi-purpose tool to unscrew the chimney crown.

"Can I get some light?" Ben asked.

Kyle steadied the flashlight as Ben went to work. Fortunately, the bolts were already loose and came off with ease. The chimney crown was not heavy, but it was a bit awkward to manage with just one person.

"Alright, I need you to help me with this thing," Ben said. "Can you grab the other side?"

Together, they hoisted the rusted chimney crown from the top of the chimney and set it aside. Ben remained crouched to ensure it was stable and would not tumble down the roof. Kyle used the flashlight to look down the chimney chute. That's when he made an unexpected discovery.

"Whoa, Ben, check this out," he said. "You're not going to believe this."

Ben stood up and peered into the chimney. Attached to the inside of the chimney was a forty-foot rope coiled up. One end of the rope was connected to a steel ring, which was bolted into the brick.

"What the heck. What are the odds?"

"Based on the luck you're having, I'd say this fits right in."

Ben unlatched the rope and gave it a few tugs. It was secure. He then tossed the loose end down into the chimney.

"Okay, I'm going to lower myself down using this rope. Once I retrieve the goods, I'll signal you to pull me up."

"Ben, I don't think I can pull you up," Kyle said.

"You'll have to try or else I'll be stuck down there."

Ben hopped up on the chimney and swung his legs inside. He wrapped the rope around his forearms and used his feet to pinch the rope. This way, he could lower himself down with a little more control. With a slow and steady descent, Ben allowed the rope to slip through his shoes and hands until he reached the bottom. Once at the base of the fireplace, he quickly activated the switch and darted through the small doorway.

# Chapter Thirty-Four

Inside the secret room, Ben was about as safe as could be, but he still had a reason to rush. Perched atop the roof, Kyle lay in wait.

Ben grabbed everything he needed and ran back down the narrow corridor that led to the secret entryway. He ducked through the opening and sealed off the door behind him. Now standing inside the fireplace at the base of the chimney, he affixed the rope around his waist, and made an owl sound, signalling for Kyle to pull him back up.

Kyle began to heave on the rope as hard as he could. The veins in his arms bulged under the skin and sweat immediately began to bead down his red face. With a clenched jaw and a scrunched face, Kyle did his part to alleviate some of Ben's weight. It was enough to allow Ben to maneuver up the chimney. Ben used his arms and legs to scramble up the chimney until he was within Kyle's reach. Once Ben was near the top, Kyle reached down and clasped onto Ben's forearm and pulled him up the rest of the way.

"Why are you so sweaty?" Ben asked.

"Shut up," Kyle replied coldly. "Did you get what you came for?"

"Yeah, now let's get out of here."

Instead of jumping across the eight-foot roof gap between the houses again, Ben had the forethought to come up with a much safer plan. He and Kyle scooted down the slanted roof and jumped down onto the grass in their backyard. From there, they ran across to Gladys's house and entered through the door by the kitchen, which Ben had unlocked earlier.

They quietly tiptoed upstairs, being careful not to wake Gladys. Once in their room, they celebrated with some hugs and high-fives. Ben inspected his bruises while Kyle went to the bathroom to tend to the scrapes on his arms. When Kyle returned, he collapsed on the bed. Ben took the manuscript out of his bag and laid it on the floor.

"Now that we have the manuscript," Ben said, "I think we should read the rest of it and see how all this plays out."

"How what plays out?"

"You know, our lives. These thugs are trying to kill us and maybe the story will reveal a way we can avoid getting ourselves killed."

"I don't want to know when or how I die. Besides, the book, or manuscript as you insist on calling it, is about your life, not mine. Who's to say my death would even be in there."

"If we remain friends, and it seems like we would, then your death would be a significant moment in my life. If that's true, it'll be in here. Perhaps if we know when and how we die, we can prevent it from happening."

"Look, I've seen more adventure in one day than I can handle. I need to get some sleep."

"Alright, do you mind if I keep this lamp on? I just want to read a bit and see what happens."

"Sure."

"Kyle, I just want to say thanks for tonight. I know this manuscript doesn't mean much to you, but it means everything to me. You have a life and a lot going on, but me... I don't have any of that. Until these pages came into my life, I was broke and had no direction. Now look at how much I have benefited from it."

"Ben, you can't be serious. First of all, we're lying in some old lady's spare bedroom because two men tried to kill us today. As for the money you made exploiting the future, it's tied up in some brokerage firm who will undoubtedly notify the cops the second you try to withdraw it. And let's not forget what happened with your little date with that girl. It seems like everything you touch either crumbles or slips through your fingers. Sorry, but I don't see how you have benefited from it."

"It's cool, I get it," Ben said. "You're more of a 'glass-is-half-empty' guy. I'm going to focus on the positives."

"Like what? What positives are you focusing on?"

"Let's see, I've made a lot of money, I have a house, I have my best friend, I've been writing a lot lately..."

"Ben, you remind me of this kid I used to live with. He loved Jello, and whenever his mom would make it for him, he got all excited. I'd sit across from him, eating my Jello and watching his frustration grow. You see, unlike me, this kid would eat with his hands. He would reach into the bowl and squeeze a fistful of Jello tightly so he wouldn't lose it. Then when he brought his fist to his mouth, there would be nothing. He would try over and over to capture the Jello, but the harder he squeezed, the Jello would squish through his fingers. You understand the moral of the story, don't you? His greed prevented him from getting what he wanted, and in the end, he was left with nothing but a big mess."

"Is that a real story, or did you just make that up."

"Honest to God, that's a real story."

"Well, whatever. I'm going to read this manuscript and you can tell yourself another one of your stories until you fall asleep."

Ben rested face down on the floor while reading page after page of the manuscript. With great intrigue, he was captivated by the events there were described. In the book version of Ben's life, the story deviated far from reality. It was supposed to be based on the future, but it did not resemble Ben's current predicament at all. It told nothing of the dangers he was currently facing. Instead, the story told a tale of Ben getting his life together and living an honest existence.

# Chapter Thirty-Five

Kyle did not want anything to do with the manuscript so he left Ben to toil with it. He was much more practical than Ben. Instead of trying to manipulate events for personal gain, he came up with a strategy to get his life back on track. Without his research job at the university or a permanent place to stay, he felt like his time in Calgary had run its course. Leaving town would also allow him to distance himself from the dangers of being associated with Ben.

"So that's it, huh? You're leaving?"

"Yep."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure I'll figure it out."

"Here man, take this number," Ben said as he grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled a number on it.

"Whose number is this?"

"Her name is Velena," Ben said, handing Kyle the paper. "She was the woman from the bus who offered me a place to stay when I had nothing; maybe she'll do the same for you."

"You have her number memorized?"

"It's the same as the code to get into the secret room, so yeah, I have it memorized."

"So you're just going to stay here?" Kyle asked.

"I have over a hundred thousand dollars sitting in my brokerage account. All I need to do is transfer that money out, and I'll be fine."

"Good luck with that."

"Thanks, good luck to you too."

Kyle walked downstairs and said goodbye to Gladys. He gave her a hug, and then left. Without any money, his only play was to walk toward the highway with his thumb out and hope someone would pick him up and take him to Cold Lake.

With Kyle gone, Ben was back to being lonely and miserable. What Ben had not realized at the time was how much Kyle meant to him. Having a friend he could trust in his life was more valuable than money. Perhaps it was the greed in him, but he had hoped he could have both.

After waving goodbye, Ben excused himself from Gladys's company to make a phone call.

"Can you give me my balance please?" Ben asked.

"After fees and commissions, your balance is $158,320.22. Congratulations, Mr. Owen, I've never seen an ROI quite like this. You open up an account on Monday, and by the end of the week nearly double your investment. Some of the greatest traders in the world can't even do that."

"What can I say, I had a hunch. Call it beginner's luck I guess."

"Well then, Mr. Owen, you are the luckiest guy I've ever seen."

"How soon can I expect this money?"

"EFTs typically take 3-5 business days. You'll probably see your money by the end of next week."

"Alright, thank you."

Ben hung up the phone and went downstairs. He explained to Gladys he would have some money coming in soon and asked if he could stay with her until then. Gladys had no problem with that and insisted he stay longer. Ever since her husband had passed, she welcomed the company.

Throughout the week, Ben tried to make himself as useful as possible by doing chores around the house. Whenever he was not busy cleaning, he and Gladys would talk for hours. It was actually quite therapeutic in many ways since it allowed Ben to open up about his life. It also helped him work on his communication skills. Being a recluse, he avoided a lot of face-to-face interactions with people and rarely made new friendships. After spending so much time with Gladys, he had come out of his shell substantially. Despite the benefits, he still needed some alone time, so he would go to the university often.

Whenever he left Gladys's house, it was usually at night or early morning and always through the back exit. With two killers knowing where he lived, Ben thought it would be wise to stay as far away from his neighbourhood as possible. With each moment he stayed there, he was putting Gladys in danger, but he did not have a choice. Moving back to Cold Lake with Kyle was not an option he was willing to entertain. It had taken him far too long to leave that soul trap and he was not ready to go back there just yet.

Sneaking through several backyards, Ben eventually emerged onto the main road where he could blend in a little better. Wearing his parka with the fur-lined hood pulled low over his head, he waited at the bus stop with the other commuters. Within a few minutes, the bus showed up, pushing through the morning fog as it slowed to a stop in front of the crowd of people. Ben walked on, paid his fare, and took a seat near the rear exit.

The bus made several stops throughout the city, picking up young and ambitious college students who were heading to their morning classes. First the seats filled up, then the aisles. The more packed the bus became, the more Ben's anxiety rose. To take his mind off his claustrophobia, he tried to ignore the chatter and focus instead on the rhythmic hum of the bus and the scenery outside. Periodically, condensation formed on the window, but he would wipe it away with his sleeve. Through the blurry window, he saw cars whizzing by, pedestrians huddling together at intersections, and buildings decrease in size as the bus travelled further from the downtown core. The long bus ride allowed Ben to clear his mind and think about his next move.

After about forty minutes, the bus stopped at the main terminal on the University of Calgary campus and everyone funnelled out the two exits. Ben was one of the last to leave. With his backpack slung over one shoulder, he rose from his seat, and walked along a pathway like everyone else.

Entering the computer lab, Ben found his usual spot near the back. He unzipped his jacket, threw his backpack on the chair next to him, and took a seat. Among the things he retrieved from the secret room was his flash drive. That was where the file of his novel had been saved. Throughout the past week, he had spent at least part of each day at the campus library writing his novel. He had about 50,000 words written and was quite happy with the way the plot was developing so far. After inserting the drive and loading the file, Ben cracked his knuckles and began to work. The scene he was working on was where his character, named Ben, encountered some bad men, who broke down his door and roughed him up. As he was furiously typing away, he had an unexpected break in concentration combined with the sudden urge to look up. When he followed his instinct, he had to do a double take because he could not believe his eyes.

"Impossible," he said to himself.

Ben shrank low in his seat to conceal himself behind his computer screen. He quickly saved his work and waited for his flash drive to safely eject. Once finished, he took the flash drive and shoved it in his pocket. He poked his head over the monitor and saw the two men who had tried to kill him walking toward him. He put his backpack around his shoulders and cinched the straps tightly in case he had to run. The two men walked slowly, carefully scanning the faces of the students in the computer lab. As they approached, Ben crouched down and hid under the desk.

_How did they find me?_ he asked himself.

He followed the men's legs, which were at opposite ends of the row of computer terminals, and hoped they would not look under the desk.

"He's under the desk!" one of the men yelled out.

The commotion caught the attention of everyone in the library. Ben bolted from his position and hurdled over a vacant computer station. Once his feet hit the ground on the other side, he sprinted as fast as he could. Again, he led the men on a foot chase. This time, they did not have access to their car. Even though the two men were not as agile as Ben, they were not far behind. Ben ploughed through a few people and exited the library.

Not knowing his way around campus, Ben ran in the only direction he knew. Darting across an open field like a madman, Ben headed toward the science building. He burst through the doors and staggered up the stairs. His pace had slowed considerably as he was now exhausted and completely out of breath. Once at the top floor, Ben was dripping with sweat. He turned around to see if he had lost his pursuers. Fortunately, they were not behind him. He continued on his way, but was not paying attention to what was in front of him. He clumsily bumped into a girl in the hall, causing her to drop her papers.

"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry," he said, offering to help pick them up.

The woman bent down to pick up her papers as did Ben, yet the whole time he kept looking over his shoulder.

"Are you okay?" the woman asked.

Ben turned his head back around and looked at the woman for the first time.

"Vanessa?" he said in disbelief.

# Chapter Thirty-Six

Fate had thrown Ben for another loop. Bumping into Vanessa was indeed a strange coincidence — one of many as of late. There was reason behind it, that much he was sure of, but with two killer henchmen on his tail, he had no time to ponder the meaning.

"Ben, oh my gosh, I didn't even realize it was you. How are you?"

"I'm good, well, not really..." he answered, in between deep breaths. "Look, Vanessa, it's great running into you... I mean, not like that, but whatever... the point I'm trying to make is that I don't really have time to chat with you right now," he said, looking over his shoulder again.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Not really. I need a place to hide."

Vanessa read his body language and knew he was being serious.

"Come on, I know a spot," she said.

Together, they ran down the hall, turned a corner, and kept running. She led Ben to a storage room and attempted to input her four-digit code while Ben kept a watchful eye behind them.

"Dammit!" she said.

"What's wrong?"

"My code , it's not working for some reason. It's the first time I've had to use it so maybe I memorized it wrong. Just give me a minute."

"Vanessa, we don't have a minute," Ben said, looking down at the lock. He then cast his gaze up at the door and had a revelation. It only occurred to him at that moment that he had been there before. It was the very same storage room he and Kyle had used in the past.

"Try 4125!" Ben said.

"What?"

"Just do it!"

Vanessa entered the numbers and twisted the handle. The door opened and they both stepped inside. Once inside, Vanessa shut the door and locked it behind her.

"How did you know the code?" Vanessa asked in confusion.

"Don't you want to know why we're hiding first?"

"Sure, but start with the code."

"I assure you the answer is not that intriguing," Ben huffed, still out of breath. "My buddy Kyle is... or _was_ a science major. He had access to this room. I saw him input his code a few times."

"Of all the places I could have taken you, it happened to be a room you had been to before and you also happened to know the code. I find that pretty intriguing."

"You don't even know the half of it," Ben mumbled. He took another deep breath.

"So tell me, what's going on? Who or what is after you?"

"It's a long story, but some very bad men are after me and they are trying to kill me."

"Kill you!?" she blurted out.

"Shhh," Ben said, gesturing for her to keep her voice down.

"Who's trying to kill you?" she asked in an urgent whisper.

Ben deliberated for a moment on whether or not he should tell her everything. Ironically, it was the exact same spot where he had revealed the manuscript to Kyle. Now, fate had brought him back to the same location, and Ben took it as a good omen.

"Vanessa, I want to tell you something and it may be hard for you to believe me, especially for a scientific mind like yours."

"Try me."

"You remember the moment we met, right?"

"Vaguely."

"I actually had a little help getting your number."

"What do you mean?" she asked with a perplexed look on her face.

"You know the manuscript I was reading?"

"Yeah."

"I told you I wrote it, but I didn't actually write it. The truth is... that manuscript is not an ordinary manuscript, it's very special. The pages are filled with remarkably accurate details of my life, and sometimes I can use that information in ways that will benefit me."

"What are you saying?" Vanessa asked in disbelief.

"Here, let me show you."

Ben crouched low, removed his backpack and took out the manuscript. He flipped through the dog-eared pages until he found the spot. "Read this," he said as he shoved the manuscript in her hands.

Vanessa read the text with a furrowed brow. The prose described an event similar to the meeting that took place between her and Ben, but it was slightly different. When she was done, she handed it back to Ben.

"Vanessa, this is how I knew all those details about you. I wasn't in your earth and ocean science class, nor was I in your English class. In fact, I don't even go to this school. The reason why I didn't look familiar to you was because you've never seen me before in your life."

Not sure what to make of Ben's story, she remained silent and processed the information she had just heard.

"Before you go and judge me, and call me a bad person, please let me at least explain where I was coming from. You see, it just so happened I was reading this text moments before I saw you. Then you walked by in your green coat and something compelled me to call out your name. I couldn't resist the temptation to use what I had just read to try to get your number. It was stupid and I shouldn't have done it, but I did. I'm sure you can understand how someone with an impulsive and weak character such as mine could do such a thing, right?"

"Ben, if what you're saying is true, as unlikely as it sounds, you manipulated me."

"Well, sort of. I manipulated the situation, you just happened to be in it. After all, it's not like I influenced your thoughts or anything. I didn't even know you would agree to go out with me."

"Let's agree that it was a little sneaky and leave it at that. I'm not upset with what you did."

"One more thing I should mention is that I may have altered our destinies and inadvertently sent us down a course where we don't belong. There may be some unforeseen consequences to my actions. That may be why our date didn't go so smoothly. I think it was the universe's way of self-correcting the situation."

"Oh don't be so silly. I don't think it was the universe's fault you spilled a drink on me. You were probably just really nervous. People spill drinks all the time, it doesn't mean the world or universe is out to get them."

"Either way, I'm really sorry about what happened, and I appreciate you being so cool about it."

"And Ben, if the universe was working so hard to keep us apart, why did it bring us together again?"

"I don't know. There are a lot of really strange things that have happened to me lately. I think it has something to do with this manuscript."

"Tell me more about this manuscript. Where did it come from?"

"The origins and the author of it are unknown, but I found it in a secret room hidden behind a trap door in my fireplace. It was guarded in a vault-like room with a big steel door, which required a ten-digit passcode, that just so happened to be a number that was written on a piece of paper that was given to me by a nurse in the hospital when my apartment burnt down."

"Wait, Ben, slow down," she said, attempting to make sense of all the details, "let's start over at the beginning. Your apartment burned down?"

"Yeah, last summer I awoke to a blaze and this old man was in my apartment and basically saved my life. Next thing I know I'm in a hospital and upon checking out, a nurse hands me a note, says someone left it for me."

"Did she say who?"

"No, but I asked. She said her shift just started and she had no idea who the person was."

"Weird."

"Actually, it gets weirder," Ben explained. "Less than an hour later I meet some random lady on the bus and she hands me the exact same note — something about my life having a purpose and her phone number, which bears a striking resemblance to the ten-digit number on the other note. I chalk it up to coincidence, stuff both notes in my back pocket, and never think about them again.

"While I'm at work, I receive another note — this time it's from a process server who was hired by some law firm in Calgary. I go to their office and am put in contact with the law firm. As it turns out, someone died and bequeathed their house to me. There was no note and no explanation, but I'm told I have to go to Calgary to sign some papers. I make my way to Calgary to sign the papers and literally seconds after I leave the lawyer's office, I bump into my childhood friend, who was also my foster brother at one point during our adolescence. We had lost contact and hadn't seen each other in years. He tells me he's leaving town because he can't afford to pay rent.

"Next thing I know, we're living together. He starts working on his graduate degree and doing research at the university and is hardly ever home. I spend most of my time writing, but periodically throughout the day I'd take breaks to refresh my brain. I would visit the basement often because I had this strange feeling whenever I was down there. I don't know what it was, it's hard to explain, but it was like this nagging sensation. Something just didn't sit right with me. After some investigation, I discover there's a secret door in the fireplace, which leads to a locked door. The code for which was in my back pocket the whole time."

"It's certainly an incredible story, Ben."

"But?"

"But, I just wonder how much of it is true?"

"Every single word of it, I swear."

"This is some kind of joke, right? Did one of my sorority sisters put you up to this?"

"I know how this all must sound to you, but you have to believe me. I'm telling the truth."

"As a scientist, I need more proof than just some elaborate story."

"If you want proof, I can show you proof."

"Who are these men that are after you? And show me what your book says about them."

"I have no idea who they are," Ben said as he bowed his head with regret. "And they're not in the book."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. I think it might have to do with me altering my destiny. All the events I described and even bumping into you, I think they're all connected somehow."

"So tell me about these men. What did they do to you to cause you to run from them."

"Last week, I was at my house when I heard a knock on the door. I peered through the viewer, but decided not to answer. The men standing on the other side of the door were huge, and didn't look like that were there to borrow a cup of sugar. Next thing I know, the door is coming off its hinges and the two men are beating me to a pulp. My brother Kyle came to my aid and we managed to escape. As we were leaving, they pulled out guns and shot at us. We could hear the sounds of bullets whizzing by our heads."

"That must have been really scary for you."

"It was terrifying."

"So then what did you guys do?"

"Given the options of fight or flight, we did the only thing we could do — we ran. We started hopping fences in backyards and then hid in some storage shed until we felt it was safe to come out."

"So did you end up going back to your house?"

"Sort of. We actually went to our neighbour's house. She's an eighty year old woman who lives alone. We had met her a few times before and hoped she would allow us to stay with her given the circumstance. She welcomed us in with open arms, and I've been staying with her for the past week. I didn't really want to go back there because if these guys found me at my house, they'll definitely find me at hers. But I have nowhere else to go. Aside from my neighbour and my brother, you're the only other person I know in the entire city."

"You said someone died and left their house to you?"

"Yeah, I think it was my grandfather."

"You think?"

"I was put into foster care as a baby and have bounced around different homes my whole life. I never knew my parents or any relatives, but upon reading the manuscript, it filled me in on a few details that I had forgotten. According to the story, my grandfather left me the house."

"You mentioned you used the contents in the manuscript in ways that benefited you. Besides me, what else have you used it for?"

# Chapter Thirty-Seven

Vanessa was smart, and was asking all the right questions. Unfortunately for Ben, it made answering some of them a little awkward. Before answering her last question, he hesitated. The long pause became uncomfortable and indicated there was something he did not want to reveal to her.

"It's fine if you don't want to tell me."

"I've done some things to make a little bit of money — things akin to fixed sports betting, things that may be considered unethical by some. But you should know, whatever I did, I didn't harm anyone."

"I appreciate you being honest with me, Ben."

"I'm sorry for getting you involved in all this. That is my only regret."

"Do you think they're still out there?" Vanessa asked.

"I don't know. I'll go check."

Ben rose to his feet and opened the door a crack. All seemed to be calm as he peeked down the hallway.

"The hallway is empty, is that common for this time of day?" Ben asked.

"It's the exam period of the fall semester, so there are no more classes. Why don't we just stay here and call the police, or at least campus security?"

"Do you have your phone with you?" Ben asked.

"No, do you?"

"No."

"My phone is in the lab, I can go there and get it and you can stay here where it's safe."

"No, I can't let you go out there, it's too dangerous. I'll go, wait here."

Ben stepped into the hallway and his instincts kicked in. There was an eerie feeling that consumed him. Something just did not sit right with him; it was almost too calm. Ben slowly walked down the hallway, leaving Vanessa behind in the storage room. His footsteps were soft beneath his trembling legs, and his breathing was controlled to minimize the noise. Internally, Ben was freaking out.

In the hallway, he was exposed — a sitting target out in the open. If the men blocked off both ends of the hallway, he would be trapped with nowhere to run. Running back to the storage room was also not an option since it would unnecessarily put Vanessa in harm's way, and he could not allow that to happen.

He continued down the hallway until he reached the stairs. From there, he would have a vantage point where he could assess the situation better. When he got to the stairs, he grabbed the railing and peered over the ledge. Oddly, he did not see anybody. Just then, Ben was grabbed by the back of the neck and shoved into a set of lockers. The impact was thunderous and echoed down the hallway. Ben collapsed to the floor and struggled to regain the breath that had been knocked out of him. The attack was sudden and unexpected; Ben had no time to comprehend what had happened. As the brawny man approached, Ben's eyes cascaded upward, taking in the full scope of the enormous man that towered before him. Ben nearly soiled his pants in fear.

Without saying a word, the man grabbed Ben by the shoulder straps of his backpack and flung him like a rag doll against the opposing wall. Ben's entire body compressed as it collided with the lockers. Again, he fell to the floor and writhed in pain like a wounded worm. He had still yet to recover from the first attack.

"Get up," the man demanded.

Ben could hardly breathe and barely move, so getting up was a difficult task for him. The man grabbed Ben by his backpack straps again and lifted him up off the ground with ease. Ben's body was limp as his feet dangled freely in the air.

"Where's the device?" the man asked.

Ben remained silent.

"Wrong answer."

The man set Ben down and dragged him through a doorway and into a vacant lab. Ben scrambled to get his feet under him, but the moment he regained his balance, he was thrown to the floor. He hit the ground hard and slid for a few feet on the polished linoleum. The man followed Ben inside then shut the door behind him.

"I've got some questions for you and I expect honest answers. I'm not here to play games with you. Is that understood?"

Ben coughed a few times, but eventually nodded in agreement.

"Where is the man who's helping you?"

"What man, I don't know what you're talking about," Ben answered.

The goon took a step forward and clenched his fist. Ben cowered and turtled up in a ball, anticipating the beating he was about to receive, but it never came. Ben opened his eyes and peered through his arms, which were up to protect his face. He gazed up at the goliath standing over him.

"You're pathetic, you know that?" the man said. "I actually feel kind of bad hitting you. You are so weak and scrawny. But I assure you, I have very little patience. So I'm going to ask you again. Where is the device and the man who is helping you?" the man said succinctly.

"Honest to God, I'm telling you the truth. I received notification one day that a man named Charles Gringer had passed away and that I inherited his estate. I moved out to Calgary the next day and have been living in his house ever since. I didn't find any personal effects of his laying around the house and I certainly have never heard of him prior to receiving that notification."

"You said you received notification that Charles Gringer passed away?"

Ben nodded.

"I assure you Charles Gringer is not dead, he is very much alive and seems to have taken a liking to you. Whatever connection he has with you, we intend to use it. So for now, you're more valuable to us alive, but that can change the moment you stop being so valuable, if you know what I'm saying."

"With respect, sir, I have no idea what you're saying."

"Let me spell it out in simple terms so you can understand. You are going to lead us to Charles Gringer."

"Two seconds ago, I thought he was dead. How the hell am I supposed find him?"

"You'll have to figure that out, and something tells me you are about to get very motivated to find him."

Ben did not understand what that statement meant, but he soon found out. Just then, the door opened and the man's partner entered. He had Vanessa by the arm and was pulling her against her will.

"Now, tell us what you know or we'll hurt your girlfriend."

"Girlfriend, I've never seen her before in my life!" Ben shouted.

"What did I say about playing games?" the man said. "Break her arm," he instructed his partner.

"No no no, wait, don't hurt her. I'll tell you whatever you need to know."

"I'm glad to hear that."

At that moment, Ben had an important decision to make. Before he answered, he reviewed what he was about to do — forgo a life of riches for a woman he barely knew. It was the ultimate hero's sacrifice. He looked over at Vanessa with a shameful look on his face. He felt terrible for getting her involved in all this. Her fate was resting on the next words that came out of his mouth so he chose his words carefully.

"In the house," he began. "I found a manuscript containing details of past, present, and future events. I've been using it for my own personal gain. If you let her go, I'll tell you where it is."

"Give me your backpack," the man said.

Even though he had done some morally reprehensible things in the past, he was not about to let Vanessa get caught up in the crossfire of his problem. Ben took off his backpack and slid it across the floor to the man's feet. The man picked up the bag and practically ripped it open like a bag of potato chips. The bag was empty.

"Where is it?" the man asked.

"I'll tell you where it is once you let the girl go."

For a moment, the two goons wanted to pummel Ben for the mere suggestion of negotiating with them. However, from their standpoint, Vanessa was incidental — a means to an end. They were not looking to hurt her, they just wanted answers. Now that they were about to get those answers, they complied with Ben's request.

"Very well then," one of the men said as he shoved Vanessa toward him. The force was enough to knock her off her feet. She stumbled forward, tripping right into Ben's arms.

"Vanessa, you need to get out of here. Run and don't look back."

"What about you?"

"I'll be fine, don't worry about me."

She hugged Ben and whispered in his ear. "Should I get the manuscript before they do?"

"No, it's not worth it. They'll never stop coming after me unless I give them what they want. Just go."

Vanessa stood up and ran out of the room. Ben waited a few seconds to give her a head start before returning to his feet as well. His body was sore, but nothing that would not heal by next week.

"Now tell us, where's the manuscript?"

# Chapter Thirty-Eight

Despite no longer being in possession of the manuscript, Ben figured it was for the best. He had been able to acquire a bit of money from it and understand himself more, but beyond those things, it was occupying too much of his focus and not allowing him to live a normal life. Perhaps he should have listened to Kyle and gotten rid of it sooner. As it remained, Ben was unsure whether having it was the greatest of all blessings, or the biggest curse.

Although he had yet to realize it, the manuscript had given him one other gift — an introduction to a beautiful and intelligent woman. Other than that one scene, there had been no other mention of Vanessa in the manuscript. Since he was convinced the manuscript was a scripture from God, he never considered the possibility that he could ever be with her. Ben and Vanessa had begun hanging out and every time they saw each other, Ben would expect something bad to happen, as if any prolonged engagement with her would unravel the space-time continuum, or cause some great tragedy. Eventually he was able to free his mind of those thoughts and live his life unbound from the directive of the manuscript.

Ben sat at the dining room table typing away. He was trying to get his novel finished, but had been distracted as of late. There was a new addition into his life that was competing for his time.

"There, I'm done," Ben said.

"Done what?" Vanessa asked.

"I finished my novel."

"That's so amazing, Ben, congratulations!"

"Thanks."

"How does it feel?"

"I have to tell you, it feels amazing. I've been through some ups and downs this past year and completing this novel is validation for me. It's tangible proof of how much I've grown."

"I'm so proud of you. We should definitely go out and celebrate, you deserve it."

"Sure, that sounds great."

"So are you going to finally tell me what it's about? You've been so secretive about this manuscript."

"I'll let you read it, but I drew a lot of inspiration from my life."

"What's your main character's name?"

"For now I have it as Ben, but it's meant to be a placeholder only. I'll come up with a different name during the editing process."

"Maybe you could just leave it as Ben, I like that name. Does it have a title yet, or are you still working that out?"

"I haven't put the title on yet, but I'm thinking of calling it Angel's Cradle."

"What does that mean?"

"An angel's cradle is a receptacle that some hospitals have. It's basically a box where people can anonymously drop off their unwanted babies."

"That sounds horrible, do people actually do that?"

"It's supposed to prevent people from abandoning their unwanted babies in dumpsters or on people's doorsteps. I think given the alternatives, an angel's cradle is a good thing."

"I guess," she said with sorrow. "So is that what happened with you?"

"I'm not sure. The details of my early life are not clear, but I was abandoned by my mother. The name Owen is actually not my real last name, it's my middle name. When I became eighteen, I legally changed my last name to Owen. But I know now my real last name is Gringer."

In the driveway was a brand new Ford Mustang in cherry red. Ben deactivated the alarm and opened the passenger door for Vanessa. He then walked around and sat in the driver's seat.

"You look happy," Vanessa commented.

"I am," he said. "It almost doesn't feel real. I finished my novel, I'm about to go for dinner with you, and I'm sitting in my dream car. A year ago I would never have thought this day would be possible, at least not as soon as this. I was just thinking about all those things and it brought a smile to my face."

"You certainly have a lot to be thankful for. And you should smile more often, it looks good on you."

Ben turned the key and fired up the engine. The powerful rumble still excited him. He backed out of the driveway and drove from his quiet suburb to the downtown core.

Of course, finding a parking spot during the dinner rush proved to be an issue, so Ben dropped Vanessa off at the restaurant so she could wait for a table while he circled around the block to look for a spot. A few blocks away, Ben pulled up just as someone was leaving and felt his luck had yet to run out. After parking the car, he got out to feed the meter for a few hours. While reaching in his pocket for coins, Ben was blindsided by a punch to the jaw. The unexpected blow was jarring and knocked Ben to the ground.

As he was regaining his wits, a man stood over him and rained down punches. Ben instinctually covered up to protect himself, but knew he had to get out of there. The street was fairly quiet and he was lying on the sidewalk obscured from view by his car, so it was unlikely someone would see the attack and come to his rescue.

Still unsure who the man was or what he wanted, Ben decided not to remain there and find out. Ben kicked upward, creating enough distance between himself and his attacker. Bloodied and bruised, Ben sprang to his feet and began to run away. Without hesitation, the attacker gave chase while yelling incomprehensible slurs at him. Ben paid no attention to what he was saying; he just wanted to get away from the mêlée.

The attacker was in good physical condition and caught up to Ben with ease. He grabbed Ben by the back of the shirt spun him around, and slugged him in the stomach. Ben crumbled to the ground.

"That's a nice car you have, I think I'll look good driving that."

"Take it," Ben pleaded. "Take anything you want."

"You know, I've always been good with faces," the man said, "and as luck would have it, I happen to run into you the same week I'm paroled."

"What are you talking about?" Ben said, looking up at the man from the ground.

"You really don't remember me, do you?" the man asked in disbelief. "Maybe I should break into your house in the middle of the night and rob you? Perhaps that will jar your memory."

Ben remained silent, realizing it was the bank robber seeking revenge. Unbeknownst to the robber, Ben had actually saved the man's life. According to the manuscript, had Ben not broken into the robber's house and subsequently called the police on him, he would have died in a police standoff the following week in a botched robbery. Of course, Ben could not tell this to the man who was acting like Ben had taken everything from him.

"Look, I think you have me mistaken for someone else."

"I don't think so," the man said, studying Ben carefully.

"What do you want from me?"

"I want what you took from me," the man said, "the money plus interest, and the time I spent in prison."

"Look, I don't want any problems, man," Ben said, not willing to admit to what he had done. "How much will it take for you to leave me alone?"

"Twenty large ought to cover it."

"Twenty-thousand dollars!" Ben said. "I don't have that kind of money."

"Well, that's my price," the man insisted, "and I'll hold onto your car until you give me the money. I expect full payment by the end of the week and if I don't get it, I'll come by and take something else of yours."

The man stood over Ben once again and patted down his pockets for his wallet and keys. He reached into Ben's pockets and removed them both. He opened up Ben's wallet and took out his driver's licence.

"Now I know where you live, Ben Owen," he said, holding it out. "You have one week."

The man began to walk down the street toward Ben's car. Ben was not sure what to do, so he stood up and tried to reason with the man.

"Come on, man, please don't take my car," he said, but the man ignored Ben and kept walking. The only play Ben had in this situation was to lean on the man's weakness. "I know where you live too," Ben called out. This caused the man to stop in his tracks and turn around.

"What's that?" he asked.

"I know where you live," Ben repeated, his voice somewhat trembling with uncertainty. "I'm sure your P.O. won't be too pleased when I report my car stolen and they find it in your driveway."

The man hesitated a moment to consider Ben's threat. Without saying a word, the man tossed Ben's keys back at him.

"You have one week to get the money or else I'll be seeing you again," he said, holding up Ben's driver's licence, "and trust me, you don't want to see angry."

# Chapter Thirty-Nine

Ben scrambled back to his car and peeled out, leaving a patch of rubber on the pavement. He rushed around the corner and down the three blocks toward the restaurant. When he pulled up, he took out his phone, and called Vanessa.

"Hey, can you meet me outside, there's been a slight change of plan," he said, his tone noticeably shaken up.

Vanessa exited the restaurant with a concerned look on her face. When she got in the car, she saw that Ben had been beaten up.

"Honey, what happened?" she asked with great concern. She attempted to touch his face, but he pulled back.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I was just mugged," he replied.

"Oh my gosh, Ben, are you being serious!?" she said in a panicked tone. "We need to call the police?"

"No, I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"It wasn't random, Vanessa," Ben said mournfully. "It was payback."

"Was it those two men from the university?"

"No, this was someone else. You know how I told you I used the contents of the manuscript to acquire some money?"

"Yeah, you told me you placed bets on the Grey Cup and the stock market, and that nobody was hurt. Was that not true?"

"That's all true, but it's not the whole story. You see, in order for me to make the kind of money I made on those bets, I needed to already have a bit of money, which I didn't. When I moved out here, I was completely broke and desperate. I had nothing to lose and was willing to do some crazy things to get by. If I did not do what I did, I would have lost the house and Kyle would not have been able to afford school. I didn't want to do that to him, I felt like I owed him. I'm not making any excuses for what I did; I just want to paint the proper context of the situation."

"Ben, what did you do?"

"There was a man who robbed the bank on 12th Avenue... you may have heard about it on the news. Well, I happened to be there that day and I watched him do it. When he came out, I didn't know what to do so I followed him. We coincidentally rode the same bus home, but when my stop came up, I didn't get off. I continued to follow the robber back to his house. After several hours had passed, I returned and took the money from him."

"How did you take the money from him?"

"I dressed all in black, snuck into his house, and tied him up. I then searched his room until I found the stash."

"I can't believe you did that, Ben."

"I know, it was really stupid and I was much more opportunistic at the time."

"So he must have seen your face, that's why he came after you."

"Yeah, he said he recognized me, but I denied it. I asked him how much money he wanted to make this problem go away and he told me twenty thousand."

"Twenty thousand dollars! Ben, that's a lot of money... do you have that kind of money?"

"I can pay him the money, but he took my ID so he knows where I live. If ever he wanted more money from me, which seems likely, he could return at any time and demand payment. Even if I'm not home, he could come in and hurt you. I can't allow that to happen."

"So what are you going to do?"

"The only thing I can do."

Ben and Vanessa rushed to Ben's house, hoping the robber would not be there waiting for him. Despite giving Ben until the end of the week to make the payment, Ben did not want to take any chances on the robber changing his mind. He and Vanessa ran into the house and quickly grabbed everything of value. Fortunately, there was not a lot. He did not own anything that could not be replaced. Ben went upstairs and packed some clothes and a little bit of money he had stashed in his room, while Vanessa grabbed his flash drive and some food. They put everything into his backpack and then left the house. They were in and out within five minutes.

They did not tell anyone they were leaving. Of course, Ben did not have anyone to tell, and Vanessa lived alone so no one would notice her absence. Depending on how long they planned to stay in Cold Lake, she figured she would have to come back to Calgary at some point. With a full tank of gas, they hit the highway, heading Northeast.

When they got out of the city, Vanessa reclined her chair, and put her feet up on the dash.

"You don't mind, do you?" she asked.

"No, not at all, make yourself comfortable. We have a long drive ahead of us."

"Do you think we're doing the right thing?" Vanessa asked, having last-minute doubts.

"Given the alternatives, this is our best course of action."

"Yeah, I think leaving town is the safest play, but why go back to Cold Lake?"

"It's the only place I know, plus Kyle is there."

"Do they have a Wal-Mart?"

Ben laughed. "No, unfortunately there's no Wal-Mart, but there's a Ray's Superstore!"

# Chapter Forty

With the tunes playing and the sun setting, Ben embraced the serenity of the long drive. Surrounding him were emerald mountain ranges and billowy clouds, which had a calming effect on him. After several hours of driving, he looked over at Vanessa and saw she was asleep. Ben was getting tired himself and needed a break so he turned off at the next exit and pulled into a rest stop.

As soon as the tires rolled across the noisy gravel in the parking lot, Vanessa woke up. She sat up and adjusted her seat to an upright position.

"Is this Cold Lake?" she asked, looking at the one lone building in the middle of nowhere.

Ben laughed. "No, this is just a rest stop along the way. I thought we could take a break and stretch our legs."

"Good idea."

"I have to use the washroom," Ben said.

They exited the vehicle and went their separate ways. Vanessa went into the store and browsed the aisles for some snacks while Ben used the restroom. She went to the chip aisle first, looking for something salty. As she perused the different options, a vehicle pulled up and then cut its lights off. It came to a stop just out of view from the front window of the store. Two large men exited the vehicle and entered the store. The door opened, triggering a tiny bell to ring. Thinking it was Ben, Vanessa looked up and could not believe her eyes. It was the two thugs from the university; somehow they had tracked them to the middle of nowhere.

Vanessa crouched low and hid at the end of the chip aisle. She looked above her head and saw a circular mirror in the corner, which clearly gave away her position. Staying low, she repositioned to the centre of the last aisle and was truly at a loss as to what she should do. She thought about texting Ben, but knew she did not have enough time. The two men spread out, taking opposite ends of the first aisle. They then walked from the front of the store to the back, looking up and down the aisles. It would not be long before they discovered Vanessa hiding at the back of the store, and there was no telling what they would do to her once she was caught. She was genuinely freaking out and desperate for a way to escape.

As the two men approached, time was running out. She looked all around her and discovered an item on the shelf that she thought may come in handy. She quickly opened the package and gripped the small item in her hand. When the men reached the aisle, Vanessa popped up and sprayed them in the face with bear spray. The men clutched their faces and screamed in pain as Vanessa quickly ran past them and out the front door.

The timing was perfect since Ben was returning from the washroom and heading back to the car. He was only a few feet away from the car when he saw Vanessa running toward him at full sprint yelling at him.

"Get in the car!" she screamed.

Not exactly sure what was going on, Ben wasted no time and followed her instructions. He jumped in the car and fired up the engine. The loud exhaust growled with aggression. Ben leaned over and opened the passenger door, allowing Vanessa to jump in. Before her right foot was even in the car, Ben slammed his foot on the gas pedal and took off. Vanessa quickly pulled her legs into the car before the door slammed shut.

The car's wheels dug into the pebbly surface and spit up loads of small rocks and dirt. The backend fishtailed in the loose gravel until it found traction on the highway pavement. Almost instantly, the car accelerated to 100 km/h. Ben checked the rear-view mirror, but could not see any headlights behind him. Until that moment, he had yet to communicate with Vanessa as to what was going on.

"What's wrong, babe?" he asked in an excited tone, clearly agitated from the ordeal.

"I saw the goons from the university; I think they're following us," Vanessa said.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure!" she said, still distressed.

"What happened?"

"They came in and were searching the place. I think they thought we were both in the store. I was hiding in the last aisle and they were coming closer. I panicked and didn't know what to do."

"So what did you do?"

"I sprayed them with pepper spray!" she said.

"You what?"

"Yeah, right in their faces."

"And you were sure it was them?" Ben asked.

"I mean, I don't know. I didn't get a good look, but I'm pretty sure."

"Vanessa, you might have just sprayed two random fishermen or something."

"They didn't look like fishermen."

Not trusting the rear-view mirror, Ben contorted his body around and looked out the rear windshield.

"I don't see anybody following us."

"Ben, I'm sure it was them... pretty sure... oh gosh, did I just spray two random men in the face with pepper spray?"

The tension of the situation broke and they both burst out laughing.

"They must have been surprised when you popped up like a possessed demon and blasted them in the face with acid," Ben said, laughing as he pictured the situation. "That was probably the last thing those poor guys expected."

"Should we go back and apologize?" she asked.

"No, don't worry about it. If they were the size of the two men from the university, they should be tough enough to handle a little mace."

"I think it was bear spray," she added. "Is that worse?"

"I have no idea, but I'm assuming it's not too pleasant. If it was the two men from the university, they won't be driving anytime soon. I've been hauling ass for the past few minutes, there's no way they're catching up to us."

"What if they're tracking us somehow?"

Ben paused to think for a moment.

"Check the bag," he said.

"What am I checking for?" Vanessa asked.

"There's a little metallic disk-type thing. It's small enough to fit in your palm."

Vanessa opened Ben's bag and sifted through the clothing.

"Check the small compartment," he said, taking a second to glance over.

"Is this it?" she said, pulling out the strange-looking object.

"Yes, that's it."

"What is this thing?" she asked, flipping it around to inspect all sides.

"I have no idea. I thought it was a paperweight or some sort of artifact, but maybe it's a tracking device. I had it with me at the university when the men found me."

"Where did it come from?"

"I found it in the secret room in my house... on top of the manuscript. Whatever it is, it was important enough to hide in a secret locked room."

"You said there are two instances when they found you," Vanessa said, "once at your house and then at the university."

"Yeah?"

"But you've always had this thing with you. So if they're using this thing to track you, why have they only showed up on those two occasions?"

"What do you mean?"

"Think about it. If this is some sort of tracking device and it has never left your possession, shouldn't they have been able to find you anytime they wanted? So either they track you all the time, but only bother to pursue when they need something or in this case, when you leave the city..."

"Or?"

"Maybe they're only able to track you under certain conditions such as when you leave the house with it."

"That makes sense actually," Ben said. "I didn't have any problems until I removed the device from the room and brought it upstairs that one day. As soon as I did that, two large men showed up at my house and kicked my door down. Ever since that day, I've kept it locked in the basement in a vault-like room. The only exception was when I had to break into my house and retrieve the manuscript. I was using the device as a paperweight and must have slipped it into my bag when I grabbed the stack of papers."

"So you had it with you at the university?"

"Yeah, it was in my pocket. Maybe that explains why I found it encased in a steel room in the ground. That's the only way it can't be tracked."

"I say we throw this thing out the window."

"Wait, we don't even know what it is yet. It might be something valuable."

"We know what it is, it's a tracking device!" Vanessa said.

"It looks a bit high-tech to be a tracking device. Besides, I found it in a secret room on top of a manuscript. Whoever left it for me wanted to make sure I noticed it."

"Whoever left it for you should have left a note; I'm throwing it out the window."

"No don't!"

Vanessa had her armed stretched out the window and was holding onto the device. Ben pleaded with her not to let go of it. Just then, the device did something it had never done before — it began to glow.

"Vanessa, look," Ben said in astonishment.

Vanessa looked up and saw the same thing. It seemed like the device was activated by the rushing air. "What's it doing?" she asked.

"I'm not sure."

Ben wanted to watch what the device was doing, but needed to keep his eyes on the road. At one point, he looked down at the speedometer. The digital display read 141.6 km/h. It was at that moment a stream of light burst from the device and lit up the entire car in a flash. The explosion of energy overrode some of their sensations. The audio faded to silence, and all they could see was white light. Ben tried to talk, but was unable to. In fact, he could not even move a single muscle. Then, almost as instantaneous as it started, the flash disappeared and their senses came flooding back. Ben was disorientated, which was not a good thing since he was driving at high speed. He quickly regained his bearings and focused on not crashing. Vanessa was noticeably dazed and confused as well. She retracted her arm back in the car, still holding the device. Neither one of them had yet to say a word.

"What just happened?" Vanessa finally asked.

"I'm not sure."

They drove in silence, trying to independently process the strange feeling that had just consumed them. It was indescribable and unlike anything they had felt before. It was as if their souls had been ripped out of their bodies and then sling-shotted back into them.

"Do you notice anything different?" Ben asked.

"Yeah, where did all these cars come from?"

The red glow of taillights lit up in the darkness in front of them. Ben looked at the time display in his car and it was flashing 00:00.

"Is this what missing time feels like?" Ben asked.

"What do you mean?"

"It's a phenomenon people claim to experience with UFOs, alien abductions, and other paranormal activity. It's where people experience an unaccounted gap in their conscious memory."

"You think we were abducted by aliens?" Vanessa asked.

"Maybe," Ben said. "Now that you ask me, my anus kind of hurts. How's your anus?"

"My anus is fine."

"So what was it then?"

"Whatever it was, it came from this thing you insist we keep. I should have thrown it away."

"I think it's fine, just keep it inside the vehicle for now. We'll study it more when we get to Cold Lake."

# Chapter Forty-One

Ben and Vanessa arrived in Cold Lake past midnight on Wednesday night. They were worn out from the day and needed a place to crash. They drove through town and found a hotel.

"Good evening," the lady at the front desk greeted them.

"Hi, we're looking for a room," Ben said.

"Certainly, sir. For how many nights?"

"Indefinitely."

"Okay, and what size bed would you like?"

"A king please."

"Unfortunately, the closest thing available is two queens."

"Okay, that's fine, we'll take it."

"Great, I just need your credit card for an authorization, please."

"I don't actually have my credit card with me — my wallet was stolen this afternoon."

The lady had noticed Ben's bruised face and swollen lip, but did not address it. "I'm so sorry to hear that, sir."

"Vanessa, do you have your credit card on you?" Ben asked.

"Yeah, but there's not much room on it," she said. "Actually, I think it might even be over its limit," she said, being slightly embarrassed. "Sorry, I'm a student, remember?"

"That's fine," he replied. "How else can we do this?" Ben asked, turning back to the lady. "Can I just pay you in cash?"

"Sure, it'll be one hundred for the room and two hundred for the deposit."

Ben took all the money from his pocket and laid it out on the counter. He had exactly enough.

"Perfect," the lady said. She counted out the money and put it in the register. "I'll just print your receipt and give you your key."

"Thanks."

With nothing more than a backpack between them, the couple went to their room. The receptionist was not quite sure what to make of the late-night arrivals, but it was a bit strange to say the least. They seemed to be on the run from something and were not surprised they did not want to use their credit cards.

The next morning, Ben was first to rise. After years of waking up early for work, he had grown accustomed to it. By the time Vanessa opened her eyes, Ben was just getting out of the shower.

"Good morning," he said, drying his hair was a hand towel.

"Morning," she moaned, still not fully awake yet.

"I'm opening the curtains," Ben said, retracting the curtains to allow the morning sun to light up the room.

"It looks like it's going to be a beautiful day, what should we do?" Ben asked.

"What can we do? We don't have any money."

"It's okay, the bank will be open soon so I can make a withdrawal."

"How will you be able to take money out? You don't have your wallet or ID."

"It's okay, they know me here. It shouldn't be a problem."

"You haven't lived here in a year, are you sure they'll remember you?"

"I'm pretty sure they will. If not, I'll just explain what happened and show them my face. There has to be a procedure in place for situations like this."

"For people who get mugged and then leave town?"

"No, for people who have their wallet lost or stolen. I'll probably just have to sign some documents and answer a few security questions."

Vanessa stood up and reached her hand in her pockets. Feeling something that felt like a folded up bill, she pulled her hand out.

"Oh my gosh, Ben, check this out," she said. "I just found twenty bucks in my pocket!"

"You didn't know you had it?"

"No, it's an old pair of jeans I haven't worn in a long time. In fact..." she paused with an astonished expression on her face.

"What is it?"

"I think this is the twenty bucks you gave me on our first date!"

"Really? That's hilarious! What are the odds?"

"I know, right?"

"I guess that means you're paying for breakfast."

After leaving the hotel, they took a stroll down the block to find a nice place to eat breakfast. On the next block, they found a cozy restaurant with an inviting atmosphere. They stepped in and were seated by the window.

"I bet Kyle will be excited to see you," Vanessa said.

"That's only if we happen to run into him. I have no idea where he's staying."

"I thought he was staying with that lady you met on the bus?"

"I gave him her number, but I have no idea if he called her or not. Besides, even if he did call her, it's been months, I doubt he'd still be there."

"Maybe she knows how to get it contact with him. You should try the number anyway just to make sure."

"Good idea, I'll do that."

Ben took out his cell phone and tried to dial the lady's phone number. After a short moment, he pulled the phone back from his ear and looked at it with a confused look.

"What's wrong?" Vanessa asked.

"I don't know, my phone doesn't seem to be getting service out here."

"Maybe it's still roaming, give it a minute."

"It's fine," Ben said. "I'll try the number later. It's still pretty early."

Eventually the waiter showed up to the table with the food.

"Here you are," the waiter said, setting down the hot plates.

"Thank you."

"Is there anything else I can get for you?"

"We should be okay, thank you."

Ben and Vanessa finished their breakfast, and when the bill came, Vanessa handed Ben the twenty dollars so he could pay. They had just enough to cover the cost. The total, including tax and tip, was eighteen dollars, leaving Ben with a toonie.

"That was so awesome how you found that money in your pocket. We had just enough."

"I know, it worked out well."

"Hey, since the bank isn't open yet, maybe we could see your old apartment."

"Okay, I'll take you there, but I'm not sure if they rebuilt it yet."

The two walked hand in hand without a care in the world. The morning breeze gently caressed their bodies as the rising sun kept them comfortably warm. Vanessa commented on how clean the air was compared to the big city and fell in love with the friendliness of the small town. Everyone they passed either smiled or waved.

After walking for several minutes, they rounded the block where Ben used to live. When Ben looked up, he could not believe his eyes. The building had been completely restored.

"Unbelievable," Ben said. "It looks just as I remembered it."

"I guess when they rebuilt it, it was easier to just use the old design."

One of Ben's old neighbours, Patrice, happened to be walking by.

"Hi, Patrice," Ben said.

"Hey, Ben," Patrice replied. "I almost didn't recognize you. It must be the beautiful girl on your arm. Who is this lovely lady?"

"This is my girlfriend, Vanessa."

"Hi, nice to meet you," Vanessa said, extending her hand.

"Ben, I didn't know you were seeing anyone."

"It's new. We haven't been together that long. How've you been? Long-time no see."

"I'm doing well. I'm just enjoying the sunshine, trying to get some exercise."

"I hear you, we're doing the same thing."

"The weather is nice today, but when I win the lottery, I'm moving someplace warm year round."

"What's the jackpot?" Ben asked.

"They say it's an estimated twenty million — the largest provincial lottery ever."

"Didn't it get up to twenty million once before? In fact, I think it was around this time last year," Ben said.

"They announced it on the news that this was the largest jackpot in Alberta's history — it's creating quite the buzz. You should get a ticket, I just got mine," Patrice said, patting his shirt pocket where he kept his ticket.

"Well, whatever the jackpot is, I wish you luck, Patrice."

"When I win, you two can come visit me on my private island."

"Thanks, I look forward to it."

Ben and Vanessa continued on their way at a leisurely pace until they eventually arrived at the bank. Ben held the door open for Vanessa and then followed in after her. They were the only customers in the bank and there were three tellers. Ben quickly scanned their faces and walked up to the one who knew him the best.

"Hi Sharon," Ben said as he approached the counter. Vanessa took a seat a few feet away.

"Hello, Mr. Owen, how are you today?"

"Not good I'm afraid," Ben said, showing off the bruises on his face.

"Oh my, what happened?"

"I was in Calgary yesterday, and I got mugged. The robber beat me up and took my wallet along with all my money, cards, and ID."

"Oh my gosh, that's terrible. I'm so sorry to hear that."

"It's fine. It could have been much worse. But as it remains, I am in need of new cards and was also hoping to make a small withdrawal today. I can tell you everything you need to know about the account so you can verify me, but unfortunately I don't have my ID on me."

"Don't worry about it, Mr. Owen, it's not a problem. And again, it's terrible what happened to you. That's why I like it here in Cold Lake, you can walk the streets without fearing for your safety."

"It's certainly good to be back," Ben said.

"So let me just pull up your account here," the woman said as she typed Ben's name into her computer. "Hmm..." the lady said analysing the screen.

"Is there something wrong?" Ben asked.

"Mr. Owen, I'm afraid you're currently in overdraft. I won't be able to give you any money today."

"Overdraft?" Ben repeated, looking over the counter at her screen. "No, that's not right. I should have plenty of money in there."

The woman swiveled the computer monitor around so Ben could see it. Much to his surprise, the account had been drained.

"No, this is a mistake," he insisted. "I had over a hundred-thousand dollars in there. Can you please show me all my latest transactions?"

The lady expanded the search result and pulled up the data on her screen. Ben stood there dumbfounded. The money was gone.

"Can you search the last month?" Ben asked, feeling as though he was about to be sick.

Again the lady showed him all his transactions from the past month. The account did not reflect his current financial situation at all and he could not understand why. Ben's eyes scanned the list of transactions and noticed a midmonth deposit for around $650 dollars from Ray's Superstore. He then looked at the date and discovered the discrepancy.

"Wait, you put in the wrong date," Ben said, feeling relieved. "These transactions are from last year."

"Oh I'm sorry, Mr. Owen, let me fix that."

Ben turned to Vanessa with a relieved look on his face. A moment later, the teller informed him the date was correct.

"No, that's not right, that's last year's date," Ben said, getting annoyed.

"Mr. Owen, what year do you think it is?"

Without answering, Ben looked up at a large calendar that was hanging on the wall behind the counter. It was at that moment when he made the connection. First his phone would not work, then his apartment building was restored, and now his accounts were empty. It was starting to all make sense to him.

"I'm sorry," Ben said, "I must have hit my head harder than I thought. Thanks for your time."

Vanessa remained seated and had not heard the conversation between Ben and the teller. All she saw was Ben walking toward her with a startled look on his face.

"Ben, is everything okay?" she asked.

"We'll talk outside," he answered.

Together they walked out of the bank and Vanessa waited for him to tell her what was going on.

"Vanessa, I have something very incredible to tell you, and if I'm acting strangely, it's because I haven't fully wrapped my brain around it yet myself."

"Ben, you're freaking me out. Just tell me what's going on."

"Vanessa, I think we travelled back in time."

# Chapter Forty-Two

Vanessa responded as one might expect after hearing those words — she was confused and in disbelief.

"Ben, what are you talking about?"

"All the signs were there, staring us in the face, I just paid no mind to them. But it all makes sense now!" Ben became excited as he was walking quickly down the street.

"Ben, where are you going?" she said, rushing to catch up to him.

"My bank account was empty," he said. "I thought the robber had drained it, but it would be impossible to move that kind of money in only a few hours, even if he had my PIN number. I then looked at the date on the account, and it was from last year."

"The teller made a mistake," Vanessa suggested.

"No, that's what I thought, but the calendar on the wall was a year old."

"So they forgot to change it."

"I knew there was something off about Patrice when we saw him. He had a strange look when I said 'long-time, no see.' It was as if he had seen me yesterday. And the apartment building... it wasn't restored, Vanessa... it hasn't burned down yet. The reason my phone doesn't work is because I didn't have it a year ago. Don't you see what has happened?"

"Ben, you can't honestly expect me to believe we travelled back in time."

"Yes I can," he said joyfully.

"Where are you going in such a hurry and why are you smiling?"

Ben stopped in front of a convenience store and turned to face Vanessa. He had a look on his face that suggested he knew more than he was telling.

"Do you recall what Patrice said to us?"

"Something about retiring someplace warm and inviting us to his private island."

"Yeah, but before that. He was talking about a twenty-million dollar lottery jackpot."

"Yeah, so?"

Ben pulled out the toonie from his pocket, which was left over from breakfast, and with great confidence said, "I'm going to win it."

"Don't tell me you remember the winning numbers from a random lottery from a year ago?"

"I do, and it's not a random lottery from a year ago. It's the biggest jackpot in Alberta's history — an estimated twenty-million dollars. I remember there being such a buzz surrounding this lottery that even I bought a ticket... and I never play the lottery. The draw takes place tomorrow, but do you know what else happens tomorrow?"

"Tell me."

"My apartment burns down. I remember it clearly... well sort of clearly — I had a bit of a drinking problem back then. But from what I remember, I was writing, drinking, and self-loathing. The lotto numbers were announced on the TV in the background, but I couldn't find my ticket. I kept repeating the numbers over and over in my head so I wouldn't forget. Ordinarily, I wouldn't have remembered lotto numbers from a year ago, but as a result of the fire, everything from that night is forever tattooed in my memory. I remember the numbers being a really odd and unlikely sequence — 10, 20, 30, 40, 1 and 18," he said with an ear to ear smile.

"Are you sure? We only have enough money to buy one ticket."

"I'm positive!"

Ben rushed into the store and played his numbers. He came out a minute later and showed Vanessa the ticket.

"Be careful, that's twenty-million dollars right there."

"Wait, Ben you can't cash this ticket."

"Why not?"

"Because there's already a Ben Owen in this time period and he doesn't win the lottery. Whoever wins this jackpot is going to be all over the news and that's going to weird a lot of people out if suddenly there are two of you."

Ben contemplated a moment and determined Vanessa was right. We need someone to cash this ticket for us — someone we can trust."

"How about that Patrice guy?"

Ben thought about it and figured out what to do.

"Oh my gosh," Ben said in disbelief.

"What is it?"

"I know how to cash this ticket. We have to go back to Calgary."

"Why, what's in Calgary?"

"Not 'what', but 'who' — Charles Gringer is going to cash this ticket."

"But you don't even know him," Vanessa said.

"It doesn't matter. Charles Gringer won the lottery... or should I say wins this lottery... and then leaves me his house. Don't you see? This has all happened before. It never made sense why a guy would sign over his entire estate to some kid he's never met. Now I know why he would do that!" Ben said, holding up the ticket.

"What?"

"My neighbour Gladys said it was unusual for Charles Gringer to win the lottery because he had never played before. This explains how a man goes eighty years of his life and wins the lottery on his first try."

"This is really weird."

"Tell me about it. Come on, follow me. I want to check something out."

Ben grabbed Vanessa by the hand and dashed across the street. A few blocks away was Ray's Superstore — the small grocery store where Ben used to work. From the exterior, the place looked as it always had. There were a few cars in the parking lot, but at this time of day, the place was likely to be empty. They cut across the lot as Ben had done a thousand times in the past and stopped just out front.

"Ben, wait," Vanessa said, holding him back. "This is where you used to work, right?"

"Yeah."

"You really think this is a good idea? Seeing yourself may cause some ripple in the space-time continuum and the universe might implode."

"It's funny you say that, I thought being with you would do the same thing and yet here we are. Don't worry, I won't allow myself to see me... that sounded really strange."

"What about your co-workers, someone is bound to recognize you and then what are we going to tell them, that we're from the future?"

"It'll be fine, I promise," Ben assured. "Do you know why nobody at the Daily Planet suspected Clark Kent was Superman?"

"Why?"

"It's because people only saw him in one context. They only saw him as this bumbling nerdy guy with glasses, and they couldn't perceive him any other way. Look at me, I've put on about twenty pounds of muscle since last year, I haven't shaved in a few days, and I'm wearing my street clothes. To top it all off, I'm with a beautiful woman, which is extremely out of character for me. Unless I go in there with bad posture and wearing an apron, these people I used to work with won't recognize me."

"If you say so."

The automatic doors parted and together they entered the grocery store. For good measure, Vanessa walked in first to draw people's attention away from Ben, who kept his head down. There was no reason to be there other than out of pure interest. Ben had a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to objectively observe himself in person, and was curious to see how he behaved.

Together they walked around the store, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Just then, Chad, the manager walked down the aisle. To avoid being recognized, Ben quickly turned around and walked in the other direction. As he did though, he accidently bumped into a lady who was holding a jar of pickles. The jar dropped from her hand and shattered on the ground.

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry, miss," Ben said.

"It's okay," the lady replied.

Ben looked up and recognized the woman immediately.

"Velena," he said under his breath.

He was completely caught off guard. He looked at the lady and smiled, but did not say a word to her. The shattered pickle jar caught Chad's attention and he rushed over to make sure everybody was okay. By the time Chad arrived, Ben and Vanessa were walking briskly toward the exit.

"Ben!" Chad yelled.

Ben froze in his tracks and had a knot well up in his stomach since he thought for sure he had been spotted. Ben slowly turned around and saw Chad walking in the other direction.

"Hey, B.O., I need you in aisle six. Somebody dropped a jar of pickles."

"Okay, I'll get right on it."

"I'll be deducting the cost of the pickles from your paycheque."

"What? You can't do that."

"First of all, don't talk back to me. Second, someone has to pay for those pickles. Pickles aren't free you know."

Ben and Vanessa observed from a distance.

"So that's your manager?" Vanessa asked.

" _Was_ my manager. He's a real piece of work, huh?"

The younger Ben walked out from the back room, wheeling a mop bucket, and carrying a broom with a dustpan in the other hand. Vanessa saw the resentful look on young Ben's face and it melted her heart.

"Aww, I feel so bad for you," She said. "Look at you cleaning up those pickles, you seem so sad."

Feeling sorry for the young Ben, Vanessa felt compelled to approach him. She walked over and offered some words of encouragement.

"Don't worry about him, he's a jerk," she said.

"Thanks," the young Ben said.

"You may not realize this now, but you have a lot of potential. Keep your head up, it will all work out for you one day."

The younger Ben stood there for a moment with an ambivalent look on his face. Not only did the strange comment perplex him, but he was also wondering why a beautiful woman was being so nice to him.

_Whoever is dating her is a very lucky man_ , he thought.

"What did you say to him... I mean, me?" Ben asked.

"I told him... or should I say you, that everything will be okay."

Ben thought about it for a moment then had a bizarre revelation. He looked up at Vanessa wide-eyed. "Oh my gosh, I just realized you're the attractive woman!"

"Thank you," Vanessa said.

"No, you don't understand. I remember an attractive woman giving me some words of encouragement. I had no idea what it meant, but I thought you were really pretty."

Vanessa laughed. "Thanks."

"After you walked away, I remember thinking whoever was with you was a very lucky man."

"That's hilarious. Just you wait young Ben, you're about to get lucky in about six months!"

"I remember seeing you for the first time in the university. I had this strange feeling like I had met you before, but I couldn't remember where I had seen you. This is all so strange, huh?"

"Very strange."

Ben and Vanessa had enough fun watching younger Ben and decided to leave. Once outside, Ben insisted they wait around for a moment. A few minutes later, a woman exited the store carrying several bags of groceries. As the woman walked past them, Ben greeted her warmly.

"Hi, Velena, I'm really sorry for bumping into you."

"How do you know my name?" the woman asked with a puzzled look.

"It's a bit complicated, but I'd love to tell you all about it, do you have a few minutes?"

"I suppose."

"Great, can we help you with your groceries?"

The trio walked across the street to the bus stop and took a seat on the bench.

"Velena, I'm not exactly sure how to tell you this," Ben started out, "and you probably won't believe me, but we're from the future."

"Y'all are some sort of time travellers?" she asked.

"Not exactly, it's our first time," Ben said.

"And we're only from a year from now," Vanessa added.

Velena was not quite sure how to respond, so she did not say anything else until she heard more from Ben. She sat there with an open mind and listened intently.

"You may not realize this," Ben continued, "but you play a very important role in my life."

"I do?" Velena asked. "Please explain."

"Tomorrow night, there will be a fire at my apartment. I will lose everything and be completely devastated. Then on Saturday morning, you are going to see me get on the bus. I won't look as I do now, instead I'll be slightly younger and a little skinnier."

"And his hair will be longer," Vanessa added.

"I'll board the bus and sit across from you, probably looking miserable as all hell, but I need you to strike up a conversation with me. I'll be a little stand-offish, maybe even rude, but please don't take this personally."

Velena nodded, hanging on Ben's every word.

"Aside from the conversation, I need you to do three things for me," Ben continued. "The first thing I need you to do is offer me a place to stay. Don't worry, I won't actually take you up on the offer."

"The second thing I want you to do is give me a note that says the following... you might want to write this down."

Velena took out a pen and a piece of paper from her purse and transcribed exactly what Ben said.

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

"How did you know my phone number?" Velena asked.

"Because I'm from the future and you gave me that note already."

"What's the third thing?"

"The third thing I need from you won't take place right away, but in a year from now, my brother is going to call you looking for a place to stay. When he arrives in Cold Lake, I want you to give him a package."

"This all sounds a little—"

"Strange?" Ben added.

"I was going to say unbelievable, but strange works too."

"I know, I'm sorry. You're probably asking yourself, _why would I do all this for a person I don't even know?_ Here's how I intend to repay you. For the offer, the note, and giving my brother a package, I will give you..."

# Chapter Forty-Three

The glowing red digits read 3:00 a.m. when the music turned on. Ben rolled over and hit the button on the bedside radio, shutting off the alarm. He turned back over to make sure Vanessa was up.

"Is it time?" Vanessa asked.

"It's time."

Ben peeled the covers off and got out of bed. He stumbled to the bathroom and flicked on the light. The bright fluorescent lights illuminated the tiny space, spilling out into the main room. Turning on the faucet, Ben cupped his hands under the cold liquid and splashed it on his face. He then reached for a nearby facecloth and dried himself off. Staring in the mirror, Ben considered what was at stake.

Vanessa entered the bathroom while Ben was brushing his teeth and hugged him from behind.

"This is a big day for you," she said. "How do you feel?"

"I'm a little nervous to be honest with you," Ben slurred as he tried to talk with a mouthful of toothpaste. He spit out the foam from his mouth and said, "In an hour from now, a lot of questions will be answered."

After getting ready, the couple headed downstairs and hurried through the lobby. The receptionist looked at them a bit oddly, but did not say anything. Once they exited the hotel, the cool night air gave them chills as they dashed across the small parking lot. Under the soft glow of the overhanging streetlight was Ben's Mustang. Taking the key out of his pocket, he deactivated the alarm and helped Vanessa get in.

Once they were both inside, Vanessa made a comment. "You know what just occurred to me?" she asked.

"What?"

"This car doesn't exist yet."

"It's fine, it looks enough like last year's model... or this year's model, depending on how you look at it. Besides, I don't think people in Cold Lake are savvy enough about cars to spot the difference and deduce that a couple of time travellers are in their company."

Ben and Vanessa drove to the apartment and parked across the street. Ben checked his watch; it was just past 3:30 a.m. He turned on the radio, adjusted the heat, and got comfortable.

"When does the fire start?" Vanessa asked.

"I'm not sure, but I think it's around 4:00 a.m. I was asleep when it happened, and when I woke up I was disorientated. From what I heard, it was around this time. Should be any moment now, we just have to wait."

They waited patiently for twenty minutes, scanning the grounds outside the apartment building. There were a few cars that passed by, but no pedestrians. After another ten minutes still nothing happened.

"Ben," Vanessa said, breaking the silence, "I think we should start to consider the obvious conclusion that we're the ones who burn down the apartment."

"What?"

"Think of all the events in your life that were orchestrated by you, the dropped pickles, Velena, the lottery... maybe we are supposed to get out of this car and burn this mother down."

"Vanessa, don't be ridiculous, I'm not burning down my apartment. That's where I draw the line. We're just going to have to wait and see what happens."

Just then, a fire alarm sounded and they both sprang up in their seats.

"Okay, we're on," Ben said, getting out of the car. Vanessa exited the vehicle as well and stood by him, observing from a safe distance across the street.

The flames grew inside and billowed out from the window of a third-floor apartment. It was difficult for Ben and Vanessa to just stand by and watch from the sidelines without helping, but there was nothing they could do. Besides, Ben knew everyone made it out alive so there was no point worrying.

Within minutes of the alarm, people began to pour out from all exits and gather on the front lawn in their pyjamas. The fire crew and paramedics arrived shortly after, parking their large trucks on the road and blocking Ben and Vanessa's view. The sirens where off, but the flashing red lights rotated around, lighting up the street.

From Ben and Vanessa's vantage point, they were not able to see anything so they moved to a better position. They did their best to scan the crowd to look for the man who saved Ben.

"Do you remember what he was wearing?" Vanessa asked.

"No, but keep your eyes out for an elderly man carrying me. I will be the last person to make it out."

"There!" Vanessa pointed.

From a side exit, the couple caught a glimpse of an elderly man staggering out of the building, struggling to carry a younger Ben in his arms. Immediately, paramedics and neighbours swarmed around them, obscuring the view.

"Come on," Ben said, rushing across the street.

The paramedics were quick to respond. They attended to Ben and lifted him off the ground and onto a stretcher. An oxygen mask was placed around his nose and mouth as he was hauled into an awaiting ambulance. Another paramedic offered assistance to the old man, but the man waved them off and insisted he was fine.

By the time Ben and Vanessa arrived, the younger Ben had already been loaded into the back of the ambulance. They went separate ways, weaving through the crowd in an attempt to apprehend the old man, but when they met up again, they came up empty handed.

"Where'd he go?" Vanessa asked.

"I don't know, it's like he just vanished."

"What do we do now?" Vanessa asked.

"Let's not give up yet. We'll keep looking."

"And if we don't find him?"

"I know one other place to look. At some point he'll show up at the hospital and leave a note for me with the receptionist. If we can't find him here, we can wait for him there."

Vanessa looked around and from the corner of her eye, happened to spot an elderly man slink away behind the building.

"I think I just saw him," she said.

"Where?"

"He went behind the building."

"I'm going after him," Ben said, as he ran off.

Vanessa took it upon herself to run around the other side. Eventually, they met in the middle at the rear of the apartment.

"Where did he go?" Vanessa asked.

"I'm not sure."

Then, from the shadows, an unexpected voice startled them "Looking for me?"

The mystery man emerged from the shadows and revealed himself. It was dark, as the building shielded them from the street lights, but the moon provided just enough illumination for them to see.

"Who are you?" Ben asked.

Without saying a word the man approached Ben and stared at him face to face. "Don't you recognize me?" the old man said. "I'm you."

# Chapter Forty-Four

Ben studied the man. They were both the same height, similar build, and had similar facial features. If observing a younger version of oneself was strange, observing an older version was even weirder. Ben knew what he looked like a year ago, but to see himself as an old man was a trip.

"I go bald?" Ben asked, running his fingers through his hair.

"I'm afraid so," the man said with a chuckle.

"Do you mind telling me what the hell is going on?" Ben asked.

"You know, Ben, you don't give yourself enough credit sometimes. We're a lot smarter than you think. Forty years ago I stood where you are standing now, and I asked the same question. I'll tell you what the future us told me, but not here. Let's go back to your hotel, I believe you have an extra bed for me."

The three of them entered the vehicle with Vanessa taking the back seat to allow the two Bens to talk. During the short ride back to the hotel room, older Ben began to fill in the missing details of this grand mystery.

"You have it mostly figured out already, Ben. You figured out you travelled back in time, bought the lottery ticket, and met with Velena. But as of this moment, you have no idea what to do next, right?"

"No clue."

"You've probably read some notes about your life having a purpose. You inherit a house, discover a secret manuscript, and learn about the lost connection you have with Charles Gringer, but what does it all mean, you wonder?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm wondering. Please tell me you have the answers?"

"Yes, I will tell you everything, including who those two thugs are who were chasing after you."

"Please, I'm dying to know."

"Don't say that," older Ben said. "If you die now, you'll kill us both."

"Sorry, figure of speech."

"The two goons are from the future. They're called guardians."

"Guardians?"

"It's a long story, but they are essentially time cops."

"What do they want with me?"

"They want to prevent you from changing the world."

"I change the world?" Ben asked.

"Yes, and in a big way. You see, so far all these events have happened to you, but the truth is, your purpose is to serve Kyle."

"Kyle?" Ben said. "What does he have to do with any of this?"

"Everything. What you do from this moment forward is integral to helping him invent time travel. The money you leave for Kyle, which he will discover a year from now, will enable him to build a lab and employ some of the most brilliant minds around the world. Together, they will embark on a journey to do what no one else has been able to do. After nearly fifty years of toil and sacrifice, he and his team eventually develop a working prototype of a time machine — that little gizmo in your pocket. To test it, he needed a volunteer. Any guesses as to who he chose?"

"You... me... I mean, us?"

"Yes, exactly."

"You have no idea how many questions I have had throughout this past year. After you came into my apartment and saved my life, things became really strange."

"Indeed," the man said. "And yes, I do have an idea."

"Is there no time travel etiquette? I mean, couldn't you have left me a note or something?"

"I did leave a note."

"Don't give up, your life has a purpose and then some abstract numbers — that's the best you could come up with?"

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?"

Pulling up to the hotel, the three of them left the vehicle and entered through the lobby of the small hotel. The receptionist was now even more perplexed as to why an old man was accompanying a young couple into their hotel room at 4:00 a.m.

As soon as they stepped into the elevator, Ben asked. "So what do we do now?"

"We go to Calgary, reunite with your estranged grandfather, and... oh by the way, wait until you see this guy, he looks exactly like me."

"What happens to Charles Gringer?"

"He cashes the lottery ticket and splits it with you as per our agreement. He forms a new identity and vows to live the rest of his days as Elliot Hershel."

"Who's Elliot Hershel?"

"He's nobody, I just made him up," the man said, holding up a fake passport and ID.

"So in exchange for the ten-million dollars, he agrees to give me his house?"

"Wouldn't you do the same?" the older man asked. "Who could possibly refuse an offer like that?"

Now in the suite, the older Ben walked across the room to a desk in the corner and wrote the following note on the hotel stationary:

DON'T GIVE UP, YOUR LIFE HAS A PURPOSE – 40 35 55 81 11

"I have a question," Vanessa said, looking puzzled.

"Shoot."

"If these numbers come from you, and they were given to you by some future you, then where did they originate from?"

"I'm not sure I follow," younger Ben said.

"Think about it; there must be an original Ben who didn't have all this stuff happen to him, and then somehow travelled back in time to set this whole thing in motion."

"Huh?"

"I was struggling with this earlier, but needed time to wrap my head around it. Earlier we met with Velena and you informed her of your plan about her giving you a note on the bus. You then instructed her on what to write, which included her phone number."

"Yeah, so?"

"But you only knew her phone number because it was given to you a year prior. So in effect, you told yourself what her phone number was, and that doesn't make sense. Unless, of course, there was an original Ben – a Ben Prime, if you will – who was told the number by someone other than himself."

"An original Ben?"

"This so-called Ben Prime would have had a much different life than you. He did not inherit a house, did not find a secret manuscript, and did not win the lottery. And if he didn't win the lottery, he could not have funded Kyle's lab, and therefore, without the lab, there's no time travel. But if there's no time travel in the original Ben's life, how then does he travel back in time and orchestrate everything."

"You put all this together from a phone number?" Ben asked.

"It took some time to sort out in my head, but I think it makes sense to me now. Someone must have told the original Ben what Velena's phone number was. Once it was told to the original Ben, then forever after he could tell it to his younger self."

"She's right, you know," the older Ben said. "I can see why you are with her. Vanessa, you have made a very astute observation, articulating the apparent paradox eloquently."

"And another thing," Vanessa added. "I thought time travel is logically impossible due to the 'you' paradox?"

"The 'you' paradox?" older Ben repeated. "Don't you mean the grandfather paradox?"

"Slow down," young Ben said. "I'm not hip to all these paradoxes, what are you two talking about?"

"Allow me to explain, if I may," the older Ben offered. "The grandfather paradox states that a person cannot travel back in time because in doing so they could theoretically kill their grandfather as a child. If the time traveller's grandfather is killed as a child before he could have a son, then the time traveller would not be born. But if the time traveller is not born, how could he go back in time and kill his grandfather? So it would seem that one could both kill and not kill their grandfather... hence the paradox. But your beautiful and equally brilliant girlfriend has pointed out the redundancy of the paradox. In order to have the paradox, one does not need to go back in time to kill their grandfather, they just have to go back in time and kill themselves."

"Is this what they teach you in science classes?" Ben asked.

"No, of course not, I learned about this in philosophy."

"So how do we make sense of this?" Ben asked. "Through this hypothesis, time travel seems impossible, yet we know it to be true. By the way, please don't kill me to prove the hypothesis wrong."

"It's still not well understood, but some philosophers have postulated a multiple-universe hypothesis as a way around the grandfather paradox. So instead of time being linear, like travelling up and down a river, it would take you to an alternate universe where everything is the same. What happens to your relatives on that universe has no bearing on what happens to you. So you would not be killing your grandfather, or yourself, but rather some copy of your grandfather."

"Makes sense," Ben said.

"Think of time travel as sending a file in an email. When you attach a file, you are not sending the original file, you're sending a copy. The sender still keeps the original. So forty years from now, I step into a time machine, but it doesn't seem to work. I step out and live my life, but a copy of me actually does travel back in time to an alternate universe, where reality is the same."

"So you're a copy?" Ben asked.

"There's no way to know for sure, but that hypothesis seems to make the most sense."

"So people will continue to work on developing their time machine and never get confirmation that it actually works?"

"Unless they get confirmation."

"What do you mean?"

"If someone from the future suddenly shows up on their doorstep one day and tells them it will work."

# Chapter Forty-Five

It was nearly 5:00 a.m. when the two Bens left the hotel. They walked through the lobby and paid no mind to the confused-looking receptionist.

"Look, Ben, before we walk to the hospital to drop off this note, I need to tell you something," the older Ben said.

"What is it?"

"I didn't want to say this in front of Vanessa, but you have to do something later that will seriously challenge your morals."

"I have morals?" Ben said in jest.

"You're going to have to kill Charles Gringer."

"You want me to travel back in time to kill my grandfather?"

"Yes, I know the irony of it considering our previous discussion, but this has to happen. It won't affect anything since you are killing an old man, not your grandfather as a child."

"Why does he have to die?"

"It's just the way it is."

"No, I can't do that," Ben protested. "I won't do it."

"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."

# Chapter Forty-Six

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."

# Chapter Forty-Seven

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.

"You're not planning on killing yourself are you?" the older Ben asked.

"What? No, of course not. I'm trying to psych myself up for the 'thing' I have to do."

"What thing?"

"Killing Gringer?" Ben said in a hushed tone.

"Oh, yeah I meant to tell you. You don't actually have to do that, I was just messing with you."

"Are you being serious?"

"Yeah, I was totally joking, I thought you knew this whole time."

"What kind of joke is that?" Ben asked furiously.

"I'm sorry, I thought we had the same sense of humour."

"Oh my gosh, I can't believe you made me think that," Ben stood up and stormed around the room." Do you have any idea how much stress you caused me?"

"Just relax, I didn't think you would get all worked up about it. I was just trying to have some fun with you. I think in a few years you're going to look back on this and laugh."

Ben shook his head at his older self. "When did you become such an asshole."

"I said I was sorry."

Ben let out a big sigh of relief. "Okay, so now what?"

"We have to go."

"Go where?"

"Back to the future."

"I can't leave Vanessa."

"Ben, I know this is hard to accept, but look at me, do you see Vanessa around? We don't end up with the girl in the end. She's not in our destiny."

"I don't care about destiny, I'm going back for her."

"Unfortunately, Ben, it doesn't work like that. You are bound by your destiny. Every thought in your head, every word you utter, it's all scripted, it's all part of the grand design."

"Yeah, I've heard that before."

With the gun still in his hand, Ben raised his arm and put the barrel in his mouth.

"Ben, what are you doing?" the senior Ben shouted.

"Changing my destiny."

Just after saying that, Ben closed his eyes and pulled the trigger. The gun's hammer snapped back. The sound was loud enough to cause Ben to flinch, but the gun failed to go off. Ben opened his eyes and slowly took the gun out of his mouth. Senior Ben was taken aback.

"Ben, give me the gun," senior Ben said. "You obviously don't die today, or else I wouldn't be standing here, but don't test destiny. This isn't an exact science, I don't know what will happen if you pull that trigger again, you may not be so lucky the second time around."

"You know, I meditated for over an hour this morning, trying to go to a mental place where I could kill a man. I thought about the pain of being unwanted by my parents, the torment of being bullied as a kid, the vicious beatings by the Wibley's, and yielding to the authority of those who abuse their power. I didn't think I had it in me to go through with it, but I was wrong. You created a monster and now that monster is going to kill you."

Ben raised the gun and pointed at the older Ben's head.

"Why do you look so surprised?" Ben asked. "You didn't you see this coming, did you?"

"Ben, please put the gun down. Even though you can't die today, I can."

Then senior Ben said the one thing that could save his life.

"I pulled that trigger forty years ago and have regretted it ever since."

The comment found its mark. Now if Ben truly wanted to change his destiny, he would have to not kill his older self. Ben lowered the weapon and then started laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"I took the bullets out of the gun," he said. "Now we're even."

# Chapter Forty-Eight

The car pulled up to the hotel just past noon. With a hurried pace, Ben rushed through the front doors and dashed across the lobby as if he were late for a meeting. Frantically pressing the elevator button several times, Ben eventually opted to take the stairs. His room was on the third floor, and when he arrived he took out his key card and inserted it into the door.

"Hi, honey," Vanessa said, greeting Ben as he entered the room. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything is fine now, I just couldn't wait to see you," he said, walking over to her and giving her a hug.

"Ah, that's sweet. I know we spoke briefly on the phone, but tell me everything that happened."

"So as you know, that note wasn't from me, it was the handiwork of my future counterpart. He tricked me into going to Calgary without you. I thought you were asleep in the backseat for almost two hours of the trip."

"I was wondering why there were no pillows on his bed."

"Once I found out you were not there, I forced him to pull over and we fought."

"Oh my gosh, I can't believe you fought yourself. Who won?"

"Well... I did."

"So what happened after that?"

"He convinced me to go on without you. He said it was for the greater good of the mission and made me think that I didn't really have a choice. I started thinking about my destiny and how he had experienced all this before, so I didn't see the point in trying to fight with him anymore. After that, I just went along with everything he said."

"What I want to know is when do you become such a devious trickster? I'm not looking forward to that. First, he made you believe you would have to kill your grandfather. Then he lied to you about me being in the back seat."

"I'm not sure why he did that. Either he was just sticking to the script or it was his idea of a joke. Apparently my sense of humour changes in the next forty years."

"So in forty years are you going to do this all over again — you're going to play those same tricks on the younger you?"

"I don't know what I'll do," Ben said thoughtfully. "I had a lot of time to think about it on the drive to Cold Lake. If I don't come back here when I'm older, the younger me will likely die in that fire. It sort of forces my hand a bit, doesn't it?"

"Where is future Ben now?"

"I'm not sure. He went his way and I went mine. He refused to tell me any details about the future, but assured me he will be seeing me again at some point."

"How will he find you?"

"As long as he doesn't lose his memory, he'll know exactly where I am at all times. He's already lived this life before."

"So does that mean there's no free will?"

"I don't know. It certainly feels like there is, but I'm not really sure. Right now, I think it's more like fatalism."

"What's that?"

"It's like destiny in that certain events must happen, but other events are not as necessary. So the fire at my apartment may be necessary since other events are contingent on it, but the words I say and the minor day-to-day actions are not so strictly written in stone."

"It sounds really philosophical."

"It is and I'm not sure I really understand it, but I'm just going to live my life and not worry too much about it."

"So what now?" Vanessa asked.

"The Ben of this time is probably asleep on a bus right now, heading to Calgary. A part of me wants to meet him at the bus depot and explain everything to him."

"You have to let him have his own life and discover this organically, as you did. I don't think it's good to know the future," Vanessa said.

"You're starting to sound like future Ben."

"I know, but he's right."

"Maybe," Ben said, pondering the truth of her statement. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small object he had found in the secret room.

"Did he explain what that thing is?" Vanessa asked.

"It's a time travelling device. He said to activate it, all we have to do is think about a place and time, and we'll be instantly transported there."

"Are you being serious?" Vanessa asked in amazement. "I can't believe this."

"Believe it."

"A cousin of mine works as a flight attendant and gets to travel around the world for free, and I thought that was an awesome perk. Ben, this is incredible!"

"He was also very stern on the dangers of time travel, but knows I won't abuse them. It's important to keep this device protected since we cannot ensure others will be as careful as us."

"Yeah, I can only imagine all the greedy and impulsive things a person could do if they had the opportunity to go back and re-write history."

"It's a good thing I'm not greedy and impulsive," Ben joked.

"Riiight," she said sarcastically.

"So right now, I came here to get you and take you back to our time. When we get back to Calgary we will have a much different life. There's an account set up in my name with ten million dollars in it."

"But what about the thugs and the bank robber?"

"I didn't say we had to remain in Calgary. I have a plan to take you somewhere exotic."

"Really, where?" Vanessa asked.

"Perhaps it would be better to ask, when?"

# A Special Note from the Author

If you've read to the end, then chances are you've had a few comments, questions, or concerns about the plot. While time travel is inherently complicated, it has remained a captivating plot device throughout literature, television, and movies. I love time travel and grew up with Back to the Future, Quantum Leap, The Time Machine, Lost, and so on. Once I became a writer, I wanted to try to write my own time travel story.

Anyone who spends any time thinking, or writing, about time travel will inevitably run into paradoxes. The reality is there are no simple ways to resolve these problems. At a certain point, I had Vanessa point out the absurdity to the two Bens. I did this as a tongue-in-cheek way to let the audience know that I was aware of the absurdity. But as it remains, I never satisfactorily resolved the issue.

A potential solution to the grandfather paradox is posed as the Ben from the future discusses the alternate world's hypothesis. However, later on young Ben cuts himself and it shows up as a scar on his older counterpart. Of course this isn't compatible with the alternate world's hypothesis, but it's a cool scene so I left it in. As with most science-fiction, the reader must suspend a certain amount of disbelief for the sake of the story. I ask you not to look too deeply for plot holes and just enjoy the story at face value.

Lastly, if you enjoyed the book, please help spread the word by giving it a 5-star review on Goodreads, or wherever you purchased it.

Thank you for reading.

Edward Mullen

# About the Author

Edward Mullen is a novelist, blogger, and podcaster from Vancouver, Canada. The Secret Manuscript is his third novel.

Born and raised in beautiful British Columbia, Edward developed a love for the wilderness. This love, combined with an innate curiosity about all things, eventually spawned a healthy imagination for storytelling.

Despite spending a lot of his time indoors writing, Edward continues to enjoy the outdoors. He is an avid tennis player, mountain biker, snowboarder, runner, and traveler.

For more information about Edward Mullen, such as his podcast, blog, or upcoming books, please visit:

www.EdwardMullen.com
