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  Pike thought about confronting George before class, meaning hustle and get there first, and wait outside the door, and when he shows up put your toughest face on and tell him he better behave himself today.

  The problem obviously, this could backfire and typically did. When you told someone not to do it--especially a jerk-someone, that made them inclined to do it more.

  So all Pike could do was sweat it out in class, at the mercy of what might transpire.

  Class began and Gene and Jorge were both there and yes there was some trash talk between them but so far it wasn’t real loud or over the top, and Mr. Witherspoon pulled down a map of South America from the frame of the blackboard and started using a long pointer and talking.

  This was an encouraging sign, that he didn’t begin class with a new seat chart. Now all you had to do was make sure he wasn’t saving it up to spring on you later in the period.

  Then, the fire alarm went off, and this seemed like a real fortuitous break, Pike thinking of how they have you stand around in front of the school during fire drills and they test out their procedures or whatever . . . and it can often eat up a period.

  But it turned out it was a false alarm--the custodian was doing something and he triggered one of them, and 5 minutes after vacating the classroom, they were back.

  There was a half hour left . . . but then a minute later Pike noticed, how could he have missed it, that Gene didn’t come back after the fake fire drill.

  Hmm . . . Wow. So that guy wouldn’t be triggering anything at least . . . So now the only concern left, you prayed that Mr. Witherspoon didn’t have that plan to change the seating anyway, before the end of class . . . and Pike watched the clock tick down, and with 15 minutes left he raised his hand and started asking questions about South America.

  Pike didn’t know much about South America--he hadn’t paid enough attention when his own sophomore history class had studied it--but he winged it well enough to keep Mr. Witherspoon busy. When the teacher finished answering one question, Pike fired off another, and finally, mercifully, the bell rang and 4th period History was done for the week.

  It may have been Pike’s imagination but when they were filing out into the hall after the bell, he thought Dave was looking at him funny--and then he noticed Eva maybe doing the same thing--and yeah, the mind can play funny tricks . . . but you never know.

  At this point he was pretty dang confident that he really could take off right now. That would of course require a starting point, but he’d done it before from Pocatello--he’d just have to remind himself from where . . . He was putting it together now, there was a snow melt runoff operation, a city deal, up in the hills above the Super 8, and there were some old structures up there. Maybe the snow and ice this late in the season would be an issue, but you’d figure it out. One thing for sure, plenty up this way was a heck of a lot older and more workable than almost anything in Phoenix.

  But, Pike was also thinking . . . maybe stick around to the end of the day--and what the heck, go to the game, the Apple thing. See what the big deal was.

  He was on the team after all--sort of. Unlikely he’d get inserted into it, he was basically the last man on the bench at this point--but all in all this had been a heckuva week so you might as well finish it off.

  The only concern might be the post-game launch point, since it would be dark and hard to find the watershed tunnel he was picturing on that hillside. Worst scenario though, you spend another night in the dorm, it wouldn’t kill you.

  So he showed up at 5:30 as required, an hour and a half before tip-off, and by 6:15 it was apparent this was a pretty big deal. You had a couple busses arriving from the other school, West Mercer, and from the locker room you could hear the stands upstairs in the main gym starting to rock, and Pike was wondering if our stands at Hamilton ever rocked this much period, during a game.

  When the teams hit the floor for the warm-up, 15 minutes to go, both sides of the gym were packed. You had a PA announcer building up the drama, and not only full cheerleader squads for both schools but dance teams as well.

  Honestly, this little scrimmage deal, that the coach downplayed most of the week--the atmosphere felt like a state playoff basketball game in California.

  The game started and Pike had a chance to size up his own teammates, which he really hadn’t paid a lot of attention to in practice--who the skill players were. There was a kid Malcom, a skinny forward who was pretty smooth, and another kid Jake, who surprised Pike by pouring in a couple of 3-pointers in the first few minutes, and Cotter took the early lead. Dave got in the game toward the end of the end of the 1st half, and he wasn’t bad, and you could tell that by his senior year he’d be one of the stars.

  Halftime activities for both schools were thunderously loud, with both student bodies extremely passionate, and the stage was set for the second half.

  Unfortunately Cotter fell apart a bit, and this one kid Hoak for West Mercer was starting to dominate whoever defended him, and he was racking up the points, and there was another kid doing some damage too, and you could see that West Mercer had the stronger team this year.

  With under 5 minutes to go, Cotter was down by 18 points, and Pike’s coach looked down his way and told him and the last few other kids on the bench to get up, that they were going in.

  This was called garbage time, where a team was either too far ahead or too far behind for anything to change, and the substitutes got a chance to get out there and run around.

  Normally both teams handled it that way, but for whatever reason West Mercer left their starting players in the game--and right away Pike found himself dealing with the Hoak kid, the best player, and half-way up the court someone throws it to Pike and just like that Hoak steals it and casually drives the other way and scores.

  This would have been okay--not that Pike was happy about it--but realistically, Pike wasn’t anywhere the guy’s league in terms of ability, so these things happen, what could you do.

  The thing being though, Hoak added onto the play by trash-talking Pike on the way back to the other end. Pike didn’t want to repeat or dwell on what the guy said, but it was pretty dang nasty stuff. And Gee, your team’s ahead by 20 now, you have to rub it in?

  Unfortunately it happened again pretty quick, a Cotter guy getting double-teamed in the lane and feeding the ball back outside to Pike, and Pike hesitated a little too long before putting up a shot--and the shot never did go up, because here came Hoak blocking it, picking up the loose ball, and again going the length of the floor to score unchallenged.

  This time on the way back Hoak brought one of Pike’s family members into it. Adding that juicy morsel to the trash-talk mix.

  Pike was not a happy individual at that point.

  With just under a minute to go, Pike got the ball one more time. He was between the mid-court circle and the top of the key.

  35 feet from the basket.

  Hoak was guarding him, the guy flashing a wicked smile as he waiting for Pike to get clumsy again with the ball, and grab it.

  This time Pike kept the ball on his back side, protected it better, and another guy set a pick, meaning tried to get in Hoak’s way so Pike could maneuver, and Pike started his dribble . . . but Hoak easily collapsed the pick and was right back in Pike’s face . . . except Pike had just a little forward momentum now, plus some incentive . . .

  And he figured, if you’re going to go for it you might as well really cut it loose . . . and he wheeled toward the key, took one monster step toward the foul line and elevated . . .

  And everything slowed down, and you couldn’t hear the crowd, and all you could see was one of the referees standing on the baseline looking up with a whistle in his mouth . . . and then Hoak came into view, going up with Pike, making contact with him, trying to shut down whatever Pike had in mind . . .

  And Pike soared toward the hoop and gritted his teeth and unleashed a savage, monumental, slam-dunk of the basketball, the force of which shattered the glass backboard i
nto a thousand tiny pieces.

  For good measure, when Pike descended he landed on Hoak, who was sprawled out, not looking all that great.

  The eerie part, the whole gym had gone completely silent.

  Pike was kind of with them on that, he hadn’t expected that outcome either. Sure, he was hoping to dunk it on the kid, but the backboard exploding part--that was admittedly a surprise.

  And maybe just a bit unnerving and unwise, with the evening’s festivities having been slammed to an abrupt halt--to be standing there now as the center of attention.

  A couple players were bending over Hoak asking if he was okay, and a coach came out, and the kid did seem all right--but meanwhile it also seemed like a prudent time to get out of there, with the guy getting up now and being helped off, and before the focus shifted back to Pike . . . and there was a series of exit doors behind the baseline and Pike picked one of them and barrelled out into the night.

  Chapter 12

  The first thing you were happy to experience, back on the front end, Arizona, was the 50 or so degree difference in temperature.

  Pike had aimed to conclude the round trip at the starting point, the old school cellar--even though he hadn’t wanted to, it seemed wise to direct your focus there--but he ended up arriving around the side of the first building--the old church--and when he got his bearings he noticed the homeless guy wasn’t there.

  It was sure nice to have your phone working for the first time in 5 days, and it was coming up on 6pm here. Tuesday. December 27th.

  Always a major relief to establish that that stuff lined up right.

  What Pike had done was go back to the dorm for the one more night, no reason to go nuts after the game trying to find an acceptable venue. In fact he’d jogged to the dorm directly from the game. He was warmed up, that’s for sure, and the adrenaline was still flowing, and he didn’t even think about it, before he knew it he was in hallway headed to his room.

  And one more social night, at the college level--what could it hurt? Especially being a Friday.

  Except for . . . one real pain in the neck he hadn’t thought of, was he had to get back to school to pick up his clothes, but especially his wallet . . . so there was 8 more bucks down the drain for an Uber, with the guy nice enough to wait . . . and the school was quiet, it was two hours after the game but Pike was confident there’d be a custodian around, and there was, and he was able to get in the locker room and grab his stuff.

  Back in the dorms again, it was pretty quiet until about 11:30, and then there was some knocking on doors and a bunch of his fellow students were going out to a club, or bar, and Pike wasn’t sure of the drinking age out here but either way he wasn’t going to produce any ID, that’s for sure, but they all got right in and it was one of those deals where the age groups were divided but everyone was under one roof. There was a DJ and some dancing and then the late local news came on, on a couple of big-screen overhead TV’s . . . and this was unfortunately during a break for the DJ and you could hear the TV’s loud and clear . . . and wouldn’t you know, the sports report, they led off with Pike’s novelty effort at the end of the game.

  The worst part, there was a video, but thank God it was a poor-quality one, clearly off someone’s phone and the person not holding it that steady, and you couldn’t make out Pike very well.

  There were a lot of oohs and ahs in the club though when the backboard imploded, from those who had looked up enough to be paying attention, and Pike tried to make himself less visible, if that was possible. One good thing, in the dorm he was Monte, while at school and being named by the sportscaster at the end of the report, he was Miles . . . and the last names were close but didn’t match up either, so you hoped no one in the dorm put anything together . . . and pretty quick the news was done and the action was back to normal, and the subject never came up the rest of the night.

  The watershed tunnel Saturday morning above the Super 8 was pretty darn wet, and ice cold, but rather than screw around trying to find something better Pike accepted it and got his feet soaked and most of his legs up to his knees too, but the transition worked, and here he was . . . about to check in with Jack Hannamaker. Or Mitch. Or whoever answered their phone.

  He tried Jack first, and as the phone started ringing Pike seized on something he hadn’t thought of, and he started freaking out.

  What he wasn’t sure of--suddenly--was did you need to come all the way back in these deals--complete your round trip--for any changes you made to take hold?

  Whooooo.

  He thought back to his other examples. Unless he was blanking out on something obvious, the answer was . . . he wasn’t sure.

  He couldn’t think of another situation where the time on the front end had been ticking down with an urgent, imperative intensity.

  Had he ever clarified . . . let’s say the Milburns . . . when he traveled to Chico and engineered the groundwork for them never moving to Beacon--did that mean they weren’t then going to move to Beacon no matter what?

  Say for example, he, Pike, never left 1990’s Chico--hypothetically. Was the Milburns’ adjustment complete, regardless of if-and-when he returned to the present?

  Dang. He couldn’t help thinking of an example in a class somewhere, where the teacher threw it out there--that if a tree falls in the forest in the middle of the night, and there’s no one around to hear it, did it actually make any noise then?

  It wasn’t a perfect comparison--but the bottom line now: by fooling around up there after the game, and spending the extra night in the dorm . . . which was roughly what, 15 hours extra--translated in real hospital time to about 40 minutes . . .

  Could the unthinkable have happened? That the 40 minutes was enough extra time for a massive infection to escalate, and Eva not to make it?

  And therefore, as Pike speculated could be the case, the situation would be irreversible?

  Jack’s phone went to voice mail, and Pike tried Mitch, and the same deal there, and where was everyone, this was getting scarier by the moment . You could text one of them but Pike had to know right now, and fortunately he had Lucy’s number, so he tried that.

  “Hello, my friend,” Lucy was saying. Pike could hear what sounded like swimming pool splashing going on in the background.

  He said, “Is there, do we have, like anyone in trouble? . . . If you know what I mean?”

  “Pike honey I have no idea what you mean. I don’t mean to pry, did something go wrong at the zoo? I have to say, you don’t sound like yourself.”

  Pike so no, nothing went wrong at the zoo, and he thanked her and got off. You could almost take a deep breath but not quite.

  But when Jack thank God got back to him a minute later, it was clear that it was just Jack, Andrea and this girl Heidi in the mix, who Pike apparently met at the water park the day before--no Daves or Evas in the conversation . . . but more important to Jack was, where the heck did he disappear to, they came out of the hamburger place and they couldn’t find him.

  It took a moment for Pike to put it together, and then get his composure . . . and now you could legitimately take that confident deep breath . . .

  Whoaaaa boy . . .

  “Which hamburger place?” Pike said.

  “Come on Bud,” Jack said, “don’t mess with us, today’s not the right time to be joking around.”

  Or maybe not, with the deep breath. Holy Toledo.

  “What, today?” he said, “what are you talking about?”

  “Dude, are you catatonic or some shit? Andrea. Obviously.”

  And Pike had to sweat this one out, getting to the bottom of it while pretending to be someone who was there--as opposed to someone who just arrived from Mars . . . and the gist of it was: there was an old-fashioned steam train ride at the zoo, and they were on these miniature open-air cars with bench seats, and an extra person got in Andrea’s car, which squeezed her shoulder slightly over the outside edge, and coming around a turn she clipped one of those mini railroad crossing signs. One o
f the black-and-white jobs with crisscross on it.

  All Pike could do was tell Jack he’d call him back.

  He thought about it carefully, and tried to relate this potentially terrible development to the 10 Rules.

  Then he thought, you know what? This may have been what was supposed to happen though, wasn’t it?

  Before Dave and Eva entered the picture.

  And something told him everything was going to be okay, other than everyone dealing with a little stress today . . . and he called Jack back and asked how Andrea was doing at the moment . . . and Jack gave him the silent treatment, as in how could he not know . . . but finally Pike indirectly got it clear, that they’d run her to a hospital for x-rays and had to wait forever but they were negative, and she was feeling mostly fine, other than popping a few aspirin.

  Pike didn’t want to truly alarm Jack that he’d lost his mind by asking where the burger place was, and where were they now, exactly . . . and he suggested they meet at Pancho’s Taqueria in downtown Scottsdale, since he remembered seeing that place and knew it existed . . . and Jack said whatever, except they just ate, and Pike said so, we can eat again--which might not apply to Jack or the others but it definitely applied to Pike, he could eat a moose.

  Chapter 13

  One interesting discovery Pike made while the four of them were sitting around a table at Pancho’s Taqueria, Pike doing the bulk of the food-consuming--and thinking separately that they really could use a place like this in Beacon--was Heidi was not a college freshman anymore, as Heather had been, but a sophomore.