Second Chance

Chapter 23

Chapter 23

He was mad. Someone else knew of the painting and legends. It was all in the young man’s story. Even his name appeared; Van Rossum was the antagonist. He picked up the Xeroxed copy of the three-page story and threw it. He clicked the button under his desk. He needed his men.

Three men walked in; Bowles, Hannah, and a third man. “I want you two to go and watch over his kid,” he demanded. “There’s something about him, something I need to know.” He pulled out two photos his cousin included in the package.

“When do you want us to do this?” Victor Matthews asked.

Van Rossum glared. “Right now you idiot.

“He’s still in class, sir,” Hannah interjected.

Van Rossum inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. He calmly spoke. “I know. I want you three to go to the school, make yourselves inconspicuous, and follow him. I want to know where he goes, what he does. This Vaughn kid knows something, knows about the painting, and I want to find that out.”

Bowles and Hannah grabbed the pictures and turned immediately, Matthews waited. “Come with us,” Hannah said, grabbing the younger man’s arms.

The men entered the elevator and descended into the parking garage. No one spoke a word. When the elevator stopped, someone asked a question.

Matthews queried, “If one of us sees the kid and follows, how do we tell the others?”

Without hesitation, Bowles answered, “If after 30 minutes you don’t see him or see one of the others following, leave and come back here, back to the garage.”

Bowles reached into his jacket pocket and presented Matthews with a picture. “Remember this face. It’s very important.”

“Don’t you need it?”

“No, I don’t. I know what he looks like. I’ve seen the kid around, seen him downtown before, several times.”

Hannah joked, “At the café?”

“How did you know?”

“I hate to break up this joke fest,” Matthews began, “But shouldn’t we get going?”

“You’re right,” Bowles said.

Hannah wished his colleagues well and opened his car door. The others found their vehicles quickly.

Matthews sat in his for a moment. He looked at the dark-skinned teenager and began to doubt the sincerity of his boss. “Who could this kid be in so much danger?” he thought to himself. He shook his head and put the picture on the passenger’s seat. He started the engine, put the car in gear, and headed out of the garage.



The final bell rang as he finished changing from gym class. He loved last period gym, allowed him to take his time to change or take a shower. He didn’t like rushing out, smelling of sweat. Micah also liked seventh period gym as a senior: on sunny, non-track meet days he could lay and work on his tan. He finished changing and headed out of the locker room.

“Anything planned today?” Coach Perry asked as the teen walked past the coaches’ room.

“I have to meet my sister down at Union. She and I are talking with one of her professors.”

The coach stood and walked to the doorway. “Talking to a professor for next year?”

“No, I’m going to SCCC. I need to pick his brain about something.”

“Good luck then Chance.” The coach returned to the coach’s desk and continued to read a magazine.

Micah shook his head and headed towards the newspaper and yearbook editorial room, to check on his short story. Miss Cleary told him to come after classes ended to check on his grade. He wasn’t hoping for an “A”, though her initial thought was the story more than likely would receive it. He knew there were punctuation and grammatical errors, but he was pleased with it overall. He would love the “A”, but a “C” would help cover points he missed during the final.

He turned the editorial room doorknob and found it locked. He knocked softly.

“Oh I forgot I locked it,” Miss Clearly said. She took a step back, allowing him to enter.

“I know why you’re here,” she quipped. “Follow me.” The two walked into the classroom. He stopped at her desk. She reached into a pile of papers and pulled out his story. She looked at it and smiled.

“I loved it,” she said. “Though there were just a few errors, punctuation and spelling, it was a very enjoyable read. You should rewrite it, make the changes to the errors, and submit it to a magazine. I think it could be published.” She handed it to him.

He looked at the paper and saw the red letter “A” grade. He was thrilled: he had one less final to worry over. “Do you really think so; think I could get this published?”

“I teach creative writing, Chance, and this is the best short story I’ve read all year. If you want, I can give you a few suggestions on how to make it better and longer.”

“Why longer?”

“Most magazines, especially ones that publish suspense thrillers like yours, pay per word. The more words, the more money you earn.”

“I didn’t think of it that way.” He looked at the story and wondered if the Presence will help him as it had the previous day. Micah struggled some, forgetting important facts about the dream, like names of people and descriptions of places. He asked the Presence if it would help with the rewrite: the request was unanswered.

“So now that you know, I bet I’ll be reading some of your short stories in magazines, like Ellery Queen and Alfred Hitchcock Presents.”

He looked at her and smiled. “I’ve seen those at Walden’s and at the market.”

“Each of them has addresses for writers to send in for submission guidelines. If I were you, that is what I’d do, get those guidelines.”

“Thank you again, Miss Clearly.” He turned to walk out but stopped. “I’ll go to the mall, to the bookstore, and see if other magazines have submission guideline addresses.”

“If you do, let me know, so I’ll know which magazines to look in for your name.”

He waved and thanked her again. He exited the room and headed to his locker.

Emily Cleary sat in her chair and shook her head. She liked Micah and honestly knew he had talent. She now wished she hadn’t talked to her cousin Kiliaen. She knew his temper. She knew how he reacted when he thought someone outside the family knew of the painting.

“What have I done?” she cried to herself.



He walked out of the school and to his Monza. Over his back, he had his omnipresent black backpack. Lately, it carried nothing more than a book or two, but today it had something that was going to lead to him earning money, and possibly a change in his future. Maybe he’ll take more Creative Writing and Literature courses at college, so he can learn to write better, use better descriptions, and most importantly, use more words.

Micah opened the door and tossed the backpack into the back. He gave his watch a quick glance. He had a few minutes before he had to be at Union, be at the professor’s office to talk with him. He sat and smiled: he had a new path to follow.

Micah didn’t see the man in the parking lot, sitting behind the wheel of the dark blue Pontiac Grand Prix. Hannah turned on the engine and readied to follow the teenager.



Stuart DeMuth was a professor of Physics at Union College. Though he had been at the school for over 30 years, he didn’t look like it. He was young in heart and energetic. DeMuth dressed in jeans and t-shirts on most days, wearing flannel on coldest days. He interacted well with his students and always challenged them to think outside the box. DeMuth was well liked by his students and respected by his fellow faculty.

Where he didn’t look like the stereotypical professor, DeMuth’s office was another story. There were papers, books, and file folders in every available space. The desk was old, constructed sometime in the 1800s and made of oak. There were bookshelves covering three of the four walls, each shelf crammed with books and papers the professor has collected in his years of teaching. What surprised Micah was the leather couch and overstuffed chairs, each in good condition and free from clutter.

“Professor, this is my brother Micah,” Ewa said in introduction.

“Nice to meet you,” the older man said. He was standing in front of his desk talking with Ewa when Micah entered.

Professor DeMuth was blunt and to the point. “Your sister tells me that you might have someone in your soul.”

The comment made Micah take a step back. He wasn’t expecting such candor and openness from the professor. He looked at his sister with wide eyes.

“Just be honest with him,” she told him. “He’s not going to judge you or have you committed.”

He rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Sis.” Micah took a seat in the open chair in front of the desk. He took a deep breath to steel his nerves. “Yes I do. It came to me on Saturday, right after I woke up from a dream.”

“Ewa told me about the dream, told me that you said it was so realistic that it felt you were there.”

Micah nodded. “Yes. I told myself it was just a dream and something told me it might not have been.” He looked around the room; his gaze came upon several thick books. He tilted his head to read the authors; the professor wrote all.

DeMuth looked at the teenager and asked, “Have you ever heard of the Multiverse Theory?”

“Yes, but only in comic books.”

The professor smiled. “The comics’ version gives the basic explanation of it, so I won’t bore you with the text-book definition.”

“Oh, you won’t tell him, but I had to sit through it,” Ewa complained.

“He’s not one of my Physics students, is he?”

She chuckled. “No, so he gets a pass.”

“Where was I? Oh yes, Micah, I think the person inside your mind or soul is you, an older you, from either the future of this reality or from another one.”

Micah sat silently, his jaw slacked open.

“Do you have any questions?” the professor asked.

He thought for a moment. “I have many, but only one, and you can’t answer.”

“The older you can only do that?” The professor smiled and touched the teen on his knee. “I completely understand.”

Ewa looked at her brother and asked, “Can we talk with him, with the older you?”

Before Micah could answer, the Presence spoke to the teen. “It’s all true. Yes, I’m the older you. I’m not sure, though, from this Earth or another. I’m assuming this one.”

“I, I mean, he says that he’s the older me. He doesn’t know from which reality though. He said it’s most likely this one.”

The Professor nodded and looked at Micah. He saw the second pair of unfocused eyes. Unlike those that had seen them, he didn’t flinch. “I see older Micah is with us. Can I ask two questions?”

Older Micah nodded.

“Has anything changed and if so, what changed?”

Older Micah did not hesitate. It was what he felt was the reason he returned to his time. “I told Antoinette I loved her.”