Chapter 3
Sam had to admit, he didn’t feel quite himself this leap. Everything was bothering him. And he felt a kind of anxiety that sat deep in his stomach, causing it to churn unceasingly.
He’d had momentary relief upon spotting Al, but then he’d snapped at his friend like all of this was his fault. It wasn’t, of course, Sam told himself. In fact, maybe it was his own fault—after all, he’d been the one who chose to step into the Quantum Leap Accelerator to begin with.
But he could tell there was something off-kilter about him right now; he just couldn’t figure out what. Maybe, he thought, it was some form of bleed-through from Bobby that was making him feel this way. Was Bobby secretly terrified of going to Vietnam too? Well, he thought, given what was going to happen to him, that was probably good instincts on his part.
He kept his head down as he walked Brenda back to what Al assured him was their little house, with a well-maintained flower bed in the front.
Bobby’s wife had her arm around him as she swayed and bumped against him, having downed numerous glasses of wine, as opposed to Sam’s one-and-a-half beers.
“He’s got feet down below his knees,” she sung in an off-key warble. “Something-something-something feel his diseaaassse!”
Sam looked down at her with a smirk. “Don’t quit your day job,” he mumbled, not caring if she could hear him.
She giggled at this, giving him a playful push. “That was mean, Bobby!”
Sam frowned. Yeah, it kind of was mean. He would normally keep stray thoughts like that to himself. As he opened the front door to Bobby’s home, he made a mental note to watch what came out of his mouth.
Inside the house, Al was waiting for him, his hands now free of the mug he’d been holding earlier, replaced by a cigar between his fingers.
“Alright, Brenda,” Sam said, taking the drunken woman by the hand, “Let’s get you to bed. You need to sleep it off.”
Brenda gave him a disappointed look that reminded Sam of a pouting child. “Hey, don’t you wanna make love to me, Bobby?” She played at his shirt collar, and moved to start unbuttoning it. Sam guided her hands away.
“Look… honey…” he said haltingly. How was he supposed to put across that he was just not interested? “I, uh… well, I’m not feeling so hot. I guess it’s the nerves.”
“Oh. Okay, baby. I won’t force it…” Crestfallen, Brenda heaved a sigh and stumbled in the direction of what Sam assumed to be the bedroom. As she bumped into the door frame, she turned around with what Sam assumed was supposed to be a sultry smile. “But if you start feelin’ better, I’ll be waiting in bed.”
“Oh, Sam…” Al piped up, hovering behind him, “she wants you bad. What a waste.”
Sam shot Al a dirty look. He wasn’t going to sleep with a drunk girl he didn’t even know. And he felt insulted that Al would suggest doing such a thing.
“Hey, don’t give me that look,” Al said, waving his hands defensively. “She sees you as her husband, and all she wants is some comfort before you get shipped out. She’s gonna be pining for him when he’s gone, you know.”
“Let her pine,” Sam muttered. “I’m not Bobby, okay?”
“Well she doesn’t know that,” Al said, waving his cigar towards the bedroom. “She deserves some marital bliss.”
“Well, maybe I shouldn’t have leaped into this guy so early, then,” Sam countered. “I can’t give her what she needs, because what she needs isn’t me. And frankly, I’m tired of having to navigate these kinds of awkward situations all the time.”
He sat down heavily on the olive green couch, burying his head in his hands and groaning.
Was it too much to ask to leap into some kind of hermit living in a cave somewhere, just to have a break? The thought of having no more strangers for whom to put on an improv show was very appealing right now.
Boy, I really am losing it, he thought as he dragged his hands down his face. The hell’s the matter with me?
“Jeez, Sam…” Al said, voice strained. “I kinda wonder if the foul mood you have goin’ on here is maybe connected to some o’ the problems we’ve got.”
Sam looked up at him warily. “Problems?” He folded his arms. “Oh, great, of course—when aren’t there problems? So, what is it this time? Ziggy has a toothache, despite having no teeth? Or maybe she’s got a computer virus that’s making her speak backwards. It’s always something unbelievable like that.”
Al’s head bobbed from side to side. “No, not so much that. Ziggy’s doing okay for the most part. It’s actually the—”
As if to demonstrate the problems, Al’s hologram flickered and vanished before Sam’s eyes.
“Whoa!” Sam exclaimed, reaching his hand to the space where Al had been. “Al?”
Sam stood, staring at the empty spot, perplexed, and feeling panic rising in his chest.
“Oh boy.”
* * *
As Bobby’s living room flickered in and out of the Imaging Chamber, Al momentarily found himself in a dark place under a starry sky, next to what he could have sworn was a tall tepee. But the discrepancy lasted only a split-second before the image dissipated, leaving him alone in the white room.
Al grumbled, bashing at the handlink, which responded with an unhelpful squawk.
“Gooshie?” He called out. “What’s going on?”
“Admiral…” Gooshie’s nervous voice came over the intercom, “we seem to have lost the signal for now.”
“Thank you for that, Sherlock,” Al said wryly. “Real great detective skills you have there. Why, Gooshie?”
“Sir, if we knew that, I could tell you. Ziggy seems to think there’s some interference coming from a second source, but she can’t make heads or tails of it.”
Al opened the Imaging Chamber door and marched down the ramp into the Control Room, where Gooshie stood at the main console, flanked by Tina and Donna.
“Listen up,” he said, commanding their collective attention. “I don’t know what’s goin’ on with all this, but I need all of you to do whatever you can to get the Imaging Chamber back up and running at full capacity. Sam’s in a bad head space and I don’t think I should leave him alone for long.”
“Bad head space…?” Donna repeated, looking at Al with worry. “What do you mean?”
Al sighed, placing the handlink on the console and stubbing out his cigar in an ash tray that popped out of the side. “I don’t know exactly, but he’s been in a big time bad mood since I got to him, and I just have a bad feeling. He’s usually way more even-tempered, and I’m worried about him.”
Donna’s eyes dropped to the control panels. “What do you think the problem is?” she asked. “Could it be to do with the last Vietnam leap?”
Al gave her a broad shrug. “He did bring that up, so it’s certainly on his mind.”
Donna nodded, pursing her lips. “Okay. Well, we’ll work on the Imaging Chamber, and in the meantime you should consult with Verbena about Sam.”
“Where is she now?”
Donna pointed to the corridor that led to the Waiting Room. “She’s monitoring Bobby.”
“Hmm.” Al scratched his head. “He’s another weird piece in all this. What’s the matter with him, anyway?”
“I detect abnormal quantum fluctuations in Robert Deleon’s atoms,” Ziggy chimed in.
Al looked up at the blue orb. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Upon each observation, he has slight alterations to his atomic makeup. I am yet to understand why.”
Al turned his attention back to Donna. “Are you making any sense outta this?”
Donna’s forehead creased and she gave her head a shake. “I don’t quite understand, but it sounds like he’s caught in some kind of state of… superposition, almost. Maybe something went wrong with the leap? It all sounds terribly volatile. I really can’t imagine the kind of physiological effect it might have.”
“Well, that might explain why he’s been blowing chunks.” Al grabbed the handlink and started towards the Waiting Room. “Alright, you kids get cracking—Sam needs us. I’m gonna go see Beeks.”