Chapter 33
Yawning, Al wandered out of the Imaging Chamber. Both Sams now seemed okay, and they were both getting some sleep, so he figured he might be able to squeeze a quick nap in as well. This had been a long damn leap.
His hopes of stealing off to his quarters for an hour or two were regrettably dispersed as he ambled to the bottom of the ramp and found that Verbena was waiting for him expectantly.
“What is it, Beeks?” he grumbled, rubbing his stiff neck.
“You’ll never guess what happened in the Waiting Room,” she said excitedly, taking him by the wrist. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
Al sighed. “Alright, but this better be important. I need a nap… and maybe a quickie with Tina. Sam A just spent the last eight hours tripping on PCP, and I’m beat.”
At this, Verbena’s eyebrows rose. “PCP? Really?! I wouldn’t have thought any version of Sam would do something like that.”
“It wasn’t voluntary,” Al replied flatly.
“Oh, I see,” Verbena said, her enthusiasm flickering out like a candle. “Well, I only need a minute or two. Come on.”
She led him to the Waiting Room, and as the door slid open, Al saw the miraculous sight of the visitor pacing the room, sipping at a juice box. He stopped as he noticed Al, and gave a sharp salute.
“Admiral, sir,” he said, standing at attention.
Al’s jaw dropped, and he glanced at Verbena, who looked like the cat that got the cream.
“Uh, at ease,” he said to the kid, and watched as he smiled and resumed drinking his juice. Al gave Verbena a questioning look. “He’s not sick any more? How did you do it?”
Verbena chuckled. “Actually, he was like this when I got here earlier.” She leaned to his ear. “It’s both of them. They somehow reached a state of stability by talking to one another. And now their minds appear to be blended together entirely.”
“Blended?” Al gawked at her. “It’s not permanent, is it?”
Verbena shrugged. “I don’t know. This is new territory.” She stepped up to the twins. “Mister Deleon? How are you feeling?”
“We’re okay,” he said, giving her a polite smile. “When do we get to go home? We wanna see Brenda before Bobby ships out.”
The unorthodox way of speaking made Al feel like he was having a weird dream. Considering they still expected Bobby to go to war, it seemed that the two of them were convinced that this state wasn’t permanent, so that was a good sign.
“I suspect it shouldn’t be too long now,” Verbena said vaguely. “But we have to retain you a little longer for observation. Okay?”
This made the twins deflate, but seem to accept their fate. “Okay, doctor,” they said with a sigh. “But thanks for helping us. We haven’t seen eye to eye in a while, so this has been… healing for us.”
Verbena took the twins by the hands. “You’re welcome, boys.”
Al couldn’t help but wonder what this could mean for the Imaging Chamber. He’d had a signal, but it might only have been due to both Sams being in close vicinity of each other. That was due to change shortly. He grabbed Verbena’s shoulder and pulled her towards him.
“Listen, can you do your psychiatrist mumbo jumbo to undo this? I still need to get a hold of both Sams when they separate again.”
“That won’t be necessary, Admiral,” Gooshie’s voice chimed in from the doorway. “Whatever it was that happened here completely resolved the problems, according to Ziggy. She’s asking to keep them like this until the end of the leap.”
“Really?” Al frowned. “I hope that doesn’t cause the twins any problems, staying like this for all that time.”
“On the contrary,” Verbena said, gesturing to the visitor. “Just look at them. They’ve got an equilibrium going, and I think it would be dangerous to break it. In this state, all their vitals are optimal, and as you can see, they even have an appetite.”
“Well, okay then,” Al conceded. “I guess we’re all good here. I’m gonna go grab a snooze.”
It seemed like everything was falling into place. Almost too well. It might have been his imagination, but he had a hinky feeling the other shoe was about to drop; and that feeling, he suspected, would prevent him from sleeping.
* * *
The sky in the window had just barely begun to bloom with the light of dawn when Sam B jolted awake from his amorphous nightmares, heart pounding. He groaned, wiping the sweat away, and sat up to stretch.
It had been quite a harrowing evening and night. After watching his other half take leave of his senses for hours, Al had sent him to sleep with the promise that he’d be awoken if anything happened with Sam A—evidently, nothing had. That was a relief. But he figured he would need to do some routine health checks on his double, to make sure he was recovering okay.
Huh?
He moved his gaze around the motel room in confusion. When he’d fallen asleep, Sam A and Al had been here in the room with him.
Now he was alone.
He climbed to his feet, and checked the bathroom. Nothing there. He checked under the beds—nope.
Had Sam A gone for a wander into the night in his stupor? Why hadn’t Al been here to stop him? Or maybe he was with him now, trying to coax him back to the motel. But he should have sobered up by now. Maybe he had passed out somewhere in the cold desert night. Sam’s stomach churned with the thought.
And then, he spotted the folded up paper on the side table next to the door. Sam’s stomach sank as he crossed to it and snatched it up. Yup—Sam A had written him another letter. Would it be another exercise in condescension from his ‘better’ half? Or had he learned his lesson now, perhaps?
On the other hand, there had to be a reason he’d left this letter in lieu of being here. And the implications made panic rise in Sam’s chest.
He sat on his bed and flipped open the page, eyeing it with suspicion.
“Dear Sam,
First I want to thank you for helping me. I made an error of judgement and paid dearly. If you hadn’t been there, I may well be dead today, or at the very least in jail. You really saved my bacon.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. Maybe Sam A appreciated him after all. But that still didn’t explain why he wasn’t here. He read on.
“Al told me that you weren’t able to fix things with Brenda, and that you were planning to flee your military service. I should never have saddled you with the task with Brenda. I should have known it wasn’t in your wheelhouse. But I want to make things right. For you and Bobby alike.”
Sam wasn’t sure he liked where this was going.
“Therefore, I will be taking your place in the military. It’s the least I can do. I know Richie didn’t want this, but as long as he doesn’t leap back, he doesn’t have to deal with it. I’ll shoulder the burden.”
Sam cursed under his breath. What in the hell was Sam A thinking with this stunt? Neither of them had to go to Vietnam; neither had to die needlessly. He was making sure of that by avoiding Bobby’s duty. Leave it to his naive, idealist counterpart to ruin everything. And his chat with Al the previous night had given him perspective on one thing—Sam A wasn’t a fighter. He was going to get himself, and maybe other people, killed. And for what? This wasn’t some altruistic attempt to make amends with him. This was a selfish attempt to show he was still Mister Perfect!
“I apologise that by the time you read this, I will have left with Bobby’s car. I’m sure you’ll be able to find your way back to the commune. No hard feelings?
Peace and Love,
—Sam A”
Sam let out a frustrated groan. “You idiot!” he snapped at the letter, before screwing it up and throwing it into the trash can. He quickly gathered up his few personal effects, and left.
After checking out of the motel, he stepped up to the road and held out a thumb, hoping his dishevelled, sweaty state wouldn’t be too off-putting to drivers.