Message-Id: <314896BD.38D9@skyenet.net> Date: Thu, 14 Mar 1996 16:59:25 -0500 From: Christine Wirick Organization: Soong Press To: Quantum Leap Creative Subject: The Lesser Sin-ql story p2 They arrived in Las Vegas, the driver calling out as he opened the door, "Be ready to reboard in twenty minutes, folks." Several people rushed off the bus, heading for the nearest casion to try their luck. Sam wandered into the terminal, looking for a vending machine and a cup of coffee. Al popped in, nearly causing Beckett to dump the just-purchased caffeine fix. "Where have you been?" Sam demanded, blowing on his fingers, still wet with the hot liquid. "I wanted to wait until you could talk," the hologram replied. "Didn't want to antagonize the kid, Sam. He could be dangerous.... Have you thought about what you're going to do?" "Exactly when and where does this accident happen? Is there any way to prevent it?" "You can't prevent it, Sam. Emil would live for sure then." "Al, seven other people will die if I don't." "And Emil kills thirteen. Thirteen is more than seven." Al poked his cigar at Sam, emphasizing the difference. "I'm glad you can rationalize it that way. But I can't. There has to be a way to save all the passen-gers." Flustered, the project observer consulted Ziggy, then shook his head. "Ziggy can't come up with a scenario that would save all of them." "Then maybe I should come up with one for her." Sam took a gulp of coffee. "When does the accident happen?" "At 3:22 am." Sam glanced at the wall clock. It was 3:06 already. That meant that the accident would occur right after they got back on the road...."Who gets killed?" he demanded. Al listed off the seven victims, including a small child and his parents. "What about the injured?" Sam thought of Myrna's beautiful smile. "Is Myrna Tate among them?" Al fiddled with the hand link, whacking it a couple times. "Ah, Sam, Myrna Tate is struck in the face by a piece of glass. She's maimed for life." "I can't let that happen, Al! What causes the acci- dent?" "A drunk driver in a pickup truck crosses over into the wrong lane. The bus driver swerves to miss the truck and topples over into the embankment. The drunk driver isn't injured, not even a scratch." Myrna opened the door. "Dr. Greenfield, the driver says he's ready for everyone to reboard." Sam stared at her beautiful face, wondering how she would cope. He couldn't let her get back on the bus. Approaching her, he suggested, "Myrna, why don't you call your husband." "Call Barry? Why? He'd just try to talk me into coming home again." A dreamy look came over her. "Maybe that's the right thing to do. Call him. I can tell by your expression that you really love him." "Yes, yes, I do. Barry and I have been together since we were fifteen." She paused, her gaze growing more distant, then grinned, reliving a pleasant memory. "I remember when he was courting me," she finally continued. "It may sound silly and old- fashioned to you, but I was incredibly flattered. He'd leave poems in my locker at school, or sometimes flowers. He'd come to my house and sing "My Girl" outside my window. I knew I loved him after our first date." "Then why are you leaving him?" "I'm not leaving him, not forever." "Don't kid yourself, Myrna," Sam said, mentally crossing his fingers. This had to work. "Call him. It's hard to find a love like you two obviously share." She folded her arms, considering the idea. "Please, admit I'm right for your own sake." "Ohhh, okay," she relented, looking around for a phone and spotting one just outside the restrooms. She started for it, then turned back. "Thank you, Dr. Greenfield." She removed a phone card from her purse and placed the call. Al shook the hand link, sparking several plaintive squeals and beeps. "You did it! She doesn't get back on the bus, Sam. Her husband drives all the way to this terminal to pick her up." "That's one life that won't be ruined," Beckett said. "What about Emil Kasterdorf, Sam?" "I can't do it, Al." "You have to," the hologram exclaimed. "Letting Emil die is the lesser sin. If you save him, thirteen inno-cent women die, and that's a far greater sin." Sam raised his hands, waving them confusedly. "I can't, Al, I can't. I have seven other lives I need to save right now." He threw his coffee cup away and walked outside to talk with the bus driver. He had to convince the man to postpone the departure. Most of the passengers had already re-boarded. What could he say to delay the driver? He couldn't tell him about the impending accident. Everyone would think he was crazy....Then again, maybe he could convince some of them not to continue if he told them the truth. Surely, some of them would believe in premonitions and heed the warning... He'd have to risk sounding like a raving lunatic. Sam stepped into the bus, the driver starting to close the door behind him. "Wait," Beckett said. "There's still one more passenger." He knew Myrna wasn't coming, but maybe he could use her as an excuse... "That's their tough luck," the driver replied gruffly, closing the door the rest of the way. "But she has to be in L.A. by tomorrow morning. Can't you wait a few minutes?" "Look, buddy, I got a schedule. If your friend isn't out here in the next sixty seconds, I'm out of here." "Maybe that'll be long enough,," Sam replied. "No, it's not," Al said. "Seven people still die." "Ohhhh--okay. Listen up everybody," Sam began. "There's going to be an accident. I don't have time to explain how I know, but at 3:22," he glanced at Dr. Greenfield's watch, "exactly nine minutes from now, a drunk driver is going to cross our path and run us off the road." "Sit down, you jackass," a man exclaimed in the third seat behind the driver. "What kind of dope are you on anyway?" "I'm not on any dope. Someone has to believe me. There's going to be an accident." "Phillip, I don't like the sound of this," a woman said to her husband. "I want to get a hotel for tonight and catch another bus in the morning." "You don't really believe him," her husband replied. "Please!" Phillip sighed, stood, and carried their small son toward the front of the bus as the frightened woman trailed behind him. Sam stepped out of their way. "Let us out of here," the husband told the bus driver. Two more passengers followed their example. After they left, Al said, "That's three more down, Sam. That was the family that would've died." The time traveler allowed himself to smile shakily before he realized four people were still going to die. And he still hadn't figured out any way to deal with Emil Kasterdorf. "Sit down," the driver growled. "Or I'll throw you off." Sam found his seat next to Emil, and the driver rolled the bus forward. "There's really gonna be an accident, isn't there?" Emil asked, eyeing Beckett intently. Sam refused to meet his eyes. Emil stood. "Let me out, old man!" He forced his way past Sam and ran, stumbling, to the front of the bus. "Let me out! Let me out!" "Oh, for Christ's sake!" The driver stopped the bus, the brakes screeching. "Anyone else?" he grumbled as he opened the door. Quickly, Sam rose to follow. "I have to go after him," he said to the driver as he stepped off the bus. Emil was walking down the highway, trying to hitch a ride. He glanced back, noticed Sam and started running. Sam picked up his pace. "Hurry Sam!" the hologram exclaimed, floating along the highway next to the physicist. "Emil!" Beckett yelled. "Stop!" For several blocks, Sam chased after the kid, only to have the distance between them grow. His lungs seared with each gasp of the cold-night air, and a stitch balling in his side nearly forced him collapse. Fin-ally, he gave up, leaning back against a building and tried to catch his breath. Al appeared in front of the time traveler. "Sam, you've saved the passengers! Ziggy says you delayed them seventy-five seconds, long enough so the bus passes the pickup after the drunk driver swerved back into his own lane." "Thank God," Sam gasped. "You saved seven. Now, you've got to think about the other thirteen. You have to go after Emil." "What would you have me do? Murder him?" "I--I don't--" The project observer slipped his cigar back into his mouth and began fiddling with the hand link. Slowly, Sam's heartbeat steadied while Al tried to cajole guidance from Ziggy. Neither noticed the figure sneaking up on them until Sam felt the tip of the switchblade pressed firmly against his back. "I told you I don't like nobody messin' with me, old man," Emil hissed. "Now, you're gonna pay." "Do something, Sam!" Al exclaimed. Beckett didn't have time to think. He spun, kicking Emil in the gut and knocking the switchblade out of his hand, the blade flying several feet before clattering on the sidewalk. Sam ran. "Don't look back!" the hologram yelled. "He's right behind you!" Sam plunged forward, saw an opening in the highway guard fence and crossed over to the other side of the road. He had only gone a few yards before he heard brakes screeching and a loud thud. Turning around, he saw that Emil had run out in front of a pickup. Its driver stepped out, staggering, to meet his victim. Several other people halted, climbing out of their vehicles. Sam rushed toward the boy. "Out of the way," he told the drunk driver. "I'm a doctor." "I didn't see 'im," the driver moaned. "He jist jumped out in front o' me." Sam bent to check for a pulse, but before his fingers touched the boy's neck, he knew that Emil Kasterdorf was dead, his neck contorted into a most unnatural position. He slipped off his jacket and laid it over the boy's face. One of the witnesses called 911, and along with Sam, waited for the police. An ambulance came to take Emil's body. An officer handcuffed the drunk driver and escorted him into a patrol car. After taking a statement from Sam and the other witnesses, the police left with their suspect. "Al," Sam called tiredly, looking for the project observer. "It seems Emil solved the problem for us," Al commented. The time traveler nodded. "I hope I never get that close to a serial killer again." "Me neither." Sam stared at the hologram, a slight smile on his face, the sense of foreboding finally gone. "I told you I could solve this morally and still save everyone." "Everyone innocent, you mean." Sam nodded. "I think it's time." He glanced up, directing his words at God. A moment later, the flashing blue light carried him away....into darkness. "Oh God!" a man screamed. "Somebody, please, help me! I'm afraid of the dark." The man wailed like a trapped animal. "Oh boy," Sam muttered.