Date: Fri, 18 Oct 1996 17:58:39 -0600 (MDT) From: "Katherine R. Freymuth" Subject: The Impossible Dream - Chapter 9 Message-ID: MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; charset=US-ASCII Chapter 9 "Admiral!" Gushie exclaimed. "We're getting a lock!" Al's head jolted up. Suddenly, the paperwork on his office desk didn't seem as important as before. "We can contact him?" he questioned as he hurriedly stood from his desk and started for the door. "Affirmative, Admiral. But Ziggy doesn't know how long we have. It all depends on Dr. Beckett's condition." "I'm on my way down," Al told him, stepping through his office door while combing his hair with his fingers. He stepped into the elevator and went down to the tenth level. He then marched into the Control Room, heading towards Ziggy's console. "Is the Imaging Chamber on line?" Al asked, grabbing a handlink. "Yes, Admiral," Gushie answered as Al walked towards the Imaging Chamber door. "I've informed Dr. Beeks. She's on her way down." "Have her check on Mr. Selantono," Al ordered as he entered the Imaging Chamber and was immediately centered on Sam. The hologram around him hadn't changed since Al was last in the Imaging Chamber. It was a small hospital room with a bed and chair. Lying on the bed, with his eyes closed, was the aura of Mike Selantono behind which was Samuel Beckett. Sitting in the chair was Susie Paprocki. She was speaking to Sam in a low voice. "You don't have to worry about me, Jack," she said to Sam, using Mike's borrowed name. "I'll be fine. You just take care of yourself." She took a shaky breath. "Gawd, you wouldn't even be in here if I hadn't been so damned stubborn." Al watched her with sympathetic eyes. He could tell that she was holding up a front. Deep inside, she was so torn up that she was on the verge of an emotional breakdown. "Visiting time is over, Ms. Paprocki," a nurse told her. Susie sighed. She touched Sam's hand. "I've got to go. I'll be back tomorrow." She paused. "I love you, Mike. Come back to me." With that, she slowly left the room, looking over her shoulder as she left. While the nurse was making sure everything was okay with Sam, Al grabbed a plain chair he kept by the Imaging Chamber door and carried it to Sam's bed. Sitting down, he waited until the nurse had left before speaking. "Hiya, Sam. How's it going?" he said with a forced smile. The smile faded quickly. The had obviously been no change in Sam's condition. Al closed his eyes and swallowed. "Sam, you're scaring the hell out of me. We completely lost you for almost three hours. We had no way of contacting you. Please, don't do that to me again. Okay?" Sam twitched. It was quick, almost too quick for Al to see. But Al did see it and his face went pale with worry. "Sam, are you okay?" he asked, checking the handlink. "Ziggy says..." he lowered his eyelids in apprehension. "Sam, don't you dare!" His surroundings started to fade. "Sam!" He was speaking to blue walls. "Oh, Sam," he whispered. Al lowered his eyes and took a breath. ************************ "Sam, don't you dare!" the voice told him. Sam tried to obey but he couldn't. He didn't want to be in the bar, friendless and confused. But there he was, starting his sixth beer, worrying. Only minutes ago, the mine whistle had blown. Everyone, including Sam, hurried to the mine. Two men were trapped at the bottom of the mine. The mine foreman, who looked an awful lot like Don Gino, a Mafia godfather from yet another of Sam's leaps, refused to let anyone go down the mine to get them. Not yet, anyway. He wanted to make sure it was safe in the mine, to make sure the mine wouldn't catch fire. It was all so sudden, so unexpected. It didn't feel real. *But, then again, when has a leap ever felt real*, Sam thought. *I must be here to save those miners.* "You're not here to save them," a voice told him at his back. Sam turned to see Al the bartender standing at his back. "How'd you know what I was thinking?" Al shrugged. "A good bartender has to be part counselor, part philosopher, part psychic." He walked away to the bar. Sam followed him. "I'd like to speak to the philosopher part." "I only know the basics," Al warned. "Okay," Sam said, thinking. "To be or not to be. I think, therefore I am. That sort of thing." "Yeah," Al said, nodding. Sam looked at his carefully. "Why am I here?" Al smiled, as if he knew that would be Sam's question. "You think you're here to help those men but you're not." "Then, why _am_ I here?" Sam questioned. Al shrugged. "Who knows what Don Quixote can accomplish?" "TO DREAM THE IMPOSSIBLE DREAM..." THE MAN SANG. "DON'T YOU EVER GET TIRED OF HEARING THAT DISK?" AL ASKED AS HE ENTERED THE LAB CARRYING TWO BAGS OF FAST FOOD. "IT GIVES ME INSIGHT," SAM TOLD HIM. "IT'S GIVING ME A HEADACHE." AL JOKED. SAM LAUGHED. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "WHY, AL?" SAM DEMANDED. "ALL I DO IS GO AROUND FIXING THEIR WRONGS, FIGHTING THEIR FIGHTS! GAWD, SOMETHING I FEEL LIKE I'M DON QUIXOTE!" Sam shook him head at his thought, his memories, and the man with Al's name. *What is it about this guy?* "Who are you?" Sam asked. Al shrugged. "A bartender. "Who knows everything?" Al shook his head. "Only God knows everything." Sam's eyes widened. *Could it be...?* Al laughed. "You don't really think I'm...." He laughed again. Sam tilted his head, examining Al. "You're not just a bartender." Al smiled. "Now, that's true. I also own the place." He walked behind the bar to help a customer. Sam followed him on the other side of the bar. "You know why I'm here." Al shook his head. "Haven't you watched old Bogart movies? Number one rule of bartending: never give information for free." He brought up an old lottery peg board. "Care to take a chance? It'll cost you a nickel. You might hit the jackpot." "TINA'S GOT THIS FRIEND..." "AL, DON'T TELL ME YOU'RE CHEATING ON TINA WITH HER FRIEND?!" SAM EXCLAIMED. AL GLARED AT HIM. "...WHO KNOWS A GUY WHO KNOWS A BOOKIE WHO HAS A SURE THING IN THE FIFTH RACE! NOW, AREN'T YOU ASHAMED OF MAKING ASSUMPTIONS?" "What's the jackpot?" Sam asked. "Fifty bucks," Al told him. "And the answer to your question." Sam gave Al a nickel and made his punch on the lottery board. As he unrolled his small paper which came from the back of the board, he asked, "So, why am I here, Al?" "Did you hit the jackpot?" Sam looked at his paper. Two lemons and a plum. "No," he answered. Al shrugged. "Then, I guess you'll have to find that out for yourself, Sam." He went on to help his dwindling crowd of customers. Sam, disappointed with the turn of events, finished his beer and started yet another. *Shouldn't I be drunk by now?* Sam didn't care as he started his eighth beer. ----------------------------------------------- Want more? Chapter 10 next. Kat