Ten Moves Ahead (Part 10)

It's about 9:30 when Cornelius says, "Well, I think it's about time to head out."

I look at the collection of beer glasses on his side of the table and back at the two that I've had.  "Do you need a ride home?" I ask.

He nods somewhat drearily.  He seems tired, and conversation has slowed over the past half hour or so.  "I need a ride," he says, "but not home.  There's something we need to do first."

"What?"

He looks up at me.  "Save people," he says with a smile.  "Come on, let's go, I'll give you the address."

We drive in silence to what seems to be an abandoned warehouse not far from some docks.  I look around at the street lights, half of which are broken, and hear a few gulls crying out in the distance.  The place looks completely deserted.  "What are we doing here?" I ask.

He turns to me, looking surprising sober compared to what he was just 20 minutes ago.  His eyes seem much more focused and less vacant and there's a determination in his gaze that almost frightens me, but then his eyes dart away in what seems to be a flicker of nervousness.  "I need you to stay here," he says.  "There's something I need to do."

"Like hell," I protest.  "Whatever it is you're going in there to do, I'm coming along."

He closes his head and shakes his eyes.  His hand reaches out and touches me on the shoulder, eyes still closed.  "No, not yet," he says.  "I need to stop something really bad from happening."  He opens his eyes and stares at me.  I've never seen him quite so serious before.  Usually he has a least a smile or some small way to make these situations seem less severe, whatever "this situation" might be.  "I need you to take your cell phone and call 911," he says.  "Tell them there's been a shooting here and that they need to send the police right away."

I feel my pulse quicken.  "A shooting?" I exclaim.  "Who's going to get shot, there's no one here!"

He smiles now, but I can tell it's forced.  "I'm trying to stop it," he says.  "Just call the police.  Do it as soon as I get out of the car.  Then wait for me here.  Just trust me, Dave.  I'm going what has to be done."

And he pats me twice on the back, then turns and walks out of the car.  He glances back at me and then walks towards the warehouse.  I have no idea what's going on and I feel exceedingly nervous, but I do what Cornelius says.  I dial 9-1-1, tell the operator there's been a shooting (I was concerned at first she wouldn't believe me, but I realize as I speak to her that my voice is plenty panicked), and sit and wait.  I close my eyes and try to breath deep.  I've never helped Cornelius with something like this before, trying to prevent a shooting.  But if that's what we're doing, why did he have me call the police to say there had been a shooting.  As minutes tick by, I feel myself getting increasingly nervous.  Nothing seems to be happening, so word from Cornelius, no police coming, no messages on my phone.

And then, in the distance, I hear sirens.  My eyes jerk open and I look around.  Still no Cornelius.  I wonder if I should move the car out of the way.  I realize how weird this will seem when the police show up and find me sitting in my car with no idea what's actually going on.  No gunfire, no victim, no culprit, just some guy who made a false 9-1-1 call.

And then, I hear it.  The shock of it echos through the emptiness.  A gun shot, a pause and then three more.  The sirens are close now, and I can even see the lights coming as, without thinking, I get up and rush out of the car.  It seems like everything is moving in slow motion.  I'm running the way I saw Cornelius go, but I feel like I'm barely moving.  I just get to the door and reach for the handle as the cop cars show up on the opposite side of the building.  I hear someone shout "freeze!" and out of the corner of my eye, I see cops holding guns pointing at the back side of the warehouse building.  I don't freeze.  Even if they were talking to me, I couldn't care, I pull open the door and rush in where I saw Cornelius go.

I get inside and there are two sources of light.  A workbench in the corner to my left has a light on over what looks to me to be some sort of assault rifle sitting out on a table, only partially assembled.  On the far side of the building, I see light from the street coming faintly through an open door, light from the police cars, flashing red and blue and the silloutte of a man with his hands raised as who I assume is a cop rushes towards him.  And there at my feet, in a pool of blood, with his hands clutching his gut, is Cornelius.

"No!" I shout out as I step forward and collapse beside him.  I hold his head in my hands and see that he's still breathing, though faintly.  He opens his eyes and looks up at me with a look that I can best describe as somewhere between a lost puppy and a mother welcoming her children home after a long absence.

"Did they get him?" he whispers.

I know better than to ask who.  "I think so," I say with confidence.

He closes his eyes and smiles.  "That's good," he says.

I feel tears start to fall down my cheeks.  "Why did you go in alone?" I asked.

"If you came with me, we both would have died," he says, weakly, I can feel him fading.

"You're not going to die," I lie.

He lets out what I think is a chuckle and then starts coughing.  I see blood come up out of his mouth.  He opens his eyes again.  "You can't lie about that to someone who's seen the future," he says.  "I see my death every time I look at you."

The tears are streaming down my face now.  "Then why?" I ask.  "Why did you come here at all?"

"I had to stop him," Cornelius whispers.  "So many more would have died... this was the only way I saw."

I hear footsteps running our way, and glance over to see police and two men with a stretcher rushing towards us.  I look back at Cornelius and he's reaching for me with a blood soaked hand.  I take it in my own.  "This was the only way I saw," he says again.  "The best way.  You've been my best friend, and I'm sorry it had to end like this, but it was the best way.  Take care of her; help her like you helped me."

"Who?" I do ask this time.

He smiles up at me with the last light I'll ever see in his eyes.  "Clara," he whispers.  And then he lets out one last breath as his eyes close and his hand falls out of mine.  The paramedics are here and the police are trying to pull me away as I shake and ball uncontrollably over my lost friend.  "He's gone, he's gone," I keep sobbing again and again.  Finally, they get me away from his body and the rest of the night seems to pass in a blur.

They tell me at the police station that the man arrested that night was planning some sort of wide scale attack on the city.  He was modifying weapons and even working on some sort of bomb, plus they found loads of illicit drugs both at the warehouse and in his place of residence.  The man had been arrested once before for drug possession and once for assault, but the police who had worked with him before would never have guessed he would do something like what he was apparently planning.  Even with all the stuff they found, I was told that it would have put him away for only ten, maybe twenty years.  The murder of my friend combined with the other stuff could possibly put him away for life.  It seemed like a small consolation to me, but then I remembered Cornelius's words, "It was the only way I saw" and realized what that really meant.

There were lots of questions for me, too.  How did I know Cornelius?  What were we doing at the docks?  How did I know the man who shot my friend?  I told them Cornelius was a good friend, that he wanted to go to the docks that night saying he had to stop something bad from happening, and that I didn't know the suspect, but that Cornelius must have.  The cops found no connection between Cornelius and the shooter, but admitted it was possible their paths had crossed before.  I told them Cornelius was always trying to be a hero and that I wished he had just called them first instead of trying to stop the man on his own.  What I didn't tell them was that Cornelius knew exactly what was going to happen, that I often helped him be a hero, and that the shooter, who they showed me a picture of later, was the man who had made Cornelius so nervous in Central Park that day several weeks ago.  It all made sense to me now, but how could I possibly have it make sense to them?

It took several hours, but they finally let me go and told me to keep in touch if I remembered anything else.  I asked them where my friend's body was and they said it was being kept at the morgue until the family came to identify it.  They said they were sorry for my loss and sent me on my way.

The next two days seemed to pass into nothingness.  I called in sick at work and slept for about 14 hours each day.  When I was awake it was all I could do to make myself eat and shower before going back to bed.  I turned on the news the first night only to hear a reporter talk about the man who had single handed tried to stop a criminal only to give up his life and how that man's friend described him as "always wanting to be a hero."  It was more than I could take, so I turned the T.V. off and went to bed.

The second day, I found myself continually checking my phone, half expecting Cornelius to call or text to say everything was alright and ask if I wanted to go grab a beer.  I just couldn't believe he was gone.  But then that evening I saw his obituary in the morning paper that I finally got around to reading.  There was that bright smiling face staring up at me from the page.  I read about how he was loved and missed by his friends and his family, his mother and younger brother and sister.  Funeral services to be held tomorrow (Saturday) at 11am with lunch to follow.

I wipe the tears from my eyes again and decide I have to go wish my friend good-bye.

---

At the funeral, I'm amazed by the number of people packing the small church and even more amazed to realize I recognize some of them.  I see Bill and his daughter Becky.  Becky looks like she's been crying almost as much as I have.  When Bill sees me he gives me a bill ole bear hug and says, "He was a great man."

"Yes he was," I agree, patting Bill on the back.

I look around me and there are others I've seen before as well.  An elderly man that Cornelius had saved from getting hit by a bus, and a woman we had saved from getting her purse nabbed.  I wondered how they could possibly remember Cornelius well enough to come to his funeral, but then I saw them sitting together talking.  It seemed like the old man was the woman's grandfather and they had realized the same man had helped them both.  I was also shocked to see the man who we had stopped from stealing purses so many times.  He walked up to me and said, "I know you."

I felt a little uncomfortable and said, "Yeah, maybe."

He shook his head and said, "No, you and this Cornelius guy, you saved me.  I'd be in jail now if it weren't for you."  He held out his hand to me and I nervously took it.  "I've got a real job now," he says.  "I don't know why you guys were following me around, and it really creeped me out at the time, but I think you saved my life."  He shook his head as he looked towards the casket.  "I just wish someone had been able to save his."

The final person I ran into at the service who I was surprised to already know is Tricia, one of the girls from the bowling alley so many months ago.  "Dave, right?" she asked coming up to me.

I nod.  "Yeah."

She smiles.  "You remember me?"

I nod again.  "Yes, from the bowling alley."

"That's right."  She seems a lot more softspoken now that she did then, even after she had sobered up.  "Hannah, that was the other girl from that night, she thought I was crazy to come to the funeral of a man I hardly knew, but he really made a difference to me, you know?"

I nod as I look around at this room full of people who somehow seemed to feel the same way.  "Yeah, I know," I say.

"He was like a silent hero or something," she said.  "I'm so convinced we would have really hurt someone that night if he hadn't been there.  I just really felt like I had to be here to honor him, like he was there to help me."

I  nod yet again.  "I know exactly what you mean," I say.

---

After the funeral at lunch (Bill has me sit with him and his daughter), Cornelius's mother comes over to us.  I saw her during the service, but I've never talked to her before.  "You're Cornelius, right?" she asks.  Her eyes are red an puffy from crying.

I look up at her and my heart aches.  "Yes," I say softly.

"And Bill?" she asks, turning to the big man beside me.

Despite the love of talking I saw from Bill, he simply nods at her.

"Cornelius left a video will that he wanted each of you to see," she says.  "I pains me some to know that he anticipated this early death, but Cornelius was always anticipating things and, well, I guess he just wanted to say one last thing to each of you.  Please, come with me."

We get up and go with her.  Becky comes along, too.  We're led to two different rooms where we apparently each have our own video to watch.  There's a man waiting for me in my room, saying he's Cornelius's lawyer and I should press play while he goes and talks to Bill.  So I do, and there is Cornelius's face on the screen, smiling.  "Hello, Dave," he says and I feel like I'm going to start crying all over again.  "I know we haven't known each other for all that long, but I think we've become really good friends in that time.  If everything went the way I wanted it to, I told you everything you needed to hear the night I died, but just in case, I want to make sure you really understand what happened.

"I've been seeing this future for weeks now, every time I looked at you, I saw what was going to happen, with me and with you.  The man in the park, the man who shot me, was the trigger, so to speak, who really brought it all together."  I can't help but shake my head at the bad pun.  "I saw him in that park and I saw what he was going to do, all the people who were going to die, but I also saw an alternative path, with me and you in it, stopping him, but only if one of us confronted him.  It had to be me, Dave, it couldn't be you, and here's why.

"You and Clara are meant to be together.  She loves you and she always will.  She just needed time to realize it, and you needed time to mature so you could be what she needed you to be.  Please don't be offended by me saying that, it's simply what I saw.  And if you're thinking I threw away my gift by dying, you couldn't be more wrong.  I've seen what happens to my gift, I saw it by looking at you.  It seems when one of us dies, one of us born with this gift that I have, it passes to another.  I wish it could have been you, Dave, because I know you're strong enough now to bear it, but it's another who will be close to you.  It's Clara, Dave.  You see, that's all the more reason for you to be together.  I know you love her, Dave, and want to be with her, but please know it's more than that now.  You truly need each other.  Call it destiny or fate or whatever you want to, but it's the way things are.

"Now go to that bar and wait for her.  She's coming soon.  And knowing how hard all this can be, I left you a little something more tangible, too.  It's my way of saying thanks for being such a wonderful friend and I wish you strength and courage in the years ahead.  I know you'll do the right thing.  You're stronger than I ever was.  Good-bye, Dave."

And with that the video ends and I'm sitting alone in silence.  A few moments later, there's a knock on the door and the lawyer man comes back in.  "Sorry about leaving you alone," he says.  "The video was just for you, no one else was supposed to watch it.  And this is for you, too.  I know it can't make up for your lose, but he wanted you to have it."

I take the envelope and open it up.  Inside is a check for $200,000.  I look up in surprise.  "What's this?" I ask.

"That's what Cornelius left you in his will," the lawyer says.

"I had no idea he had that kind of money to leave," I hear myself saying.

The lawyer looks a little surprised at that.  "He was your friend, I figured you would know."

"Know what?"

"Cornelius won the lottery several years ago.  Actually, he won it twice, though once was for a few million and the other only for a few thousand.  He never touched the money, though.  Lived off of what he earned and kept the winnings stored away, but his will specified how he wanted it distributed after he died.  He changed it a few weeks ago to include you.  This is your share."

I'm shocked beyond belief as I stare at the check.  I think about what Cornelius said in the video and how he lived his life.  I suddenly feel so ashamed to have cared so much about being with Clara when Cornelius cared so much about everyone around him.  And then I think of the video again.  It was the best and worst thing I ever could have heard.  I'd almost feel guilty about being with Clara if it weren't for Cornelius's words.  She needed me to help her now.  I felt bad wishing it was true, but how I wished it was true.  I wanted to be with her and I wanted to keep helping Cornelius.  I had to keep helping Cornelius, however I could.

"I have to go now," I say.

"I understand," the lawyer says, even though I'm sure he doesn't.  "Sorry for your loss."

---

I get to the bar around 2.  There are a couple people leaving, but then it's completely empty except the bartender.  "Sorry about your friend," he says.  "He really helped me out a lot, and so did you."  I nod and order a beer and then I sit and wait.

It's just after 3 when I hear the bell over the door ring and turn to see Clara walk in.  My heart starts beating faster.  She doesn't seem at all surprised to see me.  She walks over and sits down on the stool next to me, shakes her head at the bartender, who seems to know then to give us space, and turns to me.  "I'm sorry about your friend," is the first thing she says.

I'm about to thank her for her sentiment, just like I've been thanking people all day, and then I suddenly realize that she's never seen Cornelius before, at least as far as I know, and I certainly haven't told her about him considering I haven't spoken to her again since that day in the supermarket.  "How do you..."

She smiles, but looks a little nervous.  "I know," she interrupts.  "I don't quite understand how I know, but I know.  I had a dream last night.  I saw you sitting here, alone, and me coming here.  You told me you had lost a friend and I said I was so sorry.  When I said I still loved you, you seemed to think I was just feeling sorry for you, but I want you to know that's not true."

She reaches out and daintily touches my hand.  I've never really described her as dainty before, but that's the way it happens.  "I want you to know that I've loved you even since we broke up," she says.  "But I didn't think we were right for each other.  There were things about you that just seemed, I don't know, off, but I received this letter in the mail about two weeks ago."

She pulls out a letter and shows it to me.  I'm shocked to see it's from Cornelius.  I scan through and see words like, "Dave can be who you need." and "Dave will help you make the most of your life."

"It caught me completely off guard," she says and I continue to skim through it.  "At first I thought it was you being childish, trying to get me to come back, but when there was no follow up and you didn't write or call me yourself, I started to think maybe it was for real.  And then I saw the news, two nights ago."

I look up at her in surprise and feel my heart beating even faster as she says, "That man who died, who was shot, it's the same man who wrote me this letter.  He says that you've been helping him do good things for people.  That you'll help me do good things, too."

She looks back down at the letter.  "I'm a little scared," she admits, wringing her hands together.  "This man, Cornelius, he didn't say anything about the possibility of dying in his letter, but that's what happened to him and his good things."  She looks up at me again.  "I want to do the right thing, I really do, but I don't understand.  All I know is that you've done a wonderful thing being this man's friend, helping him with whatever good he was trying to accomplish, that's what was missing before, that's what I wanted to see in you, and now, I believe this man, it's like I've seen it myself.  I looked in the mirror two days ago and it was like I saw our future together, as clearly as my own memories of the past, and I know that we're right together.  Now, we're right together, and I can admit to you just how much I love you."

I stare at her in stunned silence, holding the letter still, staring at her beautiful face until she says, "Well, say something!"

I break down and sob, but it's not the tears of sadness I cried for Cornelius, now I feel an overwhelming sense of joy and conviction, a feeling not only of passionate, romantic love for this woman, but also a sense of purpose and a need to always be there for her.  "I love you so much, Clara!" I exclaim.  "And I will always be there for you, whatever the future may hold."

"The future," she whispers looking at me, and she smiles.  I don't know what she sees, but I see her smile, and at that moment, that's all I really care about, and as I lean forward to kiss her, I'm not thinking about the future, I'm thinking about this moment, this beautiful, bittersweet moment and then of all the passion and hope and promise it brings.

As we pull apart again she says, "Wow.  I don't think you've ever kissed me like that before."

"I'm going to kiss you like that every day we're together," I promise her.  "For as long as we live."

She nods and smiles at me.  "I know," she says.  "I don't know how, but I see it.  How do I see that?"

"Come on," I say, leading her off the stool and out of the bar.  "I have a story I need to tell you."