John Prime watched his other self disappear from the pumpkin field and felt his body relax. Now he wouldn't have to kill him. This way was so much better. A body could always be found, unless it was in some other universe. He didn't have the device, of course, but then he'd never need it again. In fact he was glad to be rid of it. John had something more important than the device; he had his life back.
It had taken him three days of arguing and cajoling, but finally Johnny Farmboy had taken the bait. Good riddance and good bye. He had been that naive once. He'd once had that wide-eyed gullibility, ready to explore new worlds. There was nothing out there but pain. He was alive again. He had parents again. He had money -- $125,000. And he had his notebook. That was the most important part. The notebook was worth a billion dollars right there.
John looked around the loft. This would be a good place for some of his money. If he remembered right, there was a small cubbyhole in the rafters on the south side of the loft. He found it and pulled out the bubble gum cards and slingshot that was hidden there.
He placed about a third of his money in the hiding place. Another third he'd hide in his room. The last third, he'd bury. He wouldn't deposit it like he'd done in 7489. Or had that been 7490? The cops had been on his ass so fast. So Franklin had been looking the wrong way on all those bills. He'd lost $80,000.
No, he'd be careful this time. He'd show legitimate sources for all his cash. He'd be the talk of Findlay, Ohio as his inventions started panning out. No one would suspect the young physics genius. They'd be jealous, sure, but everybody knew Johnny Rayburn was a brain. The Rubik's Cube -- no, the Rayburn's Cube -- would be his road to fame and riches.
He climbed down from the loft. Dan whinnied at him, tossing his head to get his attention and maybe an apple.
"Of course, you can have one, Dan," John said.
John took an apple from the basket and reached out to the horse. Suddenly his eyes were filled with tears.
"Hold yourself together, man," he whispered as he let Dan gingerly chomp the apple from his hand. His own horse was dead, at his own hand.
He'd taken Dan riding and had tried the fence beyond the back field. They'd galloped through the grass, throwing mud behind them. John had felt Dan leap, felt the muscles twist and clench. They had flown. But Dan's hind left hadn't cleared it. The bone had broken, and John ran sobbing to his farm.
His father met him halfway, a rifle in his hand, his face grim. He'd seen the whole thing.
His father nodded and handed the rifle to him.
John took it blankly, then tried to hand it back to his father.
"If the leg's broken, you must."
"Maybe...." But he stopped. Dan was whinnying shrilly; he could hear it from where they stood. The leg had been horribly twisted. There was no doubt.
"Couldn't Dr. Kimble look at him?"
His father snorted and walked away.
John watched him tread back to the house until Dan's cries became too much for him. He turned then, tears raining down his cheeks.
Dan's eyes were wide. He shook his head heavily at John, then he settled when John placed the barrel against his skull. Perhaps he knew. John fished an apple from his pocket and slipped it between Dan's teeth.
The horse held it there, not biting, waiting. He seemed to nod at John. Then John had pulled the trigger.
The horse had shuddered and fallen still. John sank to the ground and cried for Dan for an hour.
But here he was. Alive. He rubbed Dan's muzzle.
"Hello, Dan. Back from the dead," John said. "Just like me."
His mother called him to dinner, and for a moment he froze with fear. They'll know, he thought. They'll know I'm not their son.
Breathing slowly, he hid the money back under his comic book collection in the closet.
During dinner he kept quiet, focusing on what his parents mentioned, filing key facts away for later use. There was too much he didn't know. He couldn't volunteer anything until he had all his facts right.
Cousin Paul was still in jail. They were staying after church tomorrow for a spaghetti lunch. His mother would be canning and making vinegar that week. His father was buying a turkey from Sam Riley, who had a flock of twenty or so. The dinner finished with homemade apple pie that made the cuts on his hands and the soreness in his back worth it.
After dinner he excused himself. In his room he rooted through Johnny Farmboy's bookbag. He'd missed a year of school; he had a lot of make-up to do. And, crap, an essay on Gerard Manley Hopkins, whoever the heck that was.
He managed to get through church without falling asleep. Luckily the communion ritual was the same. If there was one thing that didn't change from one universe to the next, it was church.
He expected the spaghetti lunch afterwards to be just as boring, but across the gymnasium, John saw Casey Nicholson sitting with her family. That was one person he knew where Johnny Farmboy stood with. She liked him, it was clear, but Johnny Farmboy had been too clean-cut to make a move. Not so for him. John excused himself and walked over to her.
She blushed at him, perhaps because her parents were there.
Her father said, "Oh, hello, John. How's the basketball team going to do this year?"
John wanted to yell at him that he didn't give a rat's ass. But instead he smiled and said, "We'll go all the way if Casey is there to cheer for us."
Casey looked away, her face flush again. She was dressed in a white Sunday dress that covered her breasts, waist, and hips with enough material to hide the fact that she had any of those features. But he knew what was there. He'd seduced Casey Nicholson in a dozen universes at least.
"I'm only cheering fall sports, John," she said softly. "I play field hockey in the spring."
John looked at her mother and asked, "Can I walk with Casey around the church grounds, Mrs. Nicholson?"
She smiled at him, glanced at her husband, and said, "I don't see why not."
"That's a great idea," Mr. Nicholson said.
John had to race after Casey. She stopped after she had gotten out of sight of the gymnasium, hidden in the alcove where the rest rooms were. When John caught up to her, she said, "My parents are so embarrassing."
Her eyes went wide at his cursing, then she smiled.
"I'm glad you're finally talking to me," she said.
John smiled and said, "Let's walk." He slipped his arm around her waist, and she didn't protest.