Class of '59 (American Journey Book 4) (30 page)

As he walked down the hallway and descended the creaky stairs, Ben pondered not only an urgent phone call but also an incredible evening and an incomparable woman. Even now she seemed surreal. Piper McIntire was a figment of his imagination, a dream, a pleasant apparition that had come into his life on a Saturday morning and would
exit
his life on a Saturday morning. It wasn't fair, he concluded. It just wasn't fair.

Ben reached the entry a moment later, opened the front door, and peeked outside. He saw nothing he hadn't seen before and certainly nothing to give him alarm. He began to wonder whether Mark had overreacted to something. He shut the door, locked it, and moved toward the stairs, a woman he wanted to see, and a conversation he didn't want to have.

As he ascended the steps, Ben thought about Mark and Mary Beth's close encounter with mobsters on Tuesday, the gathering at the Chaparral Motel on Wednesday, and the sense of hopelessness that had gripped four people the rest of the week. He asked himself the obvious questions. Was this really happening? Was it too late to turn back? Were there options that no one had explored? Could he still alter a course that seemed set in stone?

Ben didn't know. He knew only that he had to do what his brother had asked him to do. He had to take prudent measures to protect himself and the woman he loved from a threat that still seemed vague, distant, and strangely unreal. He had to do what he had rarely done before. He had to put aside his own selfish interests and act in the interests of others.

He climbed the stairs, walked down the hallway, and braced himself for a pleasant woman, an unpleasant moment, and a difficult transition. He opened the door to his room a moment later and found the pleasant woman, dressed in a robe, sitting on the edge of his bed.

"I heard the phone ring," Piper said. "Is everything all right?"

Ben shook his head.

"Something is wrong."

"What?"

"I don't know," Ben said. "I just know we have to get dressed."

"It's not even nine."

"I know."

Piper smiled cheerfully.

"Let's make breakfast first."

"We don't have time," Ben said. "We have to get ready. Mark and Mary Beth are coming."

"They left the beach?"

Ben nodded.

"They will be here by nine thirty."

"What's going on?" Piper asked.

"You have to leave, that's what. You have to leave soon. We can't have breakfast. We can't even have the morning."

"Ben?"

"Get dressed, Piper, and then go downstairs. Get your stuff. Get everything you want to take back to 2017," Ben said. He frowned. "It's time to say goodbye."

CHAPTER 50: MARY BETH

Santa Monica, California

Mary Beth scanned Pico Boulevard for black Lincolns as Mark drove his Edsel as fast as he could toward the Painted Lady, their siblings, and a rendezvous with 2017. She had advised him to take the more regulated route because she was certain the bad men with guns would take the faster but less direct Olympic Boulevard in their sprint to Santa Monica.

"What time is it?" Mary Beth asked.

Mark glanced at his watch.

"It's five to nine."

"Do you think they know about the house?"

"No. They will by the end of the day though."

Mary Beth frowned as she mentally reviewed the past few days and the past six weeks. It was all coming to an end, she thought. It was all coming to one inglorious end.

She turned to the driver and saw that he, too, had much on his mind. She hated seeing the frown on his face and the fear in his eyes. She hated seeing the sadness.

"What are you thinking about?" Mary Beth asked.

Mark sighed.

"I'm thinking about the book. I asked Ben to retrieve it and have it handy. I wanted him to have something to give the mobsters in case they went to the house first."

"That was smart," Mary Beth said.

"No. It wasn't. I should have told him to burn it."

"Why?"

Mark looked at his passenger.

"Don't you see? Even if we give it to them, they won't let us live. They
can't
let us live. They can't very well make bets with that book knowing that others know of its existence."

Mary Beth battled a wave of guilt as the truth sank in. She was the one who had purchased the book and decided to use it. She was the one who had carelessly tossed a receipt in a garbage can. She had put at least two lives in mortal jeopardy.

"I'm sorry, Mark. I'm sorry for buying that book. I was stupid."

Mark smiled sadly.

"Don't blame yourself. I was stupid long before that. I opened a can of worms when I opened that drawer. I should have left well enough alone."

Mary Beth put a hand on his arm.

"I'm glad you didn't."

"Why do you say that?" Mark asked.

"I say it because your curiosity brought us together. It brought Ben and Piper together. It enriched the lives of at least four people."

Mark laughed.

"You're amazing."

"No. I'm just a person who sees silver linings," Mary Beth said. "I don't regret one minute we've spent together. I hope you feel the same."

"I do," Mark said.

Mary Beth gave his arm a gentle squeeze and then directed her eyes and her attention to the uncluttered road ahead. She welcomed the change. Looking for bad men in black Lincolns beat thinking about a future without Mark Ryan.

"You should call your mother," Mary Beth said. "She needs to know what's going on."

"I know," Mark said. "I've been thinking about her since we left the hotel. I don't know what to tell her."

"Tell her the truth," Mary Beth said. "Tell her everything. You and Ben can't manage this by yourselves. You need her guidance now."

"You're right."

"Is she returning today?"

Mark nodded.

"She'll be home by six."

"Then tell her tonight. Tell her the truth. Tell her everything. Then go to the police," Mary Beth said. "You'll be all right. I know you will."

"I hope so."

Mary Beth started make another comment but stopped when she saw a black 1958 Lincoln Mark III approach. She tapped on the driver's thigh.

"Mark?"

"I see them," Mark said. "Turn your head. Don't let them see your face."

"I won't," Mary Beth said.

Mary Beth glanced again at the Lincoln and then slowly turned her head toward the front passenger window. She fixed her eyes on a bank and then a five-and-dime store.

She sensed Mark's anxiety as the Edsel and the Lincoln entered a busy intersection, passed each other under a yellow light, and then continued in opposite directions. She sighed when she glanced at the side mirror and saw the black car slowly move away.

Mark let out a breath.

"I think we made it."

Mary Beth smiled when she saw relief on Mark's face but frowned when she heard a squeal. She looked out the back window just as the Lincoln completed a U-turn.

"They saw us," Mary Beth said. She turned to Mark. "Step on it!"

Mark did just that. He stepped on the accelerator and flew through the next intersection as the men in the Lincoln waited for traffic to clear. By the time his pursuers were able to find an opening, run a red light, and begin the chase, he had a healthy lead.

"Where are they?" Mark asked. "I can't see them."

Mary Beth swiveled in her seat and peered again through the back window. This time she did not turn away. She focused on the black Lincoln weaving around cars two blocks back.

"I see them. Go faster, Mark. Go faster!"

"I'm trying."

Mark did more than try. He ran the next two lights and then pulled away when he hit an unregulated stretch between La Cienega Boulevard and Le Brea Avenue. For more than a minute, the Edsel put serious distance on the Lincoln and gave its occupants a measure of hope.

Mary Beth took a deep breath when she saw other cars fall in behind the Edsel and provide a buffer between the hunters and their prey. They were going to make it, she thought.

Then, just that quickly, their fortunes changed. The time travelers came upon an elderly couple crossing the street at an intersection. The delay allowed the men in the Lincoln to regain lost ground, come back into view, and resume a deadly chase.

"I see them again," Mary Beth said. "Can you go faster or turn off?"

Mark looked in the rear-view mirror.

"I can do both. Hold on!"

Mark hit the gas again and kept his foot on the pedal as he put some distance on the men in black. Then he turned right onto Crenshaw Boulevard, drove south a few blocks, and turned right again. He zigzagged through the heart of West Adams for the next few minutes in a desperate and ultimately unsuccessful attempt to ditch his pursuers and buy much-needed time.

"Drive past the house, Mark. Do it twice if you have to," Mary Beth said. "Make some noise. Make it now. We have to let Ben and Piper know we're here."

Mark did as instructed. He drove toward the Painted Lady's block, approached the mansion from the west, and accelerated as he passed the house. He turned sharply at the end of the block.

"Do you have your crystal?" Mark asked.

Mary Beth nodded.

"It's in my purse."

"Hold onto it. Hold it tight. We may need it."

Mark turned sharply two more times and made another pass at his home. This time he honked as he approached the mansion. This time Mary Beth saw Ben and Piper in front of an open door. Both waved as if trying to signal their presence. The strategy had worked.

"I saw them, Mark. I saw them," Mary Beth said.

"So did I."

"Is this the last pass? Is this where we get out?"

Mark nodded.

"Let's hope the third time's a charm. I'm going to pull up in front."

"OK."

Mary Beth held onto her door as Mark circled around the block a final time. She looked out the back window and saw that the Lincoln had closed to within a hundred yards.

"Hurry! Please hurry!"

Mark checked his mirror, flipped up the sun visor, and slowed down as he prepared to make one more turn. Then he fishtailed onto the last street, accelerated past six or seven parked cars, and squealed to a halt along the curb in front of the Painted Lady.

"Get out!" Mark said. "Get out and run for the door!"

Mary Beth grabbed her purse, threw open her door, and exited the Edsel. As she did, she heard a car skid around the corner, sideswipe another vehicle, and approach at a rapid clip. She glanced at the door to the mansion and saw Ben and Piper frantically wave her forward.

Mary Beth ran straight for the door and made it about halfway up a plush front lawn when she heard a shot, a thud, and a groan. She looked back and saw a man pointing a handgun out the front passenger window of a Lincoln that had stopped on the far side of the street. Then she turned her attention to the sidewalk, saw Mark lying face down on the ground, and screamed.

"Mark!"

Mary Beth felt her heart race as she sprinted toward Mark and saw three men in dark suits and fedoras exit the dented Lincoln. She could not believe it had come down to this. She could not believe that her six weeks in heaven had come down to six seconds of hell.

Her mind raced as she approached the sidewalk. Was Mark hurt? Could he walk? Could he make it to the house? Could she do anything to help him?

Mark quickly rendered the questions moot. When Mary Beth reached his side, he lifted his head, looked her in the eyes, and then scrambled to his feet.

"I'm fine," Mark said. "Run!"

Mary Beth did not wait for further instruction. She did not wait for
Mark
. She turned to face the Painted Lady, clutched her purse, and ran toward the open door with reckless abandon.

Mark threw his arm around her waist and pushed her forward as they sprinted across the lawn and moved toward the door, their siblings, and safety. He screamed at Ben and Piper to go inside as they approached the small front porch and then urged Mary Beth to do the same.

Mary Beth stumbled slightly as she heard two more shots, regained her balance on the porch, and followed Ben and Piper into the mansion. She let out a breath when she heard Mark enter the residence behind her, slam the door shut, and lock it.

Mark turned around, stepped away from the door, and scanned the faces in the entry as if conducting a head count. He stared at Ben.

"Do you have the rock?" Mark asked.

"Yes," Ben said.

"Do you have the key?"

"Yes."

"What about the book?"

"I couldn't find it."

Ben barely got the words out when danger arrived in spades. One mobster kicked the front door. Another broke a window in the living room. The man at the door advised one of his peers to circle around to the back of the house. They clearly intended to finish the job.

"It doesn't matter," Mark said. "We have to go. Everyone head to the basement!"

Mary Beth felt fear as she followed Piper and Ben down a dark hallway and a dull pain as they passed through the door to the basement. She placed her hand on the small of her back and felt a wet, sticky substance. She looked over her shoulder as she descended the stairs.

"Mark?"

"I see it," Mark said. "Just keep going. We can't stop."

Mary Beth tightened her hold on her purse as she entered the basement and moved with the others toward a distant door. She didn't make it halfway before she started to wobble and fade.

"Mark?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm getting weak," Mary Beth said.

"I've got you."

Mary Beth heard Mark's words but could not process them before her journey to the door, the tunnel, and the future became a jumbled blur of voices and actions. She felt Mark pick her up and carry her into the tunnel. She did not feel much of anything else. The dull pain in her back had spread to the rest of her body and left her numb, stunned, and semiconscious.

She looked up at the tunnel ceiling as a string of blue and white lights came to life, flickered, and transformed a gloomy chamber into a comforting space. She reached out, touched Mark's face, and noticed tears in his eyes. She felt sadness and happiness and a strange sense of peace.