SURROGATE FALLS
a novel by Gerald A. Dinkel
 

Chapter One

 
Dried blood crusted her nose and tears stained her cheeks while she held him through their last moments together. The smell of gasoline and cold air stung her nostrils as she took up the journal and began to write. Soon the shadowy figures would emerge from the darkness. It was not the first time this had happened.

My name is Arthur White, and I will be your narrator.

###

“I’ve asked you about a hundred times to stop letting the cat go outside. Either you don’t speak English, or you’re just being retarded,” Ethan shouted at his father in the kitchen in the mid afternoon on July 21st, 2005.

“I’m sorry, I thought this was my house,” Mark responded, referring to their open-concept, ranch-style home in the country of south-western Ontario.

“That’s not the point. Felix is my cat, and I don’t want him going outside. It’s unsafe and has been proven to reduce their lifespan.”

“If you say so, but I’ve never heard that before.”

“Big surprise; You, Mark Wallace, haven’t heard of something.”

“Now listen, you little asshole; I’ve had about enough of your bullshit. Maybe it’s about time you moved out.”

“Asshole, eh? What a nice way to talk to your son, Dad. Quite the role model you are. Idiot!”

“You’re not my son...” Mark hesitated, “you--, you’re a curse; my penance!”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“What? You don’t believe me? Well look at that: I know something the know-it-all doesn’t know. Why don’t you take a look in the cellar then, smartass?”

“I don’t have time for this. I’m going over to Brad’s.” Ethan slammed the door behind him.

“Why the hell would you go and say something like that, Mark?” Natalie, Ethan’s mother, asked.

“Leave me alone, will ya? I’m going out to the shed.” Mark said, also slamming the door.

Natalie was just as tired of the constant bickering between Ethan and his father as they were. She sat at the kitchen table for what seemed liked hours, carefully pondering her next move. After much deliberation, she marched downstairs and into the cellar. She sorted through various boxes before finding the one she wanted. She carried it out of the cellar and up to the bottom of the staircase. There she sat, hesitating once more.

Eventually she wrestled up the nerve to open the box. She picked at the band of red tape that sealed the box with her fingernails before tearing it across. A blast of cold air rubbed her arms like snow as she inched opened the cardboard flaps.

In the box rested a black wool coat. It was long and heavy, and looked like it would be quite warm even in the coldest weather. She lifted it out, and aimed to place it beside the box when she heard a thud.

Beneath the coat hid several file folders of adoption application paperwork. She and Mark had tried for years to have a child before Ethan. Mark had been married once before Natalie and already had two children, John and Maria. After Natalie was diagnosed as infertile, they tried adoption and had almost given up hope when Ethan arrived. However, now lying on top of those folders was a recently-dropped smaller, leather-bound book--a book she had never seen before, and one she was obviously not expecting to see in a box that had been sealed away for so long.

Natalie took the book into her hands and noticed a small tear in the leather, and a bundle of loose sheets placed on top of the others. Her eyes sprung open with horror, and she gasped for air when she opened the front cover. Terrified, she grabbed the first loose sheet on top, and started to read.

###

Elsewhere, an angered, but equally frightened Ethan stuffed the same torn black-leather book into the backpack, and returned to the car. A single snowflake fluttered to his hand as he reached for the door. A peculiar occurrence considering it was September, but minor in contrast to what he just read. The flake was succeeded by a raindrop, and then another.

Upon plopping into the car, Ethan shuffled his pack into the backseat, and then reached for the glove compartment. He removed his own similar black leather journal along with a pen. He dithered for a moment as the rain began galloping on the windshield. Pen in hand, he flipped nearly twenty pages to the first blank page and described that day’s events. Once finished, Ethan tossed the journal and pen on the passenger seat, and drove away from the park.

Soon after, Ethan was driving through what had turned into a formidable rainstorm. As he negotiated the next bend, his journal slid off the seat and toward the front-passenger door. He stretched to reach it, drifting out of his lane. With a light tug he noticed some pages of the book were stuck in the bottom jamb of the door. Just as he was about to give a stronger pull, he heard the petrifying drone of the truck’s horn. He felt time slow to a crawl; so slow he could count the raindrops. His body was slammed against the driver’s side door as he heard the sound of paper tearing from his right hand. He was blinded by the headlights of the tractor-trailer for a second or two, and then saw nothing. The car’s horn echoed through the rainy sky as his motionless torso leaned against the steering wheel and a snowflake fell atop his hand.

 
Chapter Two

Ethan clenched his hands hearing the suede and nylon tighten between his fingertips as he reached for another box. “Where do you want this?” he asked the apparent supervisor of the moving truck.

“That’s the last of it,” a voice yelled from inside the house.

Ethan took one final walk around the property as he did nearly every day of this life. He couldn’t believe the day had finally come where his childhood home was sold to someone else. He had spent eighteen years of his twenty-four year-old life there and now he was moving into an apartment of his own in London. His father was doing the same.

It was a sweltering day in early June of 2008 and Ethan stood staring into the muddy water of the pond behind their house. His vision became hazy and a monstrous pain arose in his temples before feeling a gentle tap on his shoulder.

     When he finally opened his eyes he saw the room he was standing in. It was unadorned, but reminded him of the doctor’s office. The floor was white marble accented by a more vibrant white, and the ceiling and walls were completely immaculate. In front of him stood a burly, reasonably tall, black man wearing a dark-coloured uniform roofed in badges.

     “Hello, Ethan. My name is Devin.”

     “Where am I?”

     “You are dead. Well...dying I should say. This is the stage that neurologists say is created by your brain shutting down. The white light, if you will.”

Ethan stumbled over what to say next, outfitted a bewildered expression and then queried, “So, will this all disappear soon?”

“Not if I can help it. It’s my job to make sure that doesn’t happen. It’s my job to send you back.”

“Send me back? What are you talking about?”

“There isn’t much time, Ethan, we must keep this brief. I need you to promise me you won't give up. No matter what; just don't quit.”

Ethan, wholly baffled, managed to mumble, “You..., but...okay.”

“Good. It’s almost 6:15. It will be starting shortly,” replied Devin, as the snow-white room bowed into black.

###

Ethan’s eyelids crawled open. Disoriented, he tossed muddled looks at the people perched around the car.

“Are you okay?” A voice queried.

Confused, Ethan rolled out of the front passenger-side door of the taxi and staggered to his feet. Looking around in puzzlement, Ethan attempted to gather his bearings.

Without saying a word, the muddle Ethan, wobbled toward the archway of the nearest building. He passed what looked like a valet, and inside the establishment.

     He was bombarded with stimuli as he glanced around the room. Illustrious moulding edged a triumphantly high ceiling. The carpets exploded with colour and patterns unfamiliar to Ethan. Through the ringing bells, clacking chips, and ear-stinging sirens, Ethan bobbed toward an illuminated sign depicting the male gender.

     In the washroom, after abundantly splashing water on his face, Ethan attempted to make sense of his predicament. He looked himself over, noticing his clothes and general appearance was not how he’d remembered. He looked similar, but his nose looked like it had been broken, and his hair was longer and darker brown instead of blond. He was wearing a slightly torn ‘Dark Side of the Moon’ t-shirt, acid-washed jeans, and converse shoes; three items he did not remember owning.

While drying his hands, Ethan heard someone approaching over the crunching of paper towel. The footsteps neared and got louder before suddenly stopping.

Ethan slowly turned to see a young boy, maybe twelve years-old, holding up a black leather journal

Ethan slowly grasped the book, and when he did, the boy expediently marched out of the bathroom; presumably to return to his parents.

Ethan examined what seemed to be a layer of a notepad paper sticking out from the confines of the journal’s covers. On the top of the paper was a company logo--a daisy--and below was a series of pen-scratched numbers. Confused, Ethan stuffed the paper in his pocket and left the bathroom.

He entered back out into the casino and panned across the room looking for something familiar, and Ethan, standing nearly six feet and four inches tall, had quite the view.

While stumbling through people to look around, Ethan had become increasingly dizzy and disoriented, so he hurried to the cafe across the floor and took a seat at a table. There he placed the journal in front of him.

Upon examining the book, he noticed a small tear in the leather near the spine and the remnants of pages. It looked like roughly the first twenty pages had been torn out. The rest of pages were blank.

 Just then, a noticeably tired lady sauntered over to Ethan’s table and offered, “Coffee?”

“No, thanks,” Ethan replied. In a cheap attempt to extract his whereabouts without seeming unstable, Ethan went on to explain he had been partaking in excessive drinking and had forgotten where he was.

The waitress responded in a condescending tone, “This is the Riverview Casino, uh...in Surrogate Falls, uh...on planet Earth.” Ethan had heard the name before, in fact, he remembered his brother lived in Surrogate Falls, but what caught his attention most was the server’s nametag. It read, ‘Daisy’.

###

Elsewhere, a paramedic wiped his forehead while squeezing a bag attached to a young man’s breathing tube. “How’s he doing?” he asked.

“He’s got a stable rhythm.” The other paramedic declared while returning the defibrillator paddles to their holsters as the ambulance sped down the road.

“Don’t worry, little buddy, you’re in Devin’s hands now, the first paramedic added. “We got you back, so don’t give up on me now, okay?”

“How far are we out?” the other EMT asked Devin across Ethan’s motionless body.

“We’ve been redirected to Memorial, so we should be there by 6:15.”

The ambulance raced on, delivering a siren that stung the ears like a slot-machine jackpot.

 
Chapter Three
 

It was August 26th, 2008, and Ethan was planning a trip. In fact, he was on his way to the bus terminal when the hawk died. The last few feathers floated gracefully aground as he turned his head forward again. He wondered how many proud birds had been swallowed up by this highway. It was interesting to him how every other creature in the world coexisted flawlessly with one another, except for humans. He felt people put too much emphasis on ergonomics and technological advances at the risk of destroying the planet from which life was spawned. He was aware the industrialists would argue those advances increase the quality of life, but he hoped to prove them wrong. After all, that’s why he was going on this trip.

He left his house early in the morning. Waking up at the same time as the sun always made the day seem significant. He was excited while packing, but when he woke up he was flooded with feelings of melancholy.

The original idea behind the trip was to remove himself from the westernized society he had grown accustomed to hating; then to gain perspective and return to Canada with a new found optimism. He was excited, but sadness prevailed when he realised there was a significant chance he wasn’t going to return. He continued reminiscing and tearing-up over the things he was leaving behind and the people he would never see again. In spite of all that, he put his luggage in the trunk, and hopped in the car.

The sky was a dull grey, and the air was affectionate. He was about five kilometres away from the terminal, when Ethan saw the hawk poised on a tree. He was unable to quit his stare as he saw it take flight and plunge toward the highway. Ethan naturally assumed it must have spotted its prey, but his human eyes weren’t sharp enough to make out what it must have seen. He knew what was going to happen seconds before it ever did. The transport-truck was too close and moving too fast. The hawk didn’t even flinch before exploding into an array of feathers. Ethan felt humbled and guilty, but thanked the creature for reminding him why he was leaving. Like all things in life, some feathers fell slower than others, but they all eventually took their place on the ground.

He had that hawk in mind for the rest of the drive, which wasn’t too long. Mark, Ethan’s father, pulled up to the terminal entrance under Ethan’s direction. It was small terminal, and he would have to connect in Toronto later that afternoon. Mark’s emotional range was limited, as he was in the middle of a battle with Alzheimer’s. Ethan ensured his father knew how to get home and then stepped out of the car.

Mark didn’t say much as Ethan grabbed his things, but managed to mutter, “Have a safe trip.” It’s not that they didn’t like each other, they were just different. Mark had always seemed weary of Ethan and kept his emotional distance, and neither of them required the other’s company.

As Ethan stepped through the doorway, he made one final look back. He was about to wave when he noticed his father had already pulled away.

Ethan anxiously stood in the bus terminal, amidst the grey walls, blue chairs, and lonely faces. He spent the next few seconds scanning the kiosks, and pawing tenuously at happiness.

###

 “So, what can I get you then?” the waitress asked.

“Nothing, thanks anyway. I was just leaving.” Ethan replied while rubbing his profusely blinking eyes and recovering from his apparent daydream. He stood up from the table and made his way toward a series of glass doors he saw in his peripheral. He marched across the casino’s elegant, grey-marble floor, and approached the doors.

Outside it was bright, but cool--too cool for August. From the angle of the sun, and the buzz outside, he gauged it was probably late morning.

Ethan approached one of the many taxis idling in front of the casino. He asked the driver to take him to Redding Lane. He remembered his brother’s street but not the address. After explaining that to the driver, it was agreed they would drive up the street and endeavour to identify the correct house. He was embarrassed when he realized that Redding lane was only a few blocks away, but he did manage to remember there was a seven and an eight in the house number.

After two failed attempts, Ethan knocked on the door of the third house and was greeted by the surprised face of his brother, John.

“What are you doing here?” John asked while barricading the doorway.

“Listen, something very strange is going on here, and I really need to talk to you.”

“Ugh,” John sighed reluctantly, “Alright, come inside, but don’t wake Sarah.”

“One more thing,” I replied, “Do you think you can pay the cabbie? I lost my wallet, and all I have is some old ten-dollar bill I found in my pocket.”

A frustrated John tossed a look of disappointment at Ethan, before putting on his shoes and walking out toward the taxi.

“Ok, what the hell is going on?” Asked John after returning from outside, making no reference to Ethan’s mysteriously transformed appearance. “I don’t see you in three years, and then you just show up unannounced demanding sanctuary? Please...explain.”

“I don’t know what’s going on; that’s the problem. The last thing I remember was getting dropped off at the bus station by Dad.”

“Where were you going?”

“I was actually going to come here, then head west...I think. I have been making plans to backpack across Canada for the last couple weeks. I was going to go to come here through Toronto and then head west. The problem is I don’t remember being in Toronto, the last thing I remember is getting dropped off at the terminal in London. Then I saw this strange black ma--, I mean; then I woke up in the back of a cab, near the casino here in Surrogate Falls.”

John unconvincingly nodded, and had Ethan breakdown the finer details of his tale. Ethan never told John about Devin, and the strange visions. He figured he seemed crazy enough without adding schizophrenia to the mix. They devised a plan together to get Ethan back to London, and then have him checked out by his doctor when he got home. John suggested that Ethan stay for lunch, after which they would go back to the casino to look for Ethan’s lost belongings.

“So, if everything had gone according to plan, were you just going to knock on my door and say, ‘surprise’?” John asked.

“Something like that, I guess. I was kind of hoping it would reopen the lines of communication. I mean, it has been three years. I stopped by Maria’s before I left with similar goals in mind. It actually went quite well.”

“That’s great,” John somewhat sarcastically added. “Sounds like Sarah’s awake. I better go talk to her.”

Ethan overheard John talking to Sarah about him. “His story makes no sense at all;” John said, “I think he might be going through a crisis or something. I’m worried about him.”

“Look,” countered Sarah, “I don’t want him here. How about you two go out for lunch, checkout the casino, and then take him to the bus station. Tell him to get himself checked out back in London. Clearly he’s had a nervous breakdown or something.”

Ethan was playing with a Rubik’s cube he found on the shelf in the living room when John came down the hall.

“Let’s go get some food and check out that casino.” John ordered. Ethan placed the now solved Rubik’s cube back on the shelf, and as he did his vision blurred and was accompanied by a flash of white light. It subsided seconds later and he followed John outside.

In the car they started talking about what they had done over the last three years, a topic which continued over lunch. They ate at a local bar and grill as John explained his new outlook on the events that had wedged them apart. Ethan and John found they actually agreed on most aspects and mutually hoped to move forward from that point on.

The pitiful repair of Ethan’s family was one of the reasons for his trip. Just over three years prior Ethan had lost his mother to an automobile accident. The siblings, Ethan, John, and Maria, all fought over the distribution of the life-insurance, and who would look after the welfare of their father. It was this, combined with their father’s inability to separate truths, and compulsion to pit one sibling against the other, that led to their separation. After the accident, Ethan stayed with Mark, and his little cousin, Stephanie, whom Mark and he were looking after. This all took place in the summer of 2005. Luckily for Ethan, it seemed that the time apart had allowed John the ability to overcome his disdain, and he seemed willing to redevelop a relationship with his younger brother.

“I read your book.” John announced as he was finishing his steak, “It was an interesting read.” Ethan had published a book earlier that year depicting the tragic events of 2005.

     Ethan nodded appreciatively and muttered, “Thanks.”

The next few moments were peaceful and warm, until Ethan realised he was still inexplicably in Surrogate Falls.

When John and Ethan were returning to the vehicle, Ethan’s vision was interrupted once more by another bright flash of light, but this time he thought he heard the sound of someone or something breathing between a series of strange rhythmic beeps.

“Are you alright,” John asked concernedly.

“Yeah, I just get a whopper of a headache all of a sudden though.”

     “Hmm, that’s strange. I’ll see if I have any aspirin in the car.”

     Ethan became more frightened as he considered the possibility that John was right. Maybe he was losing it; he was having trouble separating illusion from reality.

John dropped Ethan off at the casino to check the lost and found for his wallet and other belongings.

“Meet me out front, by the valet in five minutes; I’ve got a quick errand to run,” John commanded.

“Okay,” Ethan said as he exited the vehicle and shuffled inside.

As Ethan waded back across the grey-marble floors and up to the hotel lobby, his headache vanished, and his sight seemed clearer. The lobby was covered in walnut, and had a warm, but dated feel to it. He noticed a vintage newspaper on the desk as he rang for the concierge.

“That’s a good year,” Ethan said to the beautiful, young concierge, donning a nametag marked ‘Beth’, while pointing at the newspaper. “Eighty-three, the year I was born.”

Beth giggled and rolled her eyes. “What can I help you with, sir?”

He listed his missing items, and waited as Beth checked the back. Ethan was glancing around the lobby when his eyes fixed to the chair in the corner. The impeccably upholstered seat was occupied by a familiar man wearing a dark-coloured uniform. Ethan couldn’t move; he felt stuck, and all he could do was watch. Devin pulled a daisy out of his pocket, and began to smell it.

“Sir,” Beth shouted, “no items have been turned in that match the description you gave.” Ethan viciously looked around, realising Devin was gone, and he had been standing there in a daze.

“What is wrong with me?” Ethan said under his breath, as he was once again blinking generously to regain his proper vision.

“What was that, sir?” Beth solicited.

“Nothing, thanks for looking.” Ethan added as he walked away from the counter and sat down in one of the plush chairs provided in front of an unlit fireplace.

Ethan took a moment to find his bearings. Was he going insane, he wondered? Was this the first cold step into the deep pool of psychosis?

As Ethan stumbled back out of the hotel lobby, he heard a womanly voice shout that she was on her break. He turned toward the cafe he was in earlier and saw the woman perched at the bar. It was the waitress that tended to him earlier. Seemingly out of his control, Ethan changed course and approached her.

Ethan took a seat at the bar with a buffer-stool between him and the waitress spending the first few minutes pretending to examine a menu, glancing bi-secondly at her.

“You’re back!” a voice said, seemingly emanating from the waitress, who convincingly paid no attention to Ethan’s arrival, “Did you have a nice walk to the lobby and back? Ha-ha. Feeling any better?”

“A little,” Ethan lied, unsure of exactly what she was implying, “and I was at the lobby looking for my wallet, but it’s not there. Oh well, I guess I don’t really need it anyway.”

“Lost all your money at the tables, eh?”

“Not quite.”

“What’ll it be, Daisy?” The bartender queried.

“Mango martini, and a slice of chocolate heaven, please.”

“And would ‘wallet-less Joe’ like anything?” the bartender snickered as he pointed at Ethan.

“No thanks. It’s a bit early for alcohol.” Ethan backhandedly retorted.

“So then, why would a person not really need their wallet?” the waitress poked, looking a little offended.

“Long story really...”

“Well, let’s see how much of it you can tell while I eat my cake. Entertain me!”

“Okay. I’m Ethan though, not Joe.”

“...Candace,” she conceded.

“Not Daisy?” Ethan retorted.

“Daisy is my nickname; my mother started calling me that when I was little.”

“I see.” Ethan nodded, “Well, a couple weeks ago I decided I was going to sell off all of my possessions, give my money to charity, and travel around the world like a drifter.”

“Oh, is that all?”

“Yeah, so my wallet doesn’t really contain much that would aid such a journey, thus my saying I don’t really need it.”

Candace seemed very interested in Ethan’s story. She had a natural beauty--one of those faces that can raze you with a glare, but revive you with smiling-dimples. Blonde, slightly frayed hair danced across her face and down past her shoulders, which were unflatteringly concealed by a maroon, cafe-branded polo. Ethan was captivated.

     “How old are you?” Candace asked, mid-story.

     “Twenty-four. And you?”

     “Isn’t there a rule against asking a lady her age?” Candace asked with a smile. “I’m twenty-seven. I don’t believe you, though. No twenty-four year-old just up and does something like that. I bet you’re running from something, I just don’t know what.”

     “Maybe I am, but that is a story for another time.” Ethan replied, as he thought of his mother, of Stephanie, and of Emily. Saying those names in that order, even to himself, always made Ethan rub his wrists, but this time, when he looked down he noticed the scars were gone. Ethan slouched baffled for a few silent moments.

     Candace finished eating, but spitefully ordered another drink. When the bartender delivered it he handed her a ticket. “What’s this?” she snapped.

     “It’s this Riverview Casino lottery thing we are doing. Surely you’ve heard about it, Daisy. We are giving one out to every customer.”

     “Oh, well then,” she chuckled. “What do I do?”

     “Just select three sets of four numbers by bubbling them in. They do the draw everyday at 6:00 p.m.”

     Candace started to bubble in numbers whilst intermittently mumbling.

“What about you drifter,” she asked at Ethan, “got any lucky numbers for me?”

     Ethan was about to reply when he noticed the tattoo on the back of Candace’s neck. It was a flower tattoo, but more importantly it reminded him or something he’d seen before. He reached into his pocket and pulled out that torn piece of paper he found in the journal. The daisy logo on top of the slip looked identical to that of Candace’s tattoo.

     “Try these:” he responded, after basically giving up on conventional logic, “four, fifteen, thirty-two, and forty-seven. Does that work? Do they fit?”

     “They sure do. Those will be my last set.”

     Ethan’s body jerked when John placed his hand on his shoulder and declared, “Let’s go!” Ethan had forgotten all about his brother waiting in the car.

Ethan offered Candace his hand, and declared, “Well, I have to get going, but it was a pleasure meeting you.”

     “Have fun with that,” she said, without so much as turning his direction, leaving Ethan affronted.

It wasn’t the first time Ethan felt Candace’s responses were either nonsensical or hurtful. Regardless, Ethan and John silently returned to the car. John was unmistakably upset at how long Ethan took, but Ethan was more concerned with the muddled vision and achy head that had once again returned.

Ethan endured what he assumed was a drive to the bus station rubbing his forehead and copiously blinking.

“There is a bus that leaves tonight--here is the ticket. I charged it to my credit card. It’s good for three days; so you have your choice of which bus to take, but the next one is at 6:30 p.m. I believe. Get yourself checked-out when you get back into London, and send me an email letting me know what happened, okay?” John explained.

“I will. Thanks for all your help.” Ethan responded as he stepped out of the car. A nostalgic wave was reciprocated, and Ethan stepped into the terminal.

###

It was evening, and Ethan was waiting in the bus station, sipping on a juice bottle, and clenching his ticket. His headache and shadowy vision settled earlier when he first found a seat in the terminal. This caused him to start contemplating the idea that he might need glasses.

 Ethan closed his eyes and replayed the last several hours. It seemed like weeks ago that he was driven to the bus station by his father. He was bewildered, and unsure of his reality. He considered returning to London a cure. He hoped to hit the reset button on his travels, but more, he hoped to just wake up.

He became aware of the book in his back pocket as sitting became more and more uncomfortable. He pulled it out and placed it on the blue plastic chair next to him. The terminal was cold and dejected; dull greys pervaded across the walls and ceiling. Lifeless faces rested upon seemingly lifeless bodies speckled throughout the building. A patron grunted and pointed at the seat Ethan’s book and a newspaper were resting upon. With a look of minor disgust, Ethan took up the items on the chair, which included a pen, and brought them to his lap. He opened the journal to distract himself from the derelict now seated next to him. He impulsively brought the pen to the page, and in a way that felt familiar to him, he began to write.

“The 6:30 to London is boarding,” an announcer said, as Ethan looked up at the clock. It was 6:15 p.m., and Ethan had written a paragraph in the book. He had scribbled: “So, I’m in Surrogate Falls, and I just said goodbye to my brother, John. I don’t really have a clue what’s going on anymore, and I’m worried I might be losing my mind. Hell, I’m writing to a journal for Christ’s sake.”

Ethan finished by jotting down his brother’s phone number and address, then he closed the book. He stood up and stepped toward gate number seven, which housed the bus to London. As he drew closer a voice echoed through his head, a voice with no source within the bus terminal.

“I need you to promise me you won't give up. No matter what; just don't quit.”

Ethan hesitated, deeply considering those words, and after an exaggerated inhale, he started walking again, but away from the gate and toward the exit.

 
Chapter Four

It was late on September 15th, 2008. The stretcher wheels clanked and squeaked while rolling through Memorial Hospital’s emergency room. Memorial Hospital was a quiet, understaffed facility located approximately fifteen kilometres outside of London. It serviced the surrounding rural area, but was ghostly most nights. Ethan had been here a few times before for minor medical emergencies while living in Braddock.

     “You working?” Devin shouted to the nurse, nearest to the door.

“Well, I was just going on break—.”

     “Good, you won’t mind taking this one then.” Devin interrupted and snickered back, “Who else’s on?”

     “I am!” Dr. White responded, appearing virtually from nowhere.

     “Since when do you work the ER, Dr. White? Or you, Daisy?” Devin quizzed, while simultaneously exchanging medical jargon about the young man’s condition with the two of them.

     “Blame the economy,” Dr. White complained.

     “Sorry to disappoint you.” Daisy added.

     “That’s okay, Daisy, you know how I love to see your cheerful face,” Devin sarcastically added while letting go of the gurney, “even though it’s usually up in the ICU.”

     “On three: one, two three,” Dr. White ordered before lifting and placing Ethan down on the bed.

     “All we recovered was this,” Devin proclaimed while toting a small backpack, “He didn’t have any ID on him, and the car wasn’t his. The police are coming over when they’ve finished up with the scene. And on that note, I’m officially off for the evening! G’night, ladies!”

     Devin strutted happily down the hall followed closely by an unsatisfied glare from Dr. White.

###

     “What freakin’ time is it?” Sarah demanded, as her voice battled against that of the telephones.

     “Hello?” John inquired as he struggled to bring the phone to his face.

     “Hello. Sorry to bother you so late. This is Daisy from Memorial Hospital calling, and I’m looking for a John Finch.”

     “This is he.”

     “Mr. Finch, a young man--I’d say...in his mid-twenties--was brought in here a few hours ago. He was in a car accident, and was seriously injured. He didn’t have much in the way of identification on his person, but he did have a journal in his backpack. I glanced in the front cover to see if it was marked, and I happened to see your name and phone number on the first page--although, it does look like some pages are missing.

     I was hoping maybe you could help us identify him since the police haven’t located the owner of the vehicle yet. He has a scar on both his wrists and a silicone bracelet that has the letters, V-E-R-G-I--.”

     “Vergissmeinnicht,” John corrected, “His name is Ethan Finch. He’s my brother. I’m on my way.”

     “I noticed the area code while dialling. Where are you coming from if you don’t mind me asking?”

     “Surrogate Falls. I’ll be there in a couple of hours.”

     As predicted, John stormed through the hospital hours later leaving a pool of rain behind with each step. It was the first time he had returned to this hospital since he was a child.

     Memorial was your average hospital: pale coloured walls and floors for the eyes, the buzzing of telephones, monitors, and mumbling patients for the ears, and the perfume of cleaning products and bedpans for the nose. John wasn’t apt to touch or taste anything, however.

     “I’m looking for my brother, Ethan Finch. He was brought here several hours ago after a motor vehicle accident.”

     “You must be John,” a voice from a blonde-haired mound behind a chair sounded. Daisy wheeled around in her chair, stood up, and approached the counter. “I’m done down here for the night anyway; I’ll take ya to him.”

     When they entered the room, Daisy placed the journal she was carrying on top of Ethan’s backpack, which was resting on this brown and white nightstand beside his bed. “Have a seat,” she said, “Dr. White will be in shortly.”

     John looked at Ethan’s motionless body for a few seconds, and then stared at the floor, which was white marble accented by a more vibrant white.

     A few moments passed before Maria walked through the door. She saw Ethan’s body, and immediately started to cry. Maria was very sensitive to witnessing injury or loss.

     “Oh, John, thank you for calling and letting me know,” Maria sobbed, “What happened to him?”

     “I’m not sure yet, I’m waiting on the doctor.”

     “Have you seen him recently?” Maria asked while stroking Ethan’s blond hair.

     “He was at my place a few weeks ago. He showed up, solved our Rubik’s cube, had dinner, and then got on a bus back to Toronto that I had to buy. He mentioned something about a journey.”

     “Yeah, he said he was going on a trip, and that he was planning to see you on the way. He stopped by our place just before leaving, which completely surprised us, because we hadn’t seen him--or you for that matter--in over three years. Gosh, that was only--. Well, what’s the date today?”

     “September 16th, 2008, as of twenty minutes ago,” Dr. White said, noticing it was after midnight, as he marched into the room, wearing a white lab coat. His face was slightly aged. He had crow’s feet, and faintly sagging cheeks. A thick beard lay tamed against his skin, and his hair was slowly escaping the confines of his forehead.

     “Yeah, it was three weeks ago then.” Maria asserted before turning to the doctor and asking, “What’s happened to him, Doctor...?”

     “Dr. Arthur White,” the azure-eyed doctor replied, “and he’s sustained quite the collision. I’m afraid he’s suffered significant trauma and is in a coma.”

     Maria’s sobbing doubled before the doctor could even finish his sentence, and she was displeased by his curtness.

     “So, what do we do now?” John sighed.

     “We wait,’ Dr. White retorted before scribbling something down on Ethan’s chart. “The nurses will check up on him regularly and make sure he has everything he needs, and I’ll be back during my rounds.”

     Dr. White ambled out the door and down the hall.

     “I called Dad,” John professed, “but one of us will have to go pick him up.”

     “You know how I feel about him. I haven’t talked to him since that whole fiasco with Natalie and the funeral.”

     “Don’t worry about it, Maria. I’ll get him.”

     It was almost 6:00 a.m. and the nurses were changing shift.

 
Chapter Five
 

It was later in the day on September 16th, and Brad stood motionless at the foot of Ethan’s bed. It was difficult for him to see Ethan vulnerable. They had grown up together and had been best friends since they were six years old, but even through all the nostalgia traumatic events imbued; Brad was trapped in a snare of disbelief. He had always viewed Ethan as the indestructible one--even during the events with Natalie a few years prior. But now he questioned his own mortality.

     Rearward, Brad could hear the nurses talking about him.

     “He’s the one standing by bed seven,” one nurse said.

     “Yeah, I’m on my way,” replied the other, as she took steps toward Brad.

     “You’ll have to come back later,” the nurse said while tapping Brad on the shoulder.

     “Huh?” Brad sounded as he twisted around.

     “ICU visiting hours are from 6:00 a.m. ‘til 8:00 a.m., 1:00 p.m. ‘til 3:00 p.m., and then again from 7:00 p.m. ‘til 9:00 p.m.”

     Brad glanced down at his watch and noticed it was 5:51 p.m.

     “That’s fine,” he muttered as he made his way towards Ethan’s nightstand. He opened the front cover of the journal that was resting on top of the table and inserted the crinkled stack of papers he was holding. He closed the book back up and muttered, “Tell John, or whoever comes at seven that I left this stuff here.”

     “And you are?” The nurse interrogated unpleasantly.

     “I’m Brad Russell, a friend of the family. It was my car Ethan was driving when he got in the accident. I was hoping to catch John or Maria here, but I have to go back to work. Tell them: I spoke to the police, the car’s a write-off, and all I managed to find were those pages and his wallet.”

     “Okay...” the nurse donning the tag ‘Beth’ confusedly droned.

     “Shit!” Brad exclaimed as he frantically patted himself down, “I left the wallet in the truck downstairs. I’ll be back in a minute.”

     “Are you sure you wouldn’t be better off telling the family this yourself, sir?”

     “Yeah, maybe I’ll call and leave them a message,” Brad garbled as he walked past Beth and down the hall.

###

     “Hey, girls,” Daisy hailed, just moments after Brad left, as she placed her purse on the desk in the nurse’s station.

     “Hey, hun,” nurse Louise greeted.

     “Thank goodness for six o’clock!” Beth snickered.

     “Before you go, Beth,” Louise ordered, “get Daisy to settle the bet once and for all, right now.”

     “Okay, fine.” Beth conceded, “Is Daisy your real name, or a nick name?”

     “Ha-ha. This is what you guys bet on?” Daisy jested, “It’s my real name; and it’s on my ID like that. I was named after my mother. Her nickname was Daisy.”

     “Yes!” Louise cheered, “Told you so, Beth.”

     “You guys are crazy. Anyway, how’s our sleeper in bed seven doin’?” Daisy inquired.

     “No change. Oh, but there was this weight-lifter guy here a few minutes ago. Have you seen him before?--I think he said his name was Brad--Short brown hair? Really tan?”

     “I have no idea who you are talking about, Louise,” Daisy replied.

     “Yeah, he dropped some things off on the nightstand, and then left kind of abruptly,” Beth continued, “He was here during off hours though. Anyway, I figured you could mention it to the family if they come tonight.”

     “Yeah, sure thing, Beth,” Daisy mocked, “any other secretarial work you need me to do?”

     Beth, stuck her tongue out at Daisy, shouldered her purse, and jested, “Ciao...suckers.”

     Daisy sat in her chair for a few minutes, scribbling something down, before her an unfathomable urge captured her. She found herself impetuously walking toward Ethan’s bed. She glanced at his inexpressive face before examining the items on the bedside table. Daisy looked behind herself down the long line of empty beds stretching to the far side of the ICU and then squeaked the chair from beside the nightstand over to her squatting body. Ethan’s bed was the last one in the line—bed number seven.

     “You know,” she began, “I was watching this program about comas not too long ago, and they suggested the possibility that those afflicted can actually hear what’s going on around them.

     I’m not sure what I believe, and I hope I never find out, but I think if I was in a coma, I’d like people to talk to me. Maybe that’s why I’m talking to you; I’m building up karma points for any future coma.” Daisy laughed for a moment.

     “Anyway,” she sighed, while tenaciously trying to compose herself, “what have we here?” Daisy reached for the book on the table, and again panned the room to make sure no one was watching. “I’m a little nosey. It’s a fault, but don’t tell anyone, okay?”

     Daisy opened the book, tidied up the loose pages that Brad had placed there, and asked, “Is this your journal or something? Well then, let’s find out exactly who you are, Mr. Finch.”

     Daisy shuffled her salmon-coloured uniform allowing her to cross her legs. She began to read aloud from the journal:

     “So, I’m in Surrogate Falls, and I just said goodbye to my brother, John...”

     It was 6:15 p.m.

 
Chapter Six

 
Meanwhile, back at the bus station, Ethan could see the roof of the casino from just outside the exit. He escaped down the street as a vivid beam shined through the dusk from the pinnacle of the Riverview Hotel. Ethan felt his steps quickening as if he was running from the very thought of the bus terminal. Inside it were all the hopeless meandering faces of his past and his vessel to return there. As unsure as he was of his fate in Surrogate Falls, the adventure of it all seemed more attractive than anything that bus home could offer. And it was that, which drove him.

     His pace hastened once more, though he was unsure of his destination. He was going to the casino, but then what? He approached the gold-trimmed, glass doors, nodded at the clichéd red-suited valet, and entered the casino. Through the doors the majesty of the casino was unveiled to him. It was dimmer outside now, so the passion of the glistening lights and pervading screams of patrons and gambling machines alike were more prominent.

     As he stepped across a yellow-swirled, blue and purple floor, he heard a familiar voice ring out.

     “Well, there he is now; my lucky charm,” Candace announced while sauntering an opposed, but parallel course.

     “Huh?” Ethan asked, while adjusting his head to match her ever-changing position.

     “Those numbers you gave me for that in-house lottery actually won. Can you believe it?” Candace revelled, as she passed Ethan.

     “That’s amazing;” Ethan nodded as any sustainable form of logic escaped his grasp before continuing in a whispery voice, “what are the odds--? I mean, the paper with the numbers, the tattoo, it just--.”

      Ethan stood cemented to the carpet, unable to make sense of it all as Candace had cleared the foyer and was pushing open the door.

     “You comin’?” she asked with a turn of her head.

     “Huh?” Ethan stammered again, while swivelling in place.

     “My shift ended at six, and I figure the least I could do is buy you dinner.” Candace smiled innocently at Ethan.

     Ethan struggled to find his feet over the inscrutability of the day, but managed to slowly aim one in front of the other toward the door.

     Moments later, their taxi pulled in front of a Texan style holding discreetly dubbed, ‘San Antone’s’, which was written underneath a steer skull. It was seemingly constructed from unprocessed wood logs, and smelled of hickory smoke and barbecue sauce.

     “Best steak in Surrogate Falls, hands down,” Candace advised. “You like steak, right?”

     “Yeah, I do,” Ethan responded while inspecting the establishment.

     “Good! It’s my favourite”

     They were led to their seats--a booth in the back corner overlooking nearly the entire restaurant.

     “You know,” Candace started as she flopped down on the burgundy leather cushion, “I was wondering if I’d ever see you again.”

     “Oh?” Ethan questioned.

     “Yeah, when I checked the ticket after my shift and found out I won, but more importantly found out I won with the numbers you gave me; I was curious about what would happen if I saw you again.”

     “How so?”

     “Well, whether I would tell you and what it would mean if I did. You gotta realize: I work in a casino; everyone is out to screw everyone else to gain a buck.”

     “You thought I would try to claim the winnings?” Ethan questioned with disgust.

     “Maybe part of it, I don’t know, but I just realised it would be easier if I never saw you again, that’s all.” Ethan just chuckled, and then took a sip of his water. “But then when I saw you come in on my way out, I was surprised, but kind of relieved,” Candace added.

     “Relieved?”

     “Yeah, as if I knew I would be avoiding some kind of future guilt by telling you. I guess I wanted to thank you or something, I don’t know.”

     “Well, you’re welcome,” Ethan affirmed. “And don’t worry; I don’t want any of your winnings.”

     “Ha-ha. Well, that’s nice of you. I’m—“

     “Hi there,” the server greeted as she darted in front of the table, “my name is Louise, and I’ll be lookin’ after y’all this evenin’. Have you had a chance to look over the menus?”

     “Not really,” Ethan mentioned as he opened his. He was about to comment further before noticing the prices. They seemed quite cheap. The ten ounce sirloin dinner was under fifteen dollars.

     “Would you like to hear our specials?” Louise started again.

     “We’ll both have the ‘Cowboy Classic’, and load the potato,” Candace confidently stated, while giving Ethan a reassuring nod.

     “And how do you want those steaks, hun?”

     “Medium-rare for me;” Candace ordered, “and you?” she asked while pointing at Ethan.

     “Medium, thanks,” Ethan requested softly.

     “And to drink?” Louise furthered.

     “Just a ginger ale,” Ethan suggested.

     “Um, give me that house beer you guys have on tap,” Candace demanded.

     “Sounds good,” Louise concurred while jotting everything down on a notepad--another irregularity Ethan noticed. He shrugged it off though, on the grounds he’d never been to this restaurant before.

     “So, tell me more about this ‘travelling the world like a drifter’ business,” Candace intrigued. “Actually you know what, tell it to me from the beginning. I’ll get you started: You were born, then what?”

     “Ha-ha. Why do you want to know about my life?”

     “Because people interest me...but you especially; you’re just very mysterious, and I’m curious,” Candace responded with a gleam in her eye that suggested to Ethan that she may be interested in more than his life story. Candace was gorgeous, and captivating to him, and although he would never admit it, he felt helpless to her will.

     “Well, like you said, I was born...in London actually.”

     “Ooh, I love London. Okay, go on,” Candace ordered.

     “Um, I have a sister and a brother, John and Maria, but they are both quite a bit older than me, and have a different mother, so at times I felt like an only child. I lived in London until I was about six, then my parents, brother, and I, moved out into the country--a little town called Braddock.”

     “Never heard of it,” Candace interjected. “Moving at that age can be tough though; did you make many friends?”

     “I made one friend right away, and we stuck it out through the years. His name is Brad; we’re still really close even now, some eighteen years later.”

     “Well, that helps. Anyway, keep going.”

     “Right, well, uh...I lived in Braddock most my life, went to high school there, and then moved back to London last year.

     “Here you are,” Louise gestured, while placing down their drinks.

     Ethan could hardly moan a ‘thank you’ before Candace had started chugging her beer. Ethan and Louise both took notice of it, but stopped when Candace began glaring defensively.

     “So, that’s a great story, but it doesn’t really explain why you sold all your stuff, and started travelling around,” Candace complained.

     “Well, that’s the sticky part, but if you must know...” Ethan responded with a sigh, “a couple of years ago, my mother mysteriously drowned in our pond out in Braddock. In the wake of that, the family started to go through a really shaky period, and ties were cut. In fact, up until just recently, no one in my nuclear family had spoken to the others.”

     The cocky smile on Candace’s face dried up as Ethan continued, “In the aftermath, I was left looking after my Alzheimer’s-ridden father, and my younger cousin, Stephanie, whom my mother was raising before the accident.”

     “That’s horrible!” gasped Candace.

     “Yeah, it was rough. Anyway, that lasted for nearly three years, until Stephanie went to live with her biological father, and my dad moved to London. He was getting a place near his brother, so he could be looked after as his condition was worsening.”

     “So, that’s when you started travelling around?” Candace asked.

     “Not quite. I moved into an apartment in London, and stayed there for a couple months; then I sold everything and started travelling around.”

     “Now see, that’s a story,” Candace exclaimed. “So, how long ago was that, and what made you decide to do it?”

          “Well, this was just recently, I think; as in the last week, maybe. I’m not completely sure though, I must have hit my head or something; I can’t seem to keep track of time.” Ethan laughed, but he was serious. “And the reason I started the trip is complicated. I guess I wanted a sense of adventure and was sick of the minutiae of everyday life.”

     “Minutiae?” Candace inquired.

     “Yeah, you know; the routine pointless aspects. Go to work, come home, go to sleep, lather, rinse, repeat. Most people spend most of their lives accomplishing nothing. I mean, you only live once; do you really want to spend two thirds of your life working and sleeping? Hell, most people I know haven’t even been outside the province in their entire lives. How sad is that?”

     “I see your point, but unfortunately I am one of those people,” Candace announced, “I’ve never left the province that I can remember, and I spend two thirds or more of my life not living it the way I’d like to. I wish I could be like you.”

     “Well, there’s really nothing stopping you. Why don’t you take your winnings from today and go on a vacation?--assuming the prize was large enough. How much did you win, if you don’t mind me asking?”

     “Just under ten grand,” Candace whispered.

     “Holy shit!” Ethan exclaimed, “That would make for a pretty awesome vacation. I could see all of Canada and The U.S. with that much coin. But then again, I don’t even have a wallet.”

     They both chuckled, and shared a moment of silent contemplation.

     “So, where are you off to next on this adventure of yours?” Candace inquired.

     “Well, my original plan was to come here, see my brother, and then head and then west. I haven’t really planned beyond that, but maybe go all the way to the coast.”

     “Is that all?” Candace snickered, “How long do you think it will take you to do that?”

     “Well, it mainly depends on the form of transportation I use, but right now, with no wallet and no money, I’m guessing it will take a long time.”

     “And you have no idea where your wallet is?”
     “Well, I’m guessing I lost it in near casino when I...” Ethan hesitated, and then adjusted, “...when I passed out.”

     “Oh yeah, the binge that brought you into the cafe. Ha-ha. Remember when you didn’t know where you were, and you just sat there for hours? That must have been some night.”

     “Yeah, it sure was.” Ethan thought about all the things that transpired that Candace didn’t know about, yet she couldn’t have been more right; it was some night, but what three hours was she referring to?

     “You have a brother that lives here in Surrogate Falls?”

     “Yeah, he just moved here not too long ago. How ‘bout you? Do you have family around here?”

     “No,” Candace replied reluctantly. “My father left us when I was really young, and my mother died of cancer a few years ago. I was an only child and so was my mother.”

          “That must have been difficult,” Ethan consoled, “but I don’t know what the bigger injustice is; being deprived a family, or having one that you don’t speak to.”

     “Here we are,” Louise explained again, this time while setting down the plates of food.

     “That was quick!” Ethan congratulated, as he grew more and more uncomfortable. There was no way the food could have been prepared that fast. Something was out of place, but despite his frantic scanning of the restaurant, he was unable to figure out what.

     “Another beer, please,” Candace requested; more humbly this time.

     “Sure thing, doll. And how’s that ginger ale comin’?” Louise asked while looking at Ethan.

     “I’m fine, thanks,” Ethan responded, as he bowed his gaze hungrily toward the massive slab of meat in front of him. He found himself becoming increasingly distracted as the day crawled forward, but what was causing it, he wondered. Was it Candace’s incontestable charm, or was it something worse? Through his forced smile perched trepidation that his grasp of reality was unravelling.

          “So...” Candace hinted between chews after several moments of silence, “I have a proposal for you...”

     “A bit early in the relationship for proposals, isn’t it?” Ethan quipped.

     “Ha-ha, very funny! I realize this may be a bit presumptuous and forward, but hear me out. I hate my job, and would love to see more of the world, but have no one to see it with, and up until a few hours ago, didn’t have the money to see it. Then there’s you; a person who I only just met, but who seems like a nice, bright individual, who just happens to be travelling the world. Oh...and no offense, but someone who could use some money to aid their travels. Anyway, I think you see where I’m going with this.”

     Candace looked compromised and nervous, as Ethan tried to disguise his flattered expression before responding, “You know, this may defy all logic and social convention, but something is telling me we should do it. Just think about the series of events that put us here: me arriving at your cafe, me having the numbers to your lotto thingy, and so on. It’s just all so strange. Besides, my only concern was that it might get a little lonely travelling all by myself. So I think it’s a great idea.”

     “Great! I’m excited,” Candace squealed while rubbing her hands together anxiously. “Louise! Another beer please.”

     Ethan’s expression morphed from flattered to worried, as he contemplated the flaws of what he just bargained. He couldn’t understand his impulsiveness to agree with Candace, and his desire to twist deeper down this rabbit hole dubbed Surrogate Falls. He also felt certain that if it were anyone else in Candace’s seat he would not be in the same predicament. There was something about her that tickled the reaches of his memory he was out of touch with.

     “So, where are you staying tonight?” Candace queried.

     “Hmm, to be honest, I hadn’t really thought about that. I guess I never really had plans to stay here,” Ethan replied.

     “No sweat, I can probably get you a comp’d room at the Riverview.”

     “Really? That’d be awesome,” Ethan suggested while twisting his eyes in calculation.

     “Yeah, shouldn’t be a problem.” she added.

     Candace sighed in relief as if the travel plans had somehow resolved all of her qualms. She too felt an unexplainable, yet familiar presence in Ethan; one she was eager to explore further.

     As the night came to a close, Ethan’s relief fleeted. He hated that the decisions which made the least logical sense felt enigmatically like the best ones. And through them he steered, unable to diverge, as if he was destined down a path he was not permitted to understand nor stray from. He feared he could have just seized front row seats to his own inevitable demise, without the prescience to defend against it. Confusion can be a terrifying thing, and his amnesia concerning his arrival in Surrogate Falls was confusing at its least. He felt like that hawk on the road--one of the last things he did remember--unable to predict his fate; stuck in an accelerating dive toward certain death. ‘Would that be my destiny;’ Ethan thought, ‘would I be reduced to an array of feathers to serve as a motivator for others?’

     “Nah,” he reflected aloud, “I just need to sleep.”

 
Chapter Seven

 
Nurse Daisy sat sloped in Ethan’s bedside chair hoisting the journal open attentively. The room was silent and empty except for Ethan’s bed. The recurring gasping of the ventilator provided a cadence for the melodic beeps and clicks of the machinery keeping him alive. The stale, detergent-laced air was cool, but broken up by Daisy’s vanilla scent. Ethan’s hair was ruffled and tangled, and rested precariously on his forehead. White sheets covered up to his chest; and from there, a hospital gown sheltered up to his motionless face, which was still somewhat poised in a dutiful position. Although his eyes were closed, and no meaningful responses were visible, it was easy to talk to Ethan; he appeared to be listening.

     Daisy read aloud from the journal:     “Aug 27, 2008: I had a lousy sleep. I stayed at the local hotel/casino because my sister-in-law, Sarah, didn’t want me staying at their place. She doesn’t know that I overheard that. The hotel room was awful and way too cold. My brother picked me up early this morning and took me to the bus station and bought me tickets to Toronto with his credit card. It was 7:00 a.m., and I boarded the 7:30 bus to Toronto...”

     Daisy continued to read, and listed all of the minute activities Ethan did and wrote about while in Toronto. A few moments had passed and she heard footsteps approaching from down the hall--an easy sound to hear in the evenings at Memorial Hospital.

     Daisy ignored them and continued reading, “I arrived back at the Toronto bus terminal around 11:00 p.m. that night, after spending the day being a tourist. There was a peculiar calendar on the wall near the kiosk as I purchased my tickets to--.”

     “Is it normal for the staff here to read a patient’s private thoughts?” Brad, the owner of the once approaching footsteps, inquired curtly while casting an unforgiving glance at Daisy.

     “Oh--, uh...no; I was just trying to gather more information about him for the chart,” Daisy stammered divertingly, “You know, full name, age, etc.” Daisy knew that Ethan’s siblings were already questioned for information, and the chart was filled in accordingly. However, luckily for Daisy, the other nurse Louise approached and broke the tension.

     “Hey Daisy, now that you’re here, I’m going to take a quick break and grab a coffee. Can I get you anything?” Louise asked.

     “No, I’m fine, thanks,” Daisy replied.

     “How about you, hun?” Louise solicited Brad before glancing over at Ethan’s still face.

     “No, thanks; I was just leaving.” Brad acknowledged.

     Louise sauntered off, and Brad pulled a wallet from his pocket and extended it toward Daisy. “I’m sure all the information you need is in here,” he said, “make sure John or Maria get it when they come back.”

     Brad looked once again at Ethan, and then shook his head in sorrow. When Daisy looked up from the wallet he was gone, and she once again heard footsteps echo through the hall.

     Daisy examined the wallet, which was almost empty apart from a driver’s licence, passport, and health card. She took out the health card and clipped it to Ethan’s chart board. She remembered Dr. White saying Ethan’s insurance information was incomplete.

     Feeling scolded by Brad, she decided not to invade Ethan’s privacy further and quickly retired his wallet to the night table.

     “I really should get back to work,” she said, although she was really thinking about Brad’s stern words. The truth was she felt a special connection to Ethan and felt slightly fulfilled just talking to his comatose body.

          Daisy finished reading the last few sentences of that particular journal entry aloud while making her way to the bedside table. The last line of which being, “Oh yeah, and I found this perfectly good journal in Surrogate Falls, and evidently started using it to document my trip. Now I’m waiting in the terminal for my bus to Sudbury.”

     She turned on the room’s corner television to some nature channel as she stepped out the door. This time it was Daisy’s footsteps which echoed down the hall as they cascaded over the voice of a British personality on the television explaining the finer points of waterfalls.

###

     Elsewhere, Ethan crept open his eyes when he was awoken by the ringing of the hotel telephone.

     “Hello?” he asked with a strained morning voice.

     “Hey. It’s Daisy.” Candace greeted, “Did you sleep well?”

     “Yeah,” Ethan replied while scanning the hotel room. It took his mind a second to catch up. He was in the hotel room Candace had booked for him at the Riverview. Today they were supposed to leave for their trip.

     “Okay, well I’m on my lunch break,” Candace continued excitedly, “and I’m done today at 2:00 p.m. My boss knows I’m quitting, I just have to take care of a couple things and pick up my last cheque, and then we can go. You have to be checked out of the room by 2:00 p.m. anyway, so it should all work out. Did you wanna just meet me in the lobby?”

     “Yeah, that sounds fine. I’m going to get up now and take care of a couple things myself, but I’ll meet you in the lobby at two.” Ethan said goodbye, hung up the phone, and ambled toward the shower.

     Not long after, a freshly-showered and cheerful Ethan was marching down the sidewalk toward the bus terminal. He felt much of the weight and confusion of the day before had been lifted, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt at peace. He was on his way to return the bus tickets his brother had purchased for him. He would obviously not be returning to Toronto since he was engaging in a voyage with Candace. Even the bus terminal seemed happier in the light of day; and it was a clear and sunny one at that.

     Upon entering the terminal he made his way toward the ticket kiosk, and approached a familiar looking man.

     “Hello there,” Ethan greeted, “my brother purchased these tickets for me yesterday, but I will no longer be needing them.”

     The old man behind the counter looked Ethan up and down, raised his eyebrow, and replied, “I remember you buying these tickets yesterday, and I told you then that they were non-refundable.”

     “But my brother said they were good for a trip to Toronto in the next three days. He was the one who got them for me. He said they were charged to his credit card, so I want to refund it to that card so he’s not out any money.”

     The old man became frustrated and declared, “Look, son, I don’t know what kind of scam you are pulling, but I specifically remember you purchasing this ticket. I suggested the refundable ticket to you, but all you had in your pocket was a $10 bill, and the refundable ticket was $11.50, so you bought the non-refundable one for $9.50. You missed your bus, so I can’t give you a refund, and I definitely can’t refund it to your brother’s credit card, since it was purchased with cash.”

     “Nine dollars?” Ethan enquired stridently, “You’re not making any sense. Nine dollars will barely get you a kilometre. I’d like to see the manager, please.”

     “Sure thing.” The old man confidently mocked as he stepped into the back room behind the counter. Ethan glanced around the terminal attempting to look inconspicuous after just causing a scene when all of a sudden his eyes fixed on the calendar hanging on the wall.

     It was a dark blue box with a separate slot for the month, day and year; one of those calendars that banks use that requires a person to flip the date every morning. It stood out in his mind though because it was the same one his mother, Natalie, had in her office for the last couple of years. He noticed the date on it was April 4th, 1983, and that’s when he started to get dizzy.

     He brought his right foot back to a more stable stance as he remembered the date on the newspaper in the casino lobby, April 3rd, 1983. He glanced across the fares board and noticed the prices were all incredibly low. He remembered the restaurant he went to with Daisy; the prices, the decor. He felt faint. He looked around the bus terminal and noticed everyone’s clothes, and then he stared back at the calendar. His vision started to blur, he struggled to focus, and in a haze he saw the calendar differently. This time it said August 27th, 2008. He blinked again, and with a flash of white light, it was back to March. He had been here before. He was starting to remember.

     He heard the voice of the old man behind the counter shouting, “Sir!” moving farther and farther away without taking a step. He felt like he was falling in an almost Hitchcock-like spiral into nothingness.

     Through a misty, tunnelled view he could see the bus he boarded, and arriving in Toronto. He could see the streets of Toronto, and the elevator ride up the CN Tower. He could see the whole city from hundreds of metres above the ground. His head started pounding from a violent headache as the sun went down in fast-forward. He was in a shopping mall, then a restaurant, then a bar. Finally, he was back in a bus terminal, different than the one in Surrogate Falls, and he was buying a ticket to somewhere. He couldn’t distinguish the face of the person behind the counter, but he could see their mouth form the words, “Can I help you, sir?”

     He heard it again, but this time much louder, as the haze faded, the headache stopped, and his vision returned.

     “Can I help you, sir?” a younger man wearing a yellow tie, and blue branded vest asked, “you asked to see a manager?”

     Ethan glanced over at the calendar again, noticing it once again showed April 4th, 1983. He now knew it was supposed to be at least August 27th, 2008.

     “No, thanks anyway,” he stuttered as he took steps backward and away from the yellow tie. He turned and sprinted for the exit.

     Ethan ran several blocks, as fast as he could, before returning to the area where his brother’s house was located. He approached the front door, noticing the house number was correct, but the door and siding was a different colour.

     As he was about to knock a woman’s voice from behind him asked, “Can I help you?”

     “Do you live here?” Ethan queried.

     “For the last five years,” the woman responded.

     “And this is 781 Redding Lane?”

     “Yes. Who are you looking for?” the woman asked with a darker tone.

     “No one;” Ethan blurted, “sorry to bother you.” Ethan took off running once again back toward the casino. Between each stride he was forcing his brain to find a rational explanation for everything that has just occurred, but was failing. He felt the visions he had earlier were the key to unlocking this mystery, but they were incomplete.

     Out of breath, he jogged up to the entrance of the Riverview and inside. Upon entering the casino, he made his way toward the hotel lobby where he was waved down by Beth, the concierge.

     “Two things, Mr. Finch: First, you are all checked out. I asked Daisy, and she said it was okay to go ahead and do that. And second, a man stopped by here earlier and left this for you.” Beth extended her hand and presented Ethan with his wallet.

     “Who left this?” Ethan asked.

     “He didn’t leave his name. He was an employee from the local taxi-service.”

          Ethan sighed and looked up at the clock noticing it was 1:30 p.m., while stuffing his wallet into his pocket. He made his way over to one of the chairs circled around the fireplace and coffee table, and sat down. Ethan glanced down at the magazines and newspapers spread about the table, but with less magnitude this time, he noticed they were all dated April 1983. Ethan just shook his head then leaned back into the chair and shut his eyes.

     Almost immediately after his eyes closed, Ethan was struck with another violent headache and the foggy visions reappeared. This time, however, the tunnel vision had widened, and Ethan could see more.

     This time, he saw himself in the hotel lobby of the Riverview, but it was different looking, it had been remodelled. A white flash interrupted his view, and then he was on the elevator. Another flash and he was approaching a door. There was a final flash, and Ethan found himself seeing perfectly through the eyes of another person, who had just entered a hotel room. The haze was gone, and so was the headache. He could hear himself think, but he couldn’t make the person talk, and the host didn’t react to his thoughts. He watched as the body he was in walked toward the bed, and placed down his backpack. He looked to his left and saw a tall body mirror, with gold trim. In the mirror was Ethan.

     “It’s me!” Ethan shouted from inside the head of the host Ethan, but no noise was heard. He looked himself over in the mirror. His hair, nose, and outfit were back to the way he remembered.

     Ethan kept watching through the eyes of his doppelganger, he approached the desk in the corner of the room. In the drawer they discovered a black leather-bound journal. The host-Ethan grabbed it, flipped through it, noticing its immaculate condition, and that all the pages were blank, and then tossed the journal on the bed.

     The host-Ethan then kicked off his shoes and twisted his legs up onto the bed. He grabbed the journal, examining it once more, and settling on the first page. With his other hand he reached over to the night table and seized a pen. Bringing the pen to the paper, Ethan watched his double write, “I’m in Surrogate Falls, and I just said goodbye to my brother, John...”

     Ethan’s view of the host-Ethan’s actions started to obscure, and fade darker and darker. As the image fleeted a repeating voice approached.

     “Ethan! Ethan!” The voice finally shouted, and Ethan’s eyes sprung open. He was in the Riverview lobby, in the same chair he rested his head on a short while ago, but this time he was in control of what he saw.

     The voice was that of Candace who was supposed to meet him in that very spot at 2:00 p.m. like she instructed earlier on the phone.

     “Tired, are we?” she jested, “Well, get up sleepy-head, we’ve got to go shopping, pick up the rental car, and then I want to be on the road tonight. I’m too excited, and I can’t wait to get out of this dump!”

     “Sounds good to me,” Ethan nodded, while relishing the idea of getting out of Surrogate Falls and away from the bizarre occurrences. It had been the longest twenty-four hours of his life.

 

Chapter Eight

 
Ethan and Candace left the casino and walked a few blocks to the nearest department store. It was a remarkable experience for Ethan to shop in the ‘80s. He recognized items for sale that he had as a child, and it brought a smile to his face. Candace found his fascination with some simpler items amusing, but not suspicious.

     They purchased items necessary for travelling: portable toiletries, luggage, and other amenities. She forced Ethan to pick out and try on some additional clothing items, since he was limited to the jeans and t-shirt he had on. He was reluctant at first, feeling awkward at her generosity, but decided would be entertaining to embrace the fashion of the time.

     At the checkout, Candace mentioned she had to pick up the rental car, and that she had a hotel booked in Sudbury that evening.

     They went, again by foot, to the car rental place where Candace processed the paperwork. The revealing of the rental price, paired with the cost of the items at the department store made Ethan recognize that Candace’s $10,000 would last significantly longer than he first imagined. The degree of inflation was probably the thing that intrigued him most; that, and the use of wood paneling.

     The car, Ethan believed he overheard, was a 1983 Renault Alliance. He didn’t know much about cars, especially not older ones, but he remembered it was a European car manufacturer that released some North American versions. The renter was quite excited about the model; apparently it was brand new this year, and he was the only one in the area to have one. Ethan thought it was humorous watching the man brag about a car that he remembered when he was a child. Mind you, he hadn’t actually seen one of these cars since he was a child. His stress was building contemplating how different the world he was stuck in was compared to the he remembered coming from. Regardless, he soldiered on and tried not to think about all the friends that no longer existed or were just babies.

     The car was a silver, very boxy type of hatchback and had a black stripe from bumper to bumper on both sides. The headlights were square; in fact, pretty well everything but the wheels were square, and even they weren’t convincing.

     Without any real discussion, Candace approached the vehicle, opened the trunk, and emptied her arms into it. She gave Ethan a glance which suggested he should do the same. She then entered on the driver’s side and placed the paperwork she received from the renter into the glove compartment. Ethan, accepting that Candace obviously wanted to drive, complied and sat in the passenger side. To get more comfortable, Ethan he emptied his pockets into the clove compartment. He deposited his journal and pen, a pair of quarters he found in his jeans, and a wallet. The wallet, which he hadn’t examined closely until now, seemed foreign and retained a strange monogram. It had a change pocket on the outside where Ethan planted the quarters.

     “Ready?” Candace asked.

     “Yep!” Ethan responded, ignoring the wallet temporarily to prevent raising superfluous suspicions.

     Candace started the engine while Ethan attempted to cope with the concept that he was about to embark on a voyage with a woman he had only just met, across a world that he was not too familiar with. He squeezed the inner door handle tightly, and eased back into the seat.

     Candace spent the first twenty minutes of the car ride becoming familiarized with every moving part and button on the automobile. Ethan thought it was endearing. The silence wasn’t as awkward as Ethan presumed it would be. It was as if they were an old married couple who had driven in the car together for years and didn’t feel the need to babble. There remained a familiarity that he could not explain.

     Candace eventually stopped her exploration of the console and tuned the radio to a clear station playing music that Ethan considered retro, but that was being advertised as ‘new singles’. Ethan smiled, but his clenching hand gripped tighter--an honest reflection of his psyche.

     It was nearly 5:00 p.m., and they had been diving for about an hour. Candace suggested stopping at the upcoming gas station, as the fuel tank was almost empty. She asserted her preference to stop now and then drive unceasingly to Sudbury.

     Ethan noticed a sign that read: ‘Nat’s Corner: formerly Baron Falls’ just seconds before Candace started her deceleration toward a dilapidated gas station. Candace stepped out of the car and darted for the entrance. While passing the attendant, she shouted, “Where’s the bathroom?”

     “Around back,” the grisly, unshaven man responded.

     “Thanks; and fill ‘er up,” Candace ordered.

     Ethan watched as the man approached. He was wearing stained blue coveralls on which had just finished whipping his hands, ignoring the soiled rag that he kept hanging haphazardly out of his pocket.

     “Nice weather we’re having, eh? It’s usually still snowin’ through April,” the attendant greeted.

     “Yeah, not too bad,” Ethan agreed while secretly despising the conversation. Ethan hated banter about the weather; he thought it was the lowest form of dialogue, and he hated the reminder it was actually April and not August like it was supposed to be.

     “Yep...” the attendant added while looking around as to seemingly extract a topic from the air.

     “I guess I should stretch my legs,” Ethan avoided, feeling perfectly comfortable in the car, but uncomfortable with the company it provided.

     As he got out and started walking, he noticed the texture of the ground. It was quite dry--almost dusty--and was a light brown colour. The air was dry too. The trees weren’t the nicest looking; dwarves compared to those in Surrogate Falls, and scraggly. He noticed a plaque of sorts on a stone podium shaped object a short distance away and approached it.

     It was a monument, and the tablet read, “Landmark: The Community of Baron Falls. --Preserved by the A.L.C.” From where he was standing he looked out and in the distance was a dangerous looking series of cliffs and leading up to it a craterous runnel of dried tree roots and cracking clay. It was a picturesque image with the sun setting in the background.

     “Having fun?” Candace asked as she stepped from behind him.

     “What is this place?” Ethan retorted.

     “Nat’s Corners. It used to be Baron Falls, as the sign says. There once was a picnic ground and conservation area to preserve the former Baron Falls, but now it’s just a rest stop mainly. The few buildings that were here were built by the gas attendant’s old man. He renamed it after his wife, Natalie. Nobody cares about Baron Falls anymore, so no one minded that he renamed it. He owned most of the land around here. I think he got it from his father and so on. It was passed down after one stubborn man stayed behind when the rest of the town moved. He bought up all the surrounding land at a large discount because no one wanted drought land.”

     “Yeah, I noticed it’s pretty dry here. What happened?”

     “I’m not sure--it was a hundred years ago, or something. But from what I remember--,” Candace paused, and pointed across the cliff edge to the deep worn trench Ethan had noticed earlier. “You see that? That used to be the river that ran through this area, and it poured out into a big waterfall over there at the cliff. Miles upriver is a fork, the lower end of that fork, which now runs to Surrogate falls, was dammed off by beaver’s or something, I don’t know. Anyway, there was some crash or accident and the dam burst. The flow was stronger in that direction and too hard for them to divert at the time. So they all packed up and moved to the nearest habitable location down the river. That’s how it got its name Surrogate Falls.”

     “Wow, that’s quite the story. So, this just became a ghost town, like in the movies?” Ethan furthered.

     “Yeah; everyone left, except for one rich family. They bought up all the land off of the people leaving, and had this whole area to himself. I don’t know exactly what he liked about it so much or what he did with his time. Anyway, through the generations it became a heritage site and then eventually turned into this: a rest stop with a monument and some cracked earth. Anywho, you ready to go?”

     “Yep,” Ethan nodded then proceeded to the car.

###

     The sun had fallen completely out of sight, and Ethan and Candace had been driving for a few hours.

     “Let me know if you want me to take over,” Ethan suggested, “I know we haven’t been driving long, but anytime you want to switch, just let me know.”

     “Yeah, okay, thanks. So, whose turn was it to ask a question?” Candace redirected.

     “I think it was yours. I just asked about your favourite food.”

     “Yeah, you did, and what a lame question it was; you know it’s steak. Anyway, that’s fine, I’ll go. Hmm, okay, I know this might be a bit touchy for you, but what happened with your mom, again? If I remember right, you said she drowned?”

     “It’s okay; I don’t mind talking about it. Yeah, no one really knows for sure. One day I came home from Brad’s to find my Dad in a panic after waiting up for her for several hours--this would have been around 6:00 a.m. She went fishing the night before and never returned home. We called Carla, her fishing buddy, to see if she was with her, but she said Mom left the lake around midnight. I was on my way out to my car to go looking for her when I saw the tracks leading back to the pond. There was a muffled but noticeable impression in the grass. I followed it back and found a broken chair with tire marks on it, broken reeds near the water, and tire marks in the mud at the water level. There were all kinds of bubbles coming out of the pond as well.”

     “Wow, I can’t imagine...”

     “It was pretty overwhelming. It was weird; I knew right then what had happened, but I refused to accept it. Anyway, so we called the fire department and they came out and started pumping the pond. It took from 8:00 a.m. until 4:00 p.m. of pumping before the detective in charge approached us, telling us they found the car in the pond, and she was inside.”

     “Oh my Gosh!” Candace exclaimed.

     “We still don’t know for sure what happened, but we gathered information from the police and coroner. All we know is: she drowned, there was no foul play, and they believe it was an accident because she was still holding the fish bucket when they found her. She was planning on stocking the pond with the fish her and Carla caught.”

     “Did you ever wonder if it was accidental or not?”

     “Yeah..., but it just wouldn’t make sense. She was a happy-go-lucky person--the last person you would assume would take their own life. And why would she gather fish earlier in the day, bring them to the pond, and be holding on to the bucket while committing suicide? It just doesn’t make sense.”

     “Yeah, that is strange.”

     “I figure she probably wasn’t wearing her glasses and overestimated her approach, or maybe she didn’t put the car in park, and when she went for the bucket it lurched forward. It’s hard to tell, but I guess we’ll never really know what went on in that car.”

     “That’s such an awful thing to have happen.” Candace comforted.

     “You obviously understand it better than anyone. You said your mother died of cancer, right?”

     “Yeah, it was different than your experience though. I saw it coming, and it was like an endless battle to prevent the inevitable. It slowly drains you, and then when she was gone, I was all alone. I don’t really remember my father, and I haven’t seen him since I was little. He didn’t even come to the funeral.

     I dealt with it though. I got a place of my own and switched to fulltime at the casino.

     What have you been doing for a job up until now and this journey of yours?” Candace asked, momentarily straying her eyes from the road.

     “I’ve had lots of jobs actually--too many! During high school and for a few years after I worked in a grocery store, then I did some bartending, then administrative work--bah--just boring stuff. I haven’t been working for about a year though. I decided to try my hand as a writer.”

     “Oh yeah? How did that go?”

     “I published a novel and some poetry.” Ethan declared while trying not to seem boastful.

     “A novel? What was it about?”

     “It was sort of a fictional autobiography based loosely on the events of my life. It paralleled my life right up until about six months ago.”

     “So, what have you been doing the last six months?”

     “I moved to London, like I mentioned, into a really nice apartment and virtually did nothing until I started on the trip..., which I believe I may have done more of than I thou--”

     “Hold that thought!” Candace interjected, “I’m going to pull in here. I have to pee, and we might as well fill up the tank.”

     “Okay,” Ethan responded, feeling almost relieved he didn’t tell her about his recent retrieval of memories. He chuckled at the idea that she had to use the restroom again, but as the car slowed to make its turn, Ethan saw the large Sudbury welcome sign and his head started throbbing again. He knew another glimpse into his memory was coming.

     Ethan had gotten better at handling these visions, thus the haze he usually experienced was minimal in comparison. After the first flash, he saw himself on a night-ride coach bus, looking out the window. Beyond the glass he saw the Sudbury sign--the same one he had just seen with Candace. He remembered being here before on his journey. His view was flashed again, and he saw himself looking down at his watch. He attempted to distinguish what time it was in spite of the dim light and trembling caused by the bumpy bus ride. It was just after midnight on August 28th.

     The memories of that date rushed to Ethan’s head as he recalled more of his voyage. He feared that more time had passed than he predicted. At first he thought it was the 26th of August and he had just been dropped off by his father at the bus terminal; then he realised he visited his brother and spent the 27th in Toronto; and now he remembered being in Sudbury for the 28th. How long would this go on for, would he keep getting days back until he realized he had lost a whole year? He knew there was still a sizeable gap between Sudbury and arriving in Surrogate Falls via the taxi-crash. An indescribable sense of awareness and confusion simultaneously mixed in his head as goose bumps crept up his arms. It was too early to tell and it could simply be a coincidence, but he wondered if he and Candace were somehow mirroring his journey that he forgot he had taken. But how would that be possible? Candace had been the driving force behind the plans; he couldn’t be subconsciously directing the trip to mirror his own, because he didn’t remember his trip. All he mentioned was heading west. Was this the logical path to take if one was to travel west? Is it pure coincidence? Had he already gone on this whole journey? The questions bombarded Ethan’s mind as Candace placed the car in park and jumped out.

     Candace, in the same fashion as earlier, told the attendant to fill up the tank as she ran for the restroom. Ethan got out and stretched his legs, this time welcoming the stretch. The air was cooler now than earlier in the day, and Ethan went inside the store to look around. The gas station--and general area--was much nicer looking then their last stop.

     Candace exited the washroom and returned to the car, to learn the cost of the fuel was $16.50. Ethan had switched places with her and was now using the bathroom. Candace opened her purse noticing she only had one hundred-dollar bills and $16 in petty cash, but no change. The attendant said they couldn’t break hundreds, but didn’t seem inclined to letting the fifty cents slide. So she reached into the glove compartment to search Ethan’s wallet to see if he had any change. Ethan had two quarters, which she handed to the attendant with a scowl.

     Before surrendering the wallet to the glove box, Candace decided to brush through it. She noticed an upsetting inconsistency, but swiftly replaced the wallet as Ethan returned to the vehicle.
 

-Gerald A. Dinkel (He just says things.)

http://sardonicconnection.blogspot.com/2009/10/92-surrogate-falls-chapters-1-8.html