What Doesn't Kill You (A Suspense Collection) (2 page)

There was a minor problem, though. The email didn’t
specify when these numbers were going to win. It could be years, or even
decades, from now for all he knew.

Ted got goosebumps when it occurred to him that the
message might have come too late and the numbers might have already won.

The email could be a prank, of course. Even though his
sons were old enough to legally buy cigarettes, a childish stunt like this was
something they were absolutely capable of.

Half an hour later, Ted entered the neighborhood
grocery store, which had a California lottery machine, and purchased a Mega
Millions ticket, using the numbers from the email. He paid for the next fifteen
drawings. The jackpot for this Tuesday’s drawing was three hundred and eleven
million dollars. When Ted came home, he hid the ticket in the back of the
bottom drawer of his bedroom dresser.

3.

“I received an email today,” Ted said, looking fixedly
at Joe. “With lottery numbers.”

“You did?” Mike said. “Is it from the future?”

Ted ignored Mike’s question and went on, “What I want
to know is this: was it one of you who sent it? Just tell me the truth, I’m not
going to yell or anything. So… Did you send this email?”

“Why are you looking at me?” Joe asked. “I didn’t do
nothing.”

“Okay. How about you, Mike?” Ted shifted his eyes to
Mike. “Did you do it?”

Mike shook his head. “No. Why would I do that?”

“Pete?” Ted looked at Pete. “Did you send it?”

“No, Dad.” Pete cracked a smile. “You really received
an email with numbers? So, your plan worked?”

Ted shrugged. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

“Did you buy a ticket?” Joe asked. “You’ve got to buy a
ticket, Dad.”

Ted nodded.

He could hardly sleep that night. The idea that he
could be three hundred million bucks richer in less than twenty four hours was
incredibly titillating. His heart was ready to jump out of his chest as he
checked the drawing results on Tuesday evening. Unfortunately, his numbers
didn’t win anything, not even two dollars. The only consolation was the fact
that nobody walked away with the jackpot this time.

Ted felt as though he’d been hit in the gut with a
baseball bat.

“Maybe you should finally follow your dad’s advice,”
Nora said, looking at him with her deep, judging eyes. “You’re forty three
years old, Ted.”

Ted was in no mood to talk, so he didn’t reply.

4.

 The Friday drawing was also utterly disappointing.
Again, zero, zilch, nada. The jackpot grew by seven million and remained
elusive.

This scenario repeated itself six more times. On July
9th, Ted’s luck changed. 

5, 16, 30, 33, 42. Mega number 22.

Three hundred and ninety two million dollars, one of
the largest jackpots in history.

His was the only winning ticket.

An out-of-body experience, that was the best way to
describe what Ted felt when he saw the drawing results. For the first time in
his life he could honestly say that the whole situation seemed like a dream.

He took a deep breath, shut his eyes, and grinned. Then
he began to cry.

The next morning he quit his position at Long Beach
City College. While Ted enjoyed teaching math, he liked having free time even
more. He cited a new job as the reason for resignation.

5.

Ted was thinking of keeping his win a secret, but in
the end decided that it would be a great motivator for his boys to know that
their plan had worked.

“I guess you were right, after all,” Nora said after
hearing the good news. “You did it. Congratulations, honey.” She smiled
radiantly.

“How much did we win?” Joe asked.

“The jackpot was three hundred and ninety two million,”
Ted replied. “I decided to take the lump sum. It’s two hundred and ten
million.”

“After tax?” Pete asked.

“Yes, after tax.” Ted smiled and then burst out
laughing. “We won, guys! We won! The plan worked!”

“Two hundred million bucks?” Mike’s eyes were as big as
saucers with shock.

“Yep, two hundred million smackeroonies.”

“What about the butterfly effect?” Pete asked, smiling.
“What if we somehow changed the course of history?”

“I’m okay with that as long as we’re millionaires. We
only live once, son. I have no time to worry about mankind and stuff like that.
Something tells me the world’s going to be all right.”

Ted didn’t see how their getting rich would make things
worse as far as the history of the world was concerned. He also thought that
the significance of the butterfly effect was exaggerated. You can delude
yourself all day long that history is made by individuals. However, the truth,
in Ted’s opinion, was that the world was ruled by hunger and sex. 

Just in case, Ted vowed to give no money to politicians
or organizations with a political agenda. He didn’t want to inadvertently help
create a new Hitler or Stalin.

6.

The day after his winnings had been
deposited in his bank account, Ted met with Steve Sandes, a financial advisor
from Merrill Lynch. They had a great talk. Steve turned out to be a natural
born schmoozer.

Yes, Ted was risk averse. No, he didn’t mind the lower
return on his investment that resulted from the risk reduction. Yes, municipal
bonds were fine with him. And he’d like to stay away from internet stocks for
now.

Steve suggested that Ted set up trust funds for his
sons. Ted agreed.

While he chatted to the Merrill Lynch guy, a shocking
thought occurred to Ted. What if some—or even most—jackpot winners had received
the winning numbers from their great-great-great-great-grandkids? It would be a
fun idea to visit a couple of them and ask point-blank if that was the case.

Just imagine their faces when they realize that he
figured their little secret out.

And how about those investment gurus who consistently
beat the market? Ted wouldn’t be surprised if they received stock tips from the
future. Apart from insider trading, that was the best way to explain their
performance.

7.

After giving the matter a fair amount of thought, Ted
decided to allow his sons to gain full control of their trust funds when they
reached the age of thirty five. He announced his decision at the next family
meeting.

 “Each one of you will receive three grand a week,” Ted
said. “You can live very comfortably on three grand a week, I promise you. And
I’m going to adjust your allowance for inflation every year.” He turned to Nora
and added, “You’re getting five grand a week, honey.”

“Come on, Dad,” Mike said. “Five grand a week?
Seriously? We won two hundred million!”

“I don’t want to spoil you, guys. I don’t want you to
get complacent. If you lose focus and stop working on passing my instructions
down the line, all this money will be gone just like that.” Ted snapped his
fingers.

You see, even though the plan had worked, Ted knew he
shouldn’t soften his grip—not now, not ever. He and his kids (as well as the
future Duplass generations) had to proceed as if they didn’t have two hundred
million dollars in the bank. They couldn’t rely on any reminders that they
wouldn’t have been able to afford if he hadn’t won the jackpot—such as a fifty
grand private mausoleum, for example. A six-hundred dollar tombstone with his
email engraved on it was okay because he had the means to purchase it before
the jackpot, but a mausoleum would be a dubious bet since community college
instructors could only dream about it.

To put it briefly, the outcome couldn’t be its own
cause.

“What do you mean, Dad?” Joe asked. “We’ve already
won.”

“Are you an expert on time machines?” Ted replied. “Do
you know how it works? No, you don’t. And I don’t either. I’m just guessing
here, but do you want to take a chance and see what happens? Do you want to
risk losing two hundred million dollars?”

Joe shook his head. “No, of course I don’t.”

“The same goes for your future children. Don’t spoil
them. Don’t let them get fat and lazy, okay? We have to be very careful here,
guys. This plan will work only if we keep our eyes on the prize and act as if
nothing changed. Do you understand that? As if nothing changed.”

“Yes, Dad,” Pete said. He exchanged glances with Joe
and Mike. “I think I know what Dad’s talking about.”

“Very good.” Ted gave Pete an approving nod. “Let me
explain it again: if you don’t want to go back to being poor, we need to keep
doing what we’ve been doing the last three years.” 

“Repetition is the mother of learning,” Joe said,
imitating Ted’s voice. Everyone, including Ted, laughed.

“One more thing,” Ted went on. “I want all three of you
to start families in the next three years. You can surely afford that now. And
I want you to have your first child in the next four years.”

“First child?” Mike asked. “How many kids are we
supposed to have?”

“Three would be great. It’s a numbers game, boys. We’ve
got to have as many irons in the fire as possible.” Ted wasn’t sure if this
idiom fit the situation but used it anyway because he liked how it sounded. “I
want you to be the best parents ever. I want your children to love and respect
you. I want you and your kids to be tight as ticks. There’s no other way to
make it work, guys.”  

8.

Ted spent the first two weeks of August house hunting.
Since he wasn’t looking for a mega-mansion, he set his target price at no more
than four million dollars. Now, four million bucks could certainly buy you a
castle with an inside swimming pool somewhere in Phoenix or Kansas City, but
for Encino, which Ted had picked as his new home, it was nothing to brag about
as far as real estate was concerned.

He liked Encino for several reasons. It was an upscale
city with a lot of beautiful houses in his price range, which couldn’t be said
about Beverly Hills or Bel Air, where he would have to settle for a
three-bedroom shack. Encino had a low crime rate—always a big plus—and was
fairly far from the ocean, which could prove critical if the sea level actually
rose at some point in the future.

By the end of August, he was a proud owner of a
gorgeous five-bedroom house about one mile north of Encino Reservoir.

Then the fun came to an end.   

9.

This question must have resided in Ted’s mind this
whole time, but it was after his meeting with the insurance agent that he began
to realize that he just had to know the answer to it. After they had discussed
the homeowner’s insurance policy Ted was about to purchase, the agent asked him
if he had sufficient life insurance coverage. 

“Accidents happen, Mister Duplass,” the agent said.
“People die young every day. I’m not saying it will happen to you, but one has
to be aware of this and prepare accordingly. Life insurance provides a safety
net for your family's financial security.”

“They already have a safety net,” Ted replied. “They’re
going to have plenty of money without life insurance.”

In the end, Ted promised the agent to think about
getting life insurance for himself and his family. He spent the next couple of
days pondering the agent’s words. The guy was right; accidents happened all the
time, and people—both rich and poor—did die young on a regular basis.

One week after Labor Day, Ted came to the conclusion
that he should ask his future descendants to tell him when and how he was going
to die.

“Why do you want to know when you die?” Joe asked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know that?” Ted replied.

“Nah. I think it’s too depressing.”

Ted waved his hand dismissively. “I’m not surprised.
Guys your age think they’re going to live forever.”

Ted had no doubt there was nothing wrong with wanting
to know when and how he was going to die. Kings in ancient times—both mythical
and real—just loved to ask their seers and oracles this question. Ever heard of
the Oedipus complex? Oedipus was the son of King Laius of Thebes. After the
oracle at Delphi had predicted that Oedipus would murder his father and marry
his mother, King Laius drove a pin through his son’s feet to fasten them
together and then left the child on a mountainside to die. Although the Oedipus
story was a myth, Ted suspected that things of that nature had indeed taken
place two thousand years ago. By the way, the prophecy came true; when he grew
up, Oedipus did kill King Laius and marry his own mom, unwittingly, of course.

“What if you find out that you’ll die tomorrow? What
will you do?” Pete asked.

“If it’s a plane crash, I’m going to stay home.”

Pete and Mike bobbed their heads thoughtfully.

“So let’s recap,” Ted said. “Now there’s one more
message I need you to pass on to your kids and grandkids. I’d like to know when
and how I die. Can I count on you to remember that?”