What Doesn't Kill You (A Suspense Collection) (6 page)

“Oh Jesus. What is this all about, Dad?”

“Just pick up the damn phone. Class or no class.”

When Stanley hung up, it suddenly occurred to him that
he couldn’t be certain it had actually been his son who he’d just talked to. He
had not seen Derek, he had only heard his voice, and a voice could be imitated.
For all he knew, it might have been a computer on the other end of the line. A
very smart computer.

3.

“Last week you said that it could be many years since
your dream had started.”

“It could be a week. It could be a year. And it could
also be ten years. Or fifty. It’s hard, perhaps even impossible, to keep track
of time when you’re dead.”

“Are you suggesting that this world,” Stanley drew a
circle in the air with his index finger while pointing it at the ceiling,
“could be only a week old?”

“I was talking about the real world time. In a dream,
time flows much faster.”

“I see.” Stanley made a note in his notepad. “You also
said that this dream might last forever.” 

“Yes, it might. And, honestly, I wouldn’t mind if it
did.”

“In other words, you don’t want to wake up and face
reality.”

“I didn’t say that. I believe this dream might never
end, because I suspect that I’m dead, and you don’t come back from the dead in
the real world.”

“So this is an afterlife dream?”

“That’s a good way to put it.” 

“Did you believe in afterlife when you were alive?”

“No, I didn’t. I might have had a hope, but that’s as
far as it went. Now it looks like I was wrong, assuming I’m dead, of course. I
must say I’m certainly glad it’s not just lights out when you die.”

“Do you believe in God?”

Richard shrugged. “There may be God, but he’s not
almighty. An almighty god wouldn’t allow war and diseases. And if he would…
Then he’s not the kind of god I want to believe in.”

Stanley nodded pensively. “Did or do any of your blood
relatives have a mental disorder?”

Richard shook his head. “None. I believe I’ve already
answered this question on your questionnaire.”

“Yes, you have. Do you find this question offensive?”

“It’s all right. Everyone thought that Galileo was
insane, too.”

“I didn’t say you are insane. I’m just collecting
information, that’s all.”

“I understand.”

“Okay.” Stanley smacked his lips enthusiastically,
staring at his notepad. “So you dreamed me up, you dream up this office, this
building. You dreamed up this whole city. It sounds like a very difficult
undertaking, doesn’t it? Very large-scale. Very elaborate. Would you agree with
that?”

“Elaborate? I’ll tell you what, Doc. The world that I
created—with all its cities, rivers, mountains, people, animals—can’t hold a
handle to a pebble from the real world. The pebble consists of trillions of
trillions of trillions of molecules, which in turn consist of atoms, which in
turn consist of protons, neutrons, and electrons. That’s what I call elaborate,
Doc. What I have done here is just a child’s play.”

“Child’s play. Sure.”

“By the way, I believe this room is an almost exact
replica of my cousin’s office.” Then Richard added, “My cousin is a psychiatrist,
too.”

“But your cousin’s still alive, isn’t he?”

“I hope so. He’s a great guy.”

Bobbing his head, Stanley leafed through his notepad
for a while and then said, “Last week we talked about how you made your
discovery. Let’s say someone came up to you and asked you if you had any proof.
What would you tell him?”

“I’m glad you brought this up, Doc. I have proof.”

“Can you show it to me?”

“Sure.” Richard opened his bag and took out a computer
tablet. “As they say, a picture is worth a thousand words.” He turned on the
tablet. “Look at this picture.” Richard poked at the screen. “Do you recognize
this place? That’s the area in front of your building.” He swiped at the
screen, changing the photo. “I took these pictures from this window.” He waved
at the window behind Stanley’s desk. “Do you see Lakewood Boulevard?”

“Yes, it does appear to be the area in front of this
building.”

Stanley was curious where Richard was going with this.

“But here it looks a little different, doesn’t it?”
Richard put the first photo back on the screen.

He was right. On this photo, there was a small green
park with lush trees instead of the parking lot.

“Yes, it does,” Stanley agreed.

“There was no parking lot there a week ago. And now
there is one.”

Stanley examined the photo for a few moments and
finally said, “It doesn’t prove anything. I know there is software that allows
you to manipulate pictures any way you want. I figure you either found someone
who can use this program or did it yourself.”

“What a smooth theory.” The corner of Richard’s mouth
rose in a slight smirk. “Have you ever noticed that insane people are very good
at rationalizing their crazy beliefs?”

“Have you?”

“I just presented you with photo evidence. If you want
to check if it was manipulated, go ahead.”

“Let me ask you a question. If there was no parking lot
there, where did people park?”

“In the parking structure on Lakewood and Carson.”

“There’s no parking structure on Lakewood and Carson.”

“There used to be one.”

Stanley smirked. “I see. And who replaced that nice
park with a parking lot?”

“Me. I did it.”

“So you can change the scenery at will?”

“More or less.

“What do you mean?”

There was a short pause, after which Richard asked, “Do
you have dreams?”

“Yes. They’re not as sophisticated as yours, of course.”

“Have you ever had a lucid dream?”

“A dream where you’re aware that you’re dreaming? I
believe I’ve had a couple of those.”

“Then you must understand that even in a lucid dream
you can’t change things with a snap of a finger. It takes lots of practice to
learn to manipulate the environment in a significant way.”

“So if I ask you to make a tiger appear in this room,
you won’t be able to do it?”

“I could try, but I can’t give you any guarantees.”

After a short hesitation, Stanley said, “On second
thought, let’s not involve tigers.”

“Okay.” Richard slid the tablet back into the bag. “I
have a question, Doc. What medical school did you go to?”

“UCLA. I went to University of California, Los
Angeles.”

Richard nodded thoughtfully. “Last time we met you said
that you’d studied at Michigan State.”

Stanley shook his head. “I never said that.” He pointed
his pen at the framed diploma on the wall. “Please go and take a look. UCLA,
class of 2004.”

“Actually, I can see your diploma from here. That’s why
I asked. I clearly remember you saying that you went to Michigan State.”

“Let’s just agree to disagree.”

“Sure.” His face beaming, Richard raised his index
finger. “I have an idea. Another experiment. I think you’ll like it. No tigers
or anything like that.”

“Go on.”

“I’m going to ask you a seemingly simple question and
I’m going to bet that you’ll be unable to find the answer to it no matter how
hard you look. Are you down to play?”

“And what is the point of this experiment?”

“I want to show you that if I don’t know something, no
one in the whole world knows it. I don’t know the answer to the question I’m
going to ask you, which is why I’m confident that you’ll never find it,
either.”

“How much time will I have to look for the answer?”

“A week. I believe it should be enough; do you agree
with me?”

“It depends on the question, I suppose.”

“As I said, it’s a pretty simple question. No tricks.
And you can use any source of information you please: your friends,
encyclopedias, textbooks, the Internet—anything and anyone.”

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

“Here’s the question: will you go to prison if you run
over and kill a person crossing the street on the red light?”

“Is that all?”

“Yes, that’s all.” Richard ran his hand through his
hair. “So do you think you can find the answer by my next appointment?”

“I guess a week should be enough.” Stanley began to
write in his notepad. “And you’re saying you couldn’t find the answer to this
question?”

“As I mentioned before, I know little about the law.
This particular situation is very puzzling to me. It would be easy to figure
out if the person was not jaywalking—the driver would certainly be punished.
But here we have someone who broke the law by crossing on the red light. Who’s
at fault? Do we lock up the driver? Is the pedestrian liable? I honestly have
no idea.”

“All right. It sounds like a fun idea. I’ll do my
best.”

“Very well.”

“Before you go, Richard. I can see that you put Helen
Woods as your emergency contact. Is Helen your wife?”

“I had a wife before I died. And her name was Helen.
Now I’m just imagining her. In other words, she’s as real as you are, Doc.”

“Can I talk to her?”

Richard spent a while thinking over his question and
then replied, “I suppose you can. What are you going to talk to her about?”

“About you, mostly. I’d like to learn more about your
life, your circumstances. I believe it will help me understand you better. Are
you okay with that?”

Richard moved his jaw, as if chewing something, and
then nodded. “Fine. Why not? There’s no harm in it, is there?”

“Can you bring her with you next time we meet?”

“Why don’t you drop by my place and catch her there?
Can you do that?”

“No problem. See you next week.”

4.

Before leaving his office for
Richard’s house, Stanley did something that was completely out of his
character.

His eyes fixed on the UCLA diploma, Stanley stepped
over to the wall and put his hands on his hips. What he was thinking of doing
was outrageous and ridiculous. He’d be happy if he could come up with a
compelling excuse to just turn around and get out of the room, but nothing good
came to mind. Instead Stanley found a reason why he ought to examine the damn
diploma right now: he was alone and no one was going to find out what he’d
done.

The diploma was real, he had no doubt about that. And
it did say that the UCLA School of Medicine had conferred on him the degree of
Doctor of Medicine.

With a stupid grin, Stanley hung the diploma back on
the wall and headed for the door.

5.

Richard’s wife had a pleasant, soft-featured face,
which was framed by long dark hair. She appeared to be in her late forties, and
it was obvious she took very good care of herself. She was what one would call
a well-maintained woman. Helen wore little make-up when she met Stanley.

“You have a beautiful home, Missis Marshall,” Stanley
said as he followed Helen inside the sprawling two-story house.

“Thank you, Doctor Blake.”

“I appreciate you agreeing to meet with me.”

Helen led him into the living room and asked if he
wanted anything to drink. Stanley opted for a glass of water.

“How long have you been married to Richard?” Stanley
asked when they both took their seats.

“Twenty years.” Helen’s voice was soft but confident.

“That’s impressive.”

“I suppose it is.”

“Did Richard tell you why he came to see me?”

“He was looking for someone who would listen to his
stories.”

“Do you know what kind of stories those are?”

“I have a general idea.”

“Did Richard ever tell you that we all might be living
in a dream? His dream?”

Helen half-nodded. “I believe he mentioned that a
couple of times.”

“And what do you think about it? Is that some sort of
joke or does he sincerely believe that the whole universe is just his dream?”

“Dick is not the joking kind, so I assume he means what
he tells you.”

“Has Richard ever shown any signs of violence?”

Helen shook her head. “My husband is a calm man. He’s
never raised his hand on me or our son. I don’t remember the last time he got
angry.”

“Did any member of Richard’s family have a mental
disorder?”

“I don’t know of anyone who does or did.”

Stanley opened his notepad at a blank page and started
writing. “When was the first time he mentioned this dream theory to you?”