The Relapse Door

"I got a gun!" Tom lied, groping around under the backhoe tires for a stick. Finding one, he brushed off the snow and held up one of the foreman's lighters to it. Too damp, and the tiny flame caught only for a moment on the bark before the promising red glow snuffed out.

"Okay, don't shoot!" called another voice from behind. "We don't want anybody to get hurt!"

"A lot you know!" Tom grumbled, trying and failing again to ignite the branch.

"Your friend Jim is here!" called the first voice. "Can he come talk to you?"

Tom's heart leapt. "Yes please!" he called, then realized a moment too late that it could be a trick.

It wasn't. The footsteps Tom heard next did indeed belong to Jim, who appeared before him just then. "Tom," he said. "Look, man, I don't know what's gotten into you, but I want to help."

"The only way you can help," Tom said, slamming the wet branch down in the snow in frustration, "is to come with me like I told you last night."

"Come where, Tom, the future? For fuck's sake, what happened to you out here?"

"What happened," Tom repeated, still crouched defensively against the backhoe wheel. "What happened? Jim, I told you what happened. I saw heaven on earth, that's what. It's beautiful in the future, peace and harmony and people enjoying life and not hurting anybody, and all the sex a guy like you or me could want, and I literally met my dream girl. I also saw our world is about to end and you and I might live long enough to see it happen if we stay here. And I could have pulled off what I need to do without you or anybody else ever knowing. Instead I risked everything -- everything, man -- to come back for you! Brothers forever, don't you remember that? I told you I wouldn't lie to you about this!"

"I know you really believe this stuff, Tom, but come on!"

"All right, Jim, fine." Tom had one last hope. "I know how crazy it sounds. I do, really. But you know, if you could see it for yourself..." On the "see it for yourself," Tom raised his voice in hope that Margarethe would get the message.

She did, evidently, for at that moment a vision appeared above the two friends: a beautiful sunset over the beach at the new Mascawad Tom had known so briefly and loved so intensely, a sweeping view of the peaceful streets of the new town, panning out to the happy nude bathers on the beach enjoying life. Tom hoped Margarethe would seal the deal by appearing to Jim as whoever his ultimate fancy might be; but she didn't, and through his nervous terror Tom thought he understood why she didn't. The realization broke his heart, but he understood. Margarethe was right about his oldest and best friend.

"Holy shit, that's beautiful," Jim said. Behind them Tom was aware of a chorus of mesmerized appreciation from the police as well. At least this had bought him precious time.

Gingerly he got to his feet. "Join us, Jim," he said. "There's nothing for you here but a dead-end job that's destroying the world." As he spoke, he opened the backhoe's gas cap. "If you see it like it is, then there's hope for you there. I know it!"

"You weren't crazy after all," Jim murmured. "Or maybe I am too."

"You're not," Tom said desperately, pulling off his shirt -- it was dry but for a bit of his cold sweat. "Not unless you stay here when you could join me there." Tom picked up the discarded stick and wrapped his shirt around it, and stuffed it into the gas tank as best he could.

"Holy shit, Tom, what are you doing?" Jim said it loud enough for the cops to hear and be snapped out of their fascination with the view.

"Is he threatening you with his gun?" one of them called to Jim.

Tom took the lighter in his hand and held it to his shirt. "You belong there with us, Jim. You're one of the good guys, I know it."

Jim looked breathlessly from Tom to the view into the future, and then back at the encroaching cops. "It's for your own good, Tom," he whimpered. Then, in a louder voice, "He hasn't really got a gun!" And he turned and ran.

"You idiot!" Tom snapped, flicking the lighter. "You don't know what you're throwing away!"

The shirt caught the flame just as the first cop appeared at Tom's left with his gun pointed at him. "Hands up, son," the cop sputtered. There were three more just behind him, and Tom heard the footsteps of more.

As if in slow motion, one of the cops noticed the burning shirt and realized what was about to happen, and called for a retreat just as Tom did as he was told -- put his hands up -- and leapt for the door. The last thing he heard was the first cop's "Hey!" before his passage back into the warm air just above the ocean. He had just enough time to look up into the woods and see that the cops had had the good sense to get away. But to that final instant Tom had held out some hope that Jim would reconsider. He now saw that it hadn't happened.

Tom splashed awkwardly into the salty water, but quickly got his bearings about him and shot back to the surface. He opened his eyes to be greeted by the sight of a crowd on the beach -- some clothed now, some not -- staring up at where the door had been. A few cheered for Tom, but most eyes were still on the door. Tom looked up at it himself from the water, just in time to see the explosion he had set off blowing the vision of the past into hundreds of shards that flew every which way and then splashed harmlessly into the water. The door itself melted into a ball of flame that dwindled and then vanished.

This brought a tremendous cheer from the crowd on the beach, but Tom was scarcely aware of that at that moment, for the explosion set off a tidal wave that had soon caught him up and hurled him forcefully toward the shore. Tom held his breath and did his best to keep his eyes open and his hands out before him as he saw the ocean floor race past him. Then he was rolling around on the sand in shallow water and suddenly safe on dry land and there were numerous others around him. As the wave finally receded, Tom stood up uncertainly and found himself mobbed by admirers. Cheers and hugs and slaps on the back from every direction, until he nearly feared for his safety. Reflecting on what he had just been through, though, that made Tom laugh. Many of the others laughed with him, though they likely didn't know why.

The hugs and congratulations and thanks went on for what seemed like minutes, and Tom did his best to return all the pleasantries. Then, of a sudden, they stopped and the crowd that had mobbed him dispersed promptly and almost orderly. Tom stood alone now on the sand in his jeans, and he turned around to follow the admiring gaze of the well-wishers who had all backed off so suddenly. Their gaze was off into the sea, not above them this time but at eye-level.

Tom turned around. It was Margarethe, emerging nude from the waves with a smile that could have lit up the town and with her arms wide open.

With his first conscious breath since he'd made the leap, Tom ran into the water and threw himself at her. They lost their balance in the heat of the embrace and landed harmlessly in the sand, and as he kissed her an enormous cheer arose from the crowd behind them. She opened her eyes and they laughed joyously together.

"It's closed?" he asked.

"Forever," she confirmed. "We're safe, and you're mine. Now let's get you out of those silly clothes and get you home!"

Brazenly and without shame, Tom sat up in the shallow water and unbuttoned his jeans while Margarethe untied his boots. When they were off, he stood up and also slid off his pants unabashedly. Margarethe set them on the dry sand just above the reach of the tide. "Please have these delivered," she said to no one in particular while the crowd gazed adoringly at the couple. Then she turned to her true love and held out her hand. "Tom?"

He took her hand and they turned to face the waves and the far-off island. As the crowd cheered the both of them, they set off for home.