Help me, one of
a few universal phrases that translates so perfectly we can recognize it
without sound.
Conversely, trying
to figure out what someone means when they ask for help without dialogue and
diagrams is like trying to figuring out what your mother really wants for
Christmas. My guilt makes me digress. Let me back up.
Hanging above my
desk in a place of honor is a framed photograph of a man I greatly admire. You
would recognize it if you saw it. It is of this man in the last happy moment of
his life.
I was in the
office waiting on a call. The call was to let me know when the heart I was
transplanting began its airlift. As soon as that phone rang I would rush to the
hospital. Being it was my first time performing the surgery my nerves were on
edge and I was doing some deep breathing. When I looked at the picture my hero
was looking in the wrong direction.
I blinked, sure
it was the stress causing the hallucination. When my eyes refocused they
witnessed his mouth open as if he had something to tell me. I rubbed my eyes to
make the insanity go away. When the dots cleared I saw his mouth moving in that
timeless cry. Help me!
“How can I help
you?”
But I knew. I’m
what you might call middle of the road, or pick and choose when it comes to
politics and causes. So while I am pretty adamant that anyone who owns a gun
should take safety courses I don’t think they need to be a marksman. I own a
gun. I have taken courses. I am not the world’s greatest shot. However, my hero
needed me. He was smiling at my thought process.
With the rifle
in hand I stood in front of the picture and between worlds. My heels still felt
the hardwood but my toes were on soft grass, I could tell even through the
shoes. The stale odor of my coffee wafted from the office behind me to mingle
with scent of said grass and exhaust from the world before me. I was a ghost in two places, unseen in both. I
took careful aim at my target. I had to wait for the right moment or this would
all be for nothing. My heart hammered with my thoughts of healing a wound to
the world but finally I steadied my aim and waited for the face I knew would
arrive.
Cell phones have
no respect for cross time events. They are also loud as hell, even between
worlds. Just as I was squeezing the trigger my phone exploded with the call I
had been waiting for. It ripped me completely back to my own time. Just before
I fell out of that other world I saw his head going back and to the left. My
shot had gone nowhere near the book repository I had been aiming at.
#shortstory
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