If you went to sleep one night and woke up the next day in your past, what would you do? Do Over by G. E. Stills. Available from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, other fine eBook vendors and Gypsy Shadow Publishing at:
Have you ever wished you could go back in your life and change things? Would the changes made turn out for the better? If you remembered your future, you could correct your mistakes, but would you make others? Gene took a wrong turn in life. He lives on the wrong side of the law, but he gets a chance that we never get. He gets a Do Over in his life.
Word Count: 22640
Pages to Print: 80
. . . Gene got out of bed, stretched, then took a shower and performed his other bathroom duties. He dressed in fresh clothes, put on his holster and then grabbed the backpack and his overnight case. After a final look around, he stepped into the hall, and a momentary vertigo hit him. He stumbled and braced himself against the wall to keep from falling. The dizziness went away and his vision cleared.
Stress, it has to be stress.
He glanced around in confusion and sensed something was different. The hall seemed newer—fresher somehow. Funny I didn’t notice it yesterday. I must have been too lost in thought.
He rode the elevator down to the lobby and took a seat in the restaurant. I really must have been lost in thought. Everything about the hotel seems different. They must have remodeled since I was here last. They did a good job. Reminds me of how this place used to look.
He charged his breakfast to the room before leaving the restaurant, not paying attention to the price, and left a generous tip for the waitress. He leaned into the registration desk. “I’m in room 536. I need to check out,” he told the clerk.
The clerk searched through his files. “I’m sorry sir. Your name?”
“Hmm. I’m sorry Mr. Cardone there seems to be some type of mix up. I have no record of you.”
“I checked in yesterday.”
“I don’t doubt your word. I’m just saying I show no record.”
The clerk typed in the information he provided and gave him the price, which included the breakfast he informed the man about. “That’s all?” Gene asked.
He peeled off some cash to settle his bill, still wondering at the low price. Flipping open his cell to call a cab he noticed to his surprise there was no signal. Moving around in the lobby didn’t help. There was no signal anywhere Maybe they’re just having a coverage issue here in the Hotel. Finally, he went to the registration desk and had the clerk there summon a cab.
Gene stepped out in front of the hotel to wait. Again he flipped open his phone to call Felix. He frowned in confusion when the no signal message came up on the phone.
The cab that pulled up was a vintage car that he remembered from his youth. Talk about retro. He got in the back. Where to?” the driver asked.
“Where? I’m not familiar with that airport.”
Surely you jest. You’re a cab driver and you don’t even know where Coronado is?
“It’s located on I-25 north toward Santa Fe.”
“Uh Sir, there’s no airport out there that I’m aware of.”
Gene glanced at his watch. Time was ticking away. I’ll call another cab. This guy is obviously new to town and doesn’t know shit.
“I just remembered something I forgot to do. Here, this should cover you for your trip.” He handed the cab driver some money and left the car. After watching the cab pull away, he shrugged on the pack, picked up his bag and stepped out of the hotel drive to the sidewalk. He glanced around. Nothing looked right in the surroundings. It was familiar and yet completely different from what he’d noticed the day before.
What the fuck is going on?
While heading back into the hotel lobby he glanced down at a newspaper vending machine. He halted and stared in shock at the date on the paper. July, 15th, He couldn’t believe his eyes when the year jumped out at him. 1973! What the hell?
Inside the lobby once more, Gene saw that as the morning had progressed guests had filtered into it. In amazement, he noticed that every one of them wore fashions terribly outdated. Passing a floor to ceiling decorative mirror, he glanced at himself and halted dead in his tracks. The man staring back at him was not him. Well it is me, he admitted. “The way I looked fifteen years ago. What the fuck is going on here? I must be still asleep. I must be dreaming,” he mumbled beneath his breath.
Can’t go back to the room. I’ve already checked out even if this is a dream. I’ll go for a walk, get my thoughts together. He laughed out loud. I’ll probably wake up naked as the day in some public place or some similar embarrassing situation.
He left the front doors and strolled down the street deep in thought and yet aware of things around him. Wouldn’t do to be taken by surprise. Not with three million dollars in this backpack. He felt the gun nestled under his arm. “Not that I need to worry much about being mugged.”
He was astounded at the cars passing by on the street beside him. None of them was newer than early seventy vintage, and many were older. Slowly he concluded that something, he didn’t know what, had happened overnight. Gene halted abruptly and stared in disbelief at the rental car lot next to him. The lot was filled with 1973 dodge cars. Among them, he spotted a row of Challengers. An idea surged to life, and he marched into the rental office.
Gene never used his charge card while on business. While his wallet was open, he quickly counted the bills. Several hundred dollars should be enough for the time being. “Here’s my card, but don’t run it I’ll be paying the rental fee in cash.”
“Very good sir.” The agent slid forms across the counter for him to fill out and turned away to make a copy of the card.
Gene drove off the lot and spent the rest of the day driving around town. The first place he drove to was Coronado Airport, at least the location where it should have been. There was no airport there.
By evening, he was more confused than ever. He couldn’t argue the facts. They were everywhere around him. Somehow, he’d been transported back from the year 2000 to 1973. With the exceptions of a few minor changes, Albuquerque was the same as when he’d gone to school here in the sixties. Early in the evening, he treated himself to a burger and fries, then pulled into one of the motels on Central Avenue and rented a room. The bar next door looked very inviting. He slipped the backpack in the trunk then going around the corner entered the bar. All night long, he remained deep in thought, trying to figure out what had happened.