Richard Doetsch - The 13th Hour

A sense of helplessness permeated Nick and Dreyfus. They wished there was something they could do, wished they could reach up and stop it.

And the falling jet, what Nick thought of as a tomb, filled with chaos, filled with the damned, disappeared behind the trees. A fireball erupted, rolling up into the sky hundreds of feet, the volatile jet fuel igniting instantly upon impact. Seconds later, the explosion reverberated, the ground shaking as in an earthquake, like a mortar shell striking the town. Black smoke billowed upward, a beacon for rescuers who would find no one alive.

Nick couldn’t imagine what he would have done if Julia were on that plane. He was oddly thankful, in the face of the loss of so many lives, that she had narrowly escaped death, being called off the jet at the last second as a result of the robbery. Fate was something he couldn’t understand, and though he had briefly touched it, manipulated it, it was something that no one could foresee or control.

The moment hung silently in the air, silent prayers said for the dead.

“How did you…?” Dreyfus looked at Nick but abandoned his question. He finally exhaled, pulling out his cell phone.

Nick followed suit. He needed to hear Julia’s voice. Despite the death of Dance, he needed to tell her that he loved her, that everything was right in the world.

He dialed and found the call going directly to voicemail. He thought about where she could be and remembered she was at Washington House, just now seeing evidence of the robbery.

“Hi, honey, it’s me.” Nick said into the phone. “I just needed to tell you that I love you. I love you with all my heart and soul, with every ounce of my being. I’m sorry we fought this morning, I’m sorry if I upset you, but I was wondering, I know you’re busy with work and all but I’d just love to stop by and see you. I hate that I left you on a sour note, thinking I was mad. Call me when you get this.”

Nick hung up his phone and saw it light up with a message and one missed call. Nicked dialed his voicemail, knowing it was from Julia. She had probably called him as he called her.

Nick listened to her message, their words of love so similar. The warmth of her voice comforted his sorrow-filled mind. He stood there, the phone pressed to his ear as if it was a talisman, a magical link to her. He was so glad she left him the message. But then he heard the stewardess interrupt, telling her that she had to turn off her phone, that the doors were already closed.

And with a gut-wrenching realization, Nick knew what he had done.

Somehow, his actions had interfered with Julia getting off the plane, his delaying the robbery by five minutes had delayed the text message to her. She never heard about the break-in, she never knew to get off the plane.

Nick fell backward against Shannon’s Mustang, his breath gone, his heart burning. Everything he had done, everything that he had gone through to save her was for naught. He had played about in time, he had toyed with fate as if it would bend to his will. But it was a force for which there was no match. No magical watch, no violation of the laws of physics could alter it. For fate was the most powerful force in nature.

And in that moment, Nick knew 213 passengers had perished. Julia was dead, lying in the midst of the charred wreckage of Flight 502.

NICK PULLED THE watch from his pocket: 11:55.

Julia was dead. She was dead over and over again. He thought he was trapped in a time-warped hell, having to endure Julia’s death in every hour in a new way.

And this time it wasn’t at the hand of Dance. It was his fault and his fault alone, pulling her out of harm’s way only to push her onto that flight. He had taken the scythe out of Dance’s hands and killed her himself in his misguided arrogance.

All he strived for, everything he had done, everything he thought he was tasked to do, was wrong. The singular action that was to alter fate now was not killing her assassin, it was not killing Dance. It was the plane, everything tied back there now.

Nick grabbed the Colt Peacemaker from the bushes. He ran to the body of Ethan Dance and tore through his pockets; he found the dead cop’s cell phone, flipped it open, and memorized the phone number of his last call. He stood, threw down the phone, and broke into an all-out sprint, racing for Dance’s car. Racing to the body of Shannon.

He still had time.

10:00 A.M.

ALL WAS RIGHT IN the world, at least for the moment. The lights were on, planes weren’t falling from the sky, robberies hadn’t occurred, and Julia was safe and alive. Smiles were still worn on the faces of the shoppers, people went about their routines in anticipation of another fun-filled summer weekend.

No one was aware of what was coming, no one knew the terrible turn life would take in an hour and fifty minutes except Nick. He had glimpsed the world of Byram Hills and knew how time would unfold from now until nightfall. But he had an ability that the men of fiction and history did not possess. Fate lay in his hands, he could change the future, by his actions he could change the course of time.

JULIA STOOD IN the back of The Right Thing, staring at frames. She had no idea how big a sonogram picture was and had no idea what size frame to buy. She grabbed a set of three, each a different size, and figured she’d just make it work. She raced to the book section, grabbed her favorite Dr. Seuss book, Fox in Sox, and on her way to the checkout counter, grabbed a roll of teddy bear wrapping paper.

She was bursting with anticipation as her friend, Angela, checked her out. It was an excitement like that she felt as a little girl on Christmas, a feeling that Santa would make her dreams come true. But the excitement she was feeling now was not in receiving but in giving, the giving and sharing of life, providing Nick with the ultimate expression of their love, the gift of a child.

She got back into her car and turned out of the parking lot heading for the airport. Though check-in and security were brief at Westchester Airport, she wanted to give herself plenty of time for once, instead of having to rush, instead of having to make a mad dash for the gate.

As she entered Route 684, her cell phone rang.

“Hey, Jo,” Julia said as she saw the caller ID and hit the speakerphone.

“I’m so sorry about this,” Julia’s secretary, Jo Whalen, said. “Mr. Isles and Mr. Lerner are in court and, of course, there’s another crisis on the Collier deal. They say the merger can’t and won’t happen if the Collier children’s trusts do not reflect the appropriate caveats in the event of the children’s divorce.”

Julia laughed. “The kids are five and seven.”

“Maybe their parents can look into the future, I don’t know. Mr. Lerner wants you to handle the conference call in their absence.”

“You’re kidding? When?”

“Now. Mr. Lerner prefaced his call by saying the $12 million in billables on the Collier account should be worth taking a later flight for.”

“Let me turn around,” Julia said, crestfallen, feeling as if Christmas had been canceled.

“I don’t think so,” Jo snapped at her. “I’ve got the call set up, I can patch you in. You’ll straighten out this lucky sperm club trust in plenty of time and make your flight.”

Julia smiled. No one was better than Jo. “I’m going to pull over so I don’t lose signal. Why don’t you patch them all in?”

“Have a safe flight, honey.”

“Thanks, you’re the best.”

“Okay, everyone,” Jo said. “I have Julia Quinn for you.”

“Good morning,” Julia said as she pulled to the side of the road. Jo was so good, she had saved her and kept her life orderly for the tenth time today.