It had been a hippie vehicle… that much Kyle could see from the psychedelic paint. He wondered if Dan had been a hippie back then. Dan wore his long gray hair in a ponytail, but, still, the image didn't fit. He was way too serious a person.
Kyle grabbed a few old tools from the shed in the back and got back to the van.-He opened up the hood and checked out the engine compartment. He would need Dan's permission to open up the engine and take a look at the timing chain, but he did see a number of parts they could use: alternator, starter, fuel pump. They were all things that it would be a good idea to carry around as spares if they kept the van. After all, it was at least as old as his father, and Kyle was pretty sure that keeping it running would be a serious part-time job for him in the weeks to come.
Next, he opened the driver's side door… which took some doing… and climbed inside. The interior wasn't in very good condition, with plenty of rust on the various pieces of exposed metal.
There were only two seats in the front. The back was left open, covered by a light blue shag carpet that looked older than the van. It was also littered with old magazines and other junk, including a broken guitar. He checked the date on one of the magazines; it was a Life magazine from 1970. Like the van itself, it was an artifact from a different age… or a different world. In all likelihood, the van had been sitting on these cinder blocks since that time. In that case, it would never be good for anything other than parts and scrap metal.
When he put the magazine down, it opened and some- thing fell out. Kyle thought it was a response card and started to turn away when he noticed that it was actually a color photo.
Leaning down, Kyle picked it up and looked into a window straight into the past. The photo was of the van when the psychedelic paint job must have been new. It was parked in front of the garage, which looked much newer as well. In front of the van was a tall, gangly teenager with long hair, who was making a peace sign with his hand. He looked maybe seventeen, about Kyle's own age. Next to him was a boy of twelve or thirteen who had his arm wrapped around the older boy's waist. The young boy was smiling broadly and looking up in unabashed admiration at the hippie teenager. Kyle turned the picture over and saw, scrawled on the back, the words "Me and Johnny.”
Turning it over again, Kyle studied the picture once more. There was something touching about the way the younger boy was looking at the older one. And something familiar.
"Hey," a voice said from outside.
Surprised, Kyle lifted his head up quickly and banged it on the top of the van. Turning around, he saw Dan looking at him through the windshield. Up until now, Dan had been stiff and serious. In fact, Kyle realized that he had never seen the man smile.
But there was no mistaking the expression on his face. Dan was angry.
Kyle stepped forward, not sure how to handle this. What was his new boss thinking? Feeling clumsy, Kyle got into the driver's seat and pushed the door open. Once again, it was stuck and he had to struggle with it to force it open.
The whole time, Dan watched him, scowling.
When he was outside, Kyle said, "I didn't mean to… I'm sorry if I… ”
"What are you doing?" Dan asked.
"I was just checking out the van to see if there was any- thing we could salvage," Kyle said.
"But it's not your van, is it?" Dan said, his voice stern.
Kyle got the feeling that Dan was holding himself back with some effort.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know it would bother you. I wasn't taking anything. You said we could talk about us maybe using some of the parts to fix our van," Kyle said.
Dan was silent for a moment. His face didn't change, or soften at all, though. Finally, he said, "You've got work to do. I need you to put a new carburetor on the pickup inside. Dawn has the parts in the office.”
Then Dan turned and walked toward the garage. Kyle gave him a few seconds' head start and then started after him.
When Bell turned the sign on the door to open, Liz real- ized that something was wrong.
"Where's Jimmy?" she asked, as the first customers came inside.
Bell shrugged. "He's usually on time, but he hasn't been the same since…”
There were a dozen people inside the diner. Liz knew more were on the way. Liz had to put aside her worry for Jimmy and his sister.
"What can I get you?" she asked the three men at her first table.
Twenty minutes later, Jimmy came in. Gone was any pretense of normality. His face was vacant. No, not vacant, haunted.
"Hi Jimmy," she said.
He didn't look up until she repeated herself. Then he glanced at her mustering a thin smile that died quickly. Liz hated to see the broken expression on his innocent and open face. It didn't belong there, even though Liz knew she had seen it before: in her vision of Jimmy at his sisters funeral.
Suddenly Liz was overwhelmed with feelings of help- lessness. For all of the incredible things Max and her friends could do… things she was beginning to do her- self… they could do nothing to help a scared teenage girl in trouble and this boy who had lost his sister.
Bell came up to him and put a hand on his shoulder, "Are you okay, Jimmy?" she asked.
He nodded.
"You don't have to work today if you don't want to. Why don't you go home," she said.
He shook his head. "She'll come here first. She knows I'm working today.”
Jimmy disappeared into the back and came back out with his apron on. He immediately began collecting the first batch of dirty dishes. When he came back, he grabbed another tray to get some more. He stopped what he was doing for a moment, looked up at Bell, and said, "Sorry about the mess.”
"What?" she said.
"The mess. I'm sorry," he said.
Then he turned quickly, accidentally smashing his tray into the pot of coffee that Maria was carrying. Maria let go immediately and the coffeepot went flying to the floor, breaking and spilling half a pot of coffee onto the floor.
Though Maria jumped back, Jimmy just looked at the coffee and then at Bell. "Sorry, I'll clean it up.”
Bell was right there, putting a hand on Jimmy's shoul- der again. "It's okay. Why don't you come with me?”
She took Jimmy to an open booth near the window and sat him down gently "Why don't you take some time, Jimmy?”
"She might come," he protested.
"Then you can stay right here and watch for her," Bell said.
"Okay," Jimmy said flatly.
Liz and Maria immediately started cleaning up the mess when Bell came over and said, "I'll get that.”
Going back to the kitchen, Liz picked up the order for her table. She looked at Jimmy sitting at his booth, staring brokenly out the window. He was waiting for his sister, but he somehow sensed that she wasn't coming. Whatever force that allowed Jimmy glimpses into the future was telling him that his sister's time was very short.
Liz had the same feeling about Jessica's future.
As she worked, Liz found herself thinking about Jimmy and the spilled sugar, then about the spilled coffee. Jimmy had known about each event before it happened, but had been unable to stop it.
Teiresias, Liz remembered. That was the name of the man from ancient Greece who was cursed with the ability to see the future but was powerless to change it. Well, Max had given Liz the power to see the future. Was that power… that incredible ability… going to be Liz's curse? She and Max had used the power just days ago to save the life of a woman who was attacked in an alley outside the Crashdown. Then they had used it to save themselves from the gunman on graduation day.
Were those two successes going to be the exception, not the rule? As Liz looked at Jimmy sitting by the window waiting for his sister, Liz was afraid that she already knew the answer.