Chapter 1

A Second Chance: 1

The Assistant Director of the Second Chance Unit of the Bureau of Reclamation, a branch of Nine Lives Institute, a governmental front for a black ops section, was sitting at his desk reviewing the 3D of the latest “difficulty.”

‘This isn’t right. Who screwed up? He was supposed to be twelve, not seventeen in a week. It was the Sergeant ... something in the gas. Where’s the paperwork on this one?’

He reached out to the home of his executive secretary, contacted her mentally and thought, ‘Pull up the contract for Colonel David Jacobin.’

‘Got it?’

‘What’s the date of recovery?’

‘1959? That’s not right.’

‘Who?’

‘Director Kelly initialed it?’

‘I’ll find out.’

He backed out of contact and connected with the records controller,

‘Susie?’

‘You got the records for Colonel... ‘

‘Yeah ... him.’

‘You do? Great. What’s the date of regeneration?

‘April 15 1955? You sure?’

‘Sorry Susie ... I know you can read... ‘

‘Yes ... and write too.’

‘He’d be what ... Twelve ... eleven?’

‘Twelve?’

‘Thirteen in May?’

“Thank you, Susie. You’re a peach.’

Ending the contact with records, he contacted Charles Parker, Psyche Storage. Psych or PS is where the ‘essential man’ was kept for a week.

‘Charlie? Is Jacobin fit to talk?

‘Yeah ... you don’t free fall forty thousand feet and stop in good health.’

‘Jelly? I expected that ... can he talk?’

‘Hook him up and we’ll see.’

‘I’ll wait.’

Hooking up a deader consisted of electrodes to the brain and a sincere wish to speak to the dead. Most times it worked, at least for a week after death anyway. The brain might be oxygen dead but science proved years ago there was still electrical activity.

The ‘essential’ had to be contacted vocally, and the contact recorded ... it was the law.

“Colonel Jacobin?”

“ADSC here.”

“Assistant Director Second Chance.”

“There’s been an accident”

“ ... besides that.”

“Nice to know you still have a sense of humor.”

“Yes, sir. It was Kelly.”

“Sir, you’re out of time. We can’t do anything about how you died but we can give you a second chance.”

“Yes, sir, it’s what we do.”

“Sir, when I say ‘out of time’ I mean ‘out of sequence.’”

“Yeah, Kelly robbed you of thirty/ forty years.”

“Sir, I just looked at your file.”

“This one is it ... number nine. Last chance.”

“Yes, sir ... I had no idea you were our first last chance.”

“I’m proud to meet you, Colonel Jacobin. Your file makes for exciting reading.”

“I’ll have to check, sir. In any case, you’ll have to finish out this one before you can read it.”

“The reason I called?”

“Oh ... there’s been an accident.”

“Yes ... I already said that.”

“It’s a pretty big one.”

“You were redirected incorrectly.”

“1959 ... a day after your father’s death.”

“You were supposed to go to 1955 ... thirteen years old.”

“Yes, Yes ... I know ... the angst of puberty and adolescence.”

“But, sir ... think of the plus side. ‘55 Chevy and Diana Worall.”

“The other choice is total rebirth ... potty training ... teething, kindergarten ... Mrs. Neirgarth.”

“Yes, sir ... thirteen it is. Mrs. Neirgarth’s picture convinced me ... puberty is friendlier than that.”

“Pleasure to meet you, sir.” The ADSC said before he signed off, “Sir, when you get there ... your last name is Austin.”

“Yes ... I know ... this a chance to make it right.”

‘Doctor Parker? The Colonel is a reset. 1955 April 30.’

‘Yeah, and Charlie? Total recall.’

‘Options heading ... clear at the bottom. Find it?’

‘Authorization code 19’

‘Password is Iremember. All one word, letter I is in caps.’

‘Charlie? Let’s keep this between you and me ... Ok?’

‘Thank you Charlie. Say Hello to Carol for me.’

‘Bye.’

The Assistant Director Second Chance leaned back in his chair and started spinning his pencil. A huge grin slowly creased his face ... he started laughing. He was willing to bet Director Kelly wouldn’t think it was funny.

“David, it’s the Ides of April... 23 more days to your birthday. Five more weeks of the seventh grade. Time to get up.”

“Yes Mom.”

‘Damn it all ... Grace is in the bathroom. Next year I’ll have my own ... How do I know that?’

I clattered down the stairs, and flung the door open. The door caught my brother right in the chops. ‘Whoa! Score!’

Grace came tripping out of the bath in a towel ... it slipped. ‘Whoa! Tits! When did that happen?’ I squeezed past her stealing her towel on the way by. I slammed the door and latched it.

“MOM!! David took my towel ... what are you looking at, Charles Beckwith!! Pervert!! Mom! Charley got a boner ... I think ... it’s awfully small. Mom ... it’s not funny!! Well, it is but the towel bit isn’t.”

I dropped my jeans and reached inside my boxers... ‘Whoa ... that’s different.’ I peed ... and peed ... and peed some more.

“David! wash your hands and come to breakfast ... and leave Grace alone. For twins you sure do pick on each other.”

I made sure my hands were dripping when I left the bathroom. I wiped my hands on Charlie’s shirt. Grandma was stuffing Charley’s nose with toilet paper.

“Smooth move, Exlax! You bloodied my nose. Asshole.”

Grandma slapped him. “Charles ... language!”

Mom had pancakes, over easy eggs, bacon and toast ... with REAL butter. ‘Whoa! Score!’

I was stuffing when mom said, “David, Grace? You sure you want to test out of eighth? You’ll both be thirteen year old freshmen.”

We both nodded ... still filling mouths and chewing. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day ... school lunch sucked.

“Grace ... if you both weren’t testing I wouldn’t let you do it.”

“Mom ... it’ll be fine ... David will look out for me.”

“You both have to pass. If either one of you fails...”

“Charles ... don’t bump your brother.” Charlie was bumping me ... mom caught it. “Charles ... don’t bump your brother! Charles ... clean it up.”

“I’ll be late for school.” Mr. Fatty said.

“So ... if you’d pay attention to me you wouldn’t have spilled David’s juice.”

Charley picked up a clean towel and tossed it in the middle of the orange puddle. It was one of mom’s best tea towels. Serious mistake. Grace and I split before the torture started. Charley has sensitive ears ... mom loves to twist ‘em. Of course ... if he didn’t look like a Ford Coupe with the doors open...

Junior high ... we’re in the seventh grade ... is two blocks west and four blocks south. We have to walk past the high school ... there’s no other way. Both of us grew this past year. Grace is a very curvy 12 and for some unknown reason ... I passed six foot. There’s no explanation for it ... it just happened.

“Hey cutie. Looking good, Blondie.” High school senior ... borderline psychotic. He’s talking to Grace ... but I turned to face him.

“Gosh, guy ... I don’t swing that way.” I said. “It’s your choice ... but I didn’t know you were out of the closet.” My face was serious ... inside I was rolling.

The crowd at the steps laughed so hard, I took a little bow ... a couple of the girls had to sit down.

Instant steam out of both ears. His face turned so red he had to be on fire. He started my way.

“Wilson!!” The Assistant Principal grabbed him by the shoulder. Wilson spun out of his grasp and clocked him a good one. Not smart. Half the football team ‘escorted’ Wilson to the Office ... Wilson ‘fell’ several times, he was expelled ... not suspended ... expelled. The cops came ... Grace and I didn’t see it but we heard about it later. Wilson was booked for assault. The jail is between the school and the courthouse. The jail is actually across the street ... catty-corner from the high school. It’s important.

Our jail was considered ... at the time ... to be the most secure facility in the state. The cells had the tempered bars with the roller hardened roller bar in the middle. You could cut the one ... the inner bar just spun. Between the guard walkway and the cells was a second set of bars.