Gateway

By Doug Glenning

When Ira's Job lets him go because of his injury he figures his safe, predictable life is over. Forced to take a lesser paying job at a hotel is boring, but when Ira learns that friend in his author group has come from the future to protect him, and that his co-worker is an assassin sent to kill him, suddenly Ira's not-so-exciting life takes a different twist. Now Ira has to stay alive long enough to write a book that will change the shape of the world one hundred years from now.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jul 29, 2019
• ISBN: 9780359820689

Book preview

Gateway

GATEWAY

Copyright © 2018 by Doug Glenning

Cover Design by Doug Glenning.  All rights reserved

All rights reserved.  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means - except in brief quotations embodied in articles or reviews - without permission from its author.

In memory of my Dad, Doug Sr., who always told me to get a job I’d enjoy waking up to do, and taught me how amazing music can be! 

For you the reader, I’ve made a playlist of all the songs mentioned entitled ‘Gateway Soundtrack’ by libraryguy1 which can be found on a popular music playlist app.  Thanks for reading and enjoy!

Preface

October 17th, 1989 was a dark day for the city of San Francisco.  It was poised to be one of the greatest days in history as the World Series was down to two teams: San Francisco Giants vs. Oakland A’s, guaranteeing a victory for their area either way.  Heralded as The Battle Across The Bay many had gathered at Candlestick Park to watch the third game of the World Series on a lovely afternoon.  Others were on their way home from work.  Everyone was going about their day, expecting nothing.  At precisely 5:04 p.m. a magnitude 6.9 earthquake rocked the city collapsing freeways, crumbling houses, and racking up a death toll of 63, 42 of them across the bay in Oakland.  The earthquake left many homeless from the collapsing buildings sinking into a quicksand-like soil undermining the foundation, especially in the Marina District where several homes also caught fire.

Many lives were uprooted because of this tragedy.  Many families were affected by the deaths of those who are special to them.  In the story you are about to read you will witness scenes and hear facts that match the disaster from the Marina District of San Francisco during the Loma Prieta earthquake in 1989.  Many of the victims became homeless, some had to move away for good while others stayed on to rebuild their lives.  2019 celebrates the twenty year anniversary of this disaster, but also of the courage, fortitude, and heart of the people of San Francisco and those who came to their aid when it was needed most.  The responses to the disasters of the October 17th, 1989 earthquake are an example of the triumph of the human spirit and a reminder of how much we need each other to survive and thrive.

~ Doug Glenning

North Carolina, 2018

Prologue

Writing is easy!  Getting published is hard.  That’s what I used to tell myself, and frankly, it’s still true--well, for me, anyway.  Writing is something that people do everyday whether it’s a love note left on the refrigerator or a memo delivered by your secretary telling your boss that you’re stuck in traffic.  Imagine my surprise, then, when writing suddenly became this mountain I had to climb and I struggled to get out of base camp.  When I sat down to finally write my novel back in October of 1989 I had this romanticized notion of me sitting at a desk and the words flowing through my fingers, into the pen and drizzling out onto the paper in this beautifully written piece of literature. Autumn has always been my favorite season, and September finally became my favorite month especially now that I haven’t had to go to school for over two decades.  September has always felt like how the song goes, you know?  Fun, jazzy, everyone’s bubbly.  When it occurred to me I’d finally get a chance to write a book like I’ve always wanted, I figured adding a simple thing like that would just make it an even better month for me. I quickly realized how much work it was going to be.  From the planning, research, writing, rewriting, not to mention the time commitment involved in this process I discovered how much of a challenge it would be.

I’ve wanted to write a novel since I was in fourth grade.  It started out as a way to deal with the changes that were going on in my life, which in retrospect seem small now, but felt like epic tragedies to me at the time.  I lost my older brother to a car accident that year, started eating too much, playing outside less, gained quite a bit of weight, got glasses and lost friends, all of which I tied back to one event--my brother’s death.  It’s funny how some of the events on your timeline can be linked to one event.  I’ve found this to be true many times for many different people.  What we often fail to remember is that those events don’t control us, don’t decide who we are, unless we allow them to do so.

Another event is the summer I broke my hip at work and lost my job.  I always think that a busted hip is something old people have happen, not some guy in his thirties.  It was the most depressing year of my life. Also, it was the year I found my greatest sense of purpose, although it didn’t feel like it at the time.  It was this event that gave me the chance to write my novel in the first place.  Writing isn’t easy!  It’s hard--really hard, and if the job I had after my injury hadn’t sucked I probably wouldn’t have taken up writing at all.

Just to be clear the hotel I worked at is a nice hotel.  If you’re ever travelling through the southeast near North Carolina there are hundreds of nice hotels to choose from.  I highly recommend staying in The Hotel Caupona--you’ll have a great stay.  The problem was not the hotel, just my job at the hotel.  I was the gym attendant at The Hotel Caupona.  You know how, when you’re on vacation, you have a strong sensation to come in at the end of the day and workout for about an hour?  Yeah--me neither.  In fact, most people don’t, but a gym is something that a lot of hotels have as an amenity; the nice ones, anyway.

Even though most hotels have a gym they don’t get a lot of use, especially during the off season, so you can imagine the non-stop excitement my job was at the time.  It wouldn’t be so bad if I was a college kid with term papers and final exams to cram for, because the bulk of my work during the day totals up to about an hour out of an eight hour shift.  Instead I am just over age 30, nursing a bum hip that I go to Physical Therapy for twice a week and I am bored out of my mind. 

Okay, I know what you’re thinking: enough about the hotel, am I right? The sad part is that’s only a small fraction of the problems that got me into this mess staring at a notebook and a deadline.  I don’t mean a regular deadline.  I’m talking about an ‘if I don’t get this written by a certain date in time for a certain person to see it, the end of the world as we know it will happen’ kind of timeline.  It’s kind of hard to explain.  It also has to do with one of the worst disasters to hit San Francisco in its history and it’s also about my hobby that I picked up in high school thanks to my English teacher, a hobby that I wanted to turn into a career, but never did. That’s a lot of stuff to deal with in a prologue, but to figure it out--well, you’ll have to see it for yourself to get what I mean. 

I’ll probably end up tossing out this prologue, so for now just sit back with some coffee, listen to some Earth, Wind, & Fire and read away!

1

If you have ever worked for any length of time at a sporting goods store you can quickly tell the difference between the serious athletes and the weekend sports enthusiast, but he’s acquired the skill of recognizing pros over amateurs long before now.  Barry has been a sales associate at Bertram’s Sporting Goods for six months.  When he notices the man in the NCSU sweatpants with a Muddy Waters Tour t-shirt he got the feeling that this would not be a huge commission.  The man’s overall appearance gives Barry the clues he was hoping to find: in his early thirties, golden brown hair, and a   pronounced limp which seems to confirm his identity in Barry’s mind.  It also verifies who this is: Ira Redcoles, the man he’s been trying to find.

One of the store policies for sales staff is: Happy customers give salesmen healthy kids.  Barry didn’t have any kids, or a wife (or girlfriend for that matter), but he knew his manager would not be a happy camper if he didn’t move some merchandise.  Besides it was better than standing around humming along with Before you Accuse Me for the fifth time this shift as it played quietly over the speaker system.  With a deep breath Barry approaches the limping man helplessly walking around the archery aisles.  Barry smiles at the irony of Ira examining the bows and arrows, but immediately pushes it out of his mind, as it’s a joke only he and his partner would understand.

Can I help you find something?  Ira saunters toward the seemingly eager sales associate.  Barry, despite his balding head, has a youthful vibrancy to his face, which strikes Ira as strange because sales, he’s always thought, is a very stressful profession.

I just need some tennis balls, the regular old fuzzy yellow kind, if you have them.  Not sure if there are any other kinds, but you can show me them, too I guess.

No problem sir; we can get you those over here. Barry says pointing in the direction he begins to walk.

Aw, you don’t have to call me sir.  I work for a living!  You can just call me Ira.

Okay, Ira.  How are you for racquets?  We’ve got the latest and greatest.

Ira is already shaking his head.  Nah, just the tennis balls.  My PT told me to pick them up and use them to massage my muscles at night.  This place was on the way home.  Instinctively he begins massaging his left hip.

Uh-huh.  Barry tries to think of something to say in an effort to upsell.  Sports injury I guess?

Work related actually.  I worked at an aquarium as a custodian.  I fell down some slippery steps at work a few months ago.  I found out at the hospital I broke my wrist and my hip.

Well, I’m sorry to hear that Ira. So did you sue or....?

Nah, ‘fraid not.  It was my own fault.  I was carrying too much equipment; didn’t hold the handrail; ignored safety warnings posted near the tanks; a whole bunch of other legal jargon. I should’ve known better, they told me.  Ira waves his hand dismissively.  What ya’ gonna do, right?  At least I got some workmen’s comp.  That plus this job I’ve got now helps keep the lights on.  He notices Barry’s eyes starting to glaze over, lost in other thoughts.  Anyway, thanks for the tennis balls.

As Ira starts to walk away Barry’s brain kicks into gear, urging him to say ‘Is there anything else I can do for you today?’  Before the words pop out of his mouth he spots a younger couple in the camping section.  Barry pounces before Allen, the other salesman here tonight, even notices them.  Within minutes Barry is talking his way through the different types of commercial tents available while the man writes a check for his tube of tennis balls, signing Ira Redcoles in the corner.

[]

Hey babe, I’m home!   Ira calls down the hallway toward the kitchen.  No response.  Music floats out of the kitchen and down the hall to the front door just as it always has every day for the past twenty-one years.  Tossing his keys in the wicker fish basket by the front door, he begins to wonder if she’s gone out and left the radio on again. The familiar sound of the keys reaches the master bedroom.  Hardy, their Irish Setter, who was lounging on the bed, comes bounding out to greet him.  Ira stretches out his hand to pet his dog only to be met with the usual lick in response.   Ira steps toward the kitchen; he can hear salsa music playing. Tito Puente is blaring away as Willie Colon sings Oye Como Va.  Ira looks to Hardy.  You know what that music means, don’t you boy?  Tamales a la Angie tonight!

That you baby? His wife’s voice carries on the breeze from the kitchen trailing behind the scent of fresh baked bread.

Yeah, it’s me. Ira bellows, making sure she can hear him over the music playing in the kitchen.

Right on time as usual. Angie announces as Ira steps into the kitchen.  He reaches out with his left hand, placing it against the wall for support.

I wouldn’t ever wanna miss spending a second with you.   No one in their right mind could stay away from you or your cooking, Babe.  Ira sneaks up behind her and kisses her neck near her earlobes.  Where’s Jack? 

He’s upstairs finishing his homework before dinner.  How was work?

Ugh.  is all Ira offers as a response. 

I know it’s rough, but it’s only temporary until your hip and back are strong again.  Ira nods.  He stares at Angie as she  steps toward the sink and begins to peel potatoes.  A new song comes on the radio.  Sam Cooke belts out his smooth tones.  Angie starts swaying away to Bring it On Home to Me.  Ira steps behind her, placing his hand on the small of her back.  It’s not that bad, just boring I guess.  It’s same old; same old everyday: open it up; stand around for a few hours; pass out some towels, blah, blah, blah.  Close her down.  Limping toward the refrigerator he jerks the door open and pulls out a beer, a block of cheddar, butter, and the Worcestershire sauce. Pass me a pot, will ya Angie? he asks, rummaging in the spice cabinet for dry mustard, salt, and pepper.

You’re eating now?  Dinner’s in an hour!

It’s just a little snack.  No big deal.

Your little snack is going to turn into a matching pair of love handles if you’re not careful.  Clank!  The pot lands on the stove.  Honestly, how can you eat that every day?  Don’t you get sick of it?

I’ll have you know, Honeybun, that Welsh Rarebit is considered haute cuisine.  Angie stops peeling and looks at Ira like he’s just grown a third arm.

Since when do you speak French there, Pierre?

Since the only magazines worth reading at the hotel are cooking magazines.

What about the paper?

"Ah, all they get is the ‘Daily Liar’.  I’m surprised the editor’s pants haven’t burst into flames yet.  My kingdom for some truth in the

news!"

So write the guy a letter and complain.

Please!  It’d be easier to write the whole newspaper.  Especially since I can twist the facts to say whatever I want just as easily as he can.

Alright, alright.  Just don’t burn your fancy French food Antoine.

Keep mocking my cooking: I might not share.

Is that a promise?  Angie laughs.  Ira laughs in return.  The music floats up and around the room swirling about the happy couple and for just a few minutes, as only Angie can make him feel, Ira is content with his world.

2

From the moment that Maddie and Barry set foot in 1989  Maddie quickly realized that this mission was going to present different challenges than their previous ops.  She’d suspected Barry was a bit of a curmudgeon long before they ever arrived in 1989, and for quite awhile now she has seen evidence she’s been right all along.  Their first conversation after arriving was a big tip off.  Maddie was turning her head in every direction to take in the sites.  Barry was just shaking his, arms crossed at his chest.

How can you be grumpy already Barry?  We just got here!  I mean, have you ever seen a sky this blue?  Maddie elbows her rotund partner standing next to her.

Of course I’ve seen a blue sky before.  It’s not my first mission, you know?

Barry why are you such a grump every mission?

I am not a grump every mission.

Fine!  One time, during the Age of Reason in England.

I miss that chocolate house.

Yeah, well this place is going to be better than that!  I’ve read that there’s pollution back here in 1989, but it’s not even visible in the air here!  Can you believe this Barry?  I could’ve sworn only being a hundred plus years off from where we live this place would look more like what we’re used to, especially for a big city.  Maddie spins around in a circle taking in the scenery of the street corner.  A park across the street gets her attention.  She elbows Barry in the side again.  The trees!  Look at them, lots of them all over the place!

Okay, settle down kid.  You don’t have to do this in every single time period we go to.  Barry says as he rubs his ribcage where Maddie’s elbow struck him. 

Do what?

Lose your focus, that’s what.  We’re not here to act like visitors from the future who don’t know anything about being here.  Act casual.  We need to blend in until we know more about what it’s like to be a 20th century person.

Right.  Casual.  Maddie draws in a deep breath and tries to settle her mind.  Sorry.

Barry begins to run through the beginning steps for settling into an undercover situation leading up to a big hit.  First we have to establish residence, line up work--

Probably not in that order. Maddie says, cutting him off, you know, since we don’t have any currency from this time period.

Might have to stay at a homeless shelter for a couple weeks until we can get a paycheck or two, after we find work somewhere.

You might have to; I’m cute.  I could get a job anywhere!

"Sure, rub