Tunnel Vision

“Perfect.”

His father beamed and patted his shoulder. And a ripple of pleasure passed through him as he got ready to show his dad.

“Okay, now hold it just like that.” He went back to the pitching line. “Ready?”

“Ready.” When the next ball came, Zack swung but missed again. And he smacked the sand with the bat. “I stink.”

“No, you don’t. You swung too soon. Keep your eye on the ball.”

One more went by, and he tipped it. “Now you’re getting it.” Before the next one came, his dad said, “You’re a hitter, Zack.”

And he smacked the next one, sending it far over his father’s head. “There you go!” his dad shouted, and he shot his fist into the air.

He hit several more.

Then they were walking down the flats, which glistened in the late morning sun as if the sea had been sprinkled with diamond dust. Seagulls wheeled overhead, sometimes landing on the sandbar to squawk hysterically after a dead fish.

“Dad, you like Jake, right?”

“Of course I do. Why do you ask that?”

“Just wondering. You know what?”

“What?”

“I wish you never had to go back to work and it could be summer all the time.”

“Me, too.” And his dad put his arm around his shoulders and kissed him on the head.

They picked up shells—huge ashtray-size quahogs, whitened by the sun. They skipped stones. They skipped quahog shells. And the sea sparkled with frenzied glee.

It was the happiest moment of the summer.

They continued down the sun-warmed flats of the sandbar for a few more minutes, then his father stopped. He looked back toward the beach, toward where their cottage hunched on dunes above their umbrella. Gray clouds were rolling in from the mainland.

“I have to tell you something,” his father said. “It’s important.”

His father had gripped him by the shoulders, and his face was serious. “What? ”

“Time to wake up.”

“That’s it, Zack. Open your eyes. How do you feel?”

It took him a few moments to catch up to his awakening. He blinked around the bright lab, taking in Sarah, who was standing there with a clipboard. Dr. Luria was next to her, and Drs. Stern and Cates were at their computer monitors. Two technicians were watching from the other office through the windows.

“Are you all right?” Sarah asked, handing him a cup of water.

Her voice sounded as if it came from a mile-long tunnel. He nodded.

“Unless you prefer root beer.”

He shook his head and sipped the water.

“Do you recall anything?” Luria asked.

He felt himself adjust to the moment. “Just scraps.”

“Like what?”

“The sandbar of a beach. I think it was Sagamore.”

“Sagamore Beach?” Luria said.

“Kind of vague,” he said. “With my father, hitting balls.”

“Go on,” Luria said.

He struggled to find the words. From what he recalled, it was a strange double vision, and he didn’t know how to explain seeing himself as a boy through his own eyes, then through someone else’s in weirdly shifting perspectives. He remembered seeing his father pitch to him, then from a distance he saw himself in baggy green trunks swinging the bat.

“I was hitting whiffle balls, but I can’t remember anything else.”

“How would you characterize your emotional state?”

“Happy.” Instantly he felt himself choke up. He squeezed down, reciting pi.

Sensing his struggle, Sarah cut in. “Zack, did you have a sense of other people?”

He wanted to thank her for changing the subject. He shook his head.

“No other people on the beach?” Luria asked.

“A few down the sandbar. I think my mother and brother were on the beach.”

“But you remember playing ball with your father.”

He felt himself gain control again. “Yeah, and it felt very real, not like a dream—like I was there on that sandbar.” He could still feel the warmth of the sun on his skin as Dr. Cates began to peel off the electrode cups. He could still feel the soft, fine sand of the flats, his father’s hand in his as they walked along.

“Did you feel yourself detach from your body?” Dr. Luria asked.

“No, I was in my own head,” Zack said, trying to get back. But the experience was fading fast, as if he were pulling away from the scene.

“Anything else happen in the experience?” Luria asked. “I mean besides hitting balls with your father, then walking down the sandbar? Did he say anything?”

“He said he wanted to tell me something.”

“What exactly did he say?”

“Just that, then I woke up.” He could still see the expression on his father’s face—serious, time for “a big-boy talk.” From nowhere the phrase shot up. Big-boy talk.

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

They continued interviewing him, going over the same ground. He could see their disappointment, especially Dr. Luria’s. “What did the scan and blood show?” he asked.

“We still have to analyze them,” said Dr. Stern at his computer. “But the secretions show that you had a pleasurable experience, unlike the last time.”

“If it’s okay with you,” Luria said, “we’d like to do another run this Friday if that’s good for you.”

He still felt a dull jab of anxiety but agreed. But this time it wasn’t the thousand-dollar fee. He felt an agonizing yearning to get back to the flats with his dad.

42

Warren Gladstone loved the Lord. He loved the Lord with all his heart and soul and mind. He loved the Lord more than anything else in his life, because he knew that God loved him. And with God’s love all things were possible.

Warren had asked the Lord God for water, and the Lord God gave him a river. He’d asked the Lord God for light, and the Lord God gave him the sun. He’d asked the Lord God for a flower, and the Lord God gave him a garden. He’d asked the Lord God to show him the way to defeat the enemy of atheistic science, and the Lord brought him this video.

“Who is he?”

“His name is Zachary Kashian,” Elizabeth said. “He’s a grad student at Northeastern University here in town.”

“Well, this certainly beats a bunch of drug addicts and illegals.”

“We had to start somewhere,” Elizabeth Luria said.