BLINDED BY THE LIGHT
A/N: Another of Sam's many adventures, and coincidentally, the leap date happens to be my birth date. I know what you're probably going to say: "I shouldn't be bragging about my age", right? Well, if you were born with a potentially life-threatening condition, such as hydrocephalus—as I was—and you survive to adulthood, wouldn't you brag, too?
CHAPTER 1
"Theorizing that one could time-travel within his own lifetime, Dr. Sam Beckett led an elite group of scientists into the desert to develop a top-secret project known as 'Quantum Leap'. Pressured to prove his theories or lose funding, Dr. Beckett prematurely stepped into the Project Accelerator, and vanished. He awoke to find himself trapped in the past, suffering from partial amnesia, and facing a mirror image that was not his own. Fortunately, contact with his own time was made through brainwave transmissions with Al, the Project Observer, who appears in the form of a hologram that only Dr. Beckett could only see and hear. Trapped in the past, Dr. Beckett finds himself leaping from life to life, putting things right that once went wrong, and hoping each time that his next leap would be the leap home..."
September 3, 1976
God, I am so glad that's over with, Sam thought as the blue light surrounded him. He'd just gotten through with being an intern at a Toledo hospital during the Kennedy administration, and not only did he help a little boy overcome his fear of needles, but he also spent the entire time trying to convince a sex-starved nurse that he wasn't the one for her. Luckily for her, he wasn't the one that she was supposed to end up with, and the last he'd heard before he leaped was that she'd met an orthopedic surgeon who was starting there. Not only was he closer to her age, but he was also an old friend of hers.
When the blue haze faded, Sam found himself sitting at a desk. Beside his right hand were a gold pocketwatch and a buzzing intercom. "Yes?" he answered, pressing the intercom button.
"Sherman, your next client is outside," a bored-sounding woman's staticky voice blared. And she also had a deep, guttural Philadelphia accent.
Sam happened to glance in the mirror on the wall beside his desk. The reflection was that of a middle-aged black man with graying hair on the sides and none on top, gold-rimmed glasses, a bushy beard, and wearing a white dress shirt with no tie, brown slacks, socks, and loafers. "Oh, boy," he said. "I don't suppose the Hair Club for Men exists yet, does it, Ziggy?"
"Sherman?" the woman's voice called again. And let it be known that the intercom had clearly seen better days.
"Tell them I'll be right there," Sam said as he looked around the office for some clue of who he'd leaped into.
"All right. Take as long as you need."
Before Sam could do anything, he heard the portal door opening, and Al stepped out, wearing a dark blue checkered shirt, light blue jeans, black Cuban-heel boots, and a black porkpie hat. "Al!" he exclaimed. "What the hell's going on here?"
"Well, hello to you, too," Al answered. Then, looking around the office, he said, "Hypnotist, huh? You know, my second wife and I saw a stage hypnotist in Tijuana once. He tried to hypnotize her into thinking she was Eva Peron. Not only did it not work, but when we got home from the show, she tried to hit me with the waffle iron. Or was it the percolator?"
"Al..."
"No, she threw the percolator at me when I made fun of her psoriasis."
"Al..." Sam repeated impatiently. That was so typical of Al. Every time he showed up to fill Sam in on his mission, or saw who he'd leaped into, he always made some lame joke or started reminiscing about one of his ex-wives. The only exceptions were when Sam leaped into a gorgeous woman, in which case, Al would be smitten the whole time.
"Okay, now that we have that out of the way, let's get down to it," Al continued as he punched a few buttons on the handlink. "According to this, you are Dr. Sherman Ryland, mid-forties, and you have a hypnotherapy practice in Latrobe, Pennsylvania. It's September 3, 1976, and according to Ziggy's history databanks, the Viking II is landing on Mars today."
"Right," Sam said as he got one of the hypnotherapy books off the shelf and started to look at it. "What does Ziggy say I have to do?"
"Let's see," Al said as he pushed some more buttons. "Uh-oh. You're not going to like this, Sam. Sometime tonight, your oldest daughter's best friend gets shot, and your daughter is the only witness, but is too scared to talk."
"It's another one of those missions, right?"
"Yeah, unfortunately."
"Tell me more about Sherman."
"Okay, let's see," Al said, punching a few buttons on the handlink and occasionally shaking or hitting it. "Your wife's name is Anna, and she teaches second grade at Latrobe Elementary School. You also have three daughters named Sherri, Emily, and Janie. Sherri's a freshman psychology major at St. Vincent College, and the other two attend Greater Latrobe Senior High School, where Emily's a junior and Janie's a freshman. If Ziggy comes up with anything else, I'll let you know."
"Thanks," Sam said as Al punched the button that controlled the portal door and walked back out as Sam opened the office door. "Okay, send the next person in now."
After Sam had seen the last client of the day—a young man who believed that in a previous life, he'd been a distant relative of Henry David Thoreau—Al met him as he was coming out of the office building. "Come on, I'll show you where Sherman lives," he said as they got in the car. "It's about a mile from here."
Sam nodded as he started the ignition. As soon as they pulled out onto the street, they stopped at a red light, and Al happened to glance in the driver's seat of the car beside them, then fed some information into the handlink. "Hey, Sam, you'll never believe who's in the car next to you," he said.
"Who?" Sam asked.
"Fred Rogers, children's show host," he said. "Born in Latrobe, and was an only child until his sister was born when he was eleven. He must be on his way to visit her."
Sam nodded as the light changed. Within a matter of minutes, they turned a corner and arrived at a two-story white stucco house with black trim on the shutters. "Very nice," Sam commented as they got out of the car
"I'll say," Al agreed. "Ziggy says Sherman has always had a good eye for these sort of things. Speaking of which, he's in the waiting room right now, so I should get going. I'll be back in a flash."
"Thanks," Sam said. Al nodded, pressed the button on the side of the handlink, and vanished.
"Hi, honey," Anna said as Sam came into the house. She was a slightly frumpy black woman, and was wearing a turquoise pantsuit and had a graying Afro, bamboo ear-rings, and a smile that would put Olivia Cole to shame. "How was work today?"
"Uh—well, you know, it was work," Sam answered as he took off his jacket and hung it on one of the pegs by the door. "How about you?"
"Well, today, I started teaching cursive writing to the second-graders."
"That's good," Sam answered.
"Just relax, and dinner will be ready soon."
"All right," Sam said as he went upstairs to the bedroom. He sat on the bed and started taking his shoes off. Just then, an out-of-breath Al reappeared with an urgent, frantic look on his face.
"What now?" Sam asked.
"I forgot to tell you something."
Upon hearing that, Sam had that all-too-familiar feeling that this wasn't good news. "What's wrong?"
"According to Ziggy, Sherri also gets killed tonight."
"Oh, my God," Sam moaned in horror as he buried his face in his hands. "How? When?"
"Ziggy doesn't know yet, but she does know that you have to stop it from happening."
"Well, I'm not going to let that happen, because she's not leaving the house."
"Okay," Al said as he followed Sam back down to the living room.
Jesus, what the hell is it with Ziggy and people getting killed? Sam wondered as he sat down on the couch.
"I'll see if I can get any more information out of Sherman, and get back to you," Al said.
"How is Sherman doing, by the way?" Sam asked.
"Well, he almost fainted when he saw your image in the mirror," Al answered. "But I think he's okay now. Verbeena's also been talking to him. Speaking of which, I'd better get back there." And with that, he pushed the same button on the handlink, and was gone.
Sam sighed as he put the book away and went to the kitchen just as Anna and the girls were taking their places at the table.
"Sherman, who were you just talking to?" Anna asked as she passed Sam the plate of corn on the cob.
"Nobody," Sam answered as he took an ear of corn and put the plate back in the center of the table. All the while, he was silently kicking himself for not lowering his voice enough so Anna wouldn't hear him. That was always one of his biggest pet peeves on these leaps.
"Okay," Anna shrugged. Apparently, she knew that he'd had a long day, so she decided to just let it go.
After everyone had been served, Sherri said, "Dad, there's a party at the welcome center at the college tonight. Can I go?"
"Well..." Sam said, momentarily forgetting what he'd told Al the plan was, "all right, but just be careful. Remember, it's a holiday weekend, and there's a lot of crazy people out there."
"Thanks, Dad!" Sherri exclaimed. She got up from the table to put her dishes in the sink, then grabbed her keys.
"No problem," Sam smiled as Sherri grabbed her 76ers jacket from the closet.
"And don't stay out too late," Anna added.
"I won't," Sherri said, and hurried out the door as Emily and Janie went to their rooms to do their homework, Anna loaded the dishwasher, and Sam went to the study.
He was looking over the books on the shelves when Al appeared. "What'd you find out?" Sam asked.
"I was just talking to Sherman," Al answered, "and according to him, Sherri watches her best friend get shot at 8:45 tonight just as they're leaving Rinker's Diner, which is just downtown. Then seven minutes after that, Sherri also gets shot, and Sherman is the only witness."
"So, all I have to do is be outside Rinker's by 8:45?" Sam asked, looking at the clock. "It's only 6:45 now."
"That's two hours away," Al said. "It only takes ten minutes by car to get there."
"So, if I were to leave by 8:30, I could still prevent Sherri's murder?"
"That's right."
"All right," Sam said. "I'll be there. And Al, could you do me a favor?"
"Sure, buddy."
"Follow her until I get there. Don't let her out of your sight for a second."
Al nodded. "Gooshie, center me on Sherri!" he called. And for the third time since Sam's arrival, Al was gone.
About an hour later, Sam put on his shoes and left the study. "Anna, I'm worried about Sherri," he said, putting on his jacket. "I'm going out to check on her. I won't be long."
"Is everything okay?"
Upon hearing Anna's question, Sam had to think fast. He didn't want her to think he was being overprotective (after all, Sherri is in college), or give her any indication that he knew something was wrong. But at the same time, he couldn't tell her the real reason that he had to go.
"Oh yeah, yeah, everything's fine," Sam lied. "It's, uh—it's just parental intuition, you know?"
"Are you sure?" Anna asked uneasily. Clearly, she thought Sam was worrying too much about something that might not even happen. "It's not that I don't trust your judgment—or Sherri's, for that matter—but I know how you get when you're worried."
Sam's eye darted toward the clock on the mantle. It was almost 8:25, which meant that he had only five minutes to get going. "Look, Anna, I don't have time to explain," he said, fighting the panic in his voice. "I just have a gut-feeling that Sherri needs me, and I have to get out of here right now."
As Sam went out the door, he thought, Please, Sherri, be all right.
Sam arrived downtown about ten minutes later, and had just gotten out of the car when Al appeared next to him. "Where is she?" Sam asked.
"She's in the diner across the street with some of her friends."
"She's not drinking, is she?" Sam asked. "I don't think she's old enough for that."
"No, no. They're just having burgers and fries."
"Okay, good."
That's when Sherri came out of the restaurant, and Sam waved to her. "I don't think she sees me," he said.
Just then, two shots rang out. The girl Sherri was with—a girl with long brown hair in a braid and wearing an orange shirt and sweater, blue bell-bottoms, and white socks with Keds—fell to the ground. "Okay, go!" Al whispered before pressing the side button on the handlink.
"MARIAH!" Sherri screamed as the other girl fell.
Sam darted across the street, just missing a passing blue VW. The first thing he saw was Sherri holding her friend in her arms, rocking back and forth, and screaming in hysterics, "Somebody help us!"
"Sherri!" Sam called.
"Dad! What are you doing here?" Sherri exclaimed as Al appeared beside her.
"Parental instinct," Sam answered, kneeling beside the girls. "Are you okay?"
"Mariah's dead," Sherri sobbed as Sam took off his jacket and put it under Mariah's head.
"Mariah?" Sam asked.
"Mariah Robinson, eighteen years old," Al said as he pressed a few buttons on the handlink. "Sherri's best friend since second grade when her family moved from Syracuse, and sits right in front of her in their psychology class at the college. Shot at 8:45 p.m. on September 3, 1976, pronounced DOA at 8:52."
Mariah opened her eyes. "Sherri? Dr. Ryland?" she managed to gasp out.
"Shh, it's okay," Sam said. "Do either of you have something in your purse? I need something besides my hand to cover the wound."
"I can ask the manager for some towels," a voice said. Sam looked up to see a young blond guy who looked about twenty, and was wearing a black visor, jeans, white shirt, and an apron. Sam guessed that he was an employee. "And I'll have him call an ambulance, too."
"Thanks," Sam said as the employee ran back inside. Then, focusing his attention on Mariah, he asked, "Mariah, do you know who I am?"
"Yeah, you're Sherri's dad," she answered, gasping for breath and grimacing in pain.
"Try not to talk," Sam said gently as the employee returned with some towels. Sam placed them on Mariah's stomach, where she'd been hit. "Now, Sherri, put some pressure on it."
Sherri did as she was told, all the while sobbing hysterically. Sam put his hand on her shoulder, in a futile attempt to calm her down.
A few minutes later, an ambulance pulled up, and two paramedics got out. "This is my daughter's best friend," Sam told them as they loaded Mariah onto the stretcher.
"Would you like to come to the hospital with us?" one of them asked Sherri.
Sherri nodded, all the while convulsing with sobs, as one of the paramedics led her to the back of the ambulance and helped her inside. "I'll call Mariah's parents and follow you in the car," Sam offered before the driver shut the doors.
Upon arriving at the hospital, Sam checked in with the receptionist before making two calls on the pay phone in the lobby while he waited for word on the girls: first to Mariah's parents (he got a busy signal), then to Anna. A few minutes later, a doctor came out. She had long black hair in ringlets, and was wearing a white blouse with an Italian flag pin on the left lapel, and a long dark skirt with her lab coat. "Mr. Ryland?" she asked.
Sam stood up. "Yes?" he answered.
"Hi, I'm Dr. DiBenedetto. Sherri's fine."
"Oh, thank God."
"She's still pretty shook up, but we think she's okay to release to you. Unfortunate-ly, Mariah didn't make it. DOA."
"Did you call the Robinsons?" Sam asked.
"The nurse is doing that now."
"Good."
Al popped in just in time to hear the whole conversation. "Will Sherri be okay?" Sam asked as he sat back down.
"It's hard to say. She's been through a tremendous shock, so she won't be okay for a while. In time, though, she'll come around, but in reality, something like this will have a profound effect on her. As for how long—well, that's an even harder question to answer."
"Good, Sam, you've changed history," Al said as he briefly glanced down at the handlink. "Now, Sherri does survive, but has a bad case of survivor's guilt for the rest of her life."
"Where is my daughter?" Sam asked.
"She's back in the exam room," the doctor answered. "I'll take you to her."
"And if my wife and other daughters happen to get here, could you have the nurse bring them back?" Sam asked.
"Absolutely. Right this way."
When they arrived at Sherri's exam cubicle, Sam found her lying on her left side on the bed in a fetal position, and facing the wall. She was also making a strange noise that sounded like a cross between crying, hyperventilating, and clearing her throat. You didn't need a PhD to know that she was a mess.
"Sherri? Your father's here," Dr. DiBenedetto said just before she closed the door.
Sam stood beside the bed and laid a hand on Sherri's shoulder. "Sherri?" he asked.
Sherri jumped up with a gasp, then turned around to see Sam. "Dad!" she wailed as she threw her arms around his neck and buried her face into his chest. "I was so scared."
"I know," Sam said as he gently rubbed her back. "It's all right, you're safe now. I do have one question, though: do you know who shot Mariah, or saw who did it?"
"I think so," Sherri sniffled.
"Okay, it's okay," Sam said. "Sh-sh-shh...I'd like to make a deal with you. If I take you home tonight, could I use hypnosis on you tomorrow morning? Would you be willing to tell me what you know?"
Sherri mumbled an answer as she wiped her eyes. Sam handed her a tissue from his pocket. "I'm sorry, I can't hear you," he said.
"Yes," Sherri answered as he handed her the box of tissues from the counter. She grabbed a couple, dabbed at her eyes with one, and with the second, held it in front of her eye as she laid down on the bed and continued sobbing.
Just then, Al, who happened to be standing off to the side, rushed over. "Sam, are you sure you want to do this?" he asked.
"I have to," Sam answered as he started rubbing Sherri's arm and petting her hair to calm her down. "How else am I supposed to find out anything? And yes, I got her consent, so it shouldn't be illegal."
"Well, Ziggy says that there's a 72% chance that if Sherri files a police report, the shooter could not only come back and finish the job, but also go after the rest of the family."
That's when Sherri propped herself up on her elbows, turned her head, and noticed Al. "Who are you?" she gasped as she shrank back in fear.
"My name's Al, I'm a good friend," he answered. Then, to Sam, he said, "Terrific. Not only can animals, the mentally absent, and really little kids see me, but so can young girls under extreme emotional stress."
"You were saying?" Sam prompted.
"If Sherri files a police report, the rest of the family could die, too."
"You have got to be kidding me."
Al shook his head. "I wish I was."
A few minutes later, Sherri had calmed down. Sam held her hand and stroked he hair. "Um, Al, could you give us a minute?" he whispered.
"Say no more," Al answered. "I'll go talk to Sherman some more, and meet you back at the house."
"Thanks."
Another minute or so later, Anna, Emily, and Janie had joined them in the cubicle. "Sherri!" Anna shrieked as she flung her arms around the frightened girl. The others did the same, and they were all crying their hearts out. "Are you all right, baby?"
Sherri nodded as she wiped her eyes with the second tissue.
"Oh, praise the Lord!" Anna whispered, shaking like a leaf. "When your father called, I thought you'd been hurt."
"Try not to upset her," Sam advised. "I just got her to calm down. In fact, tomorrow morning, I'm going to use hypnosis on her to get her tell me what she knows, so I can tell the police. And yes, I got her consent."
"Are you sure?" Anna asked. "Won't you lose your license?"
"It's a chance I have to take," Sam answered.
"Well," Anna reluctantly decided, "I can't say I agree with you, Sherman, but I understand."
Just then, Dr. DiBenedetto entered the room. "Mr. and Mrs. Ryland?" she said as Sherri sat up. "Sherri's doing fine now. I want to do a brief exam before she leaves."
"Okay," Sam agreed. "We'll be right outside."
A few minutes later, Sherri joined them, and the family headed out to their cars. Sherri got in Sam's car with him, and Anna took the other girls in her car.
As Sam drove home, with Sherri in the front seat and staring into space, he felt like the oldest person on the planet.