Chapter 7

"Why am I letting you do this? I'm the computer guy. I should be doing this and we'd be done already! We need to get this stuff out of here before something happens."

"Because I'm the one risking my neck by leaving this place every day and gathering all this information. It's only fair that I get to see if it's going to pan out like we hope it does. You just get to hang out. If I'm not worried about it, you shouldn't be, either. "

"Yeah, I get to hang out. On the top floor. Why did you pick this dump?"

"Because we can afford it. Besides, there's a fire escape. What are you so worried about?"

"That I might have to use the fire escape. Are you sure no one followed you?"

"Look, no one should know about this. ...unless you're secretly on their side. I'm not talking."

"Right. Yeah, that's exactly it. All my years of work is just so I can secretly be on the make. You've been reading way too many spy novels. Or I guess watching the spy movies since you don't really read."

"Uh-huh. I'm not the one who writes them."

"We have been spending way too much time together. This is going to kill me... or else I'm going to kill you before it's over."

"Ha. I'd like to see you try it."

Everything smeared away in a roar of noise that covered up the conversation. Roaring noises, repeated over and over again. Shouting, screaming, gunshots, the sounds building in intensity until it felt like the sound was permeating every fiber of his being.

There was a feeling of pursuit, the feeling of running through thick molasses and then a wash of fiery pain, followed by cold. A cold silence almost as intense as the noise had been before. He began to panic in that cold silence. He began to fear that he was going to die. He tried to scream but he couldn't make a sound that would punctuate the cold silence.

Then, a pounding pierced through the cold and he was completely disoriented. He began to struggle to get out of... whatever it was he was trapped in, but he couldn't. The panic intensified as he felt stuck.

A stinging feeling on his face.

"Joel, wake up. Snap out of it."

Joel's eyes flew open and he pushed against the restraint, breathing heavily, feeling a cold sweat all over his body. There was someone there! He was in danger!

"Joel! Joel, wake up! It's Jack."

Finally, he could see again and he was looking at Jack who was holding onto his arms, a look of deep concern on his face. Joel sat up quickly and tried to calm down, but for the moment, he couldn't. This was as bad as he'd ever had. He was shaking and he knew there were tears in his eyes. In fact, he closed his eyes and swallowed a few times, trying to get that horrible feeling dislodged from the pit of his stomach. For a few minutes, there was only silence...except for Joel's own loud breathing. However, gradually, he was able to push the horrible feeling away. He was suddenly very conscious of the fact that Jack was still there, most likely staring at him. He took one more deep breath and let it out in a whoosh. Then, he looked up at Jack.

"What are you doing in here?"

"I heard you in here, screaming bloody murder," Jack said. "I broke in, expecting to see you dying or something, not sleeping on your bed, tangled in the sheets."

Joel felt his face reddening a little bit, but he was also worried about what Jack might ask. There were far too many questions he couldn't answer and even more he wouldn't.

"What in the world was going on?"

"Just a bad dream, Jack. That's all."

Jack scoffed at that. "A bad dream doesn't leave you shaking like a leaf. Bad memory?"

It had to be the intensity of the dream that loosened Joel's tongue. He couldn't think of any other reason why he would answer as honestly as he did.

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?" Jack asked. "How could you not know whether or not your dream was a memory?"

"Nothing," Joel said, quickly. "I didn't mean anything by it. It was just a bad dream, Jack. That's all. It happens to everyone sometimes."

"It does?"

"Yes," Joel said, firmly.

"You know... asking for help is okay."

Joel looked at Jack in surprise. He opened his mouth to say that he didn't need any help, but since he knew he did, he was reluctant to tell an outright lie.

"I can't," he said, softly.

"What do you mean you can't?"

"What I need help with is not something I can ask anyone for."

Jack raised an eyebrow at him in that way that reminded Joel of something... or someone.

"I'm just going to ask this once. Are you hiding from the law? Are you a criminal?"

"Not as far as I know," Joel said, knowing that he was hedging but that he wasn't lying. He really had no idea, so as far as he knew, he could honestly say he wasn't.

Jack looked at him for a long moment, and Joel felt like he was under a microscope. Then, Jack just nodded.

"Okay. I'll still expect you tonight."

"I'll be there," Joel said.

"Good."

Then, Jack stood up and left the apartment. Joel felt a little guilty for not coming clean, but he still couldn't bring himself to reveal that level of vulnerability. He was at everyone's mercy if he let it be known that he had amnesia. Anyone could show up and claim to know who he was. They could accuse him of all sorts of things and he wouldn't be able to defend himself. They could pretend to be his friend while secretly being his enemy. He just couldn't take that chance.

But after four months like this, was he just holding onto useless hope that his memory would come back? All the dreams he had didn't seem to clear anything up really. They just left him feeling afraid, upset and confused.

Instead of thinking about it anymore, Joel decided to focus his mind on his set for that night. He pulled out his list of songs and decided after a few minutes that he really wasn't in the mood for just picking songs. He wanted to have people choose them for him...but hopefully choosing songs he knew. Then, he thought of a theme and it brought a real smile to his face. Maybe he couldn't share anything about himself, but others would be more willing in the form of a music request.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Does it have to be by Billy Joel?" came a shouted voice from the bar.

Joel laughed.

"That's better, but it doesn't have to be. I just don't make any guarantees that I'll know the song if you go too far," he said.

"You pick the first one," another patron called out.

"Okay, okay, but it's going to be Billy Joel."

There was general laughter.

"Here's a tribute to the people who live in my new hometown," Joel said and then turned around to start playing.

"Los Angelenos
All come from somewhere
To live in sunshine
Their funky exile"

There was more laughter, but they were enjoying it, Joel could tell. He let himself get into the he continued singing the song, he even heard a few people singing along. This wasn't one of Billy Joel's more popular songs, so he was surprised. Still, he kept on until the last little bit of the song.

"Los Angelenos
All come from somewhere
It's so familiar
Their foreign faces."

After finishing, he turned back.

"Okay, your turn!"

There was a slight pause, but then, someone shouted out.

"'Take Me Home, Country Roads'!"

There was a smattering of applause at the suggestion.

"Well, it's not Billy Joel, but okay," Joel said. "Not 'Rocky Mountain High'?"

"He wasn't singing about the mountains being high," an anonymous voice commented.

More laughter. On a Friday night, the end of the week, Joel had found people much more willing to get into the singing earlier in the evening. Joel laughed as well and then turned around. Never mind that John Denver played guitar not piano. He could wing it.

He fumbled a little through the introduction but found his footing and started to sing. And to his surprise, two or three others sang along all the way through.

"Take me home, country roads
To the place I belong!
West Virginia, mountain mama
Take me home, country roads."

When he finished, there was more applause.

"Next?" he asked.

He played a few more songs of places people knew, places they loved, hometowns, and then, finally, he got back to where he felt most secure.

"'New York State of Mind!'"

"Thank you! I was beginning to lose faith in my audience," Joel said.

There were some laughs and Joel turned around and began to play.

"Some folks like to get away,
Take a holiday from the neighborhood.
Hop a flight to Miami Beach or to Hollywood.
But I'm takin' a Greyhound on the Hudson River line.
I'm in a New York state of mind."

Again, there were people singing along with him, some in the drunken way, but others in the way that said they really felt the words.

"It comes down to reality, and it's fine with me cause I've let it slide.
I don't care if it's Chinatown or on Riverside.
I don't have any reasons.
I left them all behind.
I'm in a New York state of mind.
I'm just taking a Greyhound on the Hudson River line.
Cause I'm in a, I'm in a New York state of mind.
Yeah, yeah."

There was a lot of applause for that one. More New Yorkers than West Virginians, apparently. After that, there was a spate of people being silly as the evening progressed and the drinks flowed. He played "Chattanooga Choo Choo" and "Do You Know the Way to San Jose?". They also asked for "Paris in the Springtime" and "Route 66" and "Sweet Home, Alabama." Someone asked for a song about a place called Coeur d'Alene in Idaho, but he didn't know it. One of the few times he was stumped and Jack gave the guy a free drink. He could do "The Big D" about Dallas. Luckily, a lot of the crowd sang along, so he didn't have to strain his voice as much as he might have otherwise. His tip jar finally got some love as well as the good natured drinkers were happy to give him a little extra for his time and effort.

"Last call!" Jack said from behind the bar.

While he'd enjoyed the night, Joel was glad of it. He was definitely feeling really tired. He played a little instrumental while everyone enjoyed their last round, but then, to end the night, he started playing one last Billy Joel song to send everyone on their way.

"Goodnight, my angel
Time to close your eyes
And save these questions for another day
I think I know what you've been asking me
I think you know what I've been trying to say
I promised I would never leave you
And you should always know
Wherever you may go
No matter where you are
I never will be far away."

He noticed that the bar got quiet while he played. They were really listening to him. He continued to play. It was a very quiet and gentle song, not at all like what he usually played here. But they were listening. Then, he got to the final verse.

"Someday we'll all be gone
But lullabies go on and on...
They never die
That's how you
And I
Will be."

The final chords seemed to echo, even though the bar had absolutely zero acoustics for echoing. There was a long silence and then applause. It was almost respectful.

"All right," Jack said. "Go home and get some sleep. I'm not selling anything else tonight and you can't sleep at the tables."

Laughter broke through the strange feeling and everyone began to filter out. Once they were out and the servers were cleaning up, Joel felt the urge to play a song he hadn't sung since being asked to see in a semi. He'd been told it was too melancholy to get people to listen. But he played it anyway. There were no customers. After all the songs about places, this seemed appropriate.

"A picture postcard
A folded stub
A program of the play
File away your photographs
Of your holiday

And your mementos
Will turn to dust
But that's the price you pay
For every year's a souvenir
That slowly fades away
Every year's a souvenir
That slowly fades away."

Then, he sighed. Dreaming of a wonderful life or a life that had faded away like an old, forgotten souvenir? Which was his future? But he pushed that away and closed the piano. Then, he stood up and arched his back after the long stint playing.

"Good thing you didn't play that one for the last call," said one of the servers.

"Why's that?" Joel asked.

"Way too depressing. Jack said that there are some leftovers you can take. They're good ones tonight."

"Thanks, Ken."

Joel walked back to the kitchen. Sanchez was just finishing up cleaning. He looked at Joel for a bit.

"You okay, man?" he asked.

"Yeah. Just tired. That was a lot longer with people paying attention."

"All right. Here you go. Bring the plate back tomorrow."

"Will do."

Joel took the plate up to his apartment, glad that Jack hadn't been there to watch him, not after what had happened that morning. As was his usual, he picked out the things that would save and ate the ones that wouldn't. Then, he sat, looking out the window for a while.

Four months he'd been here. And he knew this wasn't where he should be. If he only knew where he belonged. This wasn't bad, but it wasn't right. Nothing he had done so far had made it feel right. He'd tried but it still wasn't right. Nothing about what he was doing was right, but he didn't know what the right thing was so he was settling for something that was probably the wrong thing but at least wasn't really wrong.

Finally, with a last sigh, he decided to go to bed. He hated sleeping, but he was really tired.

Maybe he'd have a good dream this time.

Yeah, right.