Free Eli by Bill Myers

host of her own TV talk show, looked directly into the camera and read the prompter mounted in front of it. She was an attractive red-head, early thirties, with just enough compassion and charm to woo her guests into revealing intimate secrets, but enough 53

    hththt 5/14/01 11:34 AM Page 54
    54 grit and determination to steadily rise in the ratings. At the moment, her TV-Q was a solid 65 percent. She wasn’t at the top of the heap yet, but as the network continued to promote and send stories down to her, it wouldn’t be long.
    “—a young man who has been creating quite a stir these past several months,” she said to the camera, “and who we are honored to have as our next guest. But before we bring him out, let’s take just a moment to show him in action.”
    The director dropped his index finger and the technical director gave the command. “Roll tape.”
    In the room behind them, the VTR operator hit play, and the footage that Ned had taped at the softball field began to roll. Eli had been right—network didn’t consider him worthy of hard news, but he was definite fodder for afternoon talk shows. Conrad wasn’t crazy about passing the segment down to this level, but after his debacle with the parallel universe story, he thought it best to lay low and be a team player.
    The parallel universe story . . . as far as he could tell, that had been about the only major difference between this new world he was living in and his old one. Apparently, in this new world, he had decided not to pursue the story any further, he had not gone up to Camarillo, and he had not been involved in a serious car accident. In fact, upon his return from the Oregon softball game just ten days ago, he’d found the Jaguar, complete with sun-rotten wiper blades, unscathed and sitting in the same LAX parking lot that he always parked in when he flew out of town on his trips. He even had the parking stub in his wallet.
    The same was true with every other area of his life. Everything was exactly as it had been—the same messy divorce with Roseanne, the same dirty dishes in the sink, the same shark-infested waters at work. It was remarkable. Uncanny.
    And in some ways, almost comforting. Because gradually, as Conrad remained in this new world, as the minutes turned to hours and now to days, it grew more and more difficult to believe there actually had been another one, one of automo-hththt 5/14/01 11:34 AM Page 55
    55
    bile accidents and hospitalization. Granted, the idea still haunted him, forcing him to question if he was living out some elaborate fantasy or self-generated hallucination. In fact during those first few days he had even tried to jerk or startle himself back into his old world. But he’d met no success.
    Then there were those calls to the California State Patrol as well as to the hospitals surrounding the Camarillo area—
    Saint John’s, Conejo Valley Medical Center, and others. But the information was always the same. There had been no accident involving a Conrad Davis, and no patient by that name had been admitted. So, gradually, as the days unfolded, he found himself wondering more and more which reality was the real world and which one was the fantasy.
    Apparently, whatever reality he’d experienced before, if it was a reality, no longer existed. At least not in this world.
    Because in this world, except for the auto accident and hospitalization, everything was exactly as it had been.
    Well, almost exactly . . .
    There were two other differences. First, Suzanne’s change of faith. She’d always been a devout Christian. But now, she’d suddenly jumped ship and embraced a new Messiah. Not only that, but she kept denying that she’d ever heard the name of Jesus Christ. It was more than a little surprising. But not as surprising as the reason . . .
    Conrad had had his suspicions ever since the baptism scene in Eastern Washington—actually ever since he’d seen (or imagined he’d seen) the baby in the laundry room of