Page 23 - Unlikely Stories 3

Chosen Fool

from Flagstaff one morning, O’Hare made a diversion from the flight
plan. He’d been reading some mystical stuff, and wanted to take a
look at one of those power vortex points that are supposedly dotted
around the planet at geometrically-regular intervals. One of them was
south of Sedona, out in the mountains.”
Rhoda Cammell’s eyes widened, but she said nothing.
“Well, he headed for a certain latitude and longitude, circling
around a small valley that looked even more barren than the rest of
that desert landscape. Suddenly he lost control of his aircraft—it
nosed up at a terrific speed. They all blacked out. When O’Hare
opened his eyes, the plane was in a stall. He had no power, and the
stick was not responsive. It looked bad, but he managed to pull out
of the dive and make a crash landing. A spark set off the ruptured gas
tank, and they were lucky to get out of the wreckage alive. O’Hare
saved a couple of guitars—everything else was burned: instruments,
luggage and most of the plane.”
“With a vague idea of their location, they walked toward where
they guessed the nearest road would be. They found it, a dirt road;
after half an hour, a battered pickup truck came by and gave them a
ride. O’Hare sat with the driver, an Apache. It slowly dawned on the
musician that the vehicle, despite its age, had a dashboard with
features he had never seen. The radio was on, and a news broadcast
began. The president’s name was mentioned. A report from an
overseas war came in. Then an advertisement for an internet dramatic
series. The musician felt a horrible sinking sensation. He casually
asked the driver for the date. That clinched it: O’Hare had found the
vortex. It had thrown the plane and its passengers into a near-
lightspeed loop. When it was over, the earth had aged twenty years
and the Chosen Fool twenty seconds.”
Rhoda shook her head. “That sounds like a science fiction novel.”
Russell Grubbe snorted. “It felt like one!”
“So you expect me to believe…” her voice trailed off.
“Let me finish,” said Guy Weyer. “When the group arrived back in
Flagstaff and saw two decades of change, they were totally culture-
shocked. They holed up in a cheap motel and lived on their cash
while they reoriented. They discovered that Chosen Fool was now
considered just another rock-and-roll aviation casualty, one among

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