Time Passages (Queen or Freddie Mercury Fanfic)

Birdman's Eye View: High Hopes and Wild Tangents

The deeper into New Jersey we roll, the harder the snow seems to be falling. From what I can see through the window of this low-riding car, there must be at least four centimeters on the ground by now.  Though this state apparently has a reputation for being somewhat unimpressive, to say the least, Julia and Danny reside in one of the more scenic little villages that's not too far off the beaten path.  We're very close by this point; the landscape has shifted from the metropolitan considerably, giving way to a handsome blend of quaint suburbs and snow-swathed countryside.  Not much has changed since Veronica's and my last visit to the States- and that was over three years ago, very shortly after they had gotten settled. 

Needless to say, however, thoughts of the surroundings themselves are furthest from my mind as I glance impatiently at my wristwatch. "How much farther, Mr. Barnes?" I ask.

At first, he doesn't hear me.  He's off in his own little world, tapping his thumbs quietly against the steering wheel to the rhythm of the Hues Corporation. 

I try again, louder.  "Mr. Barnes?" 

But he still doesn't notice, and instead keeps quietly rocking on with his bad self, "Don't rock the boat, ba-by/ Don't tip the boat o-ver-"

"Rudy!"

The driver's head snaps my way at last.  "Sorry, John, I did hear you, I was just a bit engrossed at the moment."

"With the song?"

"Partially," is as in-depth as he chooses to go.  "What were you wanting to ask?"

"How much longer till we reach the house?"

"Another five minutes, at most."

"Lovely.  You made excellent time."

Rudy gives me a tight, uncomfortable smile and faces the road.  "I don't always."

Naturally, I wait for him to explain, but he never does.  Numerous times now, he's made some sort of cryptic statement and then left me hanging suspended in mid-air, wondering what the devil he could possibly mean.  Very curious.  It's not often I meet a man who's even quieter than me- and even less often does it happen that I basically surrender my life to a seemingly complete stranger in the first place, on the off chance he does not have any ulterior motives for helping me escape.  Until I reach my destination, therefore, I'm holding off on telling my wife and kids that this is what's going on.  She worries about me enough as is.

All this for a word with a man who might be my old friend come back from the dead, I say to myself.  It sounds ridiculous, really, when it's put into such plain words.  But miracles do happen, I know; I've come this far, I can't abandon the search now, when I'm so close.

But, God, I hope I'm not too late.

Anxiety rising up within, once again I check my phone for any texts from Julia.  But just like the other thirteen times I've looked in the past hour, there's still no reply.  I wonder if my text has even reached her at all.  There have been occasions when I attempt to contact her while she's visiting Stuart in that special building of his, but I never manage to get through; apparently phone service is very poor within its walls.  Perhaps that's by design.

Then my insides pull even more taut.  Supposing that's the reason I haven't heard from her?  Is he being sent back at this very moment?  Could he be drifting back to that wild party even now as I ask myself all these rhetorical questions?  The thought makes me whimper with fright.

Which, of all things, Rudy hears loud and clear.  "Are you all right, John?"

"Not really, no," I admit.