The Reincarnation of Peter Proud by Max Ehrlich

Author:Max Ehrlich [Ehrlich, Max]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Thrillers, Suspense
ISBN: 9780491018029
Publisher: North Atlantic Books
Published: 1974-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

When he got to the hotel, he peeled off his wet clothes, then soaked in a hot bath for an hour. After that, he asked room service to bring him two double Scotches.

He called the reception desk and was delighted to find that he could get a direct flight to California leaving from Bradley Field, between Hartford and Springfield. The drive there wouldn’t take too long, and he could turn in the rented Pontiac at the airport.

The whiskey began to warm his stomach. He felt a pleasant glow. He had been uptight too long, and this was the first time he’d really felt relaxed. He drank the second double, thinking, this is where I began—Riverside, Massachusetts. No, that’s wrong. I started from a lot of places, way, way back to the beginning of time, probably. Or when Man, with a capital M, first began. Maybe in my first reincarnation I was some kind of Neanderthal—dodging mastodons, throwing spears at wild pigs. Dragging my woman by her hair to my dark and stinking cave, beating her with a club if she didn’t behave. Making noises instead of words.

Many lives. I have lived many lives. So has everybody else.

Say that again, and see how foolish it sounds. Nobody, but nobody, will ever believe me.

He felt very good now. J. C., he thought. I wonder what that stands for? The initials seemed familiar. J. C. Penney, the chain of department stores. J. C.… J. C.… Could be anything—John Carroll, Jacob Cohen, Jackson Coolidge, even Jesus Christ. He laughed.

Suddenly he remembered. He had never called Bentley. Old Hall ought to know what had happened here. He dialed the parapsychologist’s private number.

“Hall. Pete Proud.”

“Yes?”

“I found it. The town.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m positive. A place called Riverside, Massachusetts. X lived here. George Washington slept here….”

There was a silence. Then:

“Pete. You sound as though you’ve been …”

“Drinking? I have. I’ll admit I’ve had a few. But I know what I’m saying, Hall. I’m sober enough for that. I used to live here. Right here….”

Again, silence. Then he heard Bentley breathe into the phone:

“If this is really true …”

“I told you it’s true. I’m flying home in the morning. Tell you all about it when I see you.”

“What flight are you taking?”

“The morning flight from Bradley Field.”

“What time does it get in?”

“Twelve o’clock noon.”

“I’ll meet you at the airport,” said Bentley. His voice shook a little as he said goodbye.

The voice coming over the PA system was nasal.

“This is your captain speaking. We are approaching an area of moderate turbulence. Please fasten your seat belts.”

Peter buckled his seat belt and stared out of the window. They were somewhere over the Rockies. The plane trip seemed interminable. He remembered somewhere that it was an hour longer flying west to Los Angeles than east to New York. Something about the winds.

He’d have to figure out some way to get back to Riverside soon. This was the first week in April, and the spring quarter at UCLA didn’t end until the tenth of June.

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