What if your inner voice was dictated to you by someone else? How far exactly does the concept of free will come to fruition in our everyday lives? Walker Henderson, a used car salesman, is drained by the monotony of his everyday life until he is involved in an accident that leaves him in possession of a common object which carries with it uncommon implications that ultimately charts the course of the world by reshaping the history of World War II.
What if your inner voice was dictated to you by someone else? How far exactly does the concept of free will come to fruition in our everyday lives? Walker Henderson, a used car salesman, is drained by the monotony of his everyday life until he is involved in an accident that leaves him in possession of a common object which carries with it uncommon implications that ultimately charts the course of the world by reshaping the history of World War II.
Iāve never been a very superstitious person. I attribute that in large part to my twenty-seven years of walking around on this planet; I definitely havenāt seen it all but Iāve seen enough. I graduated college with a four year degree back in twenty sixteen- in the five years since then I feel like Iāve made decent use of my time. As much as anyone could really I guess. I make my living selling used cars at āDenverās Dealing Daveās Used Carsā off of 38th Street and Pecos downtown. I started working there in college, even though I graduated with my degree in Business Administration, I just could never get hired anywhere. Itās probably because of my self assured demeanor- which to most people probably comes off as cocky instead of just an exudence of confidence. Itās definitely not an ideal situation for me, especially because of the thirty-eight thousand dollars of student debt that Iām still lugging around on my back but this gig is the only way that I can afford paying that four-hundred and fifty dollars a month bill. Add in my eighteen hundred dollar rent, two hundred and sixty-five dollar car payment along with insurance, phone bill, gas, groceriesā¦ it all just keeps adding up. At the end of the month, Iām spending more than Iām making thatās for sure but thereās no other way really. I apply to all kinds of jobs but seemingly no one will hire me. Itās almost as if Iām living in purgatory- my life is increasingly monotonous. A sobering fact that my wife Alondra constantly likes to remind me of. It's hard making a living on a used car salesman and a secretaryās salary- like I said, we barely scrape by and thatās even if I have a great month and sell five cars. Typically, Iāll sell about three cars a month, give or take a one or two. Itās mostly the trucks that people are snatching up the most in Colorado which is good for me since theyāre one of the most expensive. Being commission based, itās really a no brainer, but I donāt ever talk people into buying something that they canāt afford or donāt really want. Iām not some greased up sleazeball pushing out as many lemons as I can to rake in the green. I care about what people want, I always listen to them before I show them our inventory. Iām not pushy but Iām definitely not lackadaisical either- I need to make money too. I dream about being able to have enough cash to pay off Alondra and Iās student loans, cars, credit cards and be able to just uproot. We want to move to Seattle Washington to live on a modest houseboat- the way that the calm waves crack as they crest over the shore and refract back to the boatā¦ the way that the dreary grey sky is usually gently trickling down a steady sheet of drizzling rain. The way the air smells- slightly damp with that tingy earthly gleam of dirt sun kissed by the adjoining Pacific Oceanā¦ itās perfect. Itās where we want to end up, it's where we hope to be but at this point, hope is all we have. Itās a distant dream from our ever presently boring reality. Today is just like every other Monday. I woke up at seven in the morning, shaved, showered in water that was entirely too cold- our apartment maintenance sucks, and drove my old Jeep Wrangler to the car lot. Iāve been at work now for a couple hours without even one customer but thatās pretty typical- Mondays are always pretty slow especially during the beginning of the month. I guess thatās just part of the game, everything has its ebb and flow I suppose. I just sit at an oddly misplaced sales desk in the middle of the expansive dusty showroom. On both sides of me are some of our newer, more expensive cars that we have to offer. The one to my left is a blue hatchback with squeaky clean black tires that reflects the light especially during sundown- which I unfortunately get to experience pretty often. The car to my right is an emboldened blazing red Camaro with a slick retractable roof that is infatuating to the eyes of prospective customers- especially the ones that canāt afford it. I am also included in that group, but that damned Camaro has been here over seven months and itās red reflection seems to constantly dim the light of everything around it, especially all my paperwork. The car's red gleam makes every contract or finance document I sign off burn into my eyes for minutes because of the stark white and red contrast. I hate it. Almost as much as I hate our sales manager Bob, now that guy is the definition of a sleazy car salesman! Heās always draped in a blatantly cheap suit spritzed up with plastic cuff links painted to glimmer like gold seemingly hanging on for dear life to his frayed sleeves. As if his outlandish look was just an appetizer, he finishes it off with a stained red handkerchief dangling from his tired right coat pocket for the main dish, and for dessert the meal comes to a crescendo about two inches above his sweaty brow- he sports a thin palate of dyed black hair thatās combed over from left to right in a grossly failed attempt to hide his obvious male pattern baldness. That damned patch of hair must be at least eight inches long- I wonder with a macabre sense of intrigue exactly what this half head mane must look like when he gets out of the shower. Itās got to be hanging down to his left shoulder at least. I can almost hear the thin plop echo in a small unkempt bathroom as he scoops up the dark wet strands hemorrhaging a dark dye substance with his hand, adorned with cheap gaudy rings - and in one failed swoop, swipes it all to his head. The plop would sound like dropping a boiled cheese ravioli on a cold hard tiled floor, that Iām sure about. I hate this guy because he gives us all a bad name- after force selling a car down someoneās throat he will come back in and gloat about it to the rest of us as if it was some heroic war story worthy of being a parable told down from one generation to the next. He also will lie straight to peopleās faces about a carās accident history, features, and anything he can get away with really. Iāve even seen him forge finance documents before, the guy is a crook, he will do anything to make a buck. I wish that I could do or say something at least, but everyone knows. No one does anything because the guy makes the business money, and money is seemingly all anyone cares about.Ā
After eating an uneventful lunch consisting of a turkey sandwich dressed up with yellow mustard, Swiss cheese, and lettuce hastily pushed between two stale pieces of white bread, I was ready to go home for the day. Even so- I smacked my lips together in an odd contentment that the stale bread of my sandwich added a satisfying crunch to the whole ordeal that was almost as disgusting as needed. I told myself that this was new ācrunchy whole wheatā so that I felt better about it. While pondering the logistics of how that bread was not yet green in hue from mold, my thoughts were interrupted by a ding from the front door! A man in his late forties dressed in khaki Dockers with a teal polo shirt proceeded to walk into the showroom. Instantaneously, I peeled myself from my chair and sprung to my feet as I said,Ā
āGood Afternoon Sir! Iām Walker Henderson, itās good to meet you!āĀ
Now beginning to saunter in my direction the man murmured,Ā
āWalker, good to meet youā¦āĀ as his eyes darted from left to right and then fixed themselves on the red Camaro.Ā Ā
āSheās a beauty isnāt she? Sheās a one owner, only 56,000 miles on her. You like it?ā
The man said, āDamn- sure is beautiful. How much for it?ā
I said, āWell, Mrā¦.?ā with just enough of a pause in my voice to indicate to him to tell me his name.Ā
āTed, Ted Robinson.ā
āWell Mr. Robinson, the sticker price is forty five- but we can look at your credit and I can find some incentivesā¦ā
Ted quickly cut me off mid spiel by interjecting, āWhoa there Walker, thatās too rich for my blood. Letās pump the brakes kid.ā
I let out a friendly chuckle as I said,Ā
āMe too, donāt worry. So Mr. Robinson, what kind of car are you looking for today?ā
Ted said,Ā
āPlease! Call me Ted, Mr. Robinson is my dad and heās an asshole. You donāt think Iām an asshole do you- kid?
Without skipping a beat I blurted,Ā
āNo sir, not at all!ā
Ted said,Ā
āSir? Kid Iām gonna have to whip that ass if you call me sir again. Iām not in the military.ā
This guy was without a doubt an A1, first class, high flying classic asshole, a lot of people are though nowadays. I was just trying to be polite to this guy. I wanted to say, go ahead and try to āWhip this assā instead, I laughed and said,Ā
āTed! Sorry about that my friend, so what can I do for you today?ā
Ted said, āIām looking for a truck, diesel.ā
I said, āOf course you are Ted! Youāre in luck because we have the biggest selection in Denver- do you have a preference in brand?ā
Ted responded, āYeah, dieselā.
I briefly acknowledged his stupidity with a slight head nod and said, āFollow me Ted, Iāve got a bunch to show you!āĀ
He followed me outside to the lot where his big dumb brown eyes widened as they glazed over at the sight of line up of trucks. I turned to him and said,Ā
āYou have a preference in color?ā
Ted said,
Ā āI want me one of them red Supermaxs!ā
I pointed four trucks down in the line to a red Supermax as I said,Ā
āLike that one?ā
Ted said,Ā
āOh yeah, just like that one.ā
We walked towards the behemoth diesel guzzler together, my eyes focused on the truckās sticker pasted on the passenger side window as I quickly internalized the facts and figures. He walked around the truck with his left arm outstretched as he ran his hand gently around the body of it, as if he were caressing a horse. Ted blurted, āHow much?ā
I responded, āThirty-eight-five!ā
Trying not to act sticker shocked he said, āI could do thatā¦ I could do thatā¦ā
āOnly thirty-thousand miles on it, itās a 2019- itās actually a great price for a 2019 in this condition.ā I said. He quipped back, āCan we take it on a test drive?ā
I said, āSure thing, Iāll just need your license and proof of insurance. Iāll grab a quick copy of them and then we can hit the open road and test it out!ā
He begrudgingly dug into the front right pocket of his Dockers fumbling around in search for his wallet, assumingly past a key ring because I heard the familiar clacking of bronze and other cheap metals. After a few moments he produced a tattered black leather wallet that was entirely too big; he took out his license and handed it to me while saying, āI got my insurance card on my phone, let me pull it up.āĀ
We stood there for at least two minutes until he could track it down presumably in a sea of emails.
āI got it, I got it!ā He yelled.
I snapped a picture of it with my phone and told him thanks before turning around to head back to the sales floor. Over my shoulder, just for reassurance to this guy I blurted,
āIāll make a quick copy of these and be right back, SIR!ā
This time I was trying to get under his skin, especially because at this point I knew that he was wasting my time. Heās just like most people that go on test drives- he wasnāt going to buy anything. Iām pretty sure he couldnāt afford a cheeseburger, let alone this overpriced truck. When I swung open the old sun faded glass door to the sales floor I was immediately confronted by Bob who had been standing inside watching me interact with Ted the whole time through the floor to ceiling windows that were in desperate need of some Windex. I tried to give him a fake smile and a nod before attempting to squeeze by him but he side stepped right in front of me blocking my path to the photocopier. The stale coffee in his mug sloshed side to side with his quick movement as it brimmed over the top and dripped effervescently onto the floor, he pretended not to feel it all over his hairy hand or even hear the splash that it made when it hit the ground as he said, āWellā¦ no sales today yet Walker? Huh?ā
āNot yet Bob, Iām working on it.ā I said
He let out a bellowing laugh and exclaimed, āWhen I was your age, I used to have five sales a day, everyday. Youāre lucky to get five sales a month, you need to work the phones and sell more aggressively- you know? Raul, Darious, or even Scott all have double your numbers.ā
āI know Bob, thanks for the tip.ā I said
He looked me over from head to toe and said, āYou better make this damn sale Walker. I can get anyone to sell better than you canā¦ you know that I can fire you right now if I wanted to. That would be a shame for you and the wife of yoursā¦ Ariel or whatever right?ā
With my jaw clenched I murmured through my teeth, āI know Bob, I know- and her name is Alondra, you know that.ā
He pompously retorted, āWhatever, it doesnāt matter, sheās married to a loser. She knows it, I know it, everyone in Denver knows it. Sheās too good for you Walker- and you know it.ā
I said, āThanks, can I copy these and take this guy on a test drive now?ā
He looked down at the spilled coffee on the floor and then back into my eyes, āSure, but after you clean up this mess.ā
I walked to the desk and got some paper towels to wipe up his spill- he watched me as I got them. Then he hovered over me as I proceeded to clean up the mess, without moving he unveiled an ear to ear grin on his face and said, āGet used to that Walker...ā
Damn I hated this power hungry car slinging oligarch; I made copies of Tedās license and insurance and hastily headed out of the same main doors that I came in from. Ted was impatiently waiting at the truck, as soon as I emerged he yelled out, āTook you long enough huh!?ā
I said, āSorry about that Ted.ā before being close enough to him to outstretch my arm, almost as if it were an olive branch to him with his license in my hand. He lurched towards me as he angrily snatched it from my hand. Still trying to close a sale that I knew was dead, instead of slapping him in the mouth I smiled and said, āTed, I talked to my sales manager while I was in there and I can get you free upgraded floor mats if you do decide to buy.ā
He ripped open the truck door and said, āDamn right you can, thatās the least you can do for me after keeping me waiting like that.ā
He had been waiting less than five minutes, again, I swallowed my pride and plastered the dealer plate on the back of the truck before getting in the passenger seat and buckling up my seatbelt.
I said, āOf course Ted- anything for you! Iām sorry about that wait- but youāre going to love the way that this truck drives. Itās smooth because of the dual rear suspension, youāre going to feel like youāre floating in a cloud!ā
He begrudgingly let out a moan as he started it up and began to drive us off of the lot.Ā
I asked, āSo, are you married?ā in an attempt to kindle a conversation.
Ted said, āAre you dumb? Relax with all the questions, damn! Just sit there and be quiet, if I want to know something Iāll ask! But I already know everything about trucks so there aināt nothing you can tell me kid!ā.
I sat in silence, not wanting to participate in any pointless banter with this guy. The test drive was a lot like all of the other ones Iāve done in the sense that it was awkward and a complete waste of time. After we got back to the lot, just as I had suspected, he did not buy the truck. Instead he smugly tossed the keys at me and said, āYou should get a real job, loser. Iām gonna buy that same truck from the place across the street.ā.
Fighting the urge to yell obscenities at this guy I watched as he got into his old sun stained yellow dilapidated truck and sped away before I bent over to pick up the truck keys that fell in front of me. I didnāt want to give that guy the satisfaction of watching me pick them up because then I really would have looked like a defenseless loser.
Not wanting to be berated by Bob, I decided to meander around the lot for the rest of my shift which at this point was only about forty-five minutes at best. I paced up and down the lines of cars with a yellow legal pad in one hand and a blue pen in the other that I would use to pretend as if I was jotting notes down about every other car I approached. No sales again today meant that I made about sixty bucks for the day from my hourly wage after Uncle Sam took his cut. For me, this day was just like every other one- which was exactly the problem. In the back of my mind I could seemingly feel the monotony of my life gnawing at me with itās thin razor sharp claws, it was boroughing further and further into my psyche. Almost as if it was an inconvenient papercut at first, but then continued to have the scar burst open hourly in the same interdigital spot on your hand until it eventually got to the bone and continued to slowly saw through in a dull lingering pain that vibrated throughout your entire musculoskeletal structure. To say that I was tired would be a gross understatement, I was exhausted from expending all of my time and energy into something that I didnāt care about- something that had no true meaning or impact on the world. Yet I did it day in and day out- wasting my invaluable time with menial inconsequential tasks all in pursuit of the almighty dollar. My train of thought was interrupted abruptly from an unexpected vibrating in my left front pants pocket, which for a millisecond made me jump from my skinĀ until I remembered that it was just my phone. I dived into my pocket to see who was calling, it was Alondra. I thumbed the green button radiating on the screen to accept the call and brought the phone to my ear as I said, āHey baby! Whatās up?ā
āOh nothing much really, just about to get off of work.ā she said
I pulled back my phone to glance at the time, āIt is about three huh? That went pretty fast; how's your day been?ā
She responded, āGood good, just been directing calls and taking messages pretty much all day. What about you? Sell any cars?ā
I said, āItās beenā¦ a dayā¦ no sales, Bob is still being a d-bag and I had a customer from hell. But he wasnāt even a customer since he didn't buy a damned thing! He basically just belittled me and wasted my time for at least a good two hours. I hate this job babe, we need to get the hell out of this town.ā
She consolingly retorted, āIām sorry baby, at least you got to get out of the sales room for a bit and away from Bob- thatās always a plus. What time are you going to be home?ā
I said, āWell itās time for Bobās afternoon poop so Iām going to clock out and leave now so that I donāt have to run into him again. So I should be home in about thirty minutesā¦ well if traffic doesnāt suck. What time are you done?ā
She said, āIām off at three-thirty! What do you want to do for dinner tonight?ā
Pausing for a moment I thought before responding, āI donāt know babe; I think Iām going to drink my dinner tonight... What sounds good to you?ā
She said, āBabe! You have to eat something! Chinese food sounds good, you want that?ā
I said, āSure, that sounds good- you want me to get it on my way home?ā
She quickly responded, āNo babe, there's that one place we like right by work, Iāll swing by and get it on my way home - oh Iām getting another call, I have to go! Iāll see you soon- love you!ā
I said, āOkay babe, love you too!ā then heard the dial tone beep of the call being ended. Knowing that Bob was a man of routine I knew that I still had a solid five minutes to clock out before he would be out of the bathroom, even so though, I didnāt want to waste any time. I hastily made my way back inside and went straight to the old derelict break room - if you could even call it that. It was a ten by ten foot room with the white walls adorned with crappy motivational posters. In the right corner of the room was a soda vending machine which was notorious for stealing at least one quarter per transaction.Ā Catty corner to that, stood a stained coffee table that might as well only have had three legs because of how damn wobbly the thing was. On the back wall was the punch clock, which was clearly from the eighties. I donāt understand why they even make us use it- especially since itās twenty-twenty-one! I think they purposely enjoy demeaning us and think that theyāre saving a few bucks by still using it. Or maybe itās just a case of āThis is how it's always been so this is how it will always be. Itās business as usualā. Thereās nothing more dangerous in this world than that type of archaic thinking- thereās nothing more dangerous than ābusiness as usualā.Ā
After clocking out I discreetly made my way to my old beat up Jeep to make my last escape of the day. I got in the car and rested my forehead on the steering wheel in a visible manifestation of my internal defeat as I used the keys jingling in my hand to stab at the ignition. I got it on the first try with the right key simply because Iāve felt the key in my sweaty palms a million times; Iāve started this car a million times- everything at this point is sheer muscle memory. A sigh escaped my lungs as I viciously turned the key with my thumb and forefinger which instantly initiated a thick rattling of gears that brought my mechanical heap of trash to life in a series of putters and metal clanking noises. Sweating from the summer heat, I reached for the crank to manually unroll my window so that I didnāt have to gasp at the sun heated oven hot air that was locked inside surrounding me before I backed up and drove out of the lot. With the window down but still sweating I drove home in complete silence- my carās tape deck was broken and the radio only vomited static noise at me because it had no antenna or maybe because it was 30 years old- most likely it was a combination of both. My carās air conditioning had never worked either but at this point I was indifferent to it. What I had still not learned to be indifferent to was traffic, which is what I now found myself stuck in. Aloud to myself I murmured an observation that manifested in my mind, āI live in Hell. I LIVE IN HELL!ā.
Forty-five minutes later I had finally arrived back home to my apartment; when I stepped out of my car my undershirt which was soaking wet had bled through my other shirt so that both fused to my back and stuck to my car seat too. Before closing the carās door I stared briefly but intently at the silhouette of me that was sweat etched into the seat knowing that tomorrow my car was not going to smell like a dozen fresh roses. I walked two minutes from where I was able to find parking to my apartment's front door; without even looking at my keys I felt the one I knew was the right one and gingerly slipped it into the lock's patterned brass opening. I could feel the pins of the lock move up into the mechanism as they all aligned just enough so that the key could turn allowing the apparatus to roll and manipulate the bolt into an open position. As I opened the door I noticed that the white ocean spray scented candle in the middle of our kitchen island was not yet lit. Alondra does this everyday as soon as she gets home so I knew she wasnāt there yet. I closed the front door as I kicked off my cheap black imitation leather loafers. I also removed all of my sweaty clothes and just left them there in the entryway before grabbing a quick shower. The cold water felt so damn refreshing; after I dried off I threw on an old pair of shorts, grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and settled into the couch as I cracked it open and listened to the carbonation hiss its way from the can before taking a long draw from it. The frigid beer was even better than the shower, it was exactly what I needed. I sat there staring at the stained beige tinged wall in our living room silently with the exception of the upstairs neighbors who must have been wearing brick clogs- thatās the only way that they could have been making so much damned noise up there. I also could faintly hear coughing which was an indicator that our neighbor in apartment B- Twenty-Two was home and that soon I would catch the nightly waft of his exhaled pot smoke even though all of our windows were shut. The echoes of kids screaming also bounced off of the apartment buildings and carried throughout the hallways- I guess the only true silence was in my mind and it was only a hope for silence- it wasnāt real. Half out of enjoyment and half stemming from disdain I gulped the rest of my golden colored ale and tossed the can on the floor in defiance before getting up to grab another. Just as I opened up the refrigerator Alondra appeared in the doorway as it swung open with a heavy push, holding a bag of Chinese food in her right hand and her car keys in the other. She put both on the kitchen island before lighting the white ocean spray candle, kissing me in an embraceful hug, and going about the same end of day ritual of showering. When she emerged from showering we ate dinner on the couch while we talked about our days, watched the news, drank, and watched more T.Vā¦ I love her, I love our life together- but again, it was more of the same. We did the same thing everyday- eventually we passed out on the couch then migrated to bed before brushing our teeth, taking turns using the same sink. I wanted two sinks, I wanted somewhere quiet to live, I wanted a better job, I wanted to travel, I wanted us to have an exciting lifeā¦ I wantedā¦ we dozed off to bed for an escape from reality in our dreams. Everything we wanted was a dream, all of it out of our grasp.
Walker Henderson is a used car salesman, living an ordinary life with his wife, encountering the usual problems of college debt, struggling to earn enough on an average wage, dealing with obnoxious and arrogant colleagues, and repeat.
Walkerās psyche is tormented by multiple historical characters that he must unravel to why they are within him, and what he can do about it.
The book starts off with a narration of the protagonist giving a back story to his life. Talking to the reader as though they were in the room and having a casual conversation. There is no real hint to where the story is leading. Just talking about his job and what he would prefer to be doing.
The story isnāt badly written, it just takes a while for it to gear up a notch. We are exposed to the monotony of Walkerās life so we can engage and emphasize with him, root for him, and get behind him when things take a rather peculiar turnā¦
Just when I was thinking āwhen is something going to happen?ā, a series of events propels Walker. The action is taken up a notch, or three! And we get thrown back in time.
There is a rather interesting juxtaposition between the modern-day characters, and another character thrown into the mix. The story then takes the reader back in time, where the author creates a vivid display of what it might have been like in World War II. There seems to be a hint of physic ability between the main character and historical characters that is interesting in parts, yet does leave me perplexed of the significance the main character actually plays.
One aspect to this story is incredibly brutal. Not surprising for the era it is set in. Just beware that it does go into some rather gory detail, not suited for the faint of heart. The historical aspect covers both sides of the brutal war.
The ending was rather explosive. Walker, a man whose life was mundane and without purpose finally fulfills his destiny, and enables an act to be carried out that will change the world forever. I got goosebumps at the end, as I was not expecting that finale.
Ā
For those that enjoy historical fiction mingling with your average Joe becoming a rather pivotal character in the plot, you will definitely enjoy this read.
Ā