Finders, Keepers
A Visionary Saga Story
By Jon Sleeper
Based on stories by Brian Eirik Coe, used with his permission.
Gary sat back in his comfy, plush chair, happy in his life. Since he won the lottery six years ago, that is. Ahh yes. I've got it all! And all because of luck. Gary was one of those people, that for one reason or another, good things happened to.
It began so innocuously when he was a child. Whenever he needed a quarter one always seemed to be right there on the sidewalk. It seemed almost too good to be true, but his luck held as he got older.
Quarters gave way to dollars, which as he got older went even higher to whole wallets or purses filled with cash. Never once were these miraculous finds ever stolen by him. Just found. Found on the sidewalk, in a restroom in some fast food place. On the bus. On a roller coaster at some theme park.
Amounts often ranged from tens to hundreds of dollars. So Gary had never had to get a job. He lived off his luck. Especially when one day he found a wallet with a winning lottery ticket inside. So life was good. He rocked back and forth in his chair. And then he stopped. Somebody's in the room with me… He thought. It was a peculiar feeling…
It was getting on towards late evening, but the light just beside him was on. The only other illumination was the flickering light of the big screen television. Slowly, he swiveled his chair around to face the man he knew was there.
Though his face was mostly hidden by the darkness, Gary could tell that man was very travel worn. He wore a dark fedora with two feathers in it, and over what seemed like a simple dark suit, was an equally dark cloak. Something about the man made him uneasy. But Gary did mention to get out, "who are you? And how did you get into my house?"
The man removed his fedora, revealing more of that weathered face in the ever-changing light of the TV. "Who I am isn't important, Gary. But as for why I'm here, it is to make sure that what I'm about to do is the right thing."
Somehow the man's words stuck him as disturbing. "You mean you don't know?"
"I'm not God, Gary. I've made mistakes. But on to business." The man looked at Gary's plush living room. "So many toys," he said.
"They're mine. I earned them." Gary said a bit defensively, as he always did.
"Did you?" the man seemed amused. "Did you buy the lottery ticket that was inside that wallet?"
"How did you know that?!!" he screamed. Then he realized he'd let something slip.
"Unimportant."
"How so?"
"Hard to explain. But trust me, it is not." He looked around the room again. And then he sighed. "Perhaps I should get to the point, something I rarely do nowadays. But sometimes expediency is better than subtlety." He cleared his throat. "Gary, plainly put, you're just too lucky. Correction. You use other peoples' luck for your own benefit."
"What do you mean?"
"Did you ever share your findings with your friends? If someone was a dollar short in the checkout lane, and you had just found one on the street outside, did you let them have it because they needed milk more than you needed a candy bar? No. You kept to yourself. You never shared."
"So? What's wrong with that?! It's not like anyone ever came looking for their money in the first place!"
"You don't know that. You never waited around to find out if anyone ever came back. You just took the money and ran. Never caring if there was ID inside the wallet or not." Gary flinched. "And so we come to why I am here." the man said, a bit darkly. Gary flinched again.
The man replaced his fedora. "The wallet you picked up that day belonged to one Eduard Garcia. A poor man, a new American Citizen. He was very proud of it. But back in Mexico he still had family. Family he wanted to bring north into the States. That lottery ticket was his family's sure way north, legally. But he lost that wallet for the simple reason that he had a hole in his pocket.
"Less then ten minutes later you happened along. So used to such things you snatched it up and continued on your way. Disappointed that the only thing that was in there was a lottery ticket, you pocketed it anyway and dropped the wallet. Eduard raced back to the spot a few minutes later, having discovered what was missing. He was relived to find his wallet still there, but when he discovered the ticket missing. He sighed. That was his last dollar, and his last real chance for a better way to bring his family north.
"He then spent the next six years working hard. Very hard. Until a few weeks ago, when he went back south with all the money he worked for. But luck just wasn't with him. It never was." The TV suddenly flicked to the eleven o'clock news. Gary hadn't realized that much time had passed.
"Good evening," the anchorwoman on the screen said. "Our top story tonight, eight bodies found early this morning by hikers in the South County have now been identified. Eduard Garcia and what are thought to be his family, most of which were Mexican nationals, when they must have gotten separated from what is thought to have been a large group being brought across by smugglers. The record cold last night was unexpected, and is thought to be a factor in the deaths. Three of which were children under the age of ten."
The man's face went dark again. And it scared Gary to his bones. "I can't fault you for having the luck you've had throughout your life, Gary. But I can fault how you've used it. If you hadn't taken Eduard's lottery ticket, then eight people would be alive today. Of course, there was no way you could have known it was a winner, but the fact is you've lived off luck for too long. Luck you do not deserve.
"You see, if you'd just left that wallet where it was, then Eduard and his family would now be fully legal citizens of this country. That one ticket would have turned around a life that previously had been filled with hardship and struggle. But never loss of hope, nor substituting luck for skill. Because Eduard's luck had been all bad. This is why I'm here. There have been similar incidents with the items you have found over the years, and I've stood by and watched. But this one took me over the edge."
His final words sent a chill through Gary. "I'm calling the police!" he said. And he reached for the phone…
…And saw that his hand was now a paw. What happened to me?? He thought. He saw that the paw was rather rodent-like. And noticed that his senses were sharply different. He felt his nose twitch. Whiskers brush against something… A black shoe. The man was standing above him. He was in a grassy field.
"Gary, I can't change how lucky you are very much. No one can. But I can, and have, made it so skill is now much more important to you. You are now a packrat. Fitting, I think. But you have no rat instincts besides how to move your body without tripping over yourself. Luck may play a role in saving your life, but if you are to survive you must learn how to use your rodent body. Your life will be short in any case, but this, I think, is better than killing you outright."
Before Gary could squeak out a rebuttal to his crimes, the man simply vanished. Leaving Gary alone under the dark sky, with tall blades of grass just visible arcing towards the starry night.