Playing God

         Evan stood in the middle of the street waiting for an accident.  He watched the four boys sprint around and between the cars, seeking cover.  Toy guns clacked out a staccato rhythm, firing foam darts through the air. They all looked about six or seven years old, though one was pretty big for that age.  Their laughter and shouts echoed off the brownstone housed lining the street.  Only Evan watched for traffic.  The evening light was perfect, bright enough to seem safe, dim enough to be dangerous.  Evan wondered if he would save someone’s life tonight.
         A direct hit left an angry red splotch under the smallest boy’s eye.  The biggest boy, his supposed teammate, ran up and apologized with a loud slap on the back.  Evan had seen more than one of the big boy’s darts go astray.    The teammates ducked behind a car as their opponents opened fire.  The small boy rubbed at his back while the big boy smiled.
         “Cover me!” The big boy pushed the small one into the open.  Alerted by the shout, the other boys were ready and riddled their small target with darts.  The big boy used the opportunity to score a hit of his own on one of them, then shot the small boy again for good measure.  “Sorry again.  Your gun doesn’t shoot straight.” Evan almost hoped the big boy would be the one to run into traffic.  He winced at the vindictive thought.
         The big boy laughed.  After a second’s pause, the small boy joined in, a bit louder than sounded genuine.  Evan sighed.  That had been him once, so desperate for friends that even the abuse was better than being ignored.  Would his son turn out like that?  He hoped not.  The kid deserved real friends.
         Engine noise from behind called Evan’s attention.  He saw a blue SUV racing toward him, headlights growing fast.  The glare triggered his memory: fogged windshield glowing from the line of headlights in the opposite lane, music playing on the radio, reaching down for the rattling glass bottle in the cup holder, looking up into headlights dead ahead, shocked gasp and squealing breaks.  Darkness.
         The present snapped back into focus.  Evan looked back and saw the big boy miss a shot, bouncing a dart into the road.  A shouted order sent the small boy out after it.  Evan’s heart raced despite his condition, the sensation’s oddness distracting him for an second.  The small boy snatched up the dart but it slipped from his fingers.  He reached down again.
         The SUV passed through Evan from behind and he caught a glimpse of the driver, her eyes on her phone.  He noticed the sticker in the rear window: two small stick figures and two larger ones over the caption, “Our family.”  His wife had wanted one of those.
         Two families were about to be ruined.  Evan knew he could stop this.  A whisper to look up in the driver’s ear, a push to get the boy moving, it wouldn’t take much.  He stepped forward, but hesitated.
         There was only one life to save.  Would it be worth it?  The question sent a chill down his spine, but he could not silence it.  He  had one chance.  It seemed wrong, even selfish to save the boy because he reminded Evan of himself.  Maybe the boy would cure some disease when he grew up.  Or maybe he would turn into a school shooter.  There was no way to tell.  Would saving him make the world better?
         Evan made his decision.  Without some sort of certainty, he could not spend this chance on a single life.  It was simple, brutal logic.  Someday he would make up for this.
         The boy froze when he saw the headlights.  Someone shouted a warning.  Evan’s eyes went wide as the big boy sprinted into the road.  Brake lights flared too late.
         A hard shove sent the small boy sprawling out of the way.  The SUV hit with a dull thud.  The big boy floated in the air for a frozen instant.  Arms spread, he almost flew.  Then he slammed into the bumper of a parked car and broke.  His friends stared at the spot he’d vanished from, now occupied by the SUV’s pristine front end.  His killer screamed.
         Evan felt sick with shame. The boy he had taken for a bully had died to do what Evan would not.  He fled, chased by screams and children’s sobs.

         Evan had been dead for almost a month and was not enjoying it at all.  He had always assumed dying was the hard part.  It turned out he hadn’t felt a thing.  Then he’d found himself with a last job to complete.
         He fought down the sour thought and watched his son play.  He wasn’t supposed to be here.  That was one of the few rules he had been given.  Right now he didn’t care. 
         Rob had invented another new game.  He was four and full of weird ideas.  This one involved a cardboard box and the lid from a big plastic storage chest.  The lid lay slanted against the box to form a ramp.  Rob took a running start and jumped onto the lid, slamming it to the ground.  It looked like fun.  He laughed as he set the contraption back up.
         He jumped too far this time.  His foot caught on the corner of the box and he went down in a heap, his glasses knocked off his face.  Tears welled in his clenched eyes.  His cheeks scrunched up, mouth parting to inhale.  Evan winced in the pregnant silence.  The cries began.
         Thumping footfalls on the stairs announced Sarah’s hurried arrival.  Evan’s breath caught at the sight of her.  She looked tired.  Her blonde hair was tied up in a simple bun instead of hanging loose to glimmer in the light.  She wrapped her arms around Rob, murmuring soothing words.  Moved, Evan felt only vague annoyance that his breath could still catch.
         Rob quieted, then wailed again when he saw that one of the arms had snapped off his glasses.  Sarah retrieved the broken piece.  “Don’t worry, hon,” she said.  “I can fix them.”
         “No!” Rob yelled.  “I want Daddy to!”
         The words punched Evan in the gut.  Hard.  He had been so sick of fixing those things.  “I’m here, Rob,” he said, voice cracking. They didn’t hear him.
         Tears welled in Sarah’s green eyes.  “I do too, honey.”  She hugged Rob’s head to her chest.
         “Why?” Rob yelled.  He pushed himself away from his mother.  “Why’s Daddy gone?  Why won’t he come back?”
         Sarah pulled Rob close again so he couldn’t see her frown.  She stroked Rob’s curly hair for a moment answering.  “I don’t know why.”  Her voice wavered, but she kept her tone gentle.
         Evan fell to his knees next to them.  He could hear the anger Sarah held back.  Tears rolled down his cheeks and vanished before hitting the ground.  “I can’t Rob,” he said.  “I’m so sorry.  I didn’t want to leave you.  I made a terrible mistake.”  His hug slid right through Sarah’s shoulders.  He wrapped both arms around his chest and sobbed.
         A gentle hand fell on Evan’s shoulder.  He looked up and saw a tall man with an earnest face.  They had met shortly after he died.
         “This is why you shouldn’t visit your family,” John said, his voice powerful yet subdued.  “Let’s go.”
         The hand on Evan’s shoulder tightened and his vision blurred.  When focus returned, Evan found himself standing next to John in a quiet park.  “This is ridiculous!” he yelled.  “Why can’t I help them?  A whisper, a glimpse, anything to let them know I haven’t abandoned them.”
         “That’s the rule at the moment,” John said. 
         “At the moment?  The rules change?”
         “Of course they do.  They’re not written in stone.”  John smiled, but it didn’t look quite right, as if he had seen it done but didn’t know how it worked.  “Right now, you get one chance to bend fate for a stranger.  I assume it’s a stranger so people don’t haunt their families.”
         “Why would that be wrong?”
         “Did you enjoy that experience just now?  Sarah and Rob will need to move on with their lives at some point.  Do you want to watch that happen?”
         Evan tried to say, “Of course,” but the words died in his throat.
         “Exactly,” John said.
         “Fine.  And who makes these rules anyway?”
         John’s smile looked a little more real this time.  “I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise.  Besides, you have work to do.”
         “I thought you said I had a year and a day to do this,” Evan said.  “That time limit is also ridiculous, by the way.”
         “Rules,” John answered.  “It usually doesn’t matter.  Most people finish inside a week.  You’re throwing off the schedule.”
         “The schedule for what?” Evan answered his own question when he saw John’s almost-grin.  “Right.  It's a surprise.”
         “Death is full of them,” John said.  “Now will you please go save someone’s life?”
         “I’m working on it.  You say I’ve got one shot.  I need to make it count.”
         “It’s a miracle, not an investment.”
         Evan winced at the edge in John’s voice.  “I guess you’re right.  But I want to do the most good I can.”
         “That’s fine, but right now you’re doing no good at all,”  John’s voice regained its warmth.
         Evan sighed.  “I guess that’s true.”  An odd thought came to him.  “You know, you’re not who the nuns at school told me to expect.”
         “Sorry to disappoint,” John said.
         “So if that’s the case,” Evan thought for a moment about how to ask.  “Who’s right, religion-wise?”
         “Everyone.”
         “That’s impossible.”
         John rolled his eyes. “Fine then, nobody.”
         “That’s a useless answer.”
         “It was a pointless question.”

         The girder barely hung on.  Evan examined the deteriorating weld that attached it to the building’s unfinished frame.  Some worker had probably been in a rush to get home, and the crew had started on a new section the next day.  A strong gust of wind would snap the girder free, sending it crashing down on the people a hundred feet below.  Now, what to do about it?
         A worker happened by.  If Evan just nudged the thickset man to look down as he passed—but no.  He wasn’t sure what the stakes were.  The girder could certainly threaten the workers on the ground.  If its fall brought the whole building down, lots of people would die.  Evan could prevent a disaster.
         Or would he only delay the inevitable?  For all he knew, fixing this girder would just make the building larger when it fell.  This construction company had a horrible safety record.  Since they worked cheap, it was often overlooked.  Evan needed more information.
         He floated to the ground.  Close to thirty workers milled about working on the building’s foundation, the foreman barking orders.  Evan could give him a bad feeling about that girder, get him to send a team to check it out.  Problem solved.
         Or not.  Evan growled and kicked through a pile of cinder blocks.  Did he act now?  Why could he not make a decision?  This hadn’t been such a problem when he was alive.  A lot of the decisions had been bad, but he’d made them.
         A loud metallic snap broke through Evan’s thoughts.  He looked up and saw the girder plummeting toward him.  Workers scattered.  Evan watched the descent, rooted in place.  The girder fell right through the top of his head and smashed into the ground.
         Evan stepped out of the girder and looked around in disbelief.  Dazed-looking workers gathered around the fallen beam, many of them muttering curses.  The thing had somehow missed everyone who wasn’t dead.
         “Well that would have been a waste,” Evan said to people who couldn’t hear him.  He felt a stab of annoyance anyway.  Gravity had made the decision for him before he made up his mind.  He bit his lip and walked away.

         Evan felt right about watching the emergency room, but he didn’t know why.  Sure, people all around him needed help.  The question now was, who?  Ice ran through Evan’s blood at the thought of judging strangers again.  He could probably get the triage nurse to admit any of the waiting patients.  Did he help the little girl with pigtails choking back sobs while her father held a blood soaked towel against her face?  What about the elderly woman with the hacking cough that wouldn’t stop?  Helping her would mean abandoning the shivering young man with sunken eyes.
         Evan looked at the man more closely.  His bloodshot eyes darted around the room, and he sweated heavily despite his chills.  A drug addict?  Evan had heard him complain of severe pain but turn fuzzy when asked about the specifics.  Had he come looking for a fix?
         Maybe Evan could get him to leave and seek treatment.  The man might not turn his life around, though.  Evan could only give him a chance.  He had to do better.
         The addict reached into his jacket.  Before Evan could react, he pulled a handgun free and shouted something unintelligible, weapon shaking in his white-knuckled grip.  People screamed and ducked for cover.  The nurse tried to run, but the gunman caught him by the collar and threw him down.  “Everyone shut up!”  The yells softened, turning to whimpers and sobs as people cowered on the ground.  “I just want my meds.”
         Adrenaline roared through Evan.  He had to do something, but what?  Could he get the man to give this up?  That seemed too direct.  He could probably only confuse the gunman for an instant, not much use.
         Or it could be vital.  A security guard had slipped behind the gunman, muscles tensed.  If Evan messed with his head right when the guard struck, it could make all the difference.  He could save everyone.
         That assumed the guard was making the right move, though.  What if the gunman didn’t want to hurt anyone?  What if confrontation was the only way the situation could turn deadly?  Maybe Evan needed to stop the guard.
         
         Or he could do nothing.  The guard pulled out a stun gun.  Maybe he could handle things.  He was a professional and would take the gunman completely by surprise.  He might not need Evan’s help.
         “You need to make a decision!” Evan yelled to nobody.  Stop the gunman, stop the guard, do nothing.  The ideas flickered through his head over and over.
         The guard began to move.  Evan decided to do nothing.  It felt safer.  He still had months.  No need to act rashly today.
         The guard’s shoe squeaked on the floor.  The gunman turned toward the noise just as the guard fired.  Both stun probes sank into the gunman’s side.  He spasmed as the electric current hit.  His finger pulled the trigger.  The gun’s roar echoed around the room even as the shooter fell writhing to the ground.
         Silence, then a scream.
         “Daddy!”
         The little girl was bleeding from the gash in her cheek, towel fallen to the floor.  She clutched at her father, who bled much faster from the red hole in his chest.  The girl screamed again.
         “No!”  Evan felt the ground fall out from under him.  He ran toward them.  The triage nurse arrived first, eyes but hands steady.  He eased the father to the ground and pressed down on the wound.  Evan knelt on the other side and pushed down on the nurse’s hands as if he could help.  His palms sank through the father’s body and into the floor.  The wounded man shivered.
         A doctor sprinted in from the trauma ward.  She grimaced at the sight of the wound and the expanding pool of blood, but set to work without a word.  Evan stood and saw the girl crying, tears mixed with the blood running down her face.  Evan bowed his head and turned away.

         Evan walked down the middle of the street with the hospital at his back.  A police car sped through him, sirens blaring.  He only saw the little girl’s face.  It kept changing to Rob’s in his mind.  Now he was glad he couldn’t speak to his family.  How could he explain this?
         Another police car sped toward him.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone stumble off the curb, a homeless man in a filthy gray overcoat.  A paper bag slipped from his hand.  The bottle inside landed on his foot and rolled toward Evan.  The homeless man stumbled after it, heading right into the car’s path.
         Evan kicked the bottle back toward the curb.  The homeless man stopped in his tracks to pick it up.  The police car’s lights flashed through Evan’s face.  When his vision cleared, he saw the man uncap the bottle and raise it to his lips.  “Trust me buddy.  The drinking will kill you,” Evan said.
         The man sputtered and pulled the bottle away.  He stared right where Evan stood.  Evan wondered if the man could see him, then realized what he’d done and his heart seized up.  Before he could think, he found himself immersed in light.
         John stood beside him.  “It’s about time,” he said.  “But good job.”
         Evan struggled for words.  “Was that enough?  One homeless guy doesn’t get run over?”
         “You saved someone’s life.”
          “But what will that accomplish?  Will that guy go on to save someone else?  What if I didn’t even help him in the long run?  What if he’s on his way somewhere to drink himself to death right now? ”
         “You’ll just have to live with it,” John replied.  He cocked his head at Evan and gave a not-quite grin.
         Evan narrowed his eyes.  “You’re not funny, you know that?  Is this really all I was supposed to do?”
          “You saved someone’s life,” John repeated.  He held out his hand to Evan.  “Now it’s time to go.”
         “Where?”
         “It’s a surprise.”