Funny ... Golfin came here convinced in his own insane way that he was going to prevent a murder. If he hadn't come, I wouldn't have come either. And if he hadn't come, there wouldn't have been a corpse....
I looked around until I found the door, and headed toward it. My right leg dragged a little as I walked. And I didn't need to go into the future to know what was going to happen. I would make it to the door. Sure. I would open it, and walk through the crowd outside toward the front door. Before I got there I would die. Golfin would never know, maybe, that it was his drug that had killed me. Sarah Fish, convinced by the way it happened that Golfin had been right, would insist to the police that I was okay when I left her.
I could stop right where I was and die in this room. My hand gripped the doorknob and twisted, and the door opened. And I knew I wasn't going to stay in this room. I was going to try to get to the front door.
My whole right side was numb now. I had to walk slowly. Even then I wasn't sure of my next step. And with each step the massive front door seemed farther away.
I wasn't going to make it.
I bumped into someone—or someone bumped into me. I jerked my head around with a snarl starting on my lips. It was George Wile.
"Sorry old boy," he apologized. "I didn't see you."
I blinked at him, an idea forming. Maybe if I could change something—any little thing—I could save myself. What could I change? I didn't know, because I didn't know whether even the change I might make would be part of the future. Still....
"'Sall right, ol' boy," I said, bumping against him. And my hands moved fast. My own wallet went into his pocket, and his went into mine.