But it was absurd. I took another bite of sandwich and a swallow of milk and stared at the folded newspaper. An idea was forming in my thoughts. It was vague and almost unreachable, but it was there.
I turned it over slowly. Somehow there must be an explanation for all this. I was Fred Martin and I couldn't be Orville Snyder, but I must be. Somewhere in that lay the key to something. And if I could reach that key I wouldn't have to open the paper and read the headlines. Why?
Because the newspaper wouldn't be there. Neither would I. I could be—where would I want to be? Back in Mr. Kaseline's store? Definitely not. Back in college? Why did I think of escaping into the past? As soon as I asked myself the question I knew why. It was because I couldn't think of any place else to mentally escape to.
Physically—I could get up and go down to the garage and get in my car and go anywhere.
And neither alternative was what I felt lay there, just under the surface. Perhaps neither was possible. How could I go back into the past and make it anything more than just memories of the past? And if I were wanted for murder it would be highly improbable that I could escape the police for very long. Not when my fingerprints were those of Orville Snyder.
No. What I was sensing, but not quite able to reach, was something else. And I didn't know what it was.
I finished my two sandwiches and glass of milk. Leaving the newspaper untouched on the table, I undressed and took a hot bath. In bed, I lay in the darkness, my eyes open, thinking.
I was Orville Snyder, and I had killed my wife. After I had killed her something had snapped, blotting out all memory of the deed. I definitely couldn't remember killing that woman! When that something snapped I became a schizo and took the identity of Fred Martin. Unfortunately I couldn't make the schizo switch perfect.
On the other hand, I was Fred Martin. I lived in a bachelor apartment and had been living there for three years. My car was down in the garage in back of the apartment house. My books with my name in them were on the bookshelves gathering dust. I had never heard of Orville Snyder until today.