Beyond the Pale by Thomas O’Connell

“Dad, it’s me,” Steven panted into the phone. “I called 911 on the drive over.” “Steven,” a man on the other end said, followed by a low, deliberate inhale. “Dad, I’m at the gate but I don’t know the code to punch into the keypad.” “I would think you’d know.” “But I don’t,” Steven shouted. “You need to tell me.” He checked his phone, a half-hour since his dad called him. “Dad, the ambulance won’t get in either,” Steven pleaded, grabbing the gate. “I need the code.” “Maybe my birthday,” a soft voice said. “Great, May 10th, no 15th? 0515?” “That’s my birthday.” Steven punched the keys, stepping back from the gate. It didn’t move. “Not it, Dad. What else could it be?” “Maybe the year your mother and I married.” “Okay, what year was that?” “What year?” “Yeah, Dad. Don’t you remember?” “Oh, I remember- 1963.” “That’s not it either. You’ve gotta remember; I only have one more try. Punch in the wrong code three times, the system thinks someone’s breaking in.” “I think it’s your birth year? You know that don’t you?” Steven punched in the same code as his ATM pin. “Not it, Dad. Now you’re screwed, I can’t get in.” “I remember, the code is today’s date. Try that.” “Today’s date? I can’t, I’m out of tries.” Steven’s father adjusted his pillow. Reaching to place the phone on the cradle he knocked over the pill bottle, startling as it fell until he remembered it was empty.

.

Return to This Week’s Flash