Weirdness Magnet

This is an old story, from the mid eighties. I am a geezer, yes.

Back in the mid-to late- eighties, my best friends were a group of fantasy/sci-fi-addicted gamer geeks who read a lot and watched an inordinate amount of TV shows like Dr. Who, Blake's Seven, and Classic Star Trek.
Let me give you a run-down on who they were, and are, as we still see each other once in a while.

Bob, a short, small "tough guy" type. Pagan, long red hair, good at making swords in shop class, not particularly computer-oriented. Loyal to a fault. The exact sort of person you want watching your back.

Steve, a tall, charismatic weirdo. Syrian background, funny and lucky as hell, could (and still can) quote every humorous comic book, movie, and TV show line ever viewed. The exact sort of person you want around to make you laugh.

Ed, a tall, pudgy, nice-guy type. Intelligent and fun to hang out with, but able to kill a joke on contact. He's reliable, comfortable, and the exact sort of person everyone wants as their best friend.

I don't know what sort of three-line summary they'd come up with for me, or if I'm the exact sort of person anyone would want around for any particular reason, but those are my best friends, nice to meet you, same here, thanks very much.

Back in those days, I kept a kind of a journal of dreams, odd things I had seen or sensed, and other ephemera. Most of it was drawn, as I am a cartoonist and often can draw something more articulately, and succinctly, than describing it with words.

I had experienced a cold-sweat nightmare of Steve getting hit by a car, and drew a picture of what I had seen: round headlights, Steve, in silhouette, wearing an army coat and his 12-foot-long rainbow scarf, throwing his arms up protectively. There was a small, weird item flying off to the side-- a collection of flat cards or plates of some sort connected by a round thing-- a clip or a ring. In the dream, which was only a few seconds, I had seen him walking, then turning abruptly and being struck. Nothing more.

Let me just stop here for a moment and let you think about all of the things that you might do, in the same situation. If you were faced with the sort of inconsistent visions, weird hunches, and recurring nightmares that I have, combined with the still-fresh experience of precognitive dreams about the deaths of two of your now- deceased friends. And then there's that it was Steve. Steve, who could dismiss anything magick, pagan, or simply unexplainable with a wave of his hand, a quip, and a flash of his entirely too-perfect smile. He had an invulnerability about him that I'm sure the rest of us envied. Me, with my strangeness, Bob, with his knack for injuring himself, and Ed, who, knight-like, pretty much hurts when you do.

I didn't want to tell him, because he'd mock me, viciously, if it never came to pass. If it did come to pass, he'd be dead or injured and pissed at me for having told him and making it a self-fulfilling prophesy. If I didn't tell him, and it didn't happen, I'd doubt myself anytime I had any sort of intuitive sense, and if I didn't tell him, and it did happen, I'd feel guilty as...well, I already felt pretty damned awful about the other two.

So, I didn't tell him, and I agonized about it. But at some point Steve came over to hang out or something and snooped around in my book, and saw the drawing. He made some sort of excuse and left in a hurry. I didn't know for sure he had seen it then until a while later, but I suspected, and did what I should have done in the first place; I told Bob.

Bob's idea was simple- Steve's rainbow scarf was in the picture. Therefore, steal the scarf, and the picture will not happen. He formulated a plan of attack, and carefully managed to get Steve's scarf "stolen" by a mutual friend. It worked. For about six months. But in March, our friend had all of us over, and the scarf was discovered.

Steve decided to wear it to a birthday party that was out in the country, and that all of us were attending. I felt weird and distracted all day, but was trying to put a game face on. A bunch of us went hiking in the woods and Steve somehow wound up with a little cut on his forehead, from a branch or something, so he and I turned around to get a bandaid out of my backpack, which was back at the house.

Anyway, I might have mentioned that Steve is a lot taller than I am, and has a stride that is a chore to keep up with. Feeling a bit like a hobbit keeping up with Strider, I gave up and lagged behind. He made it nearly out to the road by the time I was walking across the outfield of the baseball diamond that we cut through to get to the woods. So, I had a pretty decent view when the car came barreling down the road at about the same time Steve stepped out onto it. He got hit, and the driver paused, then sped off. Steve, who bounced off the hood, scarf flying, wound up in the grassy drainage ditch by the side of the road. And I somehow wound up there too, although I don't remember running. And of course, with Steve's luck being what it is, the next person there was an off-duty nurse, who had been riding her bike. The ambulance arrived only minutes later. The rest of the day is kind of a blur, although I remember how he looked at me when I got to him, and feeling relieved when he walked out of the ambulance on his own. He stepped down into the ditch for the spilled contents of his pockets, and retrieved a round key ring with a collection of paper cards on it-- a paper delivery boy's way of keeping a record of who paid and who did not. He said he didn't even remember having them in his pocket as he had given up the route months beforehand.