THE NEXT day, I got to work late. Traffic was heavy along the East Coast Demerara highway, and I had to negotiate two police roadblocks.
My car was searched at the first, and I was luckily waved on at the second. It seemed that crime in Guyana was having more of a negative effect on the innocent, while the guilty lived to fight another day.

Things seemed the same when I arrived at work. I had sedated myself some more in order to survive the roadblocks, so I was not aware of the buzz among the supermarket staff.
“Suresh gone crazy, boy.” The cashier’s words brought me back to the present. I felt a moment’s elation, then shame at my actions. I hoped he hadn’t bet too much, but I needed to teach him a lesson.
Suresh rushed out of the office and hugged me, beaming in delight.
“Boy, you is de best! I win $200,000.”
I felt weak, and my head began its familiar pounding. Why me? I reported sick and returned home, feeling very confused. Something wasn’t adding up. Or was it?
The next week, I returned to work and immediately realized that everything there had changed for me. My colleagues were constantly asking me for advice on what I thought would happen, if…
I did my best to deflect their approaches, and when this failed to curb their new obsession, I resorted to telling them the wildest things that came to mind at that moment. Crazy as they sounded to me, each utterance came to pass. I sure was slow in learning from my encounters with Suresh.
Molly and I discussed the constant invasion of my privacy by workers, and we thought it best for me to resign. The next day I quit. At least now I would get some peace.
A week after, Suresh arrived with three friends. He said that he was in the neighbourhood and decided to drop in to see me. I saw through this fib, but still welcomed him. He told me that he, too, had resigned, and was shortly going into business with some friends. Coincidentally, they were the same fellows he had brought with him. They were opening a new horseracing service. They asked me to join them as a partner. This request took me by surprise, but quick reflection told me that Suresh was the main engine behind this move.
He wanted to ride his luck, with me as lucky charm. I told them I’d discuss it with Molly and get back to them.
Molly had no objections. In fact, she encouraged me, and I wondered how much she suspected about my strange ‘powers’ of guessing. I gave Suresh and my other partners my consent, and the business was launched.
The new venture flourished. Each time I guessed a winner, I hit the bull’s eye. For sometime now, I had begun to speculate about these strange occurrences. Was I clairvoyant? A medium? These thoughts had been going around in my head regularly, and I felt I already knew the answer, and how it had come about.
Our business boomed so much that in a year, I was able to finally buy a house for my family. In December, we decided to visit friends in the USA. This first visit to the States was filled with excitement for everyone. We toured New York, Manhattan and San Francisco. An old schoolmate invited me to visit him in Detroit, and that’s when things began to unfold.
Molly and the girls remained in New York at her sister, while I rushed off to La Guardia Airport to catch my flight. There was a two-hour delay, and when at last American Airways announced my flight, I was a bit frustrated. As I approached the check-in counter, a feeling of disaster engulfed me. I tried to shake it off, but could not.
The reservations clerk took my ticket, and after doing the necessary checks, gave it back to me with my boarding pass. On my way down the chute to the aircraft, the feeling intensified. I began to feel sick. My head felt as if it would split open, and I had to struggle not to throw up. A firm hand on my upper arm steered me towards the cabin door. An airline official had noticed me, and had come to the rescue.
“I’ll take you to your seat sir.”
He smiled politely and guided me past other boarding passengers. As I sank into my seat, I was hoping to feel some relief. Quite the opposite happened. Things got much worse. This time I felt as if I was being suffocated in woe. Jumping up from my seat, I raced for the exit. The official reappeared.
“Is everything okay, sir?”
He looked puzzled and slightly annoyed.
“I’ve got to get off this plane.” Although I didn’t mean to shout, that was what came out.
“Why is that, may I ask?” He fast becoming suspicious.
“I feel something bad will happen; not flying now at all!”
“Come with me, sir.” This last remark was also an order, for his grip was vice-like as we headed for an interrogation room.
After one-and-a-half hours of intense questions, and a thorough search of me and my luggage, I was allowed to leave. They were puzzled by my insistence that something terrible was going to happen on my flight, and equally fascinated that I hadn’t the faintest clue as to what would take place.
The flight had departed during my interrogation. I headed for home in the heavy New York traffic. The going was slow, and I had to use a sedative to relieve the headache.
When I arrived home, the first thing I noticed was the patrol cars in our street, and the flashing lights.
“Dear God, please let Molly and the girls be okay,” I prayed aloud.
Maybe that was what this bad feelings was about; a warning. I recalled that as soon as I had cleared the aircraft, the feeling of impending doom had evaporated. Exiting the taxi, I raced wildly inside.
Carol and Molly were speaking to the cops. The two sisters were obviously angry, as could be seen from their animated gesticulations. As I entered the room, all attention centered on me. Someone came up behind me, and I looked back into the hostile eyes of a cop. The guy was six-feet-plus and pissed.
A plainclothes policeman came over and said, “Sir, we need you at the precinct for questioning.”
“What!” I was thrown completely off-balance by this remark.
“How are the girls?” This was directed at Molly.
“They are okay. What’s going on, Travis?”
I shrugged my shoulders in bewilderment and turned to the policeman.
“I don’t understand?”
“We’ll explain when we get there,” was all he offered. He took my upper arm and pushed me towards the door.
Carol materialized in the doorway, blocking his path. Her eyes were flashing in anger and defiance.
“Oh no, you don’t! What do you want with him? We want to know now, not later at the precinct.”
“There was an accident, and we believe he can assist us with our investigations.”
Molly’s eyes widened in shock, and Carol stepped aside, stunned.
“But… but…” I tried to regain my composure and proclaim my innocence.
“We’ll soon clear everything up; trust me.” He led the way.
I headed for the rows of squad cars with the hand of the giant cop firmly gripping my shoulder. I felt as if I had a broken collarbone and prayed that it was not. If I got ambitious and made a dash for it, I knew that whatever he held in his hand would remain there. I didn’t fancy having one shoulder, so I went peacefully.
The next three days were spent giving statements over and over, and answering all sorts of questions.
I was informed that my flight — the one I refused to travel on — had crashed, killing thirty-three people. Two of the flight crew had survived, but were both in critical condition.
My interrogators were thorough.
“Nationality?”
“Place of birth?”
“Religion?”
“Names of family members?”
“Names of your best friends?”
“Names of your business partners?”
“Religion of your business partners?”
“Have you ever read the Koran?”
“Have you ever visited a Mosque?”

I thanked God that all my business associates were Hindu, and I hardly ever went to church, much less a mosque.
Realising what they were implying, I began to grow angrier and angrier. Soon, I was shouting at them. My head began to throb, and I could no longer think straight. The three men left the room. I later found out that they had all developed severe headaches.
Molly and Carol came to visit, and were allowed only fifteen minutes. This took place in the presence of an officer. I was well and truly a prisoner, and a high-risk one, it seemed.
The girls were very worried about daddy. Molly was adamant that I stop answering anymore questions until I was allowed a lawyer. Carol had contacted a friend, and he was taking the case. I felt much better when they departed.
The FBI took over the investigation and moved me to Washington DC. The questions were more intense, but less accusatory.
“How is your business back home doing?”
“Do your friends travel?”
“Which countries have they visited?”
Two weeks later, no more progress had been made. One of the agents asked me how I felt about guessing things.
“Did you guess that something bad would happen to the flight?”
This line of questioning troubled me, because I had the creepy feeling that this odd skill had something to do with everything that was happening. I wished it would go away.
When I replied, I thought out my answer.
“Not really. I just felt awful about flying at that moment.”
“Have you ever felt this way about flying before?”
“No!”
It went on and on.
A doctor was summoned, and he began another line of questioning. I guessed right away that he was either a psychologist or a counsellor.
“How do you feel about America?”
“How do you feel about Israel?”
“How do you feel about the Middle East, Afghanistan, Iraq, Iran?”
The questions suddenly changed direction.
“Is Molly a Muslim?”
“No!!” I felt rage because he was involving the woman I loved.
“Does she have friends who are?”
“Don’t know!”
“Is she sympathetic towards the Palestinians?”
“Stop!!” My voice seemed to explode in my ears, and my head began to hum.
Dr. Springer put his head into his opened palms and groaned in pain. He, too, was having a headache.
Good! Maybe he would stop bothering me now.

Find out next week how it all ends for Travis…