Gerald was ripped from his unconsciousness by a surge of water, attacking like thousands of shooting needles. His hands were restrained from blocking the deluge, nor could he run. He tried to yell, which only resulted in the torrent forcing its way into his throat.
When it finally stopped, he choked and coughed until the last of the water was out. It took him another minute to catch his breath. Under his reddened tattooed skin, his heart was performing a drum roll.
Skin. He peered down at himself. He was naked, save for his soaked underwear. His arms and legs were stretched outwards, wrists and ankles handcuffed to metal hooks on the wall like a human X. Ahead, a middle-aged man stood watching, holding a dripping fire hose.
“What the hell is this?” Gerald demanded.
“You look like The Vitruvian Man,” the stranger responded. If it was meant as a joke, the man’s face wasn’t in on it.
“Huh?”
“Oh, of course, you have no idea what that is. Because you’re a dullard.”
“What?”
“An imbecile. Fool, cretin, ignoramus. A moron and a waste of life.”
Gerald yanked and tugged, but without budge. The man stepped closer, the heavy bags under his eyes magnifying through his glasses.
“Yeah?” Gerald spit in his face. “Well, you’re a dead man! As soon as I get out of here, I swear to God I’m go–”
Before Gerald could even register the fist pounding his nose, the man had forced his fingers into his mouth and was stretching it apart. Gerald thrashed his head about until the man delivered another crunching fist, this time releasing a steady stream of blood from his nose.
“Open wide, or I’ll bash your teeth in,” the man said, then forced the hose’s metal nozzle into Gerald’s mouth. In a matter of seconds, the man had strung duct tape around Gerald’s head upwards of ten times, covering the bottom half of his face and securing the brass mouth gag. The pull-lever sat right above Gerald’s nose.
With his nostrils sealed by the duct tape, Gerald struggled to breathe. Calmly, the man removed a handkerchief and wiped the spit from his face while Gerald thrashed his head about.
“Oh, you’re turning blue,” he said, then pulled out a pointed knife and jabbed it upwards twice. Bloodied air sprayed out of the holes as Gerald’s nostrils were finally freed.
But the relief was short-lived. With his mouth pried over the vast nozzle, the pain in Gerald’s jaws grew by the second.
The man took a step back and surveyed his subject, his gaunt shivering body covered in ink, the long hose connected to his mouth like a massive ventilator.
“Your name is Gerald Hendrickson,” he said.
Gerald bulged fuming eyes in defiance, but they quickly widened in fear when the man wrapped threatening fingers around the pull-lever.
He leaned in close. “One pull and your lungs will flood with water, and in a matter of seconds, your body will drown in itself. Nod if you understand me.”
With panicked breaths hissing through the tape holes, Gerald obliged.
“You’ve done some bad things, haven’t you, Gerald?”
Gerald stared back blankly until the man’s knuckles grew white around the lever, at which point he nodded fitfully.
Satisfied, the man stepped back and retrieved a folded sheet of paper from his jacket pocket. “Grand larceny, battery twice–one aggravated, forgery, a handful of drug crimes, sexual assault…”
Gerald could do nothing but scowl as the stranger read him his rap sheet.
“…let’s see…ah yes…rape, kidnapping and homicide in the first degree.”
Gerald shook his head as muffled sounds warbled under the tape.
“Oh, did you have something to say, Gerald?”
More indiscernible grunts.
The man held up his knife in front of Gerald’s face. “Am I to assume you’re going to play nice?”
Gerald nodded. His nose whistled.
The man cut the tape, then ripped it around until the hose fell to the floor. Gerald wheezed and coughed, then shifted his strained jaw about.
“I didn’t rape or kill anyone!” he finally got out, then spit a wad of bloody phlegm onto the floor.
“No?”
“No!”
“Righty or lefty?”
“What?”
“Are you right-handed or left-handed, Gerald?”
A quick hesitation. “Righty.”
THWAP!
The man socked Gerald again in the nose, which had now lost all form. More blood poured from the clumpy ball of flesh.
“You see, Gerald, I know you’re a lefty,” the man said as he walked over to the hook holding up Gerald’s right wrist. He keyed the handcuff and Gerald’s arm swung limply to his side. “Do yourself a favor: don’t lie to me.”
Gerald shook the life back into his arm.
Calmly, the man reached back into his jacket pocket, removed a folded piece of newspaper, and handed it to Gerald.
“What the hell is this?” he asked, studying the clipping.
“Why don’t you read it aloud.”
“A Johnson County jury on Tuesday found Gerald Hendrickson, 34, guilty of first-degree murder in the death of 19-year-old Elizabeth Riley of Kansas City, Kansas…” Gerald stopped and looked up. “Man, what the hell is this? I didn’t do–”
“READ!” the man roared, his face now red and moist.
“…and one count of rape and aggravated kidnapping. Riley’s body was found in a vacant warehouse in October…2029?” Gerald looked up again but quickly dropped his head after seeing the man’s boiling rage. “She had been missing for six days when a building contractor discovered her body in a vacant warehouse basement. Investigators say Riley died from injuries sustained from the attack. With the unoccupied building locked, Riley was left unable to seek food, water, or medical attention, if she even regained consciousness at all.”
“That’s enough,” the man croaked.
“Mister Riley, sir, I don’t kno–”
“I said that’s enough!”
The man walked to the far corner and buried his head into his hands. After several minutes of muffled cries, he turned around and stomped back. Peering out from dark shadows, the man’s eyes studied Gerald up and down.
“What’s that tattoo on your neck?” he finally said.
“Whi…which one?” Gerald asked, his voice quivering.
The man peered around. “Not the lips.”
“Um…it says TAKE WHAT’S YOURS.”
“Well isn’t that fitting,” the man scoffed.
Swiftly, he pulled out his knife and approached.
“Hey, what’re you do…Hey! What–”
The man pinched the side of Gerald’s neck and jammed the knife into his skin. Gerald howled in agony as the man carved, then finally ripped the tattooed patch of skin and chucked it to the ground. Gerald’s wails continued as blood ran down his body.
“No one can hear you down here,” the man said, wiping the blade on his handkerchief.
“Please! Please, Mister Riley! I didn’t–”
“Doctor Riley.”
“Doctor Riley, I didn’t do none of this! I never even met your girl! You got the wrong Gerald Hendrickson! Look at the goddamn date!”
“The date?”
“In the article! 2029! That’s six years from now! It’s all wrong! That’s not even my age!” Gerald stretched the article forward, begging the man to see his mistake. “You see?”
Looking down at the clipping, the man asked, “How old are you, Gerald?”
“Twenty-eight, sir! I’m only twenty-eight!”
“Gerald Hendrickson, 34…,” he read. “So let’s see, 34 minus…” He counted on his fingers. “That’s…six years?”
“Oh God. Doctor Riley, ple–”
“Shut up.”
Gerald did, though his pleading sniffles continued in earnest. The man crumpled the paper and threw it to the ground.
“Now, why do you think I’m here, Gerald?”
“You want revenge because you think I killed your daughter. But Doctor Riley, I didn’t do this! I’ve never–”
“Close, but not quite,” the man interjected, then reached behind his back and came forward with a pistol.
“Oh, God. Oh, God!”
“I’m not so interested in revenge, Gerald. You see, what I’m really interested in is deterrence.”
“Wha…whaddya mean?” Gerald pleaded, his eyes fixed on the gun.
“What I mean is, I’m here to prevent you from killing my daughter,” he said, loading a bullet into the chamber.
Bloodied sweat poured from Gerald’s head and dripped onto the concrete. “I…I don’t understand, Mister…Doctor Riley. You said I already did it.”
“Well, yes and no. You see, Gerald, for years I was part of a select group of scientists working on a clandestine project for the government. In 2029, I was forced to quit that project after my little girl went missing. God, if you could’ve seen my wife and me those six days. Pacing around the phone while search teams combed the city, not sleeping a wink. By day three we went out there ourselves. And my God, when that man found her body–her bruised, ravaged bod…”
The man’s voice cracked and trailed off. He pulled out the bloody handkerchief and wiped his tears.
“It took months to find the guy who did it, and of course with the glacial pace of our justice system, another year-and-a-half before we got a conviction. DNA evidence proved it without a shadow of a doubt.
“It was only then that I jumped back into my work, though with a much greater purpose. And guess what? I succeeded. It took years–years my wife and I spent in grieving hell. And if I wasn’t the astrophysicist I am–a damn good one, mind you–I’d still be stuck in that nightmare. But I finally did it.”
“Did what?”
“See, Gerald, in 2029, you will…you did murder Elizabeth. For what reason, I’ve no idea. Is there really any reason why someone does that to a person? But when my work was finally done, I knew she’d get another chance.”
“I…I don’t understand,” Gerald said, his bottom lip trembling.
“You want to know the weird thing about time travel, Gerald? When you go back in time, you effectively clone yourself–you and younger you. Except only one of you knows what the future holds. The other remains in blissful naiveté of the past–his present, of course.”
“Please, Doctor Riley. You don’t have to kill me. I dunno a thing about time travel, but you and your wife can go…back to the future, or whatever, knowing I’ll never touch a hair on your daughter’s head. I’ll leave the country forever. Whatever you want. Please, anything! Just let me go!”
The man cocked the gun.
“The future? I’m not going back to the future, Gerald. My wife is already dead. Well, the one in 2029, anyways. Had I not succeeded in this whole thing, I would’ve kicked the chair with her. No, my future–the version you destroyed–will go with me to my grave. Today.”
The man grabbed Gerald’s right wrist and cuffed in back to the wall hook.
“The only future I care about is the one where Elizabeth is still alive. I’m here to make sure the Rileys of 2023 continue living the happy life they enjoyed before you entered the picture.”
“Doctor Riley, please, you don’t need to–”
“You know, this warehouse has been abandoned on the city outskirts for several years. I’m guessing that’s why you chose it. It’ll be another six before that contractor stumbles in here. Elizabeth didn’t make it six days, but of course, she’d been raped and beaten. I’m guessing you’ll take longer. If you get thirsty, the hose is right there.”
“Doctor Ri–”
After the crack of the gun, there was only silence.
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