Face Blind

by Len Melvin

  “Yeah, I think so.” Beaux wrung her hands to get the circulation back in them. She fastened the buckle on her pants, then picked the baseball cap up from the ground. She dusted it off, then put it on her head, and rubbed her face. She stared at the blood on her hand and grimaced. Quickly, she stepped over to where Miguel lay on the ground and gave him a swift kick in the ribs. “You fucker.”

  Miguel screamed and rolled away. “Let’s take care of him right now.” Malouf crossed the room to where his baton lay. He picked it up, walked over to where Miguel lay and touched him on the shoulder. Miguel rolled over and lay still. “Now he can suffer without us having to hear it.”

  He gazed at Beaux, then seemed to shake himself and stooped in front of Simon, working the cuffs from his wrists. Simon slid over and lay on his side. “He’s lost a lot of blood.” Malouf stood and put a hand to his ear. He said something, his voice muffled by the collar of his jacket, listened, then spoke again.

  “What are you doing?” Beaux was still rubbing her wrists.

  “Talking to the droids. They’ll be here soon.”

  Beaux kneeled next to Simon, tugged him upright, then wrapped her arms around him. “Are you okay, Uncle Simon?”

  Simon nodded slowly, as if drugged. “I think so,” he mumbled.

  “He needs some blood fast.” Malouf checked his watch and then the entrance to the cavern. “The droids should be here soon.”

  Beaux let go of Simon and stood to face Malouf. “You,” she said.

  “What?”

  Beaux stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. She held him close, grasping him in silence and then released him and placed a hand on either side of his face. “You,” she said again. She gave him a deep kiss and then stepped back, her hands still enveloping his face.

  “What?”

  “You did it again.”

  “Did what?”

  “I guess you just can't help it.” Malouf didn’t reply. “Always interfering.”

  Malouf looked away briefly and then back at Beaux. He cupped a hand under her chin and gazed into her eyes. “In the end,” he began slowly with a small shake of the head, “no matter what, I just couldn’t let what was going to happen to you happen.”

  “I know.” Beaux hugged him again. “Really good man. Really bad chrononaut.”

  Malouf smiled. “Don’t tell anybody.” He took a tissue from his pocket and wiped it gently across the wound under Beaux’s eye. “You need some magic cream.”

  “Thanks, Malouf.” She kissed him again and backed away. “A baseball bat?” She asked in a tone of false accusation. “A guy from the future and that’s all you got? A baseball bat?”

  “Someone stole my baton.”

  There was a sharp rap at the entranceway to the cavern and Malouf pulled away and went to the stairs in the corner of the room. He climbed several steps and unlocked the wooden door. He stepped down as two droids descended. “Where are the others?’

  “At the staging area per your orders.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “It’s really bad out there, Sir,” one of the droids said.

  “I imagine. If you guys could have handled the cloak, I might have been able to see it rather than being down in this hole.”

  “Did you find out what really happened down here in the cavern?” the droid asked.

  “I did. I’ll tell you later.” Malouf stooped down next to Simon who slumped against the table leg with his head down. “He needs some SB right now.”

  “But, Sir, we…”

  “And turn off your cameras.”

  “We can’t do that,” one of the droids reminded him. “We’re down in the cavern. This is a historic venue. It’s against the rules. And we’re not supposed to help. Only observe. Besides we don't know anything about his system. It could be…”

  “Just do it.” Malouf interrupted. “Turn them off and now. And don’t worry about his system. If he doesn’t get some SB now, it won’t matter because he’ll be dead.”

  Beaux sat on the floor next to Simon, her arms around him, whispering softly. She stopped and tuned her face up to Malouf. “SB?”

  “Synthetic blood.” The droids stared at him unmoving, and Malouf raised his voice to a shout that filled the interior of the cavern. “Do it. Now.”

  The droid hesitated and then knelt in front of Simon and opened a small metal pail that he had pulled from his backpack. He looked at Malouf and Malouf held up four fingers. “That’s more than half of our supply,” the droid protested. “If something should happen to you, Sir, then…”

  “Do it,” Malouf repeated.

  With a resigned sigh, he took a small rod from the pail and then extended it. He hit a button and a tripod popped out from the bottom. The droid positioned it on the rough floor, and then hung a packet containing a red liquid from a rung on the rod. He pulled a syringe from the pail, and took the cover from it, and connected it to the packet. A dull red liquid filled the syringe. Glancing at Malouf one more time and then with a sigh of reluctance, he stuck the needle into Simon’s arm.

  “A patch and some cream.” Malouf said. “And for her too. The cut under her eye.” Malouf pointed at Beaux

  “A patch and cream?” The droid replied. “I don’t have enough for both. You’ve dispensed our entire supply.”

  “Just him,” Beaux motioned to Simon. “I’m okay.”

  “Okay,” Malouf left his gaze on Beaux for a moment and then turned to the droid. “Just do him.” Malouf looked at the other droid who was standing silently to the side, an arm dangling at an odd angle from one shoulder and an ear missing. “What happened to him?”

  “An explosion,” the droid treating Simon said as he rummaged around in his pack. “Most of the back of his head is gone, also.”

  Malouf walked around behind the droid and examined the backside of the droid’s head. “Oh, that’s bad.”

  “Good thing you were down here, Sir.” The droid ripped Simon’s sleeve off and applied some powder on his arm. “His speech is gone, too.”

  “Is that right?” Malouf said. “Okay, I guess it’s salvage time. How long’s it going to be over there?”

  “If everything,” the droid gave Malouf a stern glance, “works out, maybe ten to twenty minutes.”

  “Well, hurry. We don’t have much time. The Federals will be coming down one of these tunnels soon.”

  “I don’t know, Sir. It was pretty bad up there. Lots of confusion and chaos.”

  “Did you get good some good footage of the event?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good.” Malouf circled behind the second droid and raised the back of his shirt.

  “What are you doing?” Beaux asked, craning her head to see from her spot on the floor next to Simon.

  “Disabling him.” Malouf pulled up a flap down on the droid’s back and took out a small metal object. He eased the droid to the floor as he began to shut down, putting one hand on the droid’s head, and holding it steady for leverage. With the other hand, he pried one of the eyes from the droid’s socket.

  “What are you doing?” Beaux’s face scrunched in disgust.

  “Removing the cameras.” Malouf dug the other eye from its socket, cradling the eyes in his hand and then put them in a velvet pouch with drawstrings he had taken from the droid’s backpack. He grabbed the droid by its good arm and dragged him toward one of the tunnels.

  “Now what?”

  Malouf looked at Beaux with a smile. “Well, there’s going to be a small detonation.”

  “What?”

  “Well, I can’t very well leave an android here in the past, can I?”

  “I guess not.” Beaux turned back to Simon, who still sagged against the table.

  Malouf disappeared into one of the tunnels and then returned in a full stride. He stood to the side of the opening, his back against the wall and his hands over his ears. “Cover up.”

  Beaux wrapped her arms around Simon’s head and covered her ears with her palm
s. There was a yellow flash and a muffled explosion. “Is that it?’

  “Yeah, it’s not much but better to be careful.”

  Simon moaned and opened his eyes. He wiped an arm across his mouth and struggled to sit up. “What happened?”

  “This one’s a strong one,” the droid commented as he connected another pack to the tube going into Simon’s arm. “I’m going to start with the patch.” He pressed a hand against Simon’s chest and gently pushed him back. “I’m going to put some cream on your wound and then a patch. It might hurt a little.”

  “All right.”

  Malouf nodded and sat down on the ground in the middle of the room. He put his chin on his knees as he rocked back in forth in thought. “I have a problem.”

  “What problem?” Beaux wiped a hand across Simon’s brow. “How do you feel?”

  “Better. What happened?”

  “You lost a lot of blood. So Malouf got you a transfusion.”

  Simon looked down at the tube connected to his arm. “Transfusion? How so quick?”

  “I’ll tell you later. Now they’re going to put some magic cream on your wound and then patch it.”

  Simon squinted his eyes. “Magic cream?”

  “Yes.” Beaux turned to Malouf. “What problem?”

  Malouf rose and stared down at Miguel, then stepped over him and walked over to Number Eight. He studied Number Eight’s prone body, a look of puzzlement on his face.

  “What are you thinking?” Beaux asked.

  Malouf held a hand up. “Just a minute.”

  Simon tugged on Beaux’s sleeve. “What happened?”

  “What’s the last thing you remember?”

  “It’s kind of blurry.” Simon rubbed his forehead. “I remember Number Eight shot me and then I remember you touched him with that baton thing. I remember Miguel with a knife to your face, and then it seems like there was something about a baseball bat…”

  Beaux smiled. “Malouf hit Miguel with a baseball bat.”

  Malouf finished his examination and joined Beaux and Simon at the table. “I’ll tell you everything in a moment.” He turned to the droid. “How much longer?”

  “He should have one more packet of blood to be safe.” The droid lifted his face up to Malouf. “You hit someone with a baseball bat?”

  “No, of course not. It’s a human expression from this time period. I’ll explain later. Now hurry.” Malouf went back to Miguel and turned him over with his boot. He knelt, grabbed Miguel’s chin and tilted it one way and then the other. “Who is this?” he asked Simon. “Tell me everything about him.”

  Simon took a deep breath. “His name is Miguel Mahoney. He’s half-Spanish and half-Irish and he’s a stone-cold killer—a serial killer who tortures, rapes, mutilates.” Simon stopped as he winced and glanced at the droid. “Careful.”

  “Sorry, it slipped.”

  “Anyway, he’s a killer who enjoys it. He was connected to a lot of murders across Europe but I know personally of two people he killed, plus a detective in Barcelona. And all three had to be identified through dental records or other some other forensic method. I helped put him in jail a while back and I thought he was still there.”

  Malouf straightened. “He’s got to go.”

  “What do you mean?” Beaux asked.

  “He’s got to go. He can’t be allowed to live.”

  “You can’t just kill him,” Beaux said.

  “Actually, she’s right,” the droid agreed. “We are not to get involved. I know we already have, but we are not to go any further. And I will have to put everything into my final report.”

  “I guess you will,” Malouf smiled at the droid.

  “You go to assassinations, don’t you?” Simon spoke up.

  Malouf and the droid exchanged looks of concern and then Malouf looked at Simon. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because I’ve seen you.”

  “Seen me?”

  “At different assassinations. Garfield’s, Anwar Sadat, both Kennedy’s and there’s a drawing of you at Lincoln’s.”

  Malouf ran a hand through his hair, glanced at the droid and back at Simon. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’ve seen you. I study assassinations. There are photos of you at these assassinations and at others. And at John Kennedy’s, I saw you walking alongside the motorcade. That's why it bothered me when I met you because I knew I had seen you before.”

  A trace of a smile came crossed Malouf’s face. He dipped his head toward Simon, a slight nod of admiration. “Very good. I’m impressed.”

  “Where do you come from?” Simon asked.

  “The future.”

  “The future?” Simon stared at Malouf and then cast a glance at Beaux as if seeking confirmation.

  “Sir, you cannot talk to them about what we do. It’s against…”

  Malouf held up a hand as he interrupted. “Shut up.”

  “Yes, Sir. But I will still have to…” The droid stopped as Malouf extended his hand.

  “Listen to me.” Malouf turned back to Beaux and Simon, the smile gone, his expression stern. “There’s not much time, so listen to what I have to say. I knew both of your names. Everyone knows your names in the future.” Malouf looked at Beaux. “It’s why I was so surprised when I learned your real name.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Beaux. “What do you mean you knew our names?”

  “What do you mean everyone knows our names?” asked Simon.

  “You said you study assassinations?” Malouf asked Simon.

  “Yes.”

  “You know the name J.D. Tippet?”

  “Of course. Everyone knows that name. He was the policeman killed by Lee Harvey Oswald.”

  “Well, supposedly,” Malouf smiled. “Anyway, everyone in the future knows your names,” Malouf pointed a finger at Simon and then at Beaux, “the same way you know the name J.D. Tippett.”

  Simon and Beaux were silent. “You mean…?” Beaux began slowly. “You mean…?”

  “What are you saying?” Simon asked.

  “Miguel killed you both.” Beaux and Simon looked at each other and then at Miguel. “But not until now did anyone know that.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Beaux.

  Malouf motioned to the droid who was putting empty blood packets back in his pail. “Tell them.”

  “The story was always that he had killed the both of you.” The droid pointed at Number Eight.

  “His name is actually Varnado Jones,” Malouf explained. “His name is one that scares little children in the future. Until today we all thought that he was the one who did,” Malouf hesitated and glanced at Beaux, “the things that were done to you.” Malouf walked over to where Miguel lay and stared down at him. “No one knew about this guy. This is one of the reasons we study these things.”

  “He killed us?” Simon asked.

  “More than that,” Malouf said in a low voice. “A lot more than that. In the future he is referred to as the Cannibal of the Cavern. And he was especially bad with you.” Malouf said to Beaux. “This,” Malouf nudged Miguel with his boot, “is a monster. He cannot be allowed to continue to live.”

  The droid smoothed a square, white patch across Simon’s wound. “We are not to interfere,” he warned, turning to face Malouf.

  “Are you through with the patch?”

  “Yes, sir.” The droid put tape back into his pail and sat back.

  “Put another patch on just in case.”

  “I think that ought to be enough.”

  “Just do it. I want to be sure.”

  The droid knelt on one knee and rooted through the backpack for another patch. Malouf stepped back, picked up the baseball bat from the floor, and went to the droid. “Hey.”

  The droid looked up, and with a long swing, Malouf caught him under the chin just as he turned. The droid fell over on the floor, half of his face gone, wires and metal casings poking from the side of his head.

  “What the…? What di
d you just do?” Simon jerked forward.

  “Don’t worry.” Beaux laid a hand on Simon’s arm. “He’s an android. He’s not human.”

  “Not human?”

  “No, not human.” Malouf propped the bat on his shoulder, then took a practice swing. “You know,” Malouf began to laugh, “I think,” and then Malouf laughed again, and then stifled the laughter with a hand and faced them, “I’m really going to like this game of baseball.”

  The droid twitched, then attempted to sit up. Malouf stopped laughing and dropped the bat. He moved behind the droid, opened a flap, and pulled out his battery pack. The droid made a whirring sound, then fell, silent to the floor. Malouf turned him on his side and pried his eyes from his sockets.

  “What are you doing?” Simon asked.

  “The eyes are video cameras,” Beaux said. Malouf took a small camera from his pocket. “What are you doing now?” asked Beaux.

  “Documenting the damage the explosions did to him.” Malouf smiled. “I did it with the other one, also. These guys are expensive. I can’t just show back up without them.” He grabbed the droid by his shirt and dragged him into the tunnel. He returned quickly, picked up the backpack and empty blood packets the android had been using and went back into the tunnel. He came a moment later, stepped to the side of the opening, and waited for the explosion.

  He nodded, then crossed the cavern to stand over Beaux and Simon. “Now,” he said, “we have some work to do.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “I said earlier that I had a problem.”

  “What’s the problem?” asked Beaux.

  “Okay, let’s think this thing through,” Malouf said, standing over them, his arms folded across his chest. “I’m down in the cavern filming what actually happened to you guys.”

  “Wait,” Beaux held up a hand, “I have a question.”

  “What?”

  “Well, if Uncle Simon and I were supposed to die down here, then…”

  Malouf interrupted. “Not supposed to. You did. That’s not even an issue.”

  Beaux nodded, her expression grave. “Okay, so if we died down here, then what happens now, since we didn’t?”

  Malouf shrugged. “I’m not sure. I guess it’s up to you both to make your own future now. Just make it a good one so that I didn’t fuck up mankind, okay?”