Face Blind

by Len Melvin

  Beaux smiled up at him. “Okay.”

  “So,” asked Simon, “what is your problem?”

  “Well, I’m a documentarian. All of us, actually.” Malouf motioned toward the tunnel where the ashes of the droids lay. “They have documented the assassination above ground. That’s done.”

  “So what’s the problem?” Beaux asked.

  “Down here is the problem.”

  “Why?” asked Simon.

  “Well, I’ve filmed Beaux saving you,” Malouf nodded towards Simon, “with a weapon from the future. How do I explain that in film session in 2056? By the way,” Malouf lowered his voice and glared down at Beaux, “you stole my baton.”

  “I’m sorry. It was the only way I could think of to stop Uncle Simon from going to the rally. I had promised you I wouldn’t tell anybody. So I thought if I could just incapacitate him until it was over, well…” Beaux’s voice trailed off.

  “You were going to use that thing on me?” Simon asked, in surprise.

  Beaux held her arms out in apology. “I couldn’t think of any other way.”

  “Dear, God,” Simon chuckled. “Thanks, I guess.”

  “Anyway, how do I explain this?” Malouf continued.

  “That it was stolen from you?” Beaux asked.

  “That will make me look worse. Chrononauts don’t have their batons stolen by eighteen-year-olds. Also, what I filmed, before I intervened, is so far from the version we know in the future that it probably won’t be believed.”

  Beaux smiled and looked at Simon. “So what do you suggest?” Simon asked.

  Malouf glanced at Number Eight who was beginning to stir. “A reenactment?”

  “What?” Simon and Beaux both asked.

  “I broke every rule I’ve been given in saving you guys and I need a video that makes sense.”

  “Couldn’t you just say something went wrong or the camera broke or it was destroyed in an explosion?”

  “A lot of work, time and money went into this project, and this cavern was the focal point of the trip. No one’s going to believe a camera down here was destroyed in an explosion. And I can’t just say, ‘Sorry, something went wrong.’ Plus,” he added, “I’d like to return with some really good video from down here.”

  “So how do you want to do it?”

  “Well, what if we could re-cuff you and have Beaux save you with the baseball bat?”

  “Re-cuff?” Simon asked, frowning.

  “Baseball bat?” asked Beaux.

  “Well, yeah.”

  “You might enjoy hitting Number Eight with a baseball bat,” Simon mused.

  “You don’t have to hit him hard,” Malouf added. “Just take him down and then go un-cuff your uncle. I’ll stop filming and baton him.”

  “Wait, wait,” said Beaux. “This doesn’t work.”

  “Why not?” Malouf asked.

  “Your history says Uncle Simon and I were killed down here and apparently it was gruesome.”

  “So the history was wrong.”

  “It can’t be that wrong. It can’t be two dead bodies wrong.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Think, Malouf. You go from a grisly scene with us dead to a clean cavern with no one dead and me a hero? That’s not going to make sense to your people back home.”

  “Ah, the chess player.” Malouf put a hand to his chin and nodded. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “So maybe we get two dead bodies and then let Beaux save me and be the hero,” Simon said.

  “Who?” asked Beaux.

  They all, as one, looked at Miguel. “There’s one,” Malouf said. “Now, we need a girl,”

  “The archer,” Simon said.

  “Who?” Malouf and Beaux both asked.

  “The archer. She was one of the attackers. Number Eight killed her.”

  “What? Where?” Malouf asked.

  “That was her knife. I guess there were bad feelings between them,” Simon explained. “She’s just outside, close to the entrance.”

  “It must be Cori,” Malouf said. “She was the only female attacker except for the girl in the bell tower. She’s famous, too, as being one of the bravest of the attackers. Varnado Jones killed Cori? No one knew that.”

  “Yeah. She was trying to help one of the other attackers who was wounded and he shot her down,” Simon said.

  Number Eight shifted on the ground and groaned. Beaux picked up the bat. “I’m not going to go easy on him.”

  “So,” Malouf said, nodding slowly, “what this will be is actually an accurate depiction of what really happened. Only instead of Varnado Jones killing Cori above ground it will be in the cavern.”

  “And Miguel? Where did he come from?” Beaux asked.

  “Well,” Malouf hesitated. He raised a hand to his chin, as he thought. “He could be the serial killer who came to kill Simon and got caught in the middle and captured and killed by Varnado Jones.”

  “How do you explain in the future that you weren’t able to film until I’m saving Uncle Simon?” Beaux asked.

  “It’s actually lucky that I was even able to get into the cavern. It was always our biggest problem logistically.”

  “Why?” asked Simon.

  “The cavern and exactly what happened in it has always been a mystery and it was one of the main goals of this trip to get down in here and film. And we had to do it without alerting the conspirators. We didn’t want them spooked and calling the whole thing off. So it was difficult because the entrances to the tunnels are locked and the door to the cavern would only be open briefly. I was actually lucky that Varnado Jones stopped to smoke a cigarette before he entered and I was able to get in. So in the future, I’ll just say something like he came out later to smoke and I slipped in. And by the time I got in he had already killed the other two.” Malouf turned back to Simon and Beaux. “Okay, it’s a plan?”

  “Sure,” Beaux said.

  “Yes,” Simon agreed.

  “Good,” Malouf replied. “I’ll go get the archer.”

  “I’ll go. I know where she is. Besides, I have a badge if I’m stopped.”

  “Your arm?”

  “I can do it. And it’s feeling better. I might want some more of that cream.”

  Malouf smiled and nodded. “Okay, you get Cori. We’ll get things ready down here.”

  ◆◆◆

  Ten minutes later, Simon carried Cori’s blood-soaked body back into the cavern. Miguel sat on the ground handcuffed to the table’s leg. He was slumped over to one side, his face misshapen, dried blood on his clothes. Simon settled Cori’s body next to Miguel and Malouf cuffed her to the leg of the table.

  “So this is Cori?” Malouf asked, shaking his head. “So sad. Like I said, her bravery is legendary in the future. There are lots of little girls running around with her name.”

  “Well, I can attest to that,” Simon said as he sat on the ground next to the table and held out a wrist. “I personally saw her take out four guards.”

  “Really?” asked Malouf as he gazed down at Cori’s body.

  “Yeah,” said Simon, “and that’s not counting all the destruction she caused with that bow of hers.”

  “You know,” Malouf said, “we’ve got two bodies. You don’t really have to be in the video.”

  “There probably has to be an accounting of me somewhere doesn’t there. Besides, now, Beaux has, at the least, saved her uncle.”

  “Okay,” Malouf said. “You’re right. But just put your arms behind you like you’re cuffed.”

  “All right.” Simon sat down with the table at his back and his arms behind him. He laughed. “This is so bizarre.”

  “How so?” asked Malouf.

  “This morning I’m trying to protect a President’s life, and now I’m acting in a staged video with the attackers.”

  Malouf smiled. “History is full of irony, it appears.”

  “What happened to the President anyway?” Simon asked.

  Malouf smiled. "You'll find
out soon enough."

  “What about the other leaders on the stage?”

  Still smiling, Malouf ignored the question and turned to Beaux. “Okay, let’s do this. There’s really not much time. I can splice and edit a little but I need you putting him down with the bat.”

  “Okay,” Beaux nodded.

  Malouf picked up the pail the droid had been carrying. He took out a syringe, filled it with a clear liquid, then held out his hand to Beaux. “The knife.”

  “What?”

  “Give me the knife. As long as we’re doing this, let’s try to make it look authentic.”

  Beaux crossed the room, hesitated, and then put the Zombie Knife in Malouf’s palm. Malouf stepped over to Miguel and kicked him with his boot. Miguel moaned and sat halfway up. With a swift thrust, Malouf brought the Zombie Knife down and severed one of Miguel’s ears. Miguel screamed and struggled against the handcuffs as blood poured from the side of his head.

  “What are you doing?” Beaux yelled and clamped a hand over her mouth.

  Malouf brought the knife back and then slashed it across Miguel’s face, and he screamed again as his face became a slosh of blood.

  Malouf went to Cori. He pulled her arm out, laid it flat on the ground and brought the Zombie Knife down across her wrist. He bent, picked her hand from the cavern floor and tossed it in the direction of Number Eight.

  “Malouf!” Beaux choked out. “What are you doing?” She took a step toward him, her eyes wide. “Malouf,” she said again. Simon reached for Beaux, restraining her with a hand on her shoulder.

  “The things I just did to him and to her, he did to the both of you. And much more.”

  “Yeah, but,” Beaux began, “he…”

  “Beaux,” Malouf interrupted, “this ‘man,’ raped you and mutilated you along the way before he killed you and your uncle. And it was slow, painful and ugly. That’s the one thing we did know about the cavern and it’s one of the reasons it’s so famous. Or infamous. You, yourself, said it wouldn’t make sense with a clean cavern. And you were right. So, it’s only right that he sacrifice and suffer to make this scene as close to accurate as possible. Now, the story, with very few changes, will make sense for the authorities here and the people I have to answer to in my time.” Malouf brought his boot back and kicked Miguel in the side. “Now, we have the mutilation that he liked so much, but this time it’s him.”

  “Okay,” Beaux said in a slight voice.

  Malouf stepped over to Number Eight and stood over his prostrate body. “Ready?” he asked Simon.

  Simon sat down next to Cori and looped his hands behind him as if they were restrained. “Ready,” he said.

  “What is that?” Beaux asked, indicating the syringe in Malouf’s hand.

  “Adrenaline.” Malouf knelt, placed the blood-covered Zombie Knife in Number Eight’s hand and injected him. He threw the used syringe into the pail and stepped back into the shadows of one of the tunnels, pulling Beaux with him. “Just wait a moment,” he whispered, triggering the mini-camera attached to his ear.

  Number Eight sat up, shook his head and looked around the cavern. He staggered to his feet, steadying himself by holding on to the table. He wavered as he stood, his hand still on the table for support. “What happened?”

  “You fainted, dickhead. Probably from loss of blood,” Simon answered.

  Number Eight shook his head again, looked at the knife that was in his hand and then around the room. “Where’s the girl?”

  “You mean that one, the one you killed?” Simon used his shoulder to motion in the direction of Cori.

  Number Eight squared himself and squinted as he stared at the body of Cori. “What’s she doing here?”

  “You killed her.”

  “Yeah but…” Number Eight’s voice trailed off. “Where’s the other girl?”

  “There’s no other girl. You killed her,” Simon explained, “and took her knife.” Number Eight blinked down at the knife in his hand. “And after that you tortured him.” Simon nodded his head to where a bloody Miguel sat slumped over on the floor. “You told me I was next, but you needed a cigarette first. Then you went outside to smoke a cigarette and came back in and fainted. Like I said, probably from loss of blood.”

  Number Eight lurched across the room and stood over Miguel. He leaned down and studied Miguel’s mangled face. “What? Who is this?”

  “A guy that was after me. You surprised him, then tied him up and tortured him.”

  Number Eight shook his head, straightened, then limped over to where Simon sat. “Well anyway, Mr. Secret Service agent, now, I’m going to kill you.”

  “Not if Beaux gets you first.”

  “Who?” Number Eight hesitated. “What?”

  “The girl behind you, dickhead.”

  “You can’t fool me, Mr. Secret Service man.”

  “No,” Simon said as the baseball bat descended onto the back of Number Eight’s head. “I guess not.” There was a dull thud, like someone struck a melon, and Number Eight fell to the ground, the back of his head split open.

  Beaux approached Simon and pretended to free him from his cuffs. She hugged him as he rose and then she went to Cori and laid a hand on her neck seeking a pulse. “She’s dead,” Simon said. “He killed her before you got here.”

  Beaux stepped over to Number Eight and took the Zombie Knife from his hand. “Whose is this?”

  “It was hers.”

  “Maybe I can put it to good use.”

  Simon grabbed her arm. “Okay, but we’ve got to get out of here.”

  “Okay.”

  Malouf stepped out of the shadows. “That was perfect.”

  Beaux smiled and stuck the Zombie Knife into her belt.

  Malouf pulled another syringe from the pail and dipped it into a green liquid. He crossed to where Miguel sat, still leaning over, cuffed to the table. He glanced at Simon and Beaux. “It must be done.” Without waiting for a response he knelt and stuck the needle into Miguel’s neck.

  “What about Varnado Jones?” Beaux asked.

  “If he survives your hit, I imagine things will be very ugly for him when the security forces find out that he’s one of the attackers. By the way,” Malouf smiled and looked at Beaux, “I see there was no lack of effort with the bat.”

  “I just thought of Cori.”

  Malouf picked up the baton from the floor and dusted it off. He then circled the room, making sure nothing was left behind. He stopped in the middle of the cavern as if in thought and then turned to Beaux. “Here.” He threw the baton to Beaux. “Be careful and discreet with this. It will give you an edge but more so if people don’t know you have it or what it can do.”

  “Won’t you get in trouble?” Beaux asked, catching the baton.

  “I’ll make up something,” Malouf replied. “Maybe blame its loss on one of the droids.”

  “Thanks.” Beaux stuck it in her belt next to the Zombie Knife.

  Malouf tossed another object to her. “The charger.”

  “Okay.” Beaux caught the charger and held out her hand, grinning. “The gold cloak?”

  Malouf rolled his eyes. “C’mon. It’s going to be hard enough to explain the loss of the baton.”

  “What is that cloak anyway? How does it work?”

  He picked it up and stuffed it into his backpack. “The gold reflects light. It’s like your stealth technology except twenty times better.”

  An explosion sounded in the distance and their attention went to the tunnels. “It’s the security forces. They’ll be down here soon.” Malouf turned to Simon. “When they come through the tunnel, show your badge immediately. They won’t be in a good mood. Then tell them the story that we filmed. That way everything makes sense.” Malouf stooped, picked the bat up from the floor of the cavern and handed it to Beaux. “Tell them how you saved Simon but you were too late for the others. And,” Malouf turned back to Simon, “get some medical attention soon.”

  Malouf took a long moment as h
e surveyed the cavern. “There’s been a lot written and speculated about what happened down in this cavern.”

  “What is this place anyway?” Simon waved an arm around the cavern. “How could this be here right where the President was going to speak?”

  “The better question,” said Malouf, “is who had the ability, knowledge and inclination to put the President and most of the leaders of the country on top of one of the greatest unknown, natural killing fields in North America?”

  “Who?”

  Malouf smiled. “That question is for another day.”

  “C’mon. You can’t give me a hint?”

  "You’ll find out soon enough, I'm sure,” Malouf said, still smiling.

  “All right.” Simon stepped over to Malouf and stuck out his hand. “Malouf,” he said exhaling, “thanks for everything.” Simon looked at Beaux and then back to Malouf. “Thanks for saving our lives.” Malouf took Simon’s hand and held it. “One thing I was wondering.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I never saw any photos of you at the Reagan assassination attempt.”

  Malouf put a hand over his mouth stifling a short burst of laughter. “You’re really good, you know.” He clapped Simon on the shoulder. “These trips into the past take a lot of time, money and planning. On the day we were supposed to leave, I was really sick. Someone else went.”

  Simon put a hand to his brow and began a deep belly laugh. He raised up as he wiped his eyes. “You don’t know how much time I spent looking for you in all the pictures and videos.”

  Malouf grinned. “I wasn’t very happy about missing it.”

  You know, that’s the first time in a long time I’ve laughed like that.”

  Malouf checked his watch. “I’ve got to go.” He laid one hand on Simon’s arm and the other on Beaux’s. “You guys be careful. Stay low for a while. All hell is about to break loose.” He gripped Beaux’s arm. “Remember?”

  “Don’t go to Jacksonville or Dallas.”

  “Right.”

  “What?” asked Simon.

  “I’ll tell you later,” Beaux said.

  “Okay,” Simon said slowly.

  Malouf glanced again at his watch. “I really have to go.” He turned to Beaux, put his hand under her chin, and tilted it up so that their eyes met. He held her gaze then put his arms around her waist, embracing her and kissed her deeply. After a moment, he backed away, pulled her baseball cap off and ran his hand through her hair. “There’s no one like you, you know.”