Time Tsunami

by Danele J Rotharmel

  “Please stay here,” Danny said, clutching her arm.

  “If I do that, I won’t be able to go home.”

  “Is that so bad?” Danny started to blush. “In eight years, I’ll be old enough to marry you. I’ll take care of you, just like you’ve been taking care of me.”

  Blinking rapidly, Gil said, “That’s so sweet of you, but I can’t marry you.”

  “Why not?” he asked in a hurt voice. “Don’t you like me?”

  “Of course I do, but I’m too old for you. In eight years, I’ll be in my thirties.”

  “Who cares?” he grumbled.

  “I do, and so should you. Do you really think you’ll want a wife in her thirties when you’re eighteen?” She gave him a tiny smile. “Why, I might be wrinkled as a prune.”

  “I’d still think you were beautiful! I love you every bit as much as Mom.”

  “Regardless, it wouldn’t be fair to you. Besides, think of the complications. Can you imagine our wedding? People would think you were nuts and lock you in a padded room.”

  “I wouldn’t care.”

  “But I would,” she said softly. “I can’t marry you, but I’ll always treasure the fact that you asked me.” She gently wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. “I have to go home if I possibly can—and you, my fine young friend, have to stay here until D-day’s over.”

  “But if you get in trouble, no one will know. No one can hear you but me. I could wait on the steps and—”

  “You’re not going,” she said firmly. “I came here to save you, and I’m not gonna risk all our hard work because I was too stupid to turn off a blasted machine.” When he started to protest, she shook her head. “You’re not leaving this house tonight. Got it?”

  “But what if something happens to you?”

  “If I’m not back in ten minutes, wake up Sam and tell him you saw someone next door. Now, where’s your house key?”

  “Promise you’ll be careful,” he said, retrieving the key from his backpack.

  “I promise. Can I borrow the flashlight Mr. Jacobson lent you? I may need the light.”

  Danny reached beneath his pillow and handed it to her.

  “I’ll be back before you know it,” she said, giving him a smile. “I won’t test the game. I’ll just bring the stupid thing back, and we’ll get some more sleep.”

  Without waiting for Danny’s reply, Gil left the house and ran through the shadowy darkness. As a storm brewed above her, the wind whipped branches and sent autumn leaves flying. When she reached the Winston’s porch, she glanced back at Mr. Jacobson’s house and saw Danny standing by a window with his nose pressed against the glass. Even though fog from his breath was clouding the glass, she could tell he was worried. Giving him a reassuring wave, she ducked under the police tape and went inside.

  Danny’s house was pitch black and very cold. Gil turned on the flashlight and walked down the hall. Broken glass and bits of plaster popped beneath her feet. She shuddered as she remembered the afternoon’s struggle. It had been close—way too close.

  Shaking off the memory, she quickened her step and entered Danny’s room. She waved the flashlight at the window, knowing Danny was watching and could see the light. Turning around, she focused the beam on the running PlayFest system. Extreme Exam was still inside the console. Muttering beneath her breath, she pulled the cartridge out. It was hot. Really hot. As she blew on the game trying to cool it down, a breeze touched her neck. She froze and swung around. Danny’s bedroom window was open.

  “Well, if it isn’t the little ghost,” a voice hissed from the shadows. “It seems my net did catch a fish.”

  Gil frantically turned her flashlight toward the voice. Rick’s face gleamed evilly in the light as he pulled a butcher knife from his pocket. Gil gasped and stumbled.

  “When I made arrangements for my pickup to be taken out of state, I was hoping Sue would come home, so I could finish with her. I guess you’ll have to do instead.”

  Clutching her flashlight, Gil backed slowly toward Danny’s hideout.

  “You cheated me out of my anniversary present and now you’re gonna pay.” Brandishing his knife, Rick slowly advanced toward her. “I don’t know what you are, but if you can hold a flashlight you have a body—and anything with a body can be hurt.”

  As Rick lunged toward her, Gil threw the flashlight at his head. Rick laughed and dodged to one side. As the flashlight hit the wall, Gil dashed across the floor with the game in her hand.

  “I see you,” Rick hissed as he gave chase.

  Realizing the game was giving her away, Gil dropped it as she sprinted into the hall. The broken rubbish on the floor crackled beneath her feet, making her easy to find. Grabbing at her, Rick tossed her into the kitchen. She fell against the sink and reached for the window. She tugged on it until she realized it had been nailed shut. Shrinking back against the counter, she knew with sudden clarity that Rick had made the kitchen a trap with only one exit—an exit he was blocking. Standing absolutely still, she forced herself to calm her rapid breathing. She had to be quiet, very quiet. Sooner or later, Rick would leave the kitchen doorway, and when he did, she would sneak past him.

  “All ye, all ye, outs in free,” Rick sang in an eerie voice that sent chills racing down her spine. “Come out, come out, wherever you may be.”

  Gil shivered and choked down a whimper. She saw Rick’s eyes flicker. Peering from side-to-side, he whispered, “Why don’t you come out and play?”

  With baited breath, she watched as he slowly advanced. She knew he was trying to draw her out. If she moved prematurely, she’d give away her location. Her muscles tensed and a mist of perspiration beaded her brow. As he made his way deeper into the kitchen, she made a sudden lunge for the doorway.

  Hearing her footsteps, Rick grabbed her as she ran past. “Got ya!” he said triumphantly.

  Gil struggled wildly as Rick dragged her over to the counter. From the dish drainer, she picked up a frying pan and hit him across the face. He grunted and spat blood. She swung the pan again and knocked the butcher knife out of his hand. It skidded across the floor to the doorway. Rick’s fingers bit into her skin like a vice. His cruel strength was frightening. Gil tried to swing the pan again, but he knocked it away.

  “Naughty, naughty,” he crooned, tightening his grip. “Let’s see what you look like, shall we?”

  Gil tried to wiggle away as he picked up the flour canister and dumped it over her head. Gil gasped, inhaled flour, and sneezed uncontrollably. As the flour sifted down her body, she shook herself and sent flour flying in all directions. Suddenly, her blood froze. The flour was on her body. It wasn’t encapsulated in her body or hidden by her clothes. Could he see her now? Were the flour-coated parts of her visible? She wished desperately that she had read the manuals.

  Rick put her doubts to rest by laughing softly. “So you’re a woman. I get my anniversary present after all. Sue would’ve made a wonderful number thirty, but you’ll be even better. Since you can’t be seen, I don’t have to be careful about leaving evidence—I can do whatever I want to your body.” Leaning close, he whispered, “And since we’re in a house protected by police tape, we have all night to have some fun. I haven’t heard you talk yet—I’ll bet no one will hear you scream.”

  * * *

  As a crescent moon rose over the NSU campus, and the minutes slowly ticked down to midnight, Director Matthews watched as William restlessly paced the floor. Across the room, Dr. Nelson huddled in a chair, looking as if she were collapsing inside. Anxiously peering at the clock, the director roughly rubbed the back of his neck. He had no comfort to give. No advice or suggestions. He’d finally given up trying to run calculations. No matter what he did, GAP continued to show a fifty percent probability that Danny was dying on death row. He could only wait for midnight to arrive and for D-day to be resolved one way or the other. There was no way to predict the outcome of Danny’s fate. There was no way to know what was happening to Gil.

  * *
*

  Gil flung herself around—thrashing and trying to get free. Rick didn’t seem to notice. He chuckled as he held her tightly and opened the drawer containing Sue’s cooking knives. He leisurely selected a wicked-looking knife and then, in a rough movement, backed her up against the counter. Her groping fingers reached behind her and found a coffee cup. She grabbed it and swung. Dodging the cup, he slapped her. Her lip split as he slapped her again and brutally pushed the side of her face down against the counter. She tried to move, but couldn’t. Her mouth filled with the acrid taste of blood.

  “I used to do things to cats when I was little,” Rick whispered in her ear. “I’ve never tried them on a person before.” He chuckled softly. “Maybe tonight, I will.”

  Pressing the knife to Gil’s forehead, Rick carved a big X. As blood rolled down her face and pooled on the counter, Gil felt panic rising to choke her.

  “You’ve got my mark, little ghost. That means you belong to me.”

  Rick put the knife to her flour-covered cheek and made a long gash. Gil willed herself not to scream. Danny would hear if she did, and she couldn’t afford to let him hear. She bit her lip and tried not to cry as Rick slowly slashed her forearm.

  “This is interesting,” he said conversationally. “I know I’m cutting deep enough, but I don’t see blood. Do you bleed, little ghost? Do you feel pain?”

  As Rick shifted his weight, Gil quickly kneed him in the groin. Grunting in pain, he punched her face with such force that it left her stunned. Throwing her to the ground, he straddled her body. With his weight pinning her down, she couldn’t move. He pressed the knife to her neck. Chuckling, he slowly slid it down her chest, leaving a trail of blood.

  “Well, little ghost,” he whispered, “shall we cut you open and see if you have a spirit inside?”

  Peering through the blood streaming down her face, Gil looked across the room and saw Danny standing in the kitchen doorway. Her heart lurched. She watched as Danny grabbed Rick’s butcher knife from the floor.

  “No!” Gil shouted wildly. “Drop the knife, Danny! It’s D-day! This is it! This is the moment! This is why you stab Rick!” Writhing in agony as Rick began to make the small incision to her chest deeper and longer, she cried, “Go get help!”

  Danny raised the butcher knife and took a step forward.

  “Drop that knife, and get out of here!” Gil shouted with venom in her voice. “I don’t want to be saved this way! If you kill him, I’ll never forgive you! I’ll hate you! Do you hear me? I’ll hate you forever! Go get help!”

  Danny dropped the knife with a clatter. Rick looked up and saw him. Danny ran for the door as Rick jumped to his feet. Gil grabbed desperately at Rick’s legs. As he fell, she saw Danny making it safely outside. Gasping in pain, she scrambled for the frying pan and hit Rick’s head. Clutching her wounded chest, she staggered to the hall and picked up Extreme Exam. As she lurched toward the door, Rick ran into her from behind. Their combined weight fell against the door, slamming it shut and sealing her inside.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Sprinting into Mr. Jacobson’s house, Danny screamed for help. All around him, he heard feet hitting the floor. With his shoulder holster slung over one arm, Nathan came barreling down the stairs, pulling on his pants as he ran. Sam, in bare feet and blue boxer shorts, wasn’t far behind. Above them, Zara appeared. She ran down the stairs, colliding with Sue and Mr. Jacobson.

  “Danny,” Sam gasped, pulling on a T-shirt. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Rick. He’s next door. He’s killing her. He’s cutting her open!”

  “Who?” Nathan asked, zipping up his pants.

  “My friend, Gil. Rick has her in the kitchen. There’s blood everywhere!”

  Nathan pulled his gun from its holster. “Sam, grab Grandpop’s rifle and come with me. The rest of you stay here. Zara, call the chief. Tell him—”

  “No!” Danny objected. “We can’t have police.”

  “If Rick’s attacking a girl, we need them,” Nathan replied. “They’ll—”

  “No!” Danny shouted almost hysterically. “We gotta do this alone. Please!”

  Nathan gave Danny a sharp glance and then slowly nodded. “Okay, no police—at least not yet. Zara, toss me my phone. If I need you to phone the chief, I’ll let you know.”

  “But Na’tan—!”

  “The boy’s earned our trust.”

  “Den I’m coming wid yuh!”

  “So am I,” said Sue.

  “No!” both brothers shouted in unison.

  Danny tugged frantically at Sam’s hand. “We gotta go now! He’s killing her!”

  Unzipping the golf bag in the corner, Zara tossed Sue a club. “Grandpop, mon di phone. We’ll let yuh know if wi need yuh to call di chief.”

  Mr. Jacobson nodded, and the whole cavalcade, in their bare feet and pajamas, poured out the door. Danny led them through the darkness, pulling Sam by the hand and running as fast as he could.

  * * *

  Inside Sue’s house, Gil tried to get away, but Rick grabbed her by the hair and slammed her face against the wall. As the cartridge flew from her grasp, she flipped around and dug her fingers into his eyes. Turning his face away, Rick yanked her arm violently. Gil gasped in pain as something popped and her arm went dead. Rick punched her, knocking her into the door leading to the garage. With her good hand, she grabbed a ballpoint pen from the hall table and stabbed him in the shoulder. When he fell back, she staggered down the hall, cradling her arm. Hoping to open a time portal, she picked up the game as she ran.

  Suddenly, Rick caught her from behind and pulled her into a chokehold. “You keep grabbing that game,” he hissed. “Is it something special?”

  Snatching Extreme Exam out of her hand, he threw it to the floor. Gil heard the plastic snap and break. With panicked thoughts swirling through her brain, she began to bite the arm pinning her. As she drew blood, Rick roughly pushed her away. A wave of nausea engulfed her as her injured arm hit the edge of Danny’s doorway. When she slumped against the wall, Rick punched her brutally in the stomach. Doubling over and gasping for air, she saw Rick reaching down and picking up the butcher knife Danny had dropped. Keeping her eyes on the knife, she slowly backed into Danny’s room.

  Suddenly, Rick came at her, slashing. She raised her good arm to protect her face, and the knife went deep. Rick slashed at her body, laughing as the knife cut rapidly and randomly. Gil stumbled backwards, tripping over the corner of Danny’s bed and falling to the floor. Picking up a skateboard from beneath the bed, she knocked the knife out of Rick’s hand as he straddled her.

  “So, you want to do this the old fashioned way?” he snarled. “I can handle that.”

  Rick closed his hands around her neck and squeezed. Gil scratched at his face, but he just laughed and squeezed harder. Blood pounded in her ears. She beat frantically at Rick’s hands, but soon it got harder and harder to move—and then she stopped moving altogether.

  * * *

  Sam ran through Sue’s house, flipping on lights as he ran. Entering Danny’s bedroom, he saw Rick kneeling over a messy pile of laundry. Anger rushed over Sam in a powerful wave. “In here!” he shouted, lunging forward.

  Rick grabbed the skateboard and flung it at him. It bounced off Sam’s shoulder as Rick bolted out the window. Sam tried to follow, but tripped over the pile. As he fell, he realized the bundle wasn’t laundry—it was the body of a woman. She was lying in a crumpled heap, and she wasn’t moving.

  “Where’d he go?” Nathan shouted, entering the room.

  “Outside,” Sam said baldly, looking in horror at Gil’s flour-covered form.

  Nathan doubled back and ran out the door as Zara cried in dismay, “Is dat di gyal?” She clutched the wall and retched. “Dat monster has cut her completely inna half!”

  “No, he hasn’t,” Danny said, kneeling by Gil’s body. “You only see what’s covered by flour, but I see the rest. It’s there. She’s from the future and can’t be seen by anyone
but me. Mom, can you see the blood?”

  “I only see flour,” Sue replied in a choked voice.

  “There’s lots of blood,” Danny said in a panicked tone. “She’s covered in it.”

  “Gyal from di future? Invisible blood? I just dohn understand.”

  “Look! We’re wasting time,” Danny yelled. “I don’t know if Gil’s breathing.”

  “Move, Danny,” Sue said, putting her face next to Gil’s flour-covered mouth. Grabbing Gil’s wrist, she said to Sam, “She’s not breathing, and I can’t find a pulse. Do you know CPR?”

  Sam looked at the messy mound of flour. “Yes, but I can’t see most of her body.”

  “You don’t need to see her legs to do CPR, do you?” Danny asked tearfully.

  Sam ran a shaking hand through his hair. “No, I guess not.”

  He knelt down and began compressions as Sue said to her son, “Get some T-shirts and wrap them around her wounds. Put pressure where she’s bleeding most.”

  “Wah should I do?” Zara asked.

  “Look for a PlayFest game called Extreme Exam,” Danny replied in a shaky voice as he rifled through his dresser. “We gotta find the game to get Gil home.”

  As Sam continued CPR, he heard a clock chiming midnight.

  * * *

  At TEMCO, William, Dr. Nelson, and Director Matthews began cheering. GAP had just indicated with one hundred percent reliability that Danny wasn’t ending up on death row.

  * * *

  Holding a wadded shirt to Gil’s chest wound, Danny watched as Zara stooped to scan the rubble on the hallway floor. “Are yuh sure di game’s outa here?” she called.

  “No,” Danny replied, “but it’s not in my room. The hall’s my best guess.”

  Zara began shifting clumps of drywall. Suddenly, she shouted, “Yeh, mon, I’ve found it!”

  “Give it here, and take my place,” Danny said as she ran to his side. “This is the worst wound. Hold the shirt tight.”

  Taking the shirt, Zara made a shocked sound. “I can’t see di blood, but I sure feel di warmth an stickiness.”