Remember the Future

by Delafosse, Bryant

  “What?” Grant asked.

  Maddy's eyes glistened with emotion.

  “Nothingness. Darkness. But when I got out again and started after you, I immediately saw us together, here at this very table having pancakes. I realized that I could live at least a few minutes longer if I stuck with you.”

  Grant studied Maddy closely. His eyes cut furtively across the restaurant to the man in the Peterbilt cap. He opened his mouth to tell her that he thought that the gentleman might be a good safe choice to catch a ride with from here when Thalia the waitress set a bevy of steaming plates of food before them.

  “And here’s your butter and syrup and it looks like you’re okay on the coffee,” Thalia told them. “Anything else I can get for you right now?”

  “No, thank you,” Maddy and Grant again said simultaneously, this time in identical melancholy tone.

  As they began preparing their pancakes, Thalia stared at them in silence for a moment with a dumb smile on her face.

  Grant glanced up at her expectantly.

  Thalia shook her head. “That’s just awesome.”

  “What is?” he asked.

  “I mean, you guys are like in perfect sync with each other right now,” Thalia told him in a tone of amazement. “Me and my boyfriend are like never like this.” She gave one more disbelieving shake of her head and strode away toward the kitchen.

  Maddy continued slathering butter and syrup on her pancakes, trying to hide the smirk on her face.

  Grant gathered up a fork and stared down at his own stack, watching the remnants of his cube of butter slowly melt. “You have no idea the mess I've made of my life,” he said to her. “Believe me when I say, I can't help myself much less anyone else right now.”

  “So far, you've kept me alive and that's enough for now,” she answered, slicing off a chunk and devouring it with a look of total ecstasy.

  Loud hip hop music erupted from the cell phone beside Grant’s hand and he literally dropped his fork.

  Maddy stopped chewing.

  Grant stared down at the phone, his face a mask of indecision. He reached for the phone, his hand hovering a few inches above it as he cleared his throat.

  Her eyes narrowing, Maddy snatched the phone up from beneath his hand and pivoted slightly away from him.

  “Yeah?” she answered, pressing it to her ear as Grant rose to step around the table.

  “Give it to me,” he stated firmly, holding his hand out to her.

  Maddy’s face grew pale as the blood drained away. Yanking the phone away from her ear, she rose to her feet beside Grant and searched the restaurant. “They're coming.”

  Stiffening, Grant looked around. “Who? Mine or yours?”

  “For me. The two from the airport,” she said urgently. “Dammit! We stayed too long.” Maddy hauled her satchel from beneath the table, unzipped it, seized a handful of bills from within, and tossed them to the table.

  Grant looked from the open satchel to Maddy, his expression hardening.

  “You've just got to trust me until I can explain,” she snapped, zipping up and rushing toward the entrance doors where they entered.

  Maddy stopped, shook her head and looked back at Grant, who was standing immobile one step away from the table. He looked from the man in the Peterbilt cap to Maddy, his face contorting with conflicted emotions.

  Maddy swallowed awkwardly and closed her eyes, appearing to be in silent prayer.

  “Hell!” Grant growled and started toward Maddy.

  At the touch of his hand on her arm, Maddy opened her eyes in wonder. “C’mon,” he snapped, almost angrily, guiding her toward a gift shop on the opposite side of the restaurant.

  Moments later, the shorter of the two Blank Men swept in through the front entrance.

  “Table for one?” Thalia asked him.

  The man in the black raincoat ignored her and scanned the restaurant.

  Maddy followed at Grant’s heels through the gift shop to a door leading them to the self-serve gas pumps. She spotted the Blank Man walking across the restaurant and ducked her head slightly. “They’re inside, Grant,” she hissed urgently.

  Grant grabbed her hand and hauled her outside without looking back.

  A familiar white Toyota pulled to a stop just in front of them. Rudy rolled his window down and glared at Grant.

  “He’s coming,” Maddy called.

  Grant took one look back over his shoulder and ran toward the car. Pulling the back door of the Toyota open, he pushed Maddy roughly inside and clambered in after her.

  “What do I look like? A limo service?” Rudy barked.

  “I suggest you drive away,” Grant offered.

  “Not her, Frederickson!”

  Through the gift shop, the Blank Man trotted toward them.

  “Here he comes!” Maddy said anxiously.

  Rudy hit the gas just as the man in the black rain coat rushed outside, narrowly missing the car. Noting all the cars parked at the pumps, the man drew his hand out of his coat.

  “Where’s my gun?” Rudy wanted to know.

  “We tossed it in a dumpster,” Grant said. “Would you like directions?”

  When Rudy reached the corner of the building, a man leapt out of nowhere in front of the car. He stood on the brakes, narrowly missing the homeless man in an Argentinean leather jacket.

  The bearded homeless man snarled at Rudy, lifting his arm in a one finger salute, before slowly ambling out of the way.

  Rudy watched him with open mouth. “Is that my… jacket?”

  Grant glanced at Maddy with an off-kilter smile.

  A squeal came from behind as a black sedan came to a stop just long enough for the Blank Man to hop inside.

  Rudy accelerated. “Who the hell are these guys?”

  He slid into a right hand turn. The sedan followed at the same speed.

  “Will someone start talking to me?” Rudy yelled.

  Muffled hip hop music came from inside Maddy's bag.

  “Is that my phone?”

  “No, we just happen to have the same taste in ring tones,” Maddy replied, unzipping her bag.

  “Give me the phone,” Rudy demanded.

  Maddy held the phone out to Rudy, who snatched it up and held it to his ear.

  “What? Who the hell is this?” he shouted, then paused to listen. “Oh, is that right? How the fuck did you get my number?” His eyes glanced up through the rear view mirror and he flipped the phone down to the seat. “Feds?”

  Neither Maddy nor Grant answered.

  “Who the hell did you piss off, Frederickson?”

  Grant glanced over his shoulder. The black sedan was a single car length behind them.

  “Maybe this is about the half mil that I borrowed,” Grant muttered with a straight face.

  “Half mil? That’s a joke, right?” Rudy snapped. “Hey, somebody better start talking to me here.”

  “Why don’t you hand me the phone so I can ask your boss what he thinks we should do?” Grant countered, glancing over at Maddy, who seemed to be in a world all her own.

  Flashing a look through his side mirror, Rudy braked slightly then twisted the wheel hard to one side. The Toyota went into a controlled spin, until it faced the sedan, then accelerated past it in the opposite direction.

  Rudy looked up in the rear-view, allowing himself a smirk.

  Grant looked over his shoulder again.

  The sedan promptly followed suit, sliding around and continuing the chase.

  The smile evaporated from Rudy's face.

  Rudy’s face went blank. “These aren’t civil servants. Never knew one that could drive a nail straight,” he growled. “Frederickson, I need to know what I’m dealing with here.”

  Grant looked over at Maddy.

  She sat with a dazed look, staring down at her hands folded in her lap. “Killian's.”

  “What? What did she say?” Rudy wanted to know.

  “Buttermilk pancakes. Killian's. French Quarter,” she murmure
d.

  “French Quarter?” Grant asked her gently. “As in New Orleans?”

  Rudy cast a troubled look into the rear view mirror, then angled the car toward the freeway entrance ahead. The Toyota leapt onto the I-10 west entrance ramp, sparks flying from the fender.

  “Take it easy with my car,” Grant snapped.

  “Hey, you’re the reason I’m driving this piece of shit. So unless you want to go back and get my Mercedes for me…” Rudy’s phone rang and he snatched it off the seat. “Yeah? Tino! Hey, what’s the word?”

  On the other end of the phone, a heavy-set black man blotted sweat off his bald head with a Whataburger napkin. From behind the wheel of a taxi cab, he watched the red and blue strobes of a half dozen police cruisers surrounding Torres’ garage. He snapped a switch on his dash and the “off-duty” sign lit up on the roof of the cab.

  “I’m over here at the garage on Harbor,” the taxi driver told Rudy. “Looks like we’re being raided. Cops are crawling all over like flies on road kill. What are we supposed to do now, man?”

  Rudy sighed heavily and glanced up in the rear view mirror at Grant, who watched Maddy with concern.

  “Fall back to Jerome’s until we hear different.” Rudy snapped the phone off and flung it to the passenger seat. “Hold on to something.”

  The Toyota rolled roughly onto the emergency turnaround in the center esplanade of the highway and accelerated into the flow of traffic headed east down Interstate 10.

  “What are we..?” Grant began.

  “You made a call to the cops, didn’t you Frederickson?” Rudy asked, flashing a hard look back at Grant.

  Grant blinked in confusion at the man in the front seat. “Call about what? Why are we going back?”

  “Are you going to tell him or should I?” Maddy suddenly asked from the backseat.

  Rudy flashed a dark look back at Maddy. “When you need to know a piece of information, I’ll enlighten you.”

  “That’s not very nice,” Maddy grumbled, then turned to Grant. “We’re going to New Orleans.”

  The Toyota dove to the shoulder of the highway, kicking up a cloud of dust.

  With a grim expression on his face, Rudy twisted around to face Maddy over the back of the front seat. “Tell me how you could possibly know that?”

  Maddy exchanged a look with Grant but remained silent.

  Rudy stormed out of the car, pulled Maddy’s door open and pulled her roughly from the vehicle.

  Grant leapt out behind her and seized the arm holding Maddy.

  The other man lashed out with an open hand and cuffed Grant across the face.

  Grant fell to one knee, covering his nose.

  Shoving Maddy to the ground, Rudy took a position next to the open back door. “Get in,” he told Grant.

  Grant removed his hands and looked at his open palms, surprised not to find blood. Taking Maddy by the hand, he gently helped her to her feet and steered her back to the car.

  Rudy grabbed Grant by the neck and shoved him back up against the car.

  “Do it,” Grant hissed through constricted throat. “You came all this way to kill me. What are you waiting for?”

  Blinking down at Grant, Rudy slowly loosened his grip.

  “He can’t,” Maddy commented, watching Rudy cautiously. “His boss gave him orders not to touch you.”

  “Shut up!” Rudy snapped, releasing Grant and striding over to Maddy.

  Suddenly, Grant stood between them. “Get in the car, Maddy,” he told her.

  “No,” Rudy stated.

  “We are not leaving this girl out here in the middle of nowhere,” Grant replied, staring Rudy directly in the eye. “Now if you want to hit me again, do it, but you’re the one who’s going to have to explain it to your boss.”

  Rudy blinked and glanced at Maddy peeking out from behind Grant’s back.

  “Get in the car,” Grant repeated.

  Maddy stepped slowly around Rudy and eased herself back into the car.

  Breaking eye contact with Rudy, Grant himself returned to the backseat of the car and closed the door.

  Rudy took a long, deep breath. He retrieved a stick of nicotine gum from his pocket and began to chew it double-time before slowly returning to the driver’s seat. After a moment, he draped his arm over the back of the seat and looked Grant in the eye.

  “Just so you and me have an understanding here, Frederickson. Torres told me to bring you around in one piece.” Rudy made eye contact with Maddy, tipped her an ironic wink, then returned his eyes to Grant. “The girl wasn’t even part of our discussion. If I were you, I’d be more worried about her getting hurt than you.”

  Grant gave a single nod. “Sounds like for once we’re on the same page.”

  The three sat in quiet understanding for a moment. Finally, Rudy returned to the wheel and took the car back into the flow of traffic.

  Maddy glanced over at Grant. Giving him a shy smile, she laid back into her corner and shut her eyes.

  “I have been given a job and that's what I'm going to do,” Rudy said.

  “If it helps you sleep, just keep telling yourself that,” Grant murmured.

  “I gave you a choice once. You ignored me.”

  “What? To run? Only the guilty run. I paid my debt,” Grant told him. “In every way that matters.”

  “Ain’t none of us innocent lambs here,” Rudy replied. “It was your wife bailing you out that put us here.”

  Maddy opened her eyes, giving Grant a fresh appraisal.

  Grant slid deeper into his seat.

  “Let’s just not to forget that little fact, Frederickson.”

  Grant turned his eyes to the window and sat in quiet retrospection.

  17

  Maddy opened her eyes. She straightened up and looked around the cab of the Toyota in confusion. The car sat parked on the shoulder of a dark feeder road, a single stark street light shining down on them from above.

  “Where are we?” she whispered urgently to Grant.

  “He’s looking for his car,” he replied indifferently, still gazing out his window.

  “Thanks again, Mortie,” Rudy spoke into his cell. “That’s two I owe you.”

  “GPS,” Grant told Maddy. “That’s how he found us at the truck stop.”

  “So, why aren’t we back at the truck stop?” she wanted to know.

  Neither Rudy nor Grant responded to her logical question.

  It struck her all at once. “Wait, you mean it was stolen?” Maddy asked, sitting up with interest.

  “These things happen when you leave the keys in the ignition,” Rudy growled.

  A subtle smile appeared on Grant’s lips. “And it was a nice car too. Smooth ride. Clean interior. Probably fetch a good price on the black market.”

  “Feel free to go back to sleep,” Rudy snapped, yanking open the Toyota’s glove compartment and flipping through the receipts and books in frustration. “No maps?”

  “No maps,” Grant replied. “I don’t need them. Not in this city.”

  “Right, because Houston is arranged so logically.” He leaned over the back of the seat and showed Grant an address written on the palm of his hand.

  Grant gave him a patronizing look. “I thought you wanted me asleep.”

  Rudy gave him a silent glare in response.

  Sighing, Grant looked down at the address. “Yeah, I know the area. It’s industrial. Follow the south loop east feeder.”

  As Rudy nodded and headed out, Maddy cast a look at Grant, who continued to stare blankly out his window.

  “Once I get my car back, I figure we’ll have one car too many,” Rudy commented, glancing back. “Maybe you and your friend there can come to some sort of arrangement before someone gets hurt.”

  Grant looked over at Maddy. She shook her head once sternly.

  “He’s right,” Grant told her. “It’s probably best that you get as far away from me as you can. When we find his car, you can have mine.” He turned back to the window
and murmured under his breath, “I won’t need it where I’m going.”

  Maddy clenched her jaw in anger and turned her back to him.

  Rudy studied them both in his mirror. “Any of this look familiar?”

  Scanning the dark streets around them, Grant pointed ahead. “I believe that’s the intersection you wrote down.”

  Rudy slowed the Toyota, cranked his window down, and cruised slowly into a large dark parking lot lit with stark ice blue arc lights. About a hundred yards distant, a dark car sat in the distance on the opposite end of the parking lot.

  Grant leaned forward over the front seat. “Is that it?”

  When the Toyota closed to about twenty yards, they could clearly see that it was the same Mercedes. There were no lights or movement within the cab.

  Rudy braked to an abrupt stop. “Settle back,” he grumbled. “I don’t know the story here.”

  Grant sat back as Maddy leaned forward.

  “Blink your lights at him once,” Maddy suggested.

  “You’ve been watching too much Law and Order, lady.”

  The Mercedes flashed its lights once.

  Maddy exchanged an amused look with Grant.

  Rudy sighed and blinked his own lights on and off once.

  The driver’s side door of the Mercedes opened and a single figure arose.

  “Don’t either of you move,” Rudy hissed around clenched teeth. He removed a knife from his pocket and opening it, slipped it up into his right sleeve. Snapping off the interior cab light, Rudy opened the door. “Keep your head down.”

  “If this goes south, should I give Torres a message for you?” Grant asked.

  “Yeah, Frederickson, tell him that I’m starting to understand why he wants you dead,” Rudy snapped, rising slowly and shutting the door securely behind him.

  The person who had emerged from the cab stood beside the door of the Mercedes. When Rudy started toward the car, the other reached in through the open driver’s window and turned the headlights on.

  Rudy threw a hand up before his eyes. “Hey!”

  “Who the fuck are you?” a young man’s voice called out.

  “I’m here for the car,” he responded angrily. “Turn your goddamn lights off.”

  After a moment, the lights went dead.

  Rudy squinted out at the person standing beside the Mercedes, a teenage boy that looked no older than seventeen with a shaved head. He wore a button up shirt with a white t-shirt beneath. His thumbs were hooked strategically upon his belt.