Fook

by Brian Drinkwater

  “How do people live like this, he thought?” looking over the fence at the neighboring house no more than fifteen feet away. He’d grown up on the south shore of Massachusetts where most houses were relatively spread out from one another. Sure he’d had neighbors, but if you wanted to spy on them effectively, you had to invest in a telescope or at least a pair of binoculars, not simply pull a chair up to the window with a bowl of popcorn and wait for the show to begin. Sure he’d spent the last four years living in Boston but that was different. That was a city, and he’d been living in a dorm where privacy was a luxury typically not afforded. It wasn’t a permanent residence. These people practically lived right on top of one another and they’d paid a hefty sum to do so. Florida was officially off his list of future homes…if he ever saw home again, he thought, standing back up to check the nursery once again.

  Inside, Mr. Nesbit was finally placing Jason into his crib, obviously nervous that his newly asleep son might awaken at any moment.

  Crash!

  Mr. Nesbit froze, closing his eyes at the thought of what the sudden boom might bring. Slowly opening them again, it became apparent on Mr. Nesbit’s face that the lightening had gone unheard by the baby as he let out a little smile before turning and exiting the room.

  “Finally,” Derek thought as he took a step back to contemplate exactly how he was going to get inside the house. He hadn’t tested the window before because of the father’s presence, so taking a step forward he lightly pushed up on the closed window.

  Locked.

  “Shit!” he exclaimed, quickly covering his own mouth as he stared at the window horrified by his own carelessness. He couldn’t afford to get caught. How could he explain to the police why he was standing outside the window of a newborn he had no relation to? He couldn’t. If he got arrested, it meant Sarah and her sister were on their own, which meant Jason would get what he was coming for. He couldn’t let himself get caught, he had to get inside and put an end to this madness.

  Crash!

  With the latest explosion’s sound waves rippling through his ears, he suddenly knew what to do. Looking around his feet on the dark, shadowy ground, Derek began searching for something, anything that could be used to break the window; a task which proved to be relatively easy with Mr. Nesbit’s apparent plans to replace the grass gap along the side of the house with stone pavers. Hoisting one of the surprisingly heavy stones from the pile, Derek positioned the smooth rock inches from the window as he glanced toward the sky, waiting for God’s next strike.

  The storm was rolling in fast, so it didn’t take long and with a perfectly timed jerk of the hands, the small square of glass forfeited its defense, allowing him to reach inside and disengage the latch as the first raindrop struck the top of his head. Carefully returning the stone to the pile, Derek again pushed up on the window, this time slowly inching it upward in its casing, just enough so that he could pull himself up and through the opening, landing on the floor with a soft thud.

  Freezing in his carelessness, he listened; one for the sound of the sleeping infant beside him and two for the returning footsteps of Mr. Nesbit who was surely on some leveling listening to his son’s room through the baby monitor on the changing table. Everything remained quiet, except for the soft patter of rain against the window and roof overhead as the storm finally decided to arrive.

  “Alright dumbass,” Derek thought as he got to his feet slowly, careful not to make any more careless noises as he crept up to the edge of the wooden crib. On his back, Jason slept peacefully, his pacifier tightly clenched between his tiny lips and moving up and down with each deliberate suck.

  “How could something so innocent, so harmless turn into such evil?” he thought as his gaze traveled from the sleeping child to the cheerful decor of the surrounding room. It didn’t really matter how it had happened, he answered his own question as his wandering gaze returned to Jason. All that mattered was what Jason was going to become…had become. Something had to be done to stop him and back at Mr. Fook’s house, he’d concluded that this was the only way.

  Quickly looking around again, he spotted a large, pink, stuffed bunny beside the crib; probably a gift from someone who hadn’t been briefed on the sex of the adopted child. The color less important than its function, Derek plucked the bunny from the nearby tabletop, his hands shaking as he held it out in front of him.

  There was no going back from this point. It had to be done. Nonetheless, he knew that this horrible act would haunt him for the rest of his life. With his hands shaking, he lowered the pink animal down into the crib, positioning its white stomach over the sleeping baby’s face and, fighting back tears, began to press.

  It took a moment for the child to respond, the gap between reality and slumber not quite bridged until the tiny mind acknowledged the odd sensation of the heavy object impeding its ability to get air. Once aware of his situation, at least on an instinctual level, Jason’s arms and legs began kicking and flailing, though lacked any real coordination to mount any sort of effective defense.

  With his head turned and eyes closed, Derek leaned further into the crib, pressing the pink fur harder against the child’s face.

  “Hey!”

  His eyes bursting open, Derek didn’t have time to see who had shouted the exclamatory term, but he didn’t need eyes to figure it out. Within seconds, Mr. Nesbit had his arms wrapped around him, tugging and pulling at his body and arms, trying to remove him and the bunny from his son’s crib.

  A blunt pain to his ribs, followed by another and then a blow to the head almost made Derek release his grip of the homicidal rabbit, but focusing on the task at hand, he stood his ground as more painful blows connected with his increasingly battered body. No matter what, he couldn’t succumb to the all out assault launched by the irate father. As horrible an act as he was committing, it was the only way. He could end it right then and there, no one else would have to die. Bethany wouldn’t end up sliced to pieces on her bed. The liquor store clerk could continue to be the same asshole behind the counter. Mr. and Mrs. Tillmore would get to watch their daughter grow up to become prom queen and Sarah’s sister wouldn’t have to die. As painful as each blow was, he had to hang on until it was done, even if it meant he himself being killed in the process.

  With another blow to his temple, the room began to spin. That, combined with a high pitched shriek, momentarily broke Derek’s focus as Mr. Nesbit finally managed to pull him away from the crib and with one more devastating blow to the face, dropped him to the floor.

  Bordering on unconscious, everything seemed to move in slow motion as Derek looked up at the hatred and confusion in Mr. Nesbit’s eyes and then watched as the man returned his attention to the crib, his look of confusion suddenly even more profound.

  Realizing his opportunity, Derek stumbled to his feet and, not as shocked by the empty crib as Mr. Nesbit was, he darted toward the door, knocking Mrs. Nesbit out of the way as he stumbled into the hall, colliding with the opposite wall before stabilizing himself and heading for the front of the house. Reaching the end of the hall, the front door came into view as did the sight of the naked infant lying on the floor in the center of the living room. Too shaken up to even consider that this may be his last opportunity to strike, he was out the front door and running down the rain soaked street, adrenaline the only thing keeping him conscious.

  FORTY-THREE

  “Where are you going?” Phil questioned over his coffee mug as his daughter entered the kitchen, backpack over her shoulder.

  “School,” she answered surprised by the question.

  “Didn’t you hear what the doctor said yesterday?”

  “That I’m perfectly fine.”

  “No, that you should take it easy for the next few days. That means no school today. I want you to stay home and rest. I’ll give you a note on Monday.”

  “Dad,” Katie whined.

  “Katie, I’m serious. You should take it easy. It’s better to be safe than sorry.”


  “But I’m fine. I haven’t had any more pains and I feel fully rested. Actually, I think last night was the best sleep I’ve ever had,” she added, realizing that she may be laying it on a little too thick.

  “I’m glad you’re feeling better, but you’re still not going to that dance tonight,” Phil countered, knowing full and well the true reason behind her persistence.

  “That dance is the prom. Are you really going to insist that your daughter miss her prom?”

  “Junior prom. Your real prom isn't until next year. Besides, when I was your age, there was no such thing as a junior prom.”

  “When you were my age dinosaurs still roamed the earth,” she smiled, attempting to use humor as a way of possibly swaying her stubbornly overprotective father.

  However, his stoic expression told her that, not even her usually well received jokes were going to persuade him this time.

  “Katie. I love you. I know that you’re upset about missing out on the dance, but I need you to understand the importance of your health. We’re not only talking about you right now,” he motioned toward her stomach. “You have someone else who's depending on you to keep her safe.”

  “Now she definitely wasn’t going to win,” she thought. He’d used the, “you’re going to be a mother,” guilt trip on her. How could she argue with that one? So instead, she just dropped her bag on the floor beside the barstool and took a seat.

  “Good morning,” Sarah greeted her father and sister as she entered the room.

  “Morning,” Phil offered in an exasperated tone.

  Katie said nothing as she sat in front of a glass of orange juice that her father had poured during their squabble.

  Sensing the tension in the room, “What’s going on?”

  “Child abuse,” Katie mumbled, keeping her eyes on the glass before her.

  Phil grinned at his younger daughter’s childish humor. “Nothing. Your sister is devastated about missing school.”

  “Really?” Sarah asked. “When did you…oh,” she finally realized the true reason behind the tension. Just as she’d felt yesterday, she wanted to tell her father to relax; that Katie would be perfectly fine to go not only to school but the dance as well and that she could use the whole rest of the weekend to relax but again, considering the benefits of the current situation, she continued to side with her father. “At least it’s only your junior prom.”

  “That’s what I said,” Phil added, feeling validated.

  “Oh, God, now I sound just like Dad,” Sarah thought, but couldn’t go back now. “I didn’t even go to my junior prom,” she continued. “And Daddy, I don’t even think they had junior proms back then.”

  Even more validated, Phil smiled as he sipped at his coffee.

  “Hell, I don’t even think the wheel had been invented yet,” Sarah added with a smile.

  “No, it had just come out,” Phil quickly retorted. “And it’s a good thing because I don’t know how I would have been able to pick your mother up without that horse drawn buggy.”

  Katie didn’t respond as her father and sister exchanged grins.

  Ding dong.

  “Mike’s early today,” Phil acknowledged as he glanced at the clock on the microwave.

  “How is officer Lucern?” Sarah asked with a smile.

  He knew what she meant. While nearly eighteen years her senior, his partner’s immaturity and boyish good looks often gave people the impression that he wasn’t much past his mid to late twenties, and once a few years back, Sarah had chosen to inform him of how hot she thought his partner was. He wasn’t sure if she still felt that way or just liked seeing him squirm, as she often found a way to work the topic into almost any conversation. “How’s the weather? Hot like your partner? So, what are you doing this weekend? I don’t know, maybe your partner.” The timing and means were random and often uncomfortable, but he was glad to have such an open and comfortable relationship with his oldest. They’d always been close, likely because they had much the same personality. Katie had taken after his wife, which was likely the reason for her rebellion once her mother was gone.

  “Engaged,” Phil answered his daughter’s intentionally uncomfortable question with a pleased smile.

  Sarah let out a little frown, causing him to again question her seriousness as he made his way to the door.

  “You’re early,” Phil greeted Michael as he pulled open the door, surprised to find a delivery driver standing on the other side, holding a large FedEx envelope and clipboard. “Oh. I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

  The man smiled, not sure how to respond, other than to hold out his clipboard and say, “I need you to sign here.”

  Taking the clipboard, Phil signed on the line, handed it back to the driver and took the envelope as the young man quickly turned and started back down the path without another word.

  “Not exactly Mr. Personality,” he thought as he started to close the door, then, realizing that he didn’t recall seeing the FedEx truck parked along the curb, turned back in the direction of the departing man who was now gone. Looking up and down the street confused by the man’s sudden disappearance, he simply shrugged his shoulders and closed the door.

  “Who was that?” Sarah asked, entering the living room.

  “I’ll be in my room…relaxing,” Katie huffed as she passed her prison guards and quickly made her way upstairs to her bedroom.

  Shaking his head with a smile, Phil stared at the envelope. “You expecting anything?”

  “No,” Sarah replied. “Open it.”

  Again shrugging his shoulders, he tore at the perforated strip and tipped the envelope on its side as a VHS tape slid out into his hand.

  The top of the tape simply read, RCA, but a handwritten label along the side said, play me.

  Confused, Phil looked inside the envelope, expecting to find a letter or something that might explain what the tape was or where it had come from.

  Sarah didn’t need a note. She didn’t know exactly what might be on the tape, but she had a good idea that, whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

  “Dad, aren’t you going to be late for work. You should probably finish getting ready.”

  “I have time. Mike’s not even here yet. Do you have any idea what this is?” he looked up from the mysterious cassette.

  Poorly attempting to conceal her worry, she shook her head no, as her father returned his attention to the tape and started toward the television.

  “What are you doing?”

  “It says play me.”

  “Do you do everything a tape tells you to do?” she uncomfortably joked.

  “Don’t know. This is a first,” he smiled as he fed the tape to the VCR and turned on the television.

  “Why don’t you go finish getting ready and I’ll watch the tape. I can tell you what’s on it.”

  “Why don’t you want me to watch this tape?”

  “I don’t care if you watch it,” she lied. “I just don’t want you to be late.”

  “I’ve got time,” he assured her as the static on the screen cleared and the security footage a what appeared to be a liquor store came into focus.

  “What the hell?” Sarah thought, recognizing the liquor store from the night before. The mystery of who the tape was from was now clear, but why would Jason send it to her father? It would show Jason killing the poor man currently seen mopping the floor. It would make it that much easier for her to tell her father the truth about what was really going on. He’d definitely believe her now. She wouldn’t have to wait for Derek to figure something out. Her father would believe her and do everything in his power to protect her sister. What benefit did Jason get by giving them this evidence? And then she saw it.

  With his back turned, a second man entered the image, but it wasn’t who she’d expected. Instead, it was Derek, slowly approaching the distracted man. It was Derek carefully plucking a bottle from a nearby display and it was Derek, smashing the man upside the head.

  “H
ow…?” she thought, even more confused than she had been in the last couple of days.

  “What is this?” her father turned to her. “Is that?—“

  She didn’t know how to respond other than to continue staring at the familiar footage as Derek sat on top of the stunned man’s chest and began forcing every coin from the cash register down his throat before using the jagged bottle to put an end to the clerk’s struggle.

  “Oh my God,” Phil gasped at the horrible image on his television. “Sarah, what is this?” he asked again, even more concerned.

  “Dad, I can explain. That’s not Derek.”

  He just stared at her in disbelief. It sure as hell looked like the boy she’d brought home yesterday and who’d mysteriously disappeared less than eight hours later. “Not Derek?”

  “It was Jason.”

  “Jason? Who’s Jason?”

  How was she going to explain this? It was hard enough trying to explain the truth without sounding completely insane. Now she had to tell her father that the image on the screen wasn’t real and expect him to believe that her unbelievable story was?

  “He’s a friend of Derek’s. Was a friend…,” she corrected, “…until—“

  “—Until what? Until Derek did this?” he turned back to the screen.

  “I told you, that’s not Derek.”

  Standing, the man in the video turned and then approached the camera overhead, pausing to look straight into the lens. It couldn’t have been any clearer that the man in the video was Derek.

  “He was with me all night. Someone must have messed with the video. That’s not what happened.”

  “You knew about this?” Phil seemed even more shocked.

  “He stole Derek’s wallet. We were trying to get it back.”

  “That guy stole Derek’s wallet so he killed him?”

  “No. Jason killed him and then somehow changed the video to make it look like Derek did it. He’s from the future.”

  Phil didn’t know what to say to that as a knock came from the front door, shortly followed by the doorknob turning and the door opening inward to reveal Derek, standing alongside Phil’s partner.