by Ramy Vance
At least, that’s what Pete had said. Why would he lie about that? About anything? He had Rueben well and truly screwed.
The shaky camera played over some of the wreckage and firefighters putting out some of the fires, but all Rueben could see was the image of Aki’s still body, imprinted in his mind.
God damn this man. It didn’t matter if Pete was somehow an older, alternate version of himself. He’d killed Aki. Again. Rueben had to go back and fix that. He needed to find a way to kill himself.
Maybe if he jumped out of a window on the fifth floor? But he’d have to free himself. And Pete took his nail.
Also, how would he walk with an injured leg?
He glanced down at his patched-up thigh, the taped-up gauze a bright red but no longer leaking. A sudden thought entered Rueben’s mind. Had Pete sterilized the wound? What if he caught tetanus or gangrene? It didn’t matter. He needed to die now.
The easiest way would be to step out the front door of this building and throw himself in front of traffic. A pain shot through his thigh, and he grimaced. Again, he had to get free first, and how was he to make it up the stairs to the first floor with—
He could die, and he could do it right here in this bed. The key was his leg wound. He’d bled a lot—Pete’s bullet had probably nicked an artery. But how to start the bleeding again?
Tensing against the restraints holding his limbs against the cot’s rails, he realized he wouldn’t be able to tear open the patches that way. Besides, his previous blood loss down on the floor had depleted his energy.
He’d lost so much blood already. Surely it wouldn’t take much more to kill him. Right?
He recalled the scared look that had flashed across Pete’s face when he’d told him to apply pressure. This wound is worse than Pete let on. Yep. Probably nicked an artery.
Rueben was surprised the gauze was doing as good a job as it was. He wondered if this unexpected development would prompt Pete to take him to the ER. No. Probably not. Too many people there to see him.
Panic gripped Rueben. No, Pete wouldn’t take him to the hospital. He’d simply kill himself and go back in time to before he’d shot Rueben. Why hadn’t he already? Rueben guessed it was because Pete wanted to ensure that his plan had worked as intended by calling across the globe to other countries or whatever he needed the sat phone for. In fact, Pete would probably be rushing back down here any moment to figure out his next move, AKA time warp if he needed to prevent himself from shooting Rueben.
That meant Rueben had to work fast. Except he had no nail.
Marshall’s face popped into his mind. What would Marshall do?
He’d probably rant about how back in his day, he walked uphill both ways in the snow just to get to school, and he was a tough bastard so he’d figure out a way to get out of some lousy cot.
How? Rueben wondered what his best buddy Buzz would say if he were here.
Science, my friend. Science is the answer. It’s always the answer. Have I ever told you that when I was in first grade, I built a 64-bit, custom OS for a—
“Thanks, Imaginary Buzz, you’re a genius,” Rueben said to the space before him. Science was the answer. At least, he hoped so.
His eyes darted to the crates in front of his cot and to the metallic glove still resting there. Charging.
Pete had mentioned that the supersonic glove had some surprises. No. What had he called it? Doris?
This might not work, but he had to try.
The glove was hi-tech so there was a good chance that it was voice-activated. Since his voice was Pete’s voice…
“Hey, Doris.”
A sexy robot voice answered from a tiny speaker embedded into the glove’s fabric. “Yes, Master Rueben?”
Master Rueben? Ha! It worked.
“Oh, um, yes, Doris.”
“I’m still here, Master Rueben. What is it you’d like me to do?”
“Um, do you…see my bleeding leg?” Rueben reckoned it wouldn’t take much pressure to reopen the wound so that he could bleed to death.
There was a pause, and Rueben realized how stupid he’d been to assume that a glove could “see” him.
“Yes, Master Rueben. I see it. You are much younger, and it threw me off for a moment.”
“Oh, right. You know about my abilities.”
“Of course.”
“You’ve helped me, um, kill myself before?” He was making his words up as he went along. It was almost too unbelievable that Pete had left him alone with such a powerful device.
“Of course. Did you get knocked in the head, Master Rueben?”
“N-no. No, I did not. Well, maybe I did. Yes, I did. Ha, you caught me, Doris. And um, I need to go back in time to before I hit it. Are you fully charged to, um, shoot a blast at me or whatever surprises you’re capable of?”
“Pulse? Or obliterate?”
“Excuse me?”
Doris sighed. “Do you want me to use the pulse feature? Or do you want me to use the obliterate feature?”
Shit, Rueben thought. But he didn’t appreciate the over-enunciating tone Doris had responded to him with. Like he was some kid.
“Obliterate.”
“Okay. Let me check my battery reserve. I am quite low.”
Footsteps sounded from the other side of the basement’s door.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Can you hurry with your calculations, Doris?”
“Can you please mind your manners, Master Rueben? How many times have I had to tell you?”
Geez. He was talking to a robot. No wonder Pete was so messed up. Of course, Doris was a rather intelligent AI or whatever she was. It felt as if he was talking to another person. It was almost as if Buzz had designed her.
The footsteps were louder now, more rapid.
“Hey, what’s going on—”
“Doris, obliterate my leg. Please,” Rueben blurted as Pete rushed into the room.
“As you wish.”
Rueben was expecting the supersonic glove to emit some invisible, focused sound blast that would tear loose the gauze and tape so that he’d bleed out and die. What he didn’t expect was for his entire goddamned leg to explode apart from his hip.
“Holyshit!” he let loose in a rush of breath.
Pete swept into the room. “What did you do!”
Rueben’s consciousness felt like a professional boxer’s glove punched it repeatedly as his hip bled profusely onto the basement floor. It was difficult to think, but what was it Pete had told him earlier? That they were both smart? “Doris, deactivate yourself.”
“As you wish, Master Rueben.”
Pete roared, “No!” as he threw himself to the floor and began scrabbling for one of the spilled nails.
Rueben smirked through his intense pain as Pete attempted to kill himself with nails. He didn’t exactly know how this time thing worked for sure, but he figured it would be a race against time to see who could die and warp back in time first. If Rueben succeeded, Pete wouldn’t even remember being here, thus giving Rueben a huge advantage in stopping him.
Rueben’s body was numb now, and he suddenly remembered that he had to stay calm and focus on what time he wanted to go back to. As his consciousness faded, he thought of Aki sitting in the old car out front of the Exit Bar and her smile as he snapped pics of her with his cell phone. That was a relaxing thought. It would be plenty of time to call the cops and have Pete apprehended before any of this went down.
Yes. He visualized her face.
Then there was blackness.
Chapter Ten
Friday, May 19, 10:35 p.m.
Rueben came back to his body at the Exit Bar. Not outside, but inside, seated at the table with Aki, Martha, and Buzz. Odd. Had he not been calm enough to warp back to him snapping photos of Aki outside?
He immediately felt his leg to make sure it was still there and that this wasn’t a fever dream and he was still trapped with Pete, only now, legless. His fingers felt solid flesh and bone beneath
his pants. He relaxed a bit. A fly buzzed near his head, and he swatted at it but missed.
His friends laughed at something Aki had said, and it startled him. At the other side of the bar sat Marshall, drinking alone with his wild silver hair, age-lined face, and permanent scowl.
Buzz jumped up and yelled, “The Raider Warlock pinball machine! Those are collector’s editions. I can’t believe they… How did they....”
Rueben sat still, deep in thought. He glanced up at the TV, which showed preparations for the World Summit on Monday. Good. It hadn’t happened yet. They now had the full weekend and part of Monday to stop it.
Aki watched the TV with a shake of her head as Buzz excused himself to play the pinball game. Martha stood to go to the restroom.
He thought about stopping Martha, but they’d need time to formulate a workable plan to stop Pete before he attacked them and tried to kidnap him. Rueben needed to inform his friends about what Pete had in store for the U.N. building summit in three days, but there wasn’t enough time now. What they needed was for him to warp back even farther in time to before he’d even stepped into the bar.
To do that, he’d have to die again and go back to when he was snapping pics of Aki outside. His eyes scanned the bar. What would be the easiest way to die here?
He spotted two guys he’d never seen before at the bar, talking to a pretty blond. He could go over there and get in the middle of that and let his ass get kicked. But then he might not die, and it would be a long and slow death, and what if they put him into a coma—a real coma this time? He wouldn’t be able to stop Pete then.
How else could he die?
Back in the basement with Pete, he’d considered running out into traffic if he’d been able to walk up the stairs to the first floor. He was now at ground level and had a fully functioning leg. “I’m going to go for a run!”
Aki frowned. “Whoa. Slow down. A what?”
“A jog. I think I’ll go for a jog.”
“You’re drunker than I thought you were.”
“You stay here. I’m going to go for a run.” Rueben rose from the table and dashed outside.
Aki yelled after him. “Rueben, what are you doing?”
He heard Marshall answer her from across the bar, “Being a dumbass.”
Of course, Marshall had to get one last dig in.
Rueben raced outside, closed his eyes, and darted into the street, ignoring yells, horn blasts, and screeching tires. Eventually, he got what he wanted: the hard impact of a speeding van knocking him down. He grimaced under the crushing weight.
Then he died.
Friday, May 19, 10:35 p.m.
Rueben came back, and he was oddly sitting in the booth at the Exit Bar. He checked his hands and felt his chest. He was all in one piece, but he hadn’t gone back any further than the last time. Damn. What was going on? He’d been as calm as he possibly could’ve been as the van had mowed him over.
A fly buzzed near his head. Rueben didn’t bother swatting at it.
Buzz jumped and yelled, “The Raider Warlock pinball machine! Those are collector’s editions. I can’t believe they… How did they....”
Rueben jumped up from the table. “I’ll go with you.”
“You hate arcade games.”
“I love…this one.”
Buzz shrugged, and they wandered off to the pinball machine.
“I’ve got a problem,” Rueben said. “There’s a psychopathic madman about to attack us here in the bar. In three days, he’s going to bomb the World Leaders Summit and kill a lot of people in the hopes of starting World War III, and I’m not going back far enough when I die.”
“Really? How curious. What do you mean you’re not going back far enough?”
Leave it to Buzz to only be concerned with the science of the problem and not the looming threat of global war. Rueben searched his friend earnestly. “I killed myself twice and went back to this moment each time. What does it mean?”
Buzz dropped a quarter into the machine. “It means you need to take your mind off your work and live a little.” Buzz suddenly reflected seriously. “Rueben, buddy. You gotta stay calm and warp on. You learned that before we took down Pout. Heh. Stay calm and warp on. I oughta put that on a t-shirt.”
Calm? Stay calm? A psycho version of myself is trying to turn the world into a nuclear wasteland!
Rueben shook his head of the thought. “No, Buzz. See that man in the white hoodie over there?”
Buzz glanced around. “What man in the hoodie?”
Pete was nowhere in sight.
“Never mind. There’s a friggin’ terrorist here that wants to blow up the U.N. building in the city three days from now. And he, um, wants us out of the way because we’re the only ones who can stop him.”
Buzz looked irritated. “Rueben, can we not do this now? Can we have one night of enjoying our sweet victory?”
“I’m telling you, I’ve been here at least three times. This guy is going to attack us within minutes. He’s going to inject me with some kind of knockout drug and kidnap me and keep me in the basement of an empty skyscraper belonging to Pout for the next three days.”
The pinball machine came to life as Buzz pulled the knob to shoot his first ball into play. Then Buzz dropped his hands from the machine’s sides and turned to face Rueben. “You couldn’t have made that up if you tried. Okay, I believe you, buddy. So what do we do about it?”
“We’ve tried everything. It doesn’t work. And, when I kill myself, I don’t go back far enough.”
Buzz turned back to the machine. “Then kill yourself again.”
“I was really hoping for some better advice.”
Buzz turned back to the pinball machine and sent his second ball into play.
“Right.” Rueben jumped behind the bar, and the staff started to yell.
“You can’t be back here! Insurance, man.”
He quickly found the serrated steak knife and thrust it into his chest.
Then he died.
Friday, May 19, 10:35 p.m.
When Rueben came back, he was sitting at the booth again. The fly buzzed away. Buzz jumped up and yelled, “The Raider Warlock pinball machine! Those are collector’s editions. I can’t believe they… How did they....”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Buzz furrowed his brow. “What? It’s only a game.”
“Damn it. Let me see your taser.”
“My what?”
“You know, your homemade taser.”
“I never told you about that.”
Rueben waved dismissively. “Hand it over.”
Buzz reached into his pocket and handed Rueben the taser.
Rueben turned it on himself and pushed the button.
Aki screamed. “What are you doing? Are you crazy?”
Everyone in the bar rushed to Rueben, and he even heard shouts to call 911. But Rueben endured the pain and kept the taser on himself.
Then he died.
Friday, May 19, 10:35 p.m.
Rueben returned to his body and found himself sitting in the booth at the Exit Bar. The fly buzzed away. Damnit!
Was he truly stuck in the same spot? Maybe if he kept dying more rapidly than usual, he could jar himself loose.
Without waiting for Buzz to exclaim about the pinball game, Rueben jumped up and darted back to the bathroom. There had to be something to kill himself in there, right? He entered the empty men’s room and surveyed the sinks, urinals, and stalls. He could drown himself, but that would take too long. There had to be something. He opened the cabinets under the sink and found a stash of cleaners. That would work, but it would likely be too slow and painful.
At that moment, one of the guys hitting on the blond girl entered the bathroom. Rueben noticed the form of a handgun bulging from beneath the man’s glossy, untucked dress shirt. He’d tucked the weapon into his belt. Perfect.
He taunted the man. “Hey, I saw you hitting on her.”
“Yeah, so what
of it? It’s a bar.”
Rueben affected an exaggerated swagger and leaned against the wall. “Yeah, well, that’s my woman, man.”
The guy frowned and looked Rueben up and down. “You gotta be kidding me.”
Rueben swaggered a little more and tried his “cool guy” tone. “Nah, man, we been together for a while. That’s my girl.”
The man held up his palms peaceably. “That’s cool, dude. Look, man. It’s all good, you know. I know how it is.”
Rueben frowned. This wasn’t going how he’d expected. “And I’m going to kick your ass for talking to my girl.”
The man held up his arms in complete surrender. “Look, I don’t want no trouble, man. I’ll leave her alone.”
“Oh, so just like that, huh? My girl’s not worth it? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Nah, that’s not… I’m just trying to live right, stay out of trouble. Straight and narrow, all the way. Look, if you’re with her, that’s cool, man. I won’t talk to her.”
With that, he left the bathroom.
Rueben stood in the bathroom, hands on his hips. That didn’t work. He thought about how else he could die. Another guy came into the bathroom, a burly tattooed man with piercings on his lips and eyebrows. This one would be perfect. As the guy sidled up to a urinal, Rueben ran up behind him and kicked him as hard as he could.
The man smashed into the urinal with a grunt. Then he whipped around, and Rueben ran like hell. He got back into the bar, and within seconds the man had chased him onto the floor, tossing punches. Rueben grabbed at the man’s piercings and ripped them out of his face. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”
The man grumbled in his face, “You want to die, kid?”
“Wouldn’t mind.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” The man shook his head, clutching at his bleeding face. “This just isn’t worth it. I’ve…got to piss.”
With that, the tattooed man walked away. By then, Martha was coming out of the ladies’ room, and she saw Pete. Rueben was out of time. This time, though, Pete noticed Rueben standing there first.
He sneered at him. “You look like you’ve repeated this scene a few times.”