Timekeeper Story
Matthew Ryan Fischer
Kendrick slowly drank his drink; he had nowhere to be and all the
time in the world to get there. Renee’s was an expensive steakhouse on Sunset
Strip near the border between Los Angeles and Beverly Hills. It was a perfect
place to eat a well prepared meal, where you would be served with plenty of extra
wait staff, and a kitchen that knew how to take its time. A proper fine dining
experience. The men wore suits and the women wore dresses. Unless they were
someone famous. Famous people could usually wear whatever they wanted to and
still get served wherever they were. But tonight, everyone was well dressed,
but they were fairly anonymous and pedestrian. It was a Wednesday night and
there was no reason for someone famous to be there, but still, a man could hope
for some sort of star sighting. Kendrick would have preferred it if there would
have been at least one thing to make the night memorable while sitting there,
slowly eating his steak and sipping on his third Maker’s Mark, neat.
Instinctively he looked at his watch. He hadn’t worn it tonight.
But the force of habit to check it was hard to break. He signaled his waiter
and asked for the time. It was 9:17 in the evening. Satisfied, Kendrick
returned to finish his meal. If someone had been watching, they could have
noticed that Kendrick’s pace did pick up ever so slightly. It would have been
hard to detect and the person really would have had to be looking for it, but
it did happen. He ate faster, no longer concerned with drawing out every last
bite. Whereas before he appeared to be a man there to savor every last bit, he
became a man that was simply interested in eating and cared not for the
experience.
He was in no great rush, but he also had no true reason to linger.
The night had moved on properly, and so too should he.
When he paid his bill and stood from the table, he left half of
his Mark’s Mark behind.
Kendrick stopped off at the restaurant bar to order another drink
and close out another tab, one that he had started when he first arrived and
was still waiting to be seated for dinner. The drink came, but Kendrick felt no
need to drink it. He did however make sure the bartender saw him take a sip.
Then he set it back down and got ready to leave.
A young man with jet black hair and an unshaven face, sat at the
bar, drinking a tall glass of soda. He didn’t really turn to look at Kendrick,
but the way he spoke it was obvious that he was speaking to him.
“Interesting thing to do – pay for drinks that you don’t drink.”
“Excuse me? Are you talking to me?”
“Drink at the bar. Half a drink on the table.”
“Pardon me for not wanting to be drunk. Not that it’s any of your
business, but some of us like to get home in one piece.”
“You just bought that. Why would you buy drinks you don’t intend
on drinking? Unless it was to make it look like you were here longer than you
really were.”
Kendrick began to walk away.
“You’re very good. You made a concrete timeline…”
Kendrick paused and turned back to the younger man.
Indignantly he protested, “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Sure you do. Why don’t you sit down and we can talk about it?”
Kendrick didn’t move to sit, but he didn’t move to leave either.
“You took cash from the ATM when you first got here to establish
the time of your arrival. Then you paid for your first drink with a credit
card, establishing another concrete time to prove that you were still here.
Then, for no real reason, you switched credit cards when it came to the meal.
Maybe you’ll have some explanation like credit card points or discounts on
restaurants or something reasonable like that, but we both know the real
reason. Then, you order another drink at the bar so the computer has another
time stamp for your evening. You figure anyone that might check a timeline
would see the final drink order and assume it would take you at least another
five or ten minutes to finish that drink. Four separate acts over a two hour
period. All of them could have been paid for with the cash, or put on one
credit card tab. But you wanted to establish a time line. The only question, is
why? Why would proving you were here for over two hours be so important? You
sure put a lot of effort into it, so there must be a very good reason.”
“I don’t have to listen to this.”
This time Kendrick did leave. The young man remained at the bar.
Outside Kendrick approached his car in the parking lot. He was
nervous and his head was starting to hurt. It always hurt at moments like this.
The memories were always too much.
Suddenly the young man stepped out from behind Kendrick’s sedan.
“How did--?”
“You’re not the only one with tricks.”
Kendrick didn’t reply to this. He just stared at the young man,
trying to look menacing. He wasn’t going to offer up any information he didn’t
have to.
“I know what you are and what it is that you’re doing. I can only
assume that you’re smart enough to commit a crime in such a way that there were
no cameras or witnesses? Because if there were eye witnesses then anything you
did here tonight won’t matter one bit. You think that if you establish a
timeline then the police won’t be able to catch you. But that’s a fairly naïve assumption.
If the police have reason to investigate you, they’ll investigate you. And you
don’t know what might happen then or what new information could be revealed.”
“Thanks for the concern, but I’m covered, on both ends.”
“I wasn’t concerned for you. I’m hoping you get caught. And if
they don’t figure out enough to catch you, I will. I have no qualms with
stopping you.”
“You figured it all out and came all this way just to tell me
that? You’re that smart and you don’t want anything yourself? Bull. What is it
you’re after? A cut?”
“If I wanted to be like you, I wouldn’t need your help. I’m not
here to negotiate. I’m here to offer one and only one warning.”
“And after that?”
“Consider yourself warned.”
“I’ll take that under advisement.”
Suddenly there were two Kendricks and they both moved to attack.
Kendrick had the numbers, but he was no fighter. The young man had a quick step
and had had some combat training. He separated the two Kendricks easily. In a
swift move he reached inside the new Kendrick and pulled his heart out. The new
Kendrick simply faded away. The old Kendrick was barely fazed; he didn’t feel
any pain or remorse or loss at all.
“You do have neat tricks. But I can always make more.”
“I know. I just want you to know that I’m not afraid to take care
of you.”
“So you’ll do that to me?”
“Worse.”
Kendrick knew he was defeated. He was never one for fights or
confrontations. And clearly this stranger was far more capable that he was.
“So I’ve been warned.”
“And you tried to attack me. I should end you just for that. Let
me have the clock.”
“Clock?”
“You know what I mean. Your timing device. I want it.”
“But—“
“But without it you’ll never know how long the double will last.
Yes, I know what the clock does. It’s a timer that counts down so you know how
long you have to do something. And now I want it.”
Kendrick reached in his pocket and pulled out his watch. He handed
it over to the young man.
“I never wear it during. Other people see it run backwards, and it
always freaks them out a little.”
The young man with the jet black hair took the watch and pocketed
it.
“You’re done in Los Angeles. I don’t care where you go. But not
here. You try to do something like this again, and the police cannot catch you,
just remember that I can. Be afraid. Be very afraid.”
The young man walked off leaving Kendrick to ponder where to go
next.
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