MAN FROM TOMORROW

Anita was exhausted by the time she got off work that evening. She loved her job- she was an accountant- but days like today always made her wonder how long she would last. She sighed, stepping out of the office building and onto the busy street. The entire day at work, despite how busy she’d been, her mind had been overwritten and distracted by the event that happened two days ago.

It seemed unbelievable that two days had already passed since her ‘accident’ and her encounter with the man who saved her life. In the entirety of that time, she was left wondering how to get in touch with that man. She owed her life to him, and that wasn’t something she would forget.

She merged into the crowd on the sidewalk and started her walk. Normally Anita would be heading straight home after work, but that wasn’t the case today. With her work bag slung over her shoulder, she instead headed in the local café’s direction.

That morning, Anita had made the odd move of driving to work. Since she lived so close- only a seven-minute walk- she more often left her vehicle at home. But today she felt the urge to bring it with her, though she hadn’t a clue why even now when she was avoiding her car and walking to the cafe in her fancy work dress suit and high heels. She tried to tell herself, reasonably, that she just needed the fresh air.

In a way it was true. The thought of her pursuit and wondering how she would achieve it sent her heart on a marathon. She knew, deep down, that there was something else. Something she would not argue with. So, her car would be left at the office building until, presumably, she was ready to pick it up later on that evening.

She tried to delve deeper into the reason she walked. Other than serving as an effective way to calm herself down and have some rest, no reasons came to her. Instead, she began thinking of the interesting prospect of meeting him. There were many things about him she wanted to know, though, she knew little if, given the opportunity, she would ask. A lot of her curiosity just seemed rude.

Her face warmed at the thought of meeting the man. Then she pushed the thoughts away, calming herself again. She didn’t want to think about the man anymore. Instead, she distracted herself by thinking of the actual incident. Her idiocy that day was appalling, and, had she been hit, it would have been entirely her fault. She would have died and traumatized the person who hit her, and several of the onlookers, for life. The scene of her ‘accident’ was another block past the cafe, and she’d been running in the opposite direction that she was walking now, heading for home.

This time Anita couldn’t stop her mind from drifting back to the man who saved her. There were two things she distinctly remembered about him. The first was his arms; she recalled him, wrapping them around her twice in a matter of minutes. The first time was to prevent her from falling over on the street, and the second time to save her life; it felt the imprint of his arms and muscles were permanently etched into her body as tingling markers telling her where he’d touched.

The second thing she remembered was the structure of his face. He had high and attractive cheekbones and a nose that complimented them. Considering that, however, she wasn’t able to form a solid picture of him. No matter how much she thought about him and tried to envision him in her head, the picture didn’t look quite right. Was his hair color brown or black? Were his eyes hazel or gray? The only thing she could say for sure was that he looked much different from the average person. Anita thought she had a reliable memory, but it was failing her now. It was rather frustrating. She needed to a shot of caffeine, Now! So, she rushed to the nearest café.

***

Martin’s unease deepened every passing day. A big part of that stemmed from the stress of his upcoming divorce. The project he had with him for many days already had no results to show. It was beginning to cast a shadow over his personal dilemma. There was no way for him to push aside his thoughts over his divorce. He needed to do that now, or never. Then there was the question of the ‘we’. Who was this ‘we’ that the Director kept referring to, the other day?

With a sigh, Martin leaned back in his chair, stretched his arms and reached for his coffee mug. For the first time that morning since he arrived at the local coffee shop, he opened his senses to his surroundings.

The pleasant scent of freshly baked croissants and coffee wafted through the building, along with the chatter of other patrons. He used this time as a small break from the task at hand, though his eyes seldom left the image of the man- the so-called terrorist. An image he held in his hands.

He spent a lot of time over the last few weeks examining the face of the man in the photo. His body structure appeared unusual. Compared to the average Joe, the man’s build was simply something he’d not seen before.

Of course, Martin had spent time examining the picture’s minor details. And there were those leads he had in the file. He had even researched other, even vaguely related information. Nothing came out of it. That was quite unusual. Even more unusual still that he found little on what he thought to be the most important leads: the events in which the man, Joseph Cooper, took part in as a terrorist.

“Excuse me?” A voice came from behind Martin, interrupting his thoughts. He turned his head to see a young woman, perhaps only a few years younger than him.

“I couldn’t help but notice that photograph... That man; do you know him?”

Martin didn’t know how to react to the situation at first. “Yeah. He’s a guy who has been missing for some time now.” He answered politely, but with no interest in conversing with the girl. She was pretty- young blondes often had a certain charisma to them- and he enjoyed looking at her for the brief moment that he gazed at her.

“He’s missing?” The woman seemed puzzled. Martin had returned to gazing at the photograph and didn’t see her face twist in confusion. He heard it in her voice.

“I’ve been looking for him for many days now. He rescued me. And I want to thank him.”

“You’ve what? You’ve seen this man?! “Martin was much more interested in the woman now.

Martin turned the chair with him to face her, holding up the picture for her to see better. It wasn’t just a brief glimpse of familiarity that he saw in the woman’s eyes. He saw a full-blown recollection and admiration. While Martin doubted that he could be so lucky to find someone who’d spotted his mark, the lead was most definitely worth following.

“I believe I just said that,” she smiled. “We, ahem... met a few blocks from here. My boyfriend and I had broken up moments before, and I... well, to say the least, wasn’t paying attention and ran out into the traffic. Before I realized where I was going, I saw an incoming truck and froze. Right when the vehicle was about to hit me, he seemed to appear out of nowhere and took me to safety.”

Martin took special note of the emotion that came and went from the woman’s fine features. Her face moved from sadness, to fear, to admiration, all in a matter of seconds.

“How long has he been missing for?” She asked, her voice sympathetic.

“A few weeks now,” he began, believing that it would be best to take advantage of the situation that grew before him. “I’ve been entrusted with the job of finding this man. If you could provide any information on your encounter with him, I would be truly grateful.”

The woman smiled and retrieved her purse from the nearby table. “I could take you to the street I bumped into him, as well as tell you everything I can about him on the way there. It’s not much, but perhaps the information will be useful.”

Martin slid the photo back into the file folder and dropped it into his briefcase. A moment later he stood next to the woman, gulping down the last few sips of his coffee.

“Lead the way, ma’am,” Martin offered, and she gladly did so.

They were hardly outside the coffee shop when the woman stopped, turning to him. She was a little to the side of the walkway. He moved to join her; his expression alerting her to his confusion. When he neared, she reached out to shake his hand. He obliged.

“I’m Anita Williams, by the way,” she said, offering him a firm handshake. Her ocean-colored eyes stared into him expectantly. Martin wasn’t too excited to be introducing himself, but he needed to be polite. After all, if this woman, Anita, had information that could help him, he would need her on his side.

“Martin Phillips.” He said nothing else, but he offered her a forced smile. She returned him one of her own.

“Well, I guess I’ll tell you what I can about...,” Anita began, “George Wilson?” Martin said.

Why tell a stranger the real name of an alleged Terrorist?

Also, it would help Martin fathom how much she knew about the man.

“Oh... George” Anita said. Martin walked alongside her on the busy sidewalk, weaving in and out of the crowd in such a way only done by long-time New Yorkers. There was a brief moment where Anita and he were alone, and that’s when she began her story.

“It was three weeks ago, on June the second. My boyfriend, who I thought was perfectly happy with our relationship, called me to the local Starbucks to have ‘the talk’. Of course, I didn’t know that was his intention until I got there and we started talking... but that’s irrelevant, I suppose. It all happened so fast. I was in the building, and then I wasn’t. I was running away,” Anita paused when they reached the end of the block. Her face was tilted down, and she was looking at the cement, but Martin could see the sadness within her. He said nothing, and she guided him across the street and onto the next block.

Anita didn’t resume talking until they reached Starbucks. Martin didn’t need her to say that it was the one she’d been running from.

“Right here was where I bumped into him,” she said, motioning with her arms. “I bumped into and angered many people in the short distance I traveled but... It was different when I crashed into him. It was like charging into a brick wall, that’s the only way I can describe it. I had to stop. And when I did, I looked at him. I didn’t notice much about him at that moment other than the fact that he didn’t seem angry like all the others.”

“When did he save you?” Martin asked. Anita wasn’t quick to respond and was silent for the rest of the block. They crossed the road, and Anita went to lean against the wall of the nearby building. Martin followed her, he stood next to her.

“It was only a few minutes after, on this street,” she lifted her arm to point over the road they just crossed. “I continued running after I bumped into him, and wasn’t paying attention to oncoming traffic. I could have sworn he was nowhere nearby... but I couldn’t say for sure. What I do know, however, was that I was standing in the middle of that street, and he came running faster than anything I’d ever known. He grabbed me and rolled us to safety, right here on this curb. And then he was gone.” Anita shrugged.

Martin looked over the street, which was no longer busy with pedestrians, but vehicles that sped back and forth in front of him.

“Is that all that happened?” He asked.

***

“I have to be honest with you about this incident…” Anita began. He noticed that the knuckles she used to support the large strap of her bag, had turned white. She was holding onto it for dear life. “It feels none of this ever happened. But I’m not crazy, I know it really did. I have the tag from his coat and my body still aches two full days later from the fall.”

“What’s making you feel this way?” He asked. Martin had to be honest with himself, something about this incident felt surreal. He was pleased to find that Anita also thought there was something strange about it.

“I…” Anita was silent for a moment, trying to find the words to describe her feelings. “There are a few things, I guess, but the biggest thing is that no one seemed to have noticed the man who saved me at the scene. Surely, they thought I was dead in the middle of the street. How could I not get hit and have no one think twice about it?” She shook her head, frustrated, but said nothing else.

“Yes… I agree. That’s most unusual,” Martin said. As time went on and she told him more, he became a bit more interested in her story. He had always listened well enough to derive facts from words and decide whether it may be relevant to his case. But now he was also listening to learn more about her, and what had happened.

Everything she said, and what he deduced from it, was stored in some part of his mind for future reference. Even if it had nothing to do with his case. At this point, he was wondering what had actually happened, but he knew that he didn’t have to ask; she would tell him on her own accord in due time.

“How far from here did it happen?” He asked.

“Just up ahead.”

Neither of them spoke for the next bit of their journey. They passed through a crowd that was noisy around them despite their silence. Finally, they reached the end of the block, and Anita moved them off to a side to not disrupt the flow of people. She stared down at the kerb, her eyes glazing over in remembrance.

“It was right here,” she said. Martin recognized the pause she made; it was one necessary in order to hide the imminent cracking in her voice. “This is where we landed when he pushed me out of the way.”

She left the rest up to Martin, keeping her distance while giving him the freedom to examine the location to his heart’s content. Though she was not there to interfere with his work, the many other pedestrians were. None were impressed when he crouched by the edge, in the middle of the pathway, doing something deemed unimportant. He’d only been crouched for a minute, and he was sure he’d already heard every insult possible thrown his way.

Anita was still within earshot, so she continued to speak. She knew that the more she told him, the better chances there may be about finding the man who saved her. “We both came from the other side of the street. Though the time between when I saw the oncoming vehicle and when I realized I was lying on the side of the road was brief, I don’t remember what happened.

I didn’t see the man come to me and I didn’t feel him push me away. And after he left, I discovered this tag,” she reached into her purse and pulled out the silver tag, which was attached to a hunk of leather from Joseph’s coat. “He was wearing a leather jacket at the time. I think it’s possible that it got torn from his coat during the incident. While I doubt it’s of any real use... but here it is.”

Martin reached out to take the tag from her, and she dropped it into his hand. The tag was familiar, from the inexpensive Avanu brand.

At that point, everything seemed too solid to be made up. From there, Martin took everything she said seriously and progressed with due caution. He contemplated all the possibilities. A lot could have happened here, in the short span of time Anita experienced her accident, more than either of them knew. Martin was beginning to believe that he might be on Joseph’s tail, but there were still some things keeping him from being absolutely positive.

For a moment Martin couldn’t hold back the doubt that crept into his mind. The possibility that he could be following a dead-end, after all, was real. But better to follow a dead end than to leave a lead left unfollowed. This was one of those instances where he wasn’t sure what to expect, but, in the end, he managed to push those thoughts from his mind and continue on with his investigation.

Martin placed his briefcase on the cement in front of him, carefully opening it so the orderly fashion that he kept everything in wouldn’t be disturbed. From it, he took a small plastic baggie, where he dropped all the leather strips for later. Though as far as he may not need them, evidence was evidence, and it was possible that it could be of use in the future.

Once the strips were safe inside the bags, he plopped them inside the briefcase and closed it; resuming his search of the general vicinity. As he was now satisfied that he’d gotten all that he could from the kerb itself, he stood tall once more, searching the rest of the area. If there was any other evidence that Anita’s incident even happened, he would find it. The first and only thing he saw was the fresh-looking skid marks relatively close to the side of the road. Even after scanning the area, looking at every detail and finding nothing, he thought there might be more. His silence continued; his search was put on hold.

Could Joseph Cooper really have been here, only several days prior, with Anita? Could it have been him who saved her? These were the questions Martin needed and wanted to know, but they weren’t the ones he could ask. Not yet.

For now, at the very least, he knew that something happened on the corner of this street. If it was as Anita said, he would be able to create a vivid picture of what happened. If she wasn’t telling the truth, then he would learn it.

He turned to face Anita, stepping away from the kerb to temporarily quell the anger of those passing by. “Recount all the events that led up to this point, if you would. I’ve analyzed all I can from the surrounding area, but now I need to create a picture. If I can do that, I may figure something out,” he said.

She stood silently.

“I have an idea, but to be as accurate as possible, I’ll need to know a bit more. Recall every small detail. We can’t miss anything,” Martin said. The possibility that Anita could lead him to Joseph was increasing as he learned more, though he still wasn’t counting on it. Though, he did briefly consider where he would be now if he hadn’t encountered her. What kind of luck was it, to encounter such a lead? He scratched his head, hoping that he was on to something. He listened to everything Anita had to say.

“It sounds really stupid, I know, but… I was a disaster that day. There’s no one at fault for what happened that day but for me,” she sighed. “I was running and not paying attention to where I was going. I just needed to get away from everything… I needed to breathe… I needed to get home and be alone. I guess the dangers of sinking into myself like that didn’t matter to me at the time.”

“What happened?” He asked. Anita told him a bit about what happened, but not the details he was looking for. He understood that from the way she said what she did, she was under tremendous stress when the accident happened. He watched Anita’s expression change from cautious to something he couldn’t read. She seemed to be more guarded, she was only sharing more not because she wanted to but because she thought he would be able to do something with the information.

“I was running away from my ex-boyfriend,” Anita started, tilting her head away from Martin to focus on something. “We broke up before this whole mess happened… In the end, well… I was running because I didn’t want to be anywhere near him.”