The Enigma’s Anomaly

First things first I need to get the hell out of these clothes. I’m already risking hypothermia and I don’t need to prolong that. Standing up seems incredibly difficult at the moment, but I’m freezing and it’s not going to get any better if I stay here.

I pull myself up into a sitting position with my knees to my chest and look down at my feet which are still tied together. I dig my fingers under the zip ties but they don’t budge. I can’t get these off without something sharp. I look down at my discolored wrists as I try to get the zip ties off and I frown at the way I’ve butchered them. My hands are bloody and some of the cuts aren’t as shallow as I’d hoped. I’m going to need to take care of that too.

This is going to be awkward. I need to find something sharp, but there are no more loose nails lying around unless I want to go diving back into the ocean and I’m thinking not. Which will ruin my integrity the least? Bunny hop, wormlike scoot, or butt scoot? This is why people carry pocket knives. I should invest in one of those.

I make my not so graceful way down the dock until I find someone’s fishing kit that they conveniently left here unlocked. There’s plenty of things in here that’ll cut zip ties so I grab a small collapsible knife and get the plastic off, releasing my feet.

It feels great to not be restricted anymore. I’ve missed these feet. I just now notice that I seem to have lost a show while drowning. Could be worse. I could’ve died. Those bastards stole my phone so I’m going to have to get a new one. It’ good that I don’t have that many contacts. New phone, new shoes, some clothes and something warm to drink would be my ideal shopping list.

I stand up and my muscles groan at the motion and my covered foot makes a gross squishy sound under the strain of the weight. This is going to be embarrassing, like a walk of shame except damper.

I walk down the rest of the dock and then step onto a dingy little street. It’s deserted so I walk a little way down until I see a bar that’s fairly busy. I check my pockets but obviously I don’t have a wallet. I make my way to the bar and stand outside the entrance as inconspicuously as I can. I can’t go in there when I’m this wet, I’d only draw more attention to myself.

The first person who walks out I grab the wallet of, and it’s easy too easy because the guy is hammered. He doesn’t have any cash though, so it’s not much use to me right now. I wait for the next person and grab his wallet. Wow, someone should tell this guy that you really shouldn’t have that much cash on your person. He’s got a few twenties and a couple tens that total up to a little over one hundred. This should buy me something at least, but I wait for a third person and grab a third wallet just in case. That’s another thirty bucks, and I’m content with that.

I walk further down the street dripping onto the pavement incessantly. It looks like I tried to go swimming with my clothes on, unless you see my wrists where it looks pretty gruesome. Not gory, just bloody. My steps are uneven because one foot has a shoe and the other doesn’t, so I look pretty fucking stupid.

There’s not much open, and I wish I knew what time it is, because I have absolutely no idea. At least after ten? I don’t know what day it is either. Judging by the number of people in that bar it’s probably a weekend.

A little ways down there’s a twenty four hours store, which I walk into and get a handful of grimaces from the employees. Poor janitor who’s going to have to clean up my drip trail. I’d do it myself, but I just escaped death and that’s enough work for one day.

I check the clock to see that it’s pushing two in the morning. After grabbing dry clothes, and some gloves so that people don’t have to see the blood, I change in the bathroom. The feeling of clean clothes that don’t smell like salt water and aren’t wet is really glorious. I wrap the sleeves of the hoodie tightly into me to get warmer. I check my hair out in the mirror and it’s still wet but it’s not too bad. The cut on my head isn’t too bad either.

I look like shit though. There’s gigantic bags under my eyes and a cut across my cheek that I don’t recall getting, as well as a cut lip. One of them is probably from being slapped around by mister-sadist man. Still, could be worse. I’m always the eternal optimist.

I walk out quickly pulling the hood up on my sweatshirt, so that I don’t have to make eye contact with anyone.

Getting a cab at this hour and in this area is going to be hard so I have to keep walking. My feet are killing me, but I walk a few blocks until I see a taxi down the road and head towards it.

Getting in and sitting down feels so much better on my legs. I don’t even think about the address I give him, and then I realize that I didn’t just give him mine. I gave Gerard’s address, and I didn’t even mean to. I think that’s where I want to go though.

I almost fall asleep in the back of the car. I actually think that I might’ve because I feel myself being jolted awake in front of my destination. My hood’s fallen off and I feel disorientated all over again. I squint at the light hitting my eyes and it takes me a minute to actually realize that I’m meant to get out. My body has stiffened up from sitting down and I ache when I try to move, but I do so anyway, knowing that soon I’ll hopefully get to rest for real.

It takes me longer than it probably should to stand up and get out of the car and I’m rifling through the wad of cash in my pocket looking for the right amount of money.

“Frankie!” A squeal comes from behind me and the next thing I know is that the familiar hands of Gerard are wrapping around me waist from behind me and he buries his head in my shoulder. I can’t see him from this angle, but I’m so glad he’s there.

“Thank fuck, Frank. I thought you were dead,” he whispers into my shoulder.

“Not dead Gerard, just temporarily incapacitated,” I say and I can tell the cabbie is getting annoyed because I haven’t paid him yet, but there’s a Gerard on me who’s getting in the way of the cash in my pockets.

“You scared the living daylights out of me,” Gerard says.

“Listen, Gerard,” I say and I untangle myself from him then hold out a finger for him to wait so that I can pay the driver. I hand him the money and he pulls away a second later.

“What?” he asks looking scared.

“There was a note that you might’ve found-“

“Don’t worry I know that was fake,” Gerard says quickly and he puts his arms around my neck. I feel colossally better when he says that, but I don’t know he knows that.

“How?”

He rolls his eyes at me and smiles, “I know you’re writing style. I practically memorized that article in the paper. And I know you, so there was no way that you could’ve written it.”

“Good, I’m glad you know it wasn’t real. I don’t know what it says, but just know that you are extremely important to me. I’m just so glad you don’t hate me,” I tell him.

“You should be. As soon as I saw it I knew something was up, and I called the police but they didn’t let me file a missing persons report until it’d been 24 hours.”

“How long has it been?” I ask him.

“You don’t know?” He asks looking concerned, “it’s been three days Frank. You went out to get coffee, you didn’t come back and when I left to check up on you there was a note taped to my door. Three days later here you are.”

“Three days!” I repeat astounded, and I’m struck with a horrible revelation, “They were outside your apartment.”

“What happened? Who?” Gerard asks.

“I think you’d really prefer not knowing. I want to get inside though,” I say quickly and I pull on Gerard sleeve to get him into the building.

“You aren’t getting off that easy, Iero,” Gerard replies.