Chapter 9 Final Destination

Previously on Final Destination: Wyatt and Louise broke up. Louise was having an Affair with Nicholas and Marie and Stevie was murdered. An anonymous visit from a futurist man and side kick canine come back to the past to take back the time traveling watch Wyatt returned home with a decoy of the device and went back in time. Waking up to find out, he went to the wrong year and lost the watch.

The man has a sturdy accent, broken almost. A strong slang to Wyatt that seems too familiar.

“You one of them crazy cats?” The man asks. Wyatt confusingly eyes the man, “Speak, boy!” He says. The way the man says, boy, was roofless. The man leans forward into Wyatt and Wyatt's finding himself stuck between a wall and the man, menacingly growling his breath out. Wyatt reminds himself, he's been through a lot worse. The mutt attacking him, the party on Billingsgate Road, Marie's death. The man was nothing compared to fear.

“Where am I?” Wyatt ignores the questions and test the man with a couple of his own. A little grin of broken shards for teeth appear through the man's smile.

“My abandon warehouse,” Wyatt exhales an exhaustion of a breath and wines to himself, “I'm not suppose to be here.”

“Yeah? Well you're not suppose to be in this year either,” Wyatt leans forward to the man. Shaking the mans hold off himself, “what year?”

“1956.” Wyatt exhales and bellows. “I saw you jump out of your space ship.” Wyatt winces with frustration. Not only was Wyatt caught traveling, but he was in the wrong year too. 1901 was the year he was suppose to be in. He was hoping a couple months before Marie and Stevie was murdered.

“What planet you from?”

“I'm not an alien, I'm from the future.”

“You from one of them fancy-smancy places?” Wyatt smirks about, “sure.”

“See I don't tolerate aliens, but if you tell me what the future like. I won't tell no body.”

“You black mailing me?”

“No, I'm more like compromising. I wont tell, you don't get shot.” A wider smirk draws across Wyatt's face.

“Boo- who. I don't need to listen to you.” Wyatt charges for his watch and checks his loosely pockets, empty. His hands scatter all over his body and his eyes bulges out. He scampers to the spot he laid and see's that his watch is missing. He thought about it, when he went through the portal, he ran through it and never put the watch away. It was always locked to his hand. Could he have lost it through the portal, lost it on his way out and someone could have stolen it?

His eyes wonder aimlessly to the man behind him. “What did you do with my watch?” Building a bridge of rage from Wyatt to the man. Wyatt clenches his fist, grits his teeth, spitting harsh words like Dog and infested bitch, “You oozing toad spotted slimy boulder, walking on two fat logs!” Wyatt bulldozes the man over onto his skeletal back. A crack, vigorous and destructive, sends the man onto the boarded flooring trembling of pain and agony.

“Where's my watch?” Wyatts fist rises over his head and comes slamming down onto the mans face. He repeatedly bruise the mans face, till a sober over runs Wyatt's grunting. “Where's my watch, I don't need to ask it again.”

“I don't have it, honestly. I found you outside and when I saw that thing you came from, I brought you in here before anyone else could see you.” Wyatt shrieks, gripping his golden locks tenderly and wanting to snatch it out.

“You know what I can do, if you're lying to me. I will make you regret it.” Wyatt hears a loud gulp from the man and a sudden freak of nodding. Wyatt picks himself up from the ground and wipes the dust off his pants. The man follows behind Wyatt, picking himself up and cleaning himself off.

Wyatt jumbles out of the abandon warehouse, through an exit and out into the open. Wyatt squints and shield his eyes from the flaring brightness he absorb when he step foot outside. The beating sun harvest off Wyatt's skin and along the affected wounds and he gasp to the pain.

“Never had heat like this before?” The man ask.

“No, it was always cold in Connecticut.”

“My father said the same thing. He said he liked it back than, than now. So what's your name?” The man had a mouth, that never decided to just stay shut. It almost made Wyatt want to go bonkers again on him. But he keeps quiet and answers the man, “Wyatt Walker at your service. You?”

“Bird man,” he winces proudly at his name. Eventually it becomes funny to Wyatt and he's busy cracking jokes at the mans name.

“Where's your field of corn? Oh-Oh, got a good one. In his spare time bird man races pigeons. I don’t know why, he never beats them.”

“That wasn't funny.”

“Yes, it's funny because your name is bird man and pigeons are birds.” His humors dies they continue walking in silence. Wyatt soon realize they've been walking in an alley, following down the endless pavement.

“Does it hurt?” Bird Man gestures Wyatt's burnt marks.

“Do they really call you Bird Man?”

“It suck to me after awhile." A few minutes in silence, Wyatt shoots for another question.

“So, you know where my watch is?” Bird Man surrenders himself to a stop and frowns,“can we please stick to one subject?” Wyatt shrugs and nods at Bird Man.

“Sure," Wyatt sticks his hands in his gapped pockets and wonders through the alley. "So you haven't seen my watch?”