Muddled Murder

The first thing I saw when I woke up was the blood. My mind went into a full panic mode, and I flipped out. I started checking all over myself to see where I had been injured, my bloody hands smearing the blood all over my clothes. Then I realised I wasn’t injured, which could only mean one thing. It was someone else’s blood.

But whose? I had no idea. In fact, I had no idea where I was. All I could see around me was a dark, narrow street. I was standing on the sidewalk, quite far away from the nearest streetlight. Above me was the clear night sky. A handful of stars shown down upon me, and I felt that they were supposed to give me some comfort, but my heart rate refused to slow down. And then I saw it. There was a body on the curb, barely ten metres away from me.

My natural instinct was to go and check on the person, but something stopped me. I wondered what, but my memory refused to provide me with anything in my past. I tiptoed closer, not another soul in the alley as I went and checked. I was still a couple of metres away from the man when I realised he wasn’t breathing. There was a pool of blood spreading from his torso and onto the sidewalk. The man was dead, and I had blood on my hands. I didn’t need any memory to add up the two.

A car’s headlights suddenly flashed to life in front of me, and the engine revved on. It reversed a bit, and then sped past me, barely giving me enough time to register the man sitting inside. From the small pharmacy in front of me, a short bearded man came out and started pulling down the shutter. I did the first thing that came to my mind, I ran.

I had no idea how long I had run for, but I am sure it was a pretty long time because my T-shirt was completely soaked in sweat by the time I stopped. And it was an early winter evening. I realised I was on a bridge, a few cars going by, couples walking holding hands, families with little children. I wondered who my parents were, if I was married or had a romantic lover. If I only had my memories back, my life. But the sight of my hand snapped me right out of those thoughts. It didn’t matter, because nobody would want to be related to a murderer. I didn’t know if someone else had killed him, or if it had been me, but suddenly it occurred to me that it would be better if I didn’t know. If I did remember my past, what if I realised that I had murdered him? Not only him, but maybe others too. Just that thought made me doubt myself, and wanting my memories back seemed like a dangerous option.

I descended the bridge to reach the turbid river flowing past me, and thankfully washed up my bright red hands in the water. My hands were numb by the time I stood up to return to the upper roads. That was when I heard something.

“Oh, it was easy as cake,” a man said.

“Are you sure no one was there?” asked a woman.

“I think I saw a girl. And she saw me. I panicked and drove forward, but the car hit her head and she collapsed to the ground. I didn’t know what to do, and I stopped to check but she was stirring up so I raced away,” the man replied.

It was coming from the other side of the bridge, beyond the wall separating the river bank for the construction of the bridge. I tiptoed over to it, and peeked out to see who was talking.

Smoke blew out from a man’s dark lips as he put a cigarette into his mouth again, leaning on the wall. The woman was standing across from him, arms crossed, in oversized baggy clothes. She had a beanie on her head, and wore huge, funky glasses. She was facing me, but I was well hidden in the dark. They continued talking, not caring to keep their voices down.

“You dolt! The body is still there?” the woman asked.

“Abandoned on the sidewalk. Shouldn’t be noticed by anyone till tomorrow morning. By then we’ll be long gone,” the man was nonchalant. The woman nodded, a bit anxious, while he smoked for a minute more. Then they both started climbing up the river bank. I followed them after some time, composing my thoughts and struggling to remember something. I thought I must have waited for a minute or two, but I somehow still saw the car leaving with the two people in it. And the slate of my memory which had been wiped clean managed to store the number in it.

Police sirens made their way to my ears, and I was a bit surprised my blank mind recognised it. Had I heard them many times before? Was I actually a criminal? What was my past? I somehow didn’t want to find out.

I just stood frozen there, above the river bank, in the headlights of the police cars as they advanced towards me. I was literally unable to move, dead tired and fatigued.

“Hands up in the air!” came a voice over the loudspeaker. My addled mind did as I was told. The next few minutes were a blur as the cops came out, handcuffed me, charged me for the murder of a famous entrepreneur and took me to the police station for questioning. Somewhere along the way, I fell unconscious.

---

“Did you kill Mr. Pop?” I knew that was the name the entrepreneur was known by, but it sounded funny. I bit back a chuckle.

“I don’t know,” I answered, just like I had the three last times.

“I have all night,” the officer told me.

“Keep sitting then. I hope your butt doesn’t hurt,” I almost smirked. He glared daggers at me, and then stood up and left the room.

A few minutes later another officer entered. A plump middle aged woman. “Answer honestly. Did you kill Mr. Pop?”

“I have been telling you honestly! I have no idea whether I did or I didn’t. I just woke up with no memory of where I was or who I was!” I yelled at her.

She nodded in sympathy. “Quite common in criminals.”

I was too tired to correct her, but I was exasperated. Why couldn’t they just understand I was telling the truth?

“Nothing in my head tells me that I killed that man, so I don’t know,” I declared.

“There is quite some evidence, you know. The blood on your clothes matches with his.” I looked down at the red spots and smears on my clothes and winced. “And a shop owner in the alley says that he saw a girl with a description like yours run away from the dead body. Same orange t shirt, same long braid and same camo pants. Now tell me, what am I supposed to believe?” she raised an eyebrow.

“I really don’t know,” I said. The description was me alright, and I had run away. But had I killed the man? Unsure guilt surged through my veins, and the officer noticed the beads of sweat on my forehead. If I was the murderer, I was just making their jobs harder. But then, I didn’t want to find out. Unsure guilt was stressful enough, and I didn’t know how I could live with the knowledge that I had killed a human being in cold blood.

“Are you sure you don’t want to confess anything?” she asked with a tone of finality in her sweet voice.

“I would confess if I remembered anything,” I replied.

Then I suddenly remembered something. “Wait!”

“What’s wrong?” the lady officer leaned forward, eyebrows knitted together.

“I saw that car leave the bridge tonight. The two people in it, they were talking about something suspicious,” I said, wracking my brain for the words.

The man raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“I’m not sure. They were saying that they left a body on the sidewalk. A girl had seen it, they hit her head and run away. They were planning to escape tonight,” I narrated the incident.

“How does that make a difference?”

“It does,” I said, as I saw my spark of hope being snatched away with it. “You should check. I remember the car number!”

“You know the number plate, huh?”

---

The two police officers had tracked the number plate to a road by the river, where a car had been abandoned. “Go home,” the woman told me.

“I don’t know where I live!”

“Then wait here. We’re going alone.”

I scowled as I followed them out of the police station and their car revved away. Then I saw a cab passing me and jumped in. “Follow that car!”

We followed the car for twenty five minutes until we reached a road running parallel to the river. The police car had stopped behind the car I had seen before, and I told the cab driver to park behind it, and jumped off. I rushed to the shore, where I could see the river an a small boat house in the distance. The river was wide at that point, the current slow. To my left were the mountains into which the river bent, and my right were the police officers near the boat house about half a kilometre away.

I saw the man and woman I had seen earlier, along with a dark guy in shoes pull out a rusty old motorboat and push it into the water and jump on. “Put you hands in the air! You cannot escape tonight!” the officers pointed their gun at them.

In their surprise, someone suddenly activated the turbines and they sped ahead into the river, moving towards my side. The motorboat was slow, the turbines were sputtering and malfunctioning as the boat raced away form the routing and chasing officers.

I don’t know what I was thinking, but I barely hesitated a second before jumping into the river to my left. They were speeding towards my side, cutting through the middle of the river. I was perpendicularly closer, and I knew I could reach the centre before they did. I swam in smooth, rapid strokes, cutting through the water like a literal fish as I aimed towards the centre where they would reach in about ten seconds. I think they were too preoccupied keeping their eyes on the officers, because they certainly didn’t see me coming. The cold water didn’t faze me, it was like it was part of my blood. Of course, the adrenaline counteracted it, and I had no trouble speeding through the limpid surface.

As expected, I reached one second before their boat. As it zoomed past me, I somehow managed to grab hold of the end. I clambered on, somehow still unnoticed by the three people, while the officers stared at me flabbergasted. They were too scared to shoot let it hurt me, so it all depended on me.

I crept forward and elbowed the cigarette man in the neck sharply that he fell to the ground immediately, somehow unconscious. The woman turned to me, ready to battle in her large hanging clothes. I ducked to avoid her punch, grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back. Then I kicked her off the boat as it continued speeding away. The last man was the one with the shades, driving the boat. He stepped out of the seat, while the boat continued towards the hills, and turned to face me. Even though I couldn’t see his eyes, a chill ran down my spine. And he attacked.

I think my brain was a little slow to process as his kicked swept me off my feet and knocked the air out of my lungs. Panting, I pushed at the floor to get up, while he grabbed my hair and pushed my head towards the whirring motors of the boat. He pressurised me into the blades, while I used all my physical strength to hold my head up. He pushed once, twice, and the third time I finally got a grip with one hand to ram the other into his sternum.

As he doubled back, I realised that the boat was heading straight for a wall of soil and bushes, a hill was straight ahead. I rushed towards the wheel, but before I could rush it the man got up and tugged me back. I wrestled with him, watching the imminent crash drifting closer. He kicked my thigh and I launched a punch at his shoulder, ran again for the wheel. Grabbing the cool metal, I yanked it to the right just as the boat curved around the edge of the hill and barely avoided the collision. The man with shades had managed to stand up at the end of the boat, but my sudden turn threw him off balance and he splashed into the water.

I steered the boat towards the shore as I saw the other two criminals climbing out and being ambushed by the police officers. I finally parked along the bank and stepped out, my mind in a whirl, even more muddled than before. The two officers emerged, dragging along the two criminals. The woman went onto the boat and brought the third guy, then came back and both of them patted my back. But I wasn’t paying attention. My mind was elsewhere.

How did I know how to do all that? How did I swim so well or fight so brutally? The worst thought crept into my head. I could be a trained assassin or mercenary. I was too much of an expert, and I had been pretty close to the dead man. I was scared that I had led the police on a wild goose chase. I must be the real criminal. I must have killed Mr. Pop. I didn’t want to find out.

When I voiced my concerns, the police officers waved them away, too busy congratulating me. But my head refused to believe them, fearful of what my past could hold. 

---

“Do you remember me?” a man rushed into the hospital ward, worry lines creasing over his forehead. Two people who claimed to be my parents were standing on one side of my bed, explaining to me that he was my brother.

“I’m sorry, but no,” I said, and he looked like he was about to burst into tears. My parents leaned over and hugged him, as they also squeezed my hands. I saw the two police officers appear from the door. They had huge grins on their faces.

“All three of them confessed to the murder, and we also found them guilty of a couple more. They have been duly imprisoned. Great work, kid!” the man said.

“And on top of that, it was announced a couple of hours ago that you are going to be awarded a bravery medal for your courage!” the woman was about to jump up and down.

I found it difficult to smile. “But how was I able to defeat them so easily? How could I fight so well, swim so smoothly? Are you sure I’m not a danger to society?” my brow was furrowed.

“No, not at all,” the man who was supposed to be my father guffawed and slapped my thigh. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you a bit about yourself. You are twenty six, won seven medals for swimming in high school, and now teach martial arts at a renowned academy!”