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living room had not disappeared either. Ted sprinted to the window and
looked outside. Nora’s Mercedes and his Range Rover were still sitting in the
driveway.
    Ted dialed 911 one hour after Nora stopped breathing. He
had no trouble sounding shocked and devastated as he spoke to the operator.
     
    17.
    There was a new email from Nick in the inbox when Ted
came home from Nora’s funeral. The message read:
    ‘Ted Duplass was killed by Kenneth Shelton, 27, on
January 6, 2014.
    I found your time capsule.
    Nick Duplass.’
    Ted raised his eyebrows, highly intrigued. Then he took
a deep breath and exhaled slowly a moment later.
    Maybe his efforts to avoid death were futile. Was it even
possible for him to change his fate? That was an interesting question.
    Look on the bright side: he knew what was going to
happen to him, and that was half the battle.
    Kenneth Shelton, 27.
    27 must be the guy’s age. Good thing Nick had put this
detail in the email: it would help avoid a bloodbath in the style of King
Herod, who had ordered the execution of all young boys in Bethlehem to get baby
Jesus and thus save his throne. How many Kenneth Sheltons were there in
America? Probably thousands.
    Ted wished Nick had provided more information about his
future killer—his address, for example. Or his date of birth, at least.
    King Herod, huh?
    By the way, was it going to be a premeditated murder or
some sort of accident? This Shelton guy could turn out to be the driver of the
semi-truck that would smash into Ted’s car on the 6thof January,
2014. Or maybe he mistook Ted for a deer during a hunt.
    One thing was certain: Kenneth Shelton had to go. Two
months was plenty of time to take care of this guy. The best defense is
offence, right? He already had the gun, so he might as well use it.
    What if it didn’t end on Kenneth Shelton? What if Nick
emailed him another name after he bumped off Shelton? He would have to dispatch
that person, too.
    How many times was Ted planning to repeat this? The
answer was simple: he would keep doing it until he received an email that said
he would die of old age. That was the kind of death Ted desired. Death of old
age. Very old age. Triple-digit age. By the way, he should ask Nick to figure
out a way to send him a life-prolonging drug that would let him live to be a
hundred and fifty; they would surely have these in 2223. These pills would
probably cost as much as a house, but it was okay—his boy Nick Duplass must be
loaded.   
    A wild thought flashed in Ted’s mind. What if Nick was
playing with him? What if Kenneth Shelton was just some random name Nick had
pulled out of his ass?
    Ted shooed this thought away. Why would Nick do that?
He was correct about Nora, remember? She had indeed tried to murder him; that
was an irrefutable fact.
    Ted lowered himself into the chair, switched on the
laptop, and started typing. He was finished two and a half minutes later.
    ‘Dear Nick,
    Thank you for the information. I hope you’re doing
well.
    You mentioned Kenneth Shelton in your last message. What
is his address? What is his date of birth? What is his social security number?
Can you send me his picture?
    Ted Duplass, October 29, 2013.’
    Yeah, he sucked at writing letters, but who the hell
cared? Ted clicked the Print button.
    A few seconds later, Ted took the letter from the
printer, folded it in half, and dropped it in the time capsule. Then he printed
his first message to Nick—the one with the death question—and put it in the
capsule, too.
    Ted was glad he had purchased a metal detector. He
would have spent hours looking for the old capsule without it. Once again, his
instincts proved right.
    He screwed the cover on the time capsule and headed for
the garage.   
    Fuck fate. He was going to kick this bitch in the face
until it got tired of trying to kill him.
    THE END
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