2050: Psycho Island

by Williams, Phil M.

  Naomi smiled at the woman. “I’ve been very vocal in my support of unions, and I’ve consistently supported legislation favoring unions. My mother is a retired teacher. I’m left caring for her because her pension was inflated away.”

  “I remember you speaking so eloquently about your mother when you announced your candidacy for president. She must be so proud.”

  “Thank you. I hope she is.” Naomi paused for a moment. “Most candidates are beholden to the top bidders. Given the financial difficulties of unions, it’s no surprise that politicians have lost interest. But this is the problem with politics. Politicians do what will get them elected, which is often bowing to big money donors, instead of sticking to principles and doing the right thing. I sometimes feel like a lone voice in the wilderness. I’m sure you understand that feeling.”

  Mrs. Regan smiled. “I certainly do.”

  “You can count on me to be a good friend of the unions, but, if I’m to really make a difference, I must win the presidency, and, to do that, I need donations.”

  Regan took a deep breath. “Most teacher associations are supporting Corrinne Powers, even though she’s been a lukewarm supporter of our cause, but they feel as though she’s the most likely to be our next president. What would you say to that?”

  Naomi leaned forward, her elbows on her desk, and her fingers steepled. “I don’t need a war chest to beat Corrinne Powers. People are tired of being destroyed by crony capitalism. Corrinne is more of the same. Sixteen new democratic socialists were elected in the midterms. According to polls, 46 percent of Americans support democratic socialism. With this latest stock market crash, I think we’re very close to a majority.”

  “But a lot of democratic socialists still support Corrinne Powers.”

  “Some may if she wins the Democratic nomination, but just so they can oppose President Warner, not because Corrinne represents their interests.” Naomi straightened and sat back in her chair. “I won’t sugarcoat the situation. It’s an uphill battle for me. You and the other unions see the same polls I do. But, if you support Corrinne, and she wins, what is the likelihood that she does anything for the unions?”

  “That’s why I’m here. That’s why NEA would like to support your campaign and your super PAC.”

  53

  Derek’s Destiny

  Derek and his neighbor, Destiny, crept to the bridge under the light of a half-moon. It was muggy and hot, mosquitoes buzzing about.

  Destiny smacked her bare leg, just below the hem of her skirt. “I got bit again.”

  “Shh,” Derek replied, his finger to his lips. The guard shack and the robot guard were only sixty feet away.

  They’d planned their entrance into The Regal Hotel, but this was the first time Destiny had seen it in person.

  Derek gestured to the bridge. “You have to use the steel girders like monkey bars.”

  She looked down at the dark canal below, her eyes wide. “I can’t swim.”

  “I told you about the canal,” Derek whispered.

  She snapped her tongue off the roof of her mouth in response.

  “I’ll go first. If you fall, I’ll jump in after you.”

  She cringed at the mention of falling.

  Derek looked into her almond-shaped eyes. “I know you can do this.” And she could. She had been a standout three-sport athlete in high school and still had the athletic build to show for it. Derek opened his backpack and handed her a small pair of rock-climbing gloves. “These’ll help you hold on.”

  She nodded and took the gloves.

  Derek crossed the underside of the bridge using the steel girders like monkey bars. On the other side of the canal, Derek motioned to Destiny. She hiked her skirt and tentatively followed in Derek’s footsteps, crawling under the bridge and finding handholds on the steel girders. She wore sneakers with her skirt. A serious fashion faux pas, but Derek had her flats in his backpack. She gripped the girders with her gloves, her arm muscles flexing. She started across the steel girders, one hand after the other. Halfway across, she slowed and looked down, her legs dangling over the dark water. Her arms tensed; her face was taut.

  “Look at me,” Derek said.

  She looked up from the water, her eyes like saucers.

  “You’re almost there. One hand over the other.”

  She reached for the steel girder in front of her, then the next. Slowly but surely, she crossed the bridge, taking Derek’s hand on the other side.

  “I knew you could do it,” Derek said, grinning.

  She grinned back at him, shaking her tired arms. “What’s next?”

  “Let’s see if he’s here.”

  They walked to the parking lot, finding Zhang Jun’s SUV.

  “Now we wait,” Derek said.

  They waited nearby, concealed by hedges, watching the hotel entrance. Destiny changed into her flats, smoothed her skirt, and checked her makeup. She was ready. Derek looked presentable in khakis and a button-down shirt.

  “You have my lipstick, right?” Destiny asked.

  Derek patted his front pocket. “Right here.”

  * * *

  Almost two hours later, Destiny said, “Maybe nobody’s comin’?”

  Derek sighed. “A little longer.”

  “What if nobody comes?”

  “Then we come back tomorrow.”

  “I get paid my hourly rate, even if we don’t go in there.”

  “I know.”

  “How many days can you afford?”

  “Depends on how much I wanna eat this month.”

  Destiny frowned, not unkindly. “We could just go in there.”

  “But, if they’re not expectin’ company, the guards will be on high alert.”

  “You’re the boss.”

  “Thank you for helpin’ me.”

  “You’re payin’.”

  “You and I both know I’m not payin’ enough.”

  “I ain’t doin’ this for you or the money. You know that.” And she wasn’t. High-end DC call girls were a small community. They shared information about Johns for their own protection. Zhang Jun was on their most dangerous list. Unfortunately, their cries to the police fell on deaf ears, and Zhang Jun continued to prey on new and naive call girls. Some pimps knowingly led them to the slaughter because the money was too good to turn down. Destiny had lost a friend two years earlier, before Jun was a well-known predator.

  An autonomous sedan approached, parking in the lot. A muscled man and a petite young woman exited the car. The woman wore a short skirt and flats.

  “Here we go,” Derek said, standing from their hiding spot and brushing off his pants. He left his backpack behind. Everything he needed was in his pockets.

  Derek and Destiny hurried to the hotel entrance, gaining on the couple. Inside the hotel, they slowed their gait, only ten paces behind now. They passed the front desk.

  The hotel receptionist said, “Good evening.”

  As the muscled man called the elevator by pressing the up arrow, Derek and Destiny sidled up to the couple. The elevator door opened, and the four of them entered.

  The man pressed six, for the penthouse. He looked at Derek and said, “What floor?”

  “We’re goin’ to the same floor,” Derek replied.

  The elevator door shut. The man narrowed his eyes at Derek, then looked at Destiny with her skirt and flats. “You seein’ Mr. Jun?”

  Derek nodded. “You?”

  “Not me.” The man pointed to the petite woman. “Her.”

  The elevator opened, and they stepped onto the sixth floor. They walked down the long hallway toward suite number 60 and the beefy security guard sitting by the door. The guard scrolled on his phone, not noticing them yet.

  As they passed the posh bar on their right, the muscled man stopped and said, “I was gonna get a beer and wait in the bar. Mr. Jun only lets the girls inside.”

  “I have to ask the guard somethin’. I’ll be in there in a minute.” Derek motioned to the bar with his
chin.

  The man opened the glass door and entered the hotel bar. Derek, Destiny, and the petite woman walked toward the penthouse. Derek handled the lipstick in his pocket, his hand slick with sweat and his heart pounding in his chest. He wondered if he’d need the cell phone in his back pocket.

  As they approached the security guard, the man stood, bulky in his dark suit. Derek recognized the security guard from the anonymous video he’d been sent. He was one of the men who’d carried April wrapped up in a rug and had then dumped her lifeless body in Zhang Jun’s SUV.

  The security guard glared at Derek and said, “You can wait in the bar.” Then he glanced from Destiny to the petite woman. “Hold your arms out so I can check you.”

  The petite woman held her arms out like a scarecrow. The security guard ran a wand over her body, then patted her down for good measure, taking particular care around her butt and breasts.

  “You’re good,” the guard said, slapping her on the ass. He glared at Derek again. “Why are you still here?”

  “I’d rather you didn’t pat her down that way,” Derek said, motioning with a tip of his head to Destiny.

  “I’ll pat her down any fuckin’ way I want.”

  “Then you can explain to Mr. Jun why he’s a girl short tonight.”

  He frowned at Derek, then said to Destiny, “Put your hands out.”

  The security guard hovered the wand over Destiny’s body, then did a more professional pat down. He waved his key card over the door, and the lock released. He opened the door and said, “Go on in.”

  The petite woman stepped inside first. Destiny stepped past the guard, then turned back, now standing in the doorframe, her foot acting as a doorstop. She said to Derek, “I need my lipstick.”

  Derek reached into his pocket.

  The security guard stepped into Derek’s personal space and said, “Take your hands out of your pocket slowly.”

  Derek removed his hand, holding the lipstick container. “It’s just lipstick.” Derek held up the pink tube to the security guard’s face. The security guard relaxed, and Derek sprayed Destiny’s pepper spray disguised as lipstick. The security guard howled and fell to his knees, scratching at his face and eyes. Derek’s eyes watered from the remnants floating in the air.

  As planned, Destiny ran for the stairs and ultimately the exit. Derek stepped into the suite. The other large security guard was only a few feet away. He reached under his suit jacket for his gun, but Derek sprayed him as well. This guard yelled and hollered in pain but managed to extract his handgun. He wheeled around, pointing his gun, trying, but failing, to open his eyes. Derek moved behind the security guard, staying clear of his muzzle. The petite woman coughed and hacked from residual pepper spray. She squeezed past the men and ran for the exit.

  Derek shoved the pepper spray in his pocket and removed the cell phone from his back pocket, an item he’d purchased for this purpose. He pressed the trigger on the side, the faux cell phone producing a crackling streak of electricity. Derek plunged the disguised stun gun into the man’s back, holding it there until the man dropped to the ground immobile, his handgun now on the marble floor.

  Derek put the stun gun back into his pocket and picked up the guard’s handgun. He glanced around the suite. To his left, he saw a flash of white and heard a door shut. High on adrenaline, Derek ran to the door, lowering his shoulder and busting through, the interior door and lock weak. He stumbled inside the bedroom, nearly losing his balance and crashing into Zhang Jun, who was on his cell.

  “Hurry,” Zhang Jun said into the phone.

  Derek pointed the gun at Zhang and said, “Gimme the phone.”

  Zhang handed over the phone, and Derek dropped it on the floor, then smashed it with his boot. Heavy footsteps approached, and Derek moved behind Zhang, the gun barrel pressed to the back of the CEO’s head. “Put your hands up.”

  Zhang put up his hands.

  The first security guard approached the scene, red-faced and puffy-eyed, his gun drawn.

  “Tell him to get out of here, or I’ll kill you,” Derek said to Zhang.

  “Leave us,” Zhang said, surprisingly calm.

  “Tell him to take his buddy with him.”

  “Take Harper with you.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Jun,” the man said, tears streaming from his irritated eyes.

  “Go, you imbecile.”

  The security guard left the room.

  “Turn around,” Derek said. “Keep your hands up.”

  Zhang Jun turned to face Derek, wearing only a white robe. Derek had the handgun pointed at Zhang’s face, both his hands on the weapon.

  “I called the police,” Zhang said matter-of-factly. “Whatever you’re planning, it won’t succeed.”

  Derek removed his left hand from the gun and retrieved a rumpled picture from his back pocket. He handed the picture to Zhang. “Look at her.”

  Zhang took the picture and glanced at April, his expression dismissive.

  “Do you know who she is?” Derek asked.

  Zhang shook his head. “No.”

  “On November twenty-third, 2050, you killed her. Your men wrapped her dead body in a carpet and dumped her in your SUV.”

  “You are mistaken.”

  Derek lowered the gun and shot Zhang in the foot. The shot reverberated through the suite, loud enough to dull Derek’s hearing. The man fell to the floor, crying out in pain, a small pool of blood staining the carpet.

  “Try again, you piece of shit,” Derek said.

  “I’ve never seen her before,” Zhang said, holding his foot.

  “Wrong answer.” Derek shot Zhang in the knee cap.

  He howled in pain, now in the fetal position.

  Derek pressed the gun to Zhang’s temple and said, “Tell me what you did to her!”

  “She was a whore! She fucked me whenever and however I wanted. But I never did anything she didn’t want.”

  Derek stared at the gun, as if it were some alien object in his hand. Sirens were faintly audible, the volume increasing with each second. Tears flooded his eyes. Derek removed the gun from the small man’s temple, the handgun still pointed vaguely in the direction of Zhang Jun.

  Zhang reached and grabbed the gun. As he did so, Derek squeezed the trigger.

  54

  Jacob and Fishing

  Jacob straightened his tie, looking into the mirror over his dresser. Rebecca paced in their room, her cell phone to her ear.

  She disconnected the call and said, “Still nothing. I’m worried that something happened to him.”

  Jacob turned to his wife with a frown. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that he’s not your responsibility.”

  “The last time I talked to him, he seemed off.”

  “Off?”

  “Not like himself. Depressed. Like he’d given up.”

  “He lost his mother and his farm. What do you expect?”

  “His girlfriend disappeared too.”

  “Right.” Jacob looked away for a beat, remembering April’s face as she had been carried into Zhang Jun’s suite against her will. “That’s my point. It’s normal for him to be depressed after everything that’s happened.”

  Rebecca wagged her head. “You don’t know him like I do. I feel like he was planning something terrible. I’m worried that he might’ve killed himself.”

  Jacob blew out a heavy breath. “Why are you always so concerned about him? Sometimes I think you worry more about him than me.”

  “It’s not like that. I’m worried because his life’s a mess.”

  “And who’s fault is it that Derek’s life’s a mess?”

  “Don’t be cruel.”

  “What about me? I’ve had death threats. My company may have to file for bankruptcy.”

  Rebecca sidled up to Jacob, taking his hand. “I worry about you every day.”

  The doorbell chimed, but they didn’t react to it, knowing that it was likely a delivery and that Jeeves would answer the do
or.

  “I should go by his house today,” Rebecca continued.

  “I’d rather you didn’t,” Jacob said, letting go of her hand and fastening his wristwatch.

  “Why not?”

  “Because he’s desperate. You never know what he might do.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “He wouldn’t hurt me.”

  “He might try to sleep with you.”

  Rebecca crossed her arms over her chest, but she was blushing. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Is it?”

  “Of course it is.”

  Jacob’s cell phone chimed. He grabbed his phone from atop his dresser and swiped right. “Yes, Jeeves?”

  “An FBI agent is at the front door,” Jeeves said. “He’d like to talk to you and Mrs. Roth.”

  They went downstairs, and Jacob opened the front door. A stocky man wearing a dark suit and with a buzz cut stood there.

  “May I help you?” Jacob asked.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Roth?” the agent replied.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Agent Cromwell.” He showed his badge. “I’d like to ask you a few questions about Derek Reeves.”

  Rebecca placed her hand to her chest. “Is he okay?”

  “You’ll have to contact my lawyer,” Jacob said.

  “I’d like to hear what he has to say,” Rebecca said, scowling at her husband.

  “May we talk inside?” Agent Cromwell asked.

  Jacob led them to the sitting area of his office. Jacob and Rebecca sat close to each other on the couch, the agent in a chair opposite.

  “Mr. Reeves was arrested last night for murder,” Cromwell said.

  “Oh my God,” Rebecca replied.

  “Phone records indicate that Mrs. Roth called his phone repeatedly over the past few days.” The agent looked directly at Rebecca. “What was the purpose of those calls?”

  Jacob felt a pang of jealousy. He knew she’d been checking up on him, but the agent’s use of the word “repeatedly” made it sound like Rebecca was stalking Derek.