“You all right?”
Summer turned from the sunset, toward the voice. Speak of the devil. “Hi, Roger.”
He sidled up to her and looked out over the ocean. “Beautiful.”
“It is.”
“Storm’s coming. You can feel it in the air. Might be a hurricane.”
Summer’s heart rate increased. “Will we be safe here?”
“Probably the safest place on the island.”
Summer nodded.
“I need to talk to you about something.”
Summer turned from the sunset to Roger.
“I knew your father, Patrick.”
Summer knitted her brows.
Roger continued. “You told me your last name when we first met, but I didn’t put two and two together until I spoke with Javier today. He told me where you were from, and it hit me like a bolt of lightning.”
“How did you know him?”
“You could say we worked together. While I was in congress, I started 1776. Very few knew about my involvement with the organization. I met Patrick through a mutual friend. He was running a vlog called The Underground. It was a secretive show that he broadcasted from different locations using VPNs. I had top secret information that I thought the public should know. He was the voice I couldn’t be.”
“Braveheart,” Summer said, her eyes unblinking.
“That’s right. Did you know about it?”
“No. He never told me.”
“I’m sure he wanted to protect you.”
Summer pursed her lips, absorbing the revelation. “Does Javier know?”
“You’re the only person I’ve ever told. Given the circumstances, I think your dad would want you to know.”
Summer shook her head, tears threatening. “I don’t even know where he is. He left last December. Didn’t even say goodbye.”
“I know where he is.”
“How could you possibly know that?”
“Most of us in 1776 had exit plans if and when arrests were planned. Unfortunately, my arrest came as a surprise. Prior to my arrest, I negotiated with the Panamanian government to buy twenty thousand acres of jungle in the Darién Province. It was a pretty penny for sure. Fifty thousand Fed Coins an acre for raw land. Truman Bradshaw, the CEO of Thorium Unlimited, invested in the project. The catch was that the Panamanian government would leave us alone. No police. No taxes. Nothing.”
“Silver City?”
Roger nodded.
“My friend Mark talked about going there before he was arrested.” Summer blew out a heavy breath. “He was on the same ship as me. The Aryans took him, but I don’t know what happened to him.”
“I’m sorry, Summer.”
She nodded and said, “You think my father might be in Silver City?”
“That’s where I would go if I were him, and I know he’s aware of the place.”
A scream came from behind them. Then shouts. Summer and Roger turned from the ocean and rushed toward the commotion. They looked down from the forty-foot wall, now facing the center courtyard. A handful of people gathered around a lifeless, contorted body. Blood spilled from her cracked head. Summer was frozen, her mouth an O, and her eyes wide open. She must’ve jumped.
Eliza.
96
Naomi, the Extreme Leftist
“We’re up three points in the latest poll,” Katherine said. “We’ve overtaken Randal Montgomery, but we’re still eleven points behind Corrinne.”
They were in the sitting area of Naomi’s congressional office. Katherine and Vernon sat on the couch. Naomi sat in a chair opposite, jet-lagged from the six-hour flight back from Oregon last night.
“Do you think the story hurt us?” Naomi sipped her coffee.
Last night, the same day she made her speech at the University of Oregon on gun control, the mainstream media did a story on Naomi’s extreme ideology. The story questioned her views on nationalization, gun control, social welfare programs, and the closure of the popular island prison system.
“We need mainstream democrats to win the nomination, but, if we want their support, we can’t be so extreme,” Katherine said.
“I don’t think we’ll win by playing the middle,” Naomi said. “I can’t be a better version of Corrinne Powers. The support for socialism is rising and has been for fifty years.”
Vernon stroked his manicured beard. “The question is whether or not there’s enough support now to elect a socialist president.”
“There is. We just need the young people to vote. I don’t think we should sugarcoat our platform. I’m rising in the polls because I’m an unapologetic socialist. People are tired of the status quo. They’re ready for the extreme.”
Katherine pursed her lips.
Naomi’s desktop phone chimed. “I think we’re done here.” She stood, stepped to her desk, and tapped the phone’s OLED screen. “Yes, Nina.”
Katherine left Naomi’s office, but Vernon followed Naomi to her desk.
Nina said, “Eric Roth is on the phone for you. Line two. Voice only.”
“Thank you.” Naomi looked at Vernon. “It’s Eric Roth.”
“Now I know we’re making progress,” Vernon said.
Naomi tapped line two. Eric had elected not to transmit his likeness through the OLED screen. “This is Naomi Sutton.”
“Mrs. Sutton, this is Eric Roth. I believe you know my brother Jacob.”
“Yes.”
“I wanted to call and congratulate you on your recent success in the latest polls. My family is very impressed.”
Naomi rolled her eyes to Vernon. “Thank you, Mr. Roth.”
“Please, call me Eric.”
Naomi didn’t respond.
Eric continued, “I also wanted to make it clear that my family would like to support your candidacy for President of the United States.”
“I made myself clear to Jacob. You and your family are welcome to donate to my campaign, but I don’t give special favors to donors.”
“That’s a pity. I think you would’ve been a great president.”
97
Derek and the Aryans Strike Back
Derek lay on his bed of straw, thinking about Eliza’s suicide the evening before. Derek knew why she did it. I didn’t save her from the Aryans. I let them brutalize her. I brought back a corpse. A heavy rain fell outside. The drops hitting the stone produced a loud whoosh, like a waterfall. Rain blew in from the open gun ports, but Derek’s bed was far enough away to stay dry.
Multiple gunshots cut through the rain, causing Derek to sit up and look toward the open doorway of the room. It wasn’t uncommon to hear gunshots in San Juan, but these sounded close. A few minutes later, a commotion came from the common area. Someone screamed. Others shouted. Derek stood and ran toward the commotion, his knees barking in pain.
The common area was mayhem. Some of the men ran toward the front entrance, carrying rifles. A trail of blood came from the front, leading to two tables. Two men were on the tables, bleeding, Summer looking after one, the other laying limp. The guards hovered over a prone man, just inside the fort. Derek jogged toward the front entrance and the guards.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” one of the guards asked his victim.
The Aryan on the ground was bleeding from gunshot wounds to his stomach and chest. He had a bushy beard and a shaved head. A swastika was tattooed on his forehead like Charles Manson.
The Aryan wheezed and smiled, his mouth red with blood. “You’re all gonna die.”
One of the guards punched him in the face.
The Aryan smiled again, this time without his two front teeth.
“Why are you here?” the guard repeated.
The Aryan coughed, spitting up blood.
The guard shook the Aryan, but he was now unresponsive.
“What happened?” Derek asked.
“Three Aryans tried to sneak into the fort,” another guard said. “We can’t see shit in this weather. They stabbed Luther and Ollie.�
�
“Where are the other two Aryans?”
“We shot ’em outside.”
The Aryan’s body inside the fort jerked and seized, going through the death throes.
Derek returned to the makeshift hospital. He approached the scene, careful to stay out of the way. Gavin provided compression.
Summer checked his pulse and said, “He’s gone.”
Derek looked at the dead men on the tables and the pool of blood beneath them. He didn’t know which one was Luther and which one was Ollie.
* * *
Derek squinted into the darkness and the rain, his rifle poking through a gun port. The group was now on high alert, with all able bodies manning the walls and the entrances. Nobody said it, but Derek had felt the hard stares. After all, it had been Derek’s idea to steal from the Aryans.
98
Jacob and Cat Two
“Are you awake?” Rebecca asked.
Jacob opened his eyes. “How could I not be?”
The rain peppered the front of the bunker complex. Jacob and Rebecca’s room was along the front, so they heard the pounding rain. The roof was earth-sheltered though and protected from the weather. The rain had started that evening. Cesar had said it was a hurricane but probably only a category two.
Rebecca rolled toward Jacob, putting her arm across his chest. The bed was a queen. It felt very small compared to their king at home. She kissed him on the cheek and said, “Thank you. Most men wouldn’t do this. I love you.”
Jacob kissed her forehead. “I love you too.”
“Do you think they’ll find him?”
“I don’t know, but I need you to promise me something.”
Rebecca lifted her head from his chest.
“If he’s gone, you have to let him go. We have three children who need us. We have to move on with our life … for them.”
Rebecca nodded. “I know.”
99
Summer and We’re All on Borrowed Time
Most of the group was in the common area. The heavy rain from the night before had intensified into a hurricane. It was no longer safe for men to patrol the walls. A few guarded the entrances from the inside, but they doubted the Aryans were coming back in this weather.
The tables and chairs had been arranged in a horseshoe pattern for the meeting. There’d been talk of leaving San Juan and going to the jungle as soon as the storm passed. Many group members thought the Aryans would be back with hundreds of men, if not thousands.
Roger stood front and center. “I think the Aryans who attacked us were scouts. I think they saw an opportunity to steal from us, maybe kidnap a woman, but they didn’t realize that we’re heavily armed. The Aryans might come back. They might not.”
Gavin raised his hand.
“Go ahead, Gavin.”
Gavin stood and said, “This is the second time we’ve been attacked by the Aryans in less than a week. I think they followed us from the fort when they took Eliza. They saw us in our canoes when we stole the MREs. We’re being targeted. It’s just a matter of time before they show up here with more men than we can handle. I think we should go to the jungle as soon as the storm passes.”
There were murmurings among the group and anxious faces.
Roger held up his palms. “Hold on, everyone. We can’t let our emotions make our decisions for us.”
The group quieted.
Roger continued. “First of all, living in the jungle isn’t necessarily safer than this fort. We have forty-foot walls with rifles and gun ports, and the ocean and the bay protecting us. We have cisterns full of fresh water. Other groups are hunting and gathering food in the jungle. If we encroach on their territory, we’ll have conflict with people who know the jungle better than we do. More important, we have to remember the big picture. If we ever want to leave this island, we have to launch the submarine. If we can launch the sub, I’ll make the world see the truth about this place.”
About half of the group agreed with head nods, the other half glaring at their leader, not buying what Roger was selling.
“The US government will be forced to investigate. They’ll be forced to rescue us.” Roger looked at Fred and asked, “How soon can we launch the sub?”
“We have maybe one more day’s worth of work. Then, once we get the batteries, we can launch,” Fred said.
“But we don’t have the batteries,” a man said, his arms folded over his chest.
“Yeah,” another man said, agreeing.
Roger held up his hands. “As soon as the hurricane blows over, we’ll find the batteries. Hang in there for just a few more days.”
After the meeting, Roger met with the scavenger crew in private. They stood in a makeshift bedroom, the heavy rain and wind muffling their voices.
“This has to stay between us. Do you understand?” Roger made eye contact with each of them: Summer, Gavin, Javier, and Derek.
Each of them nodded or said yes.
Derek still avoided Summer’s gaze, and Summer stood as far from him as possible.
Roger said, “I didn’t want to cause a panic, but you’re right, Gavin. As soon as the weather clears, the Aryans will be at our doorstep, and I don’t think we have the numbers or the ammunition to defend this place from a large organized group.”
“We have to leave,” Gavin said.
“And abandon the sub?” Roger said, shaking his head. “If we don’t launch the sub, we’ll lose it. And we’ll lose whatever chance we have of ever leaving this island. We need those batteries now.”
“We all know who has the batteries,” Derek said.
“It’s a suicide mission,” Gavin said.
“That’s what you said about the MREs.”
Gavin shot Derek a look that could kill. “And now we’re all gonna fucking die because of it.”
Derek didn’t respond.
“The Aryans were already watching us before we stole from them,” Roger said.
“As long as we’re on this island, we’re all on borrowed time,” Derek said. “I don’t know where the Netas are, but, if someone points me in the right direction, I’ll try to get those batteries.”
“I will too,” Javier said.
Summer looked at Javier, then back to Roger. “What other choice do we have? I’m in.”
Gavin blew out a breath in disgust. “Shit. None of you are going anywhere without me because you don’t know how to get there.”
100
Naomi and the Man about Town
Naomi sat in her home office on Saturday night, watching the weather on her laptop. She liked to stay updated on world weather events. It helped when debating climate-change legislation. Another hurricane in the Caribbean. Only a cat two, but it would bring heavy rain to the Gulf Coast in a few days. Her cell phone buzzed. She smiled at the number and swiped right.
“Hey you,” she said, her voice sultry.
“Hey yourself,” Vernon replied.
“Missing me?”
“Always.” Vernon paused for a beat. “I just sent you an email.”
“Give me a minute.” Naomi put Vernon on speaker and checked her email, finding Vernon’s had a link to a news article. The gist of the story was contained in the title, Man About Town Supports Naomi Sutton. The Man About Town, aka Gregory Gaines, was the most influential independent political vlogger in the United States and possibly the world. “This is unbelievable.”
“Donations have been through the roof since he endorsed you,” Vernon said. “This is huge.”
Naomi clicked the link and scanned the article. “Did he contact our campaign?”
“No. He endorsed you on his own, no strings attached. He sees what I see. A politician who actually cares about the people. We have a real shot at beating Corrinne. I’m so proud of you, Naomi.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Vernon’s declaration made Naomi smile to herself.
“I should get some sleep,” Vernon said. “I wanted to give yo
u the good news before I went to bed.”
“I wish I was with you right now.”
“Me too. Good night.”
“Good night.” Naomi disconnected the call and sighed with satisfaction. She closed her laptop and stood from her desk. She took five steps and opened her office door, her phone in hand.
Alan hurried down the steps.
Naomi’s stomach lurched. I was on speakerphone. Was he listening? Alan was so quiet and unassuming; it was easy to forget he was here. Naomi went downstairs and found Alan looking inside the refrigerator.
“Why were you running down the stairs?” Naomi asked.
“I wasn’t,” Alan replied, still looking inside the fridge. He shut the door and turned to Naomi. His face was red.
She hoped it was from the cold of the refrigerator. “Are you all right? You look flushed.”
Alan shrugged and said, “I’m fine.”
101
Derek and into the Storm
Derek and the scavenger crew had spent much of the day resting for their upcoming nighttime mission. Fred and Willow had finished the submarine. All they needed now were the batteries. The worst of the hurricane had passed, but the rain still battered San Juan.
Derek, Gavin, Javier, Summer, Fred, and Roger stood around a card table, looking over the map by candlelight. This was the third time they’d gone over the plan.
“It’s actually a little closer than the Aryans,” Gavin said. “We’ll take the canoes from the point, deep into the bay here.” He pointed to what was once a dock and shipping port for the US Army. “This is about a three-mile paddle. It won’t be fun. The water’ll be rough.”
2050: Psycho Island Page 34