by T. C. Clover
mindless cartoon with mature themes was playing on the 3D hologram television. He used the remote control to change the video source, awaiting protests from his co-stars. The film editor then set the camera down on the carpet and connected the audio and video cables to the front of the display unit.
“What the hell are you doing?” Jazzy asked with outrage as she continued to massage her co-star. “Stoney is trying to relax after the hospital. Next time you get a broken rib, you can decide what we all watch.”
“Something has happened to Litz,” Richard announced without turning around as he finished setting up the device for playback. “She tied up cameraman Doug in her bedroom, and he says that she recorded something for us on this camera.”
The room went silent after Richard relayed this news to the other cast members, which inspired them to focus on the television display area with stoic anticipation.
When the video began to play, it showed an image of Litz in a white bathrobe, and she jumped back from the camera as if just having pushed the record button. The diva stepped back a few paces and sat on the sofa in the living room. Everyone turned their heads to the sofa where Stoney was relaxing, confirming that it was the location where Litz had made the video.
The blonde plumber crossed her left leg over her right and leaned toward the camera with an expression of deep purpose. Her hair was pulled back in a tight blonde ponytail, and she seemed like a different person than the one they had known while filming the show.
“First, I want to thank Doug and all of the other men for thinking with their balls,” Litz began with a tone of brash superiority. “When I was young, my father and brother were killed in a car accident. I was an awkward girl; an intellectual, so I didn’t have many friends. When dad died, mom couldn’t afford the house, and we moved around a lot. She retired a few years later on a government subsidy and began her Golden Years Tour of the country. We had a lot of laughs and got to be really close; it was marvelous. But then one day, we were at a casino riding a roller coaster, and she died right next to me. My best friend in the whole world – the center of my universe. I could tell you a lot about what that day did to me, but I’m sure you’re about to figure that out for yourselves.” She paused and stared into the camera lens with a mystique of extreme hatred.
“So we've come forward twelve years from that tragedy, and none of you are paying attention,” the introspective woman expressed with a sneer of deep shame. “When I look around today, I don’t see appreciation for the sacrifices that were made during The Passing. You keep going about your lives without taking the time to have regard for anyone else, and that’s how this problem started. You knew that only so many people could live on this planet, so why did you keep having children? Why did you think it was okay to get lost in your own worlds... to forget what others gave up so that you could live? Those people whose ashes are stored in the Memorial Towers made the most heartbreaking choices,” she said, pointing at the windows, “so that you could fulfill your dreams. And what are you doing with your time here? Have you become better? Have you gotten stronger and wiser? My mother died six months early because someone put the wrong date on her easy-out implant. I lost the most wonderful person in my life because someone couldn’t think twice to check a f***ing date!” The unhinged woman swore and began to cry.
“Let’s face it; you’ve taken a lot from me over the years,” Litz continued as she wiped away tears from her eyes. “But now I’ve taken something from you, and I hope you feel the sting of this national tragedy. A few weeks ago, I entered the headquarters of NASA in Houston. I seduced one of their astronauts and got right up close to the space shuttle. Just like the rest of you, the fool was too trusting and told me everything I needed to know to sabotage the sensors. He said that a little bit of clear tape in the wrong place could lead to a catastrophic failure upon returning to earth. And you know what?” She asked and leaned toward the camera lens with a demented grin. “He was right! That man really knew his s***, and the shuttle exploded on reentry exactly the way he described.” The television star put both of her legs flat on the floor and clasped her hands together to continue speaking.
“So now you’ve taken from me, and I’ve taken from you,” Litz said with careful conviction, expressing an unforgiving mindset. “You might say that we’re even, but I don’t want to be even. I don’t want to live in a world where politicians decide who lives and who dies, and when and how that is supposed to happen. You make me sick with your lack of consideration for the world and the damage you've done. But your lack of thought is a sin that I intend to exploit. Rest assured, I'm far from that sweet, giggly woman you saw on the television show. This nightmare won’t end until I see a dramatic change in the way you make choices. You’ll be seeing me again soon. Oh, and by the way, Mike and Jennifer – your talented director and producer of the Shots Fired television show - are both over the age of fifty. They've been buying prosthetics and injections to make their faces look younger. And, I might also mention that they used to work for the CIA. As for my co-stars, I love each of you a great deal. I’m sorry to put you in this situation. Goodbye.” The preeminent woman got up from the sofa and walked toward the camera, bending forward as she got closer to the unit, and the projected image went black.
“What the hell was that?” Jazzy lamented with a sad expression. “I don’t even recognize her with all of the things she was saying.” The comedian had gotten off of the sofa after the video began and now stood in the center of the room with her arms folded across her abdomen.
Fassim and CKB had joined Jazzy in the middle of the room while the video was playing, and they both seemed stunned. CKB put his head down, and Fassim looked at Richard as if he could answer why these events had taken place. Someone stuck their head around the corner from the hallway, causing Jazzy to look back, but they disappeared before she could identify them.
“She’s a very disturbed woman,” Stoney suggested from his position on the left side of the sofa. “I feel bad for the astronauts; they never did anything to her. She even used Jason and pretended to be in love with him. Litz is just another criminal!”
Richard gripped his knees and watched the gray carpeting for a few seconds. The softness of its texture seemed to sooth the high tide of emotions that were wrecking his insides. He wondered how someone could appear infatuated with Jason and manage to let him burn up in the atmosphere. The entire premise made him numb from his core to the nerve endings in his feet. In that instant, his toes felt vibrations through the floor, and there were sounds of people shuffling about near the offices a few doors away.
“She’s a terrorist,” Fassim said after a moment of contemplation. “We need to call this an act of terror and forget that she’s white. I don’t care what they did to her mother; I never hurt anyone after my lover was killed.”
There was an odd suffocating sound from the sofa, and everyone turned to see Mike strangling Stoney from behind. Before anyone could react, Jennifer entered the room with a nickel-plated, semiautomatic pistol and pointed it at each cast member in succession. The pistol had a matching silencer affixed to its barrel and looked menacing in the producer’s hands.
“What are you doing?” Jazzy demanded in a soft voice, appearing horrified by the situation.
“Come on, big boy,” Mike said to Stoney with his right arm pulled tight around the officer’s neck, “where is your gun? I know you must have your secondary weapon with you.”
“What the f*** are you doing?” CKB asked as he turned toward Jennifer and Mike with an expression of betrayal. “I’m gonna’ take you apart; he’s got a broken rib!”
“Get him into submission!” Mike ordered Jennifer as he grappled Stoney’s throat with his right hand and frisked him with the left. “In fact, get all of the men into submission; I want to leave this place without an incident.”
“Damn you, Litz; nosy little b****!” Jennifer swore and walked
toward CKB, urging him forward with the barrel of her pistol. “Get over to the corner, CKB; this can all be over fast if you walk the line.”
“He’s clean,” the director announced as he let go of Stoney’s throat and shoved the officer hard into the cushions of the sofa.
Stoney jumped upward with a grimace and tried to take Mike’s pistol away, but the older man jabbed him in the chest near his broken rib. The wounded man cried out in pain and continued his attempts to overpower the director.
“Stop fighting me! Stop fighting me!” Mike repeated and shoved the Japanese man back into the cushions of the couch.
From the waistband of his jeans, the director removed a nickel-plated, semiautomatic pistol that had no silencer. In a moment of shocking ferocity, Mike’s face turned red, engorged with blood, and he struck Stoney three times in the mouth with the barrel of the pistol. Stoney screamed in anguish and grabbed his lower jaw as a flood of tears emerged from his eyes. He fought through the pain in silence with an occasional moan as blood began to stream through his fingers.
When Jazzy saw this demonstration of violent behavior, she got down on her knees and raised her hands in the air.