by A. J. Mayall
Caroline was of Irish descent. Her rust-colored hair fanned around her head; amber highlights by choice or by sunlight streaked her luxurious mane. He tried not to focus on her beauty, due to her age.
Todd was darker-skinned than he had expected, almost a soot black. There had been a quality to his voice that made him believe he was of African descent, and now, in the dim light, he confirmed what he had only once assumed. He was large, thickly-muscled. His chest was a barrel, his biceps thick, his hands meaty and calloused.
They all wore the same outfit, an oversized beige jumpsuit, with a long-sleeved shirt under, as well as sweatpants, then under that an undershirt and underwear. The heat had forced them to strip out of at least one of the layers of clothing.
Joel stood, continuing to walk around the room. The toilet silently disappeared into the wall, the panel that concealed it soon matching the rest. He was in awe, looking up, trying to see any doorway at the top. He could make out a few panel strips like the one that unfolded the toilet.
The bodies.
He had forgotten about them in the excitement of being able to finally see his jail. They rested on the opposite side of the room, covering their faces as if in shame, stripped to their undergarments. He moved closer, soon stumbling over a pair of sweatpants, making him crash into the wall, yelping. The loud noise echoed in the chamber.
In that moment, two events occurred. First, everyone sat up, shrieking from the noise, thinking something horrible must have happened. Second, the lights turned back on to their standard maximum setting.
“No! Damn it, no…” He closed his eyes and beat on the floor. “The lights were gone, they were gone!” Joel covered his closed eyes as the others stirred.
“Joel, what the fuck is going on?” Todd yelled.
“Todd, I woke up and the lights were off. Well, dimmed. I could see. I swear the lights were dimmed, when I yelled it must have triggered something, made them come back. I swear, man. Feel the walls, they aren’t that hot! Trust me!”
Todd sauntered to the walls, feeling them. They weren’t cool to the touch, but not the burning they had been. He heard Joel scrabble on the other side of the room. “The hell are you doing, Joel?” he grunted.
“There’s a toilet built in, I used it while you were asleep. Just gotta find it, there’s just a tiny little switch.”
He cried out as the walls grew hotter. He whimpered as he tried his best to find the small depression. After a few minutes, and a few lightly burned fingertips, he pressed the metal. One of the lights dimmed, the wall unfolded, revealing the toilet. The others squinted at the space free of light. They stumbled over each other to use it, every one of them desperate to relieve themselves into the chrome bowl. They leaned forward into the dark inset of the wall, allowing their retinas to relax.
“Grab one of the bodies,” Joel muttered. “This thing will close up if someone isn’t using it, and I almost got blisters trying to find it this time. I’m not feeling over the wall when those lights are at full force.”
“Jesus, Joel,” Emma said. “Thank you for finding the toilet, but these were people, not doorstops!”
“Emma, for fuck’s sake! Maybe that’s why they were left here! I mean, if we wanna take turns sitting on a metal bowl in a hot room, be my guest to do it first.”
Caroline started to cry.
“This isn’t fair! Let me out of here!” the young girl screamed at the ceiling. Tears fell on her cheek and soon hit the discarded clothing on the floor.
It was Joel who came in close to comfort her, keeping a foot on the seat of the lavatory. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, Emma soon joining him.
“It’ll be okay, Caroline, we won’t let anything happen to you. We have food, we have a bathroom. We can make it through this. These lights can’t stay on forever, we just gotta figure out how to turn them off.”
Todd grunted as he put his blindfold back on. “Maybe it’s being quiet. I’m going to get some more sleep. If the lights go out again, wake me up.”
Emma nodded toward his voice, putting on her own blindfold and helping Caroline with hers. “Okay, Todd.”
Joel quickly resumed his post on the toilet, keeping it engaged, and looked Emma’s way.
“He’s got a point, this seat isn’t that comfortable, and if this toilet folds up automatically, I don’t think one of us should be on it. I don’t like the idea any more than you, but they can’t feel any pain from it.”
The brunette cringed inwardly at the thought. “Caroline, go take Joel’s place for a second.” She turned toward his voice. “Okay, let’s do this. Caroline, let me know when you are ready and sit down.”
After a bit of blind positioning, the young girl called out the affirmative, Joel and Emma grabbed the lightest of the bodies and placed it in the lavatory. The dead man slumped forward, his face hitting the inside metal wall with a meaty thud, like someone punching a slab of meat.
They sat in a circle, silently, still, unknowing if movement and sound contributed to the lights. After 17 minutes and 52 seconds, as Todd began to drift back to sleep, the room dimmed to a manageable but still bright level.
With blindfolds on, they never knew.
CHAPTER 8
“Get your ass up, Phoenix!” Suzette yelled from downstairs.
“I’m up!” he yelled at the closed door. He rubbed the back of his neck, rolled out of bed and landed on the floor with a thud. Within twenty minutes, he was showered, dressed and downstairs. Suzette handed him a large mug of decaf from Gen’s.
“Okay, I got you booked for a couple of morning shows. This whole thing should be done in a few hours, all right?”
“This is nice and all, but why am I not doing this at a studio?”
“They think you are at a studio, Phoenix. Act like it, please. Money for your time will be deposited into the company account after all is said and done. You’re on in fifteen for an East Coast morning show. Got a few in the Midwest and Pacific, and, oddly enough, Eagle News wants you for the McMillan Report.”
“Eagle News? Are you fucking kidding me?” he grumbled, narrowing his eyes. “Dude’ll tear me apart, and you know it.”
“I’m counting on it, Phoenix. You made my grandma mad, and you told on me. They also offered the most money for an interview, and you got debts. McMillan is last on your agenda today. Apparently, he’s not been polling well with the youth. My guess is that going after a viral video involving cops and recordings might get his more hardcore right-wing demographic and the left-wing netkids mixing it up online, to drive up ratings. I think they’re hoping whatever you two discuss will get heated.”
“Fine,” he grunted, taking another swig of coffee. “You really told them we were a studio?”
“Had to. I asked them to cover our studio costs as well. ‘Due to high demand, we need to go independent, and that costs more.’”
“That’s my girl.”
“I never liked morning shows.” Suzette took a seat behind the fliptop facing across from Phoenix. She flicked through backgrounds for the green-screen, settling on a nice cityscape with a faded effect to give the impression of a penthouse with a great view. She’d seen similar ones on the television before; emulation was the key to making it look professional.
Suzette noted an incoming call on the fliptop and held her hand out.
“Don’t get up, first show calling for setup.” She furiously typed to the station handling the interview. She rolled her eyes, muttering a few choice curses under her breath. After a bit of furious typing, setting up networks and making data connections, she nodded to Phoenix.
“Okay, you’re on,” She tossed him an ear bud. “You’ll hear them through that. You’re on a twenty second delay. You go on soon.” She nodded, monitoring the connection with the studio, and the feed.
“Thought these things had a ten second delay.”
“They do, normally. However due to the nature of the video, they thought it might be best to extend it in the event you do some
thing foolish.” She looked up from the screen. “It was my idea, sue me. I know how you get when cameras are rolling. Two minutes to airtime. Got everything you need?”
The detective nodded, making sure his clock gear necklace was polished.
“Okay, here we go.”
Jack Hoffman sat in his condo, flipping through channels, reclined sideways on the sofa, in two-day-old underwear. It was his day off, but his circadian rhythm prevented him from sleeping in. So, here he was, flipping through channels as he was left with the decision between reruns of reality shows in syndication, infomercials, and exercise shows for senior citizens.
“People I want to shoot, products I want to shoot, or more pastel sweatsuits than anyone should have to look at?” he said to himself as he flipped through the channels. Landing on a bright happy smile, perfect hair, and rosy cheeks, he knew he was in morning show territory. That’s when he saw a familiar face on the other side of the screen.
“So, Mr. McGee, tell us about how this video came to be,” the smiling woman said to the detective who had made his life a living hell.
“Well, it’s a funny story. The case wasn’t that much of a thing when I was doing it. It sort of all fell together,” Phoenix said as he leaned forward, cocky as ever.
Jack saw it as an invasion of his living room, just as he had invaded the Benton’s, legal in both cases.
He went pale.
“Fuck!”
He grabbed his phone, going through his contact list until he got to Dorian, and hit the button. The buzzing tone of the phone ringing hit his ear, over and over as he watched the screen.
“You see, Rebecca, I had only put in the cameras that day. I didn’t expect things to progress as fast as they did. I can assure you nothing was staged and we cut the more…explicit details from the video we put up.”
Phoenix chuckled and the anchors had a laugh about it as well.
Jack felt they were laughing at him, laughing at The Pack.
He growled as he got voicemail, yelling into the phone. “Dorian, that guy is on the damn national morning shows! You can’t let folks in the break room see it!” It was about this time his phone chimed, alerting him of a text. He ended the message and checked his screen.
What do you want, Jack? I’m doing paperwork, can’t talk.
Jack was only too happy to type back what he had just spoken to his voicemail. After a moment his packmate texted him back…FUCK!!
The interview ended, Phoenix smiled and thanked the hosts for a lovely time, but he had other shows to do today. Jack texted Dorian to turn the break room TVs off at any cost. He scanned the channels for any hint that the damn redhead would pop up. It became his hunt, only turning his attention from the television to answer his texts.
Jack, can’t get the TVs off without raising suspicions. Tell us what channel he’s on, we’ll try to keep it on the down low. Thanks for letting us know. A lot of our phones are blowing up with messages from family and friends right now who didn’t know about this. Fuck that guy. Fuck that fucker, hard.
Jack watched in horror as he popped up again on another channel, immediately texting The Pack, hoping he could spare them more embarrassment. Channel 7, Channel 99, The Hot Couture Network, Channel 84, Channel 46, then Eagle Eye Mornings, one of the more popular channels for the old guard of the force.
“Can you tell us more about these police officers? You are in Rouge Mal, right?” This time, it was a woman in a well-fitted suit asking the questions, Phoenix sipped coffee from a cup off-screen.
“More than happy to, Elizabeth. I mean these men were off-duty and, technically, they didn’t break any laws. Firstly, don’t assume what they did was a reflection of our local police force. With that said, I think it speaks for itself, and what we released didn’t involve some of the more, shall we use the term ‘hardcore’ scenes?”
With nervous laughter between the interviewers and McGee, they mentioned that for anyone interested in hearing more, Phoenix would be interviewed that night on The McMillan Report. Jack immediately texted Dorian, and copied the message to every member of The Pack, even the ones on administrative leave.
Tonight. McGee on McMillan Report. Prepare.
He didn’t even bother to look at the myriad responses, just glad he had been spared being in the damn video.
Phoenix looked to Suzette as another one of the interviews ended. She signaled that he was off air.
“Okay, we can break for a while, last thing is McMillan in a few hours,” she said, closing down the fliptop and dragged herself off to the main office for more coffee, Phoenix took the opportunity to use the restroom and make another call to Jeremy. He staggered downstairs, pinching his phone between his ear and his shoulder, getting the voicemail once more.
“Hey Jeremy, it’s Phoenix. Listen, I know things are a bit difficult, but we need to square away payment. I can meet you at your place later tonight or tomorrow. Call me back.” He hung up and stretched. “I’m going to take a nap if you don’t mind holding down the fort, Suzette.”
She waved him off dismissively, but with a smile. She went about checking the various deposits into their accounts for his television appearances.
“You’ll need your beauty sleep for McMillan. As much as I’d love to keep you awake until you have to fight that beast, it won’t do us any good if you aren’t at the top of your game.”
Phoenix nodded and headed upstairs, collapsing headfirst into bed. He shucked off his jacket and tossed it to the floor. A short rest was all he thought about, all he wanted. No distraction, no interruptions, no…
“Phoenix McGee, your presence is still being requested. You are not required, but we implore you to come to the Cloister at your earliest convenience.”
Oh no, not now.
“Again, Phoenix McGee, the current GearWitch, you are needed for a task. Please come to the Cloister. Your predecessor, Gypsy Moroux, has the information you need, all you must do is initiate contact with her.”
He bellowed at the top of his lungs. “Not now! I need sleep! I have to go on television in a few hours! Damn it, these talks mess with my perception of time, cut it out now.”
“We will contact you again soon, Phoenix McGee.”
“Leave me alone!” he screamed at the ceiling.
He heard Suzette yell from the other side of the door, “Fuck that! You’re on in five minutes, McGee. Get your ass down here. I even let you sleep in! You have twenty seconds or I’m breaking down the door, do you hear me?”
“Damn it!” He rolled off the bed, and gave the finger toward the ceiling as he gathered up his jacket and swung open the door, Suzette having her fist balled to bang on it again.
“You look like hell, Phoenix. As long as I was pounding on that door, I thought you’d lapsed into a coma.”
“The Cloister rang me up the moment my head hit the pillows. From my perspective, I’ve been in the room all of thirty seconds, tops.” He rubbed his eyes, threw on his jacket and stormed down the stairs, Suzette following closely behind. “Come on,” he muttered, “I know setup takes a while. Actual coffee, please.”
“I’ll have to start up a fresh pot.” He shot her a look of fury, which she returned eagerly. “Maybe for you it’s been a few minutes; for me, it’s been a few hours and coffee goes cold. Honestly, tell The Cloister to contact me now and again, I’d love to be able to chat for a few minutes and get eight hours of pay.”
Phoenix sat at the booth again as Suzette prepped the fliptop. He checked his phone, noticing he had a text message from Ben. He squinted at it as Suzette got up to make the coffee.
Word has it The McMillan Report will go viral tonight. Record it.
He blinked and shrugged, turning off the phone before plugging it in to charge. Suzette, meanwhile, was chatting with the Eagle News Network.
“When the coffee’s done, I’ll set it by your right side. Talking with their studio, and…you’re on. McMillan is doing his news now, he has one small point about unions or something and
then he has you. It’s a short bit. It seems they have a sudden lineup change for interviews. They have Reginald Gemini to talk about his corporate assistance for the city. I guess Rouge Mal is the headline tonight.”
“Fine. Whatever. Can we get this over with? I’m tired as hell and I just want to get back to bed. This guy just pisses me off.”
“He’s paid us a lot to appear, so take his abuse. You take my abuse and pay me.”
“Point taken.”
She signaled they were about to go live. One last check to make sure his microphone and earpiece worked and then a loud cantankerous voice was in his ear.
“And tonight, we are talking about viral videos. These bits of popular media really offer us nothing as a culture but do seem to invade our homes more and more. The current popular one is of a private investigator busting a cheating wife who just so happens to be having a tryst with some police officers. Mr. McGee, explain to us why you put this out there? To shame this woman? Is this a statement against the police? Do you feel the court of popular opinion should be more important than the actual law, being that no law was broken here? Why Mr. McGee?”
“Well, first I’d like to thank you for having me on your show, Mr. McMillan. Secondly, that’s a lot to respond to, all at once. Now as to why we put this out there, it was simply put up as a bit of marketing. We received permission from our client, the husband, to use the video surveillance acquired under contract with him for promotional purposes.”
He heard McMillan scoff in his ear as the broadcaster started back up.
“So, the wife. Did you get her permission? What about the officers? I see she used to work for the police department, so it seems you feel you don’t need to obey the wishes of our police force. Does this have anything to do with that court case you were involved in a few years back? For those just joining us, we have Phoenix McGee via uplink. Some of you may remember him from his national court case where, although he has powers, he used a loophole to get out of registration.”
“I didn’t think we were here to discuss that, with all respect.”