Phil Williams - 2050 - Psycho Island

“You can do it online. I use my doctor’s portal all the time, especially with the kids.”

“I canceled my policy years ago. It was too expensive. I never go to the doctor anyway.”

She cocked her head. “Until now.”

“Right. Until now.” Derek took another sip of water. “Do you know if they recovered my phone from the truck?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Can I borrow your phone?”

Rebecca went back to her chair, opened her purse, and returned with her phone.

“Thanks,” Derek said, taking her phone. “You guys prob’ly have a lot better things to do. I’ll call April to pick me up.”

“You can’t go home yet. Your ankle is broken, and you could have internal injuries.”

“Well, you two should go home. Let me just call April and my mother to let them know where I am.” Derek dialed April’s cell phone number by memory. Straight to voice mail. After the tone, Derek said, “I’ve been in accident. I’m at the hospital. Don’t worry. I’m okay.” He removed the phone from his ear and said to Rebecca, “What hospital is this?”

“Warren Memorial in Front Royal.”

Derek nodded to Rebecca and went back to his message. “I’m at Warren Memorial in Front Royal. I might need a ride home at some point. I’m callin’ from Rebecca’s phone, so don’t call this number. Just call the hospital. I love you.” Derek disconnected the call and tapped on the phone, looking for the number to Page General Hospital in Luray, Virginia. He called the main number.

“Page General Hospital. How may I direct your call?” asked the robot receptionist.

“The hospital room for Hannah Reeves.”

“One moment please.” The bot transferred the call.

“This is Nurse Wilkes, Oncology. How may I help you?”

“I’m sorry to bother you. My name’s Derek Reeves. I was supposed to be transferred to my mother’s hospital room. Hannah Reeves.”

The nurse hesitated for a beat. “I’m very sorry, Mr. Reeves. Your mother passed away early this morning. She took a turn for the worse last night. We left you several voice mails.”

Derek’s heart pounded. He felt sick to his stomach. “What happened? She was gettin’ better.”

“Epigenetic treatments have a low success rate for late-stage cancer patients. When they first undergo the treatments, patients often feel an initial burst of good health, but that’s often not sustainable. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“What happens now? Can I come get her?”

“We can’t release the body directly to you. We can release the body to a funeral home, or, in the case of indigent families, the state offers cremation.”

“I don’t know what I can afford. Can I call you back?”

“Of course. We’ll store her body for four days. Please let us know what you plan to do before then. Otherwise, she’ll be scheduled for cremation.”

“I will.” Derek disconnected the call and handed the phone to Rebecca.

Rebecca wiped her eyes with the side of her index finger. Derek’s side of the conversation was enough for her to understand that Hannah had died. “I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

Derek shook his head, a lump forming in his throat. Tears slipped down his cheeks. Derek grabbed two tissues from the overbed table and wiped his face. He sat upright, grimacing, his battered body barking in pain.

“What are you doing?” Rebecca asked.

“I need to find April. I called her three times last night, and she’s still not returnin’ my messages.”

“Lay back,” Rebecca said, her hand on his chest. “You need to rest.”

Jacob stirred from his slumber. He rubbed his eyes and focused on Rebecca with her hand on Derek. “What’s going on?”

Rebecca removed her hand from Derek and turned to her husband. “Derek needs to find his girlfriend. We can help him with that, can’t we?”

A frown flashed over Jacob’s face for a microsecond. “Whatever we can do to help.”

Rebecca returned her attention to Derek. “We’ll go find her. Now lay back down.”

Derek did as he was told.

“Maybe April left you a message on your phone? Can you call your voice mail?” Rebecca held out her phone.

Derek called his voice mail and listened to the messages from Page General Hospital urging Derek to come see his mother, letting him know that her time was short. He heard a robomessage from SCS Enforcement letting him know that he’d been penalized ten points for reckless driving, and he should consider an autonomous vehicle.

And another from Nationwide Insurance, representing Alexandria BMW, the woman saying that her client would prefer to do this without going to court, but is ready and willing if necessary. Camera evidence is irrefutable. Derek’s at fault. The price for the totaled BMW: 77,800 Fed Coins.

Unfortunately, Derek did not have insurance, as nonautonomous vehicles were very expensive to insure. Human-driven vehicles caused 99 percent of the accidents. With the accident and his mother’s medical bills, Derek knew he’d eventually lose the farm. It was just a matter of time. Derek rubbed his throbbing temples.

“You okay?” Rebecca asked.

Derek nodded and handed the phone back to Rebecca. “Nothin’ from April.”

“What’s her address? We’ll go to her house.”

Jacob stood from his chair and approached the bed.

Derek gave them the name of her apartment building. He couldn’t remember the number. He knew she was on the fourth floor, but he’d only been there twice.

“I have work to do,” Jacob said.

“I can go if you don’t have time.” Derek struggled to sit up again, groaning against the pain.

“You’re in no condition to go anywhere. It’s on our way home anyway,” Rebecca said, scowling at Jacob. She turned back to Derek. “We’ll stop by her place, and I’ll call you here at the hospital.”

Jacob mumbled under his breath, “It’s not on the way.”

“Thank you,” Derek said, his gaze fixed on Rebecca.

“Do you need help with Hannah’s funeral arrangements?”

“No. You’ve done enough.”

“If you need help with the cost—”

“No, …but thank you.”

The beige brick building was gothic and castle-like, the corners jutting out and curved, resembling guard towers. Burglar bars hung from the street-level windows, relics of a bygone era of DC crime.

Jacob tugged on the door to the apartment building. “Locked.”

Rebecca looked over the numbered buzzers next to the door. “Eight apartments are on the fourth floor. Should we just ring them all?”

“No. Someone might call the police.”

A teen boy exited the building, oblivious, his hoodie up and earbuds in his ears. Jacob caught the door before it shut and locked again. They entered the building, walking down a narrow hallway, with apartment doors on both sides. The linoleum floors were scuffed by a thousand shoe prints. An elevator and a stairwell were at the end of the hall. They took the elevator to the fourth floor.

“We still don’t know which apartment is hers,” Jacob said.

“I have an idea,” Rebecca replied.

The elevator doors opened to the fourth floor. Rebecca stepped to the nearest apartment and knocked.

“What are doing?” Jacob asked.

“Asking April’s neighbor where she lives.”

The door opened, and an elderly woman appeared. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and looked them over. “What do you want?”

“My name’s Rebecca, and this is my husband, Jacob.”

“So?”

“I’m looking for my friend April. She lives in this apartment building.”

“Nope.” The old woman started to shut her door.