Phil Williams - 2050 - Psycho Island

“What the hell, Summer?” one of the men said.

“I got her,” Javier said, his arms around her, pulling her away from Derek.

Derek groaned, in the fetal position, his hand on his stomach.

“Let me go!” Summer shouted, thrashing about.

“Calm down,” Javier said, holding her tight. When Summer calmed, Javier let her go, the men now standing between Summer and Derek.

Summer pointed at Derek. “He killed my fiancé. He took Eliza.”

“Roger told us to watch him. That’s it,” one of the men said, showing his palms in neutrality.

“He can’t be here.”

“Talk to Roger.”

“He’s outside,” Javier said.

Summer glared at Derek, then went with Javier to the courtyard. Summer marched up to Roger, who sat at a table, eating his breakfast.

“Why is he here?” Summer was shaking.

Roger stood from the table. “Let’s talk in private.”

“He killed my fiancé, and he took Eliza.”

But Roger was already walking away from the group. Summer followed. Roger stopped, his back against the stone wall, everyone now out of earshot.

Roger said, “I know what you think he did—”

“I watched him kill my fiancé.”

“They were forced to fight. Your fiancé killed men as well.”

Summer gritted her teeth and tried a different tack. “He took Eliza.”

“He risked his life to bring her back.”

“He was with the Aryans.”

“Not by choice.”

Summer shook her head. “You’re just gonna let him stay?”

“We’re voting on it today.”

“Fine.” Summer walked away.

Once Eliza woke, Summer checked her wounds. Her knees were skinned. She had bruising on her thighs and wrists. There was vaginal and rectal tearing, but Summer believed Eliza’s physical wounds would heal. Summer worried about STDs, but she didn’t have any antibiotics. Eliza didn’t think she’d get pregnant again. She hadn’t menstruated in many months. No doubt a result of malnutrition.

Summer bathed Eliza in the ocean, the salt water cleaning her wounds. The sea was calm. Eliza lay on her back in the water, Summer’s hands holding her steady, keeping her head above water. Eliza closed her eyes and breathed. Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes, merging with the sea. They stayed this way for a long time, Eliza crying softly, and Summer holding her.

Summer dressed Eliza on the beach. The guards on the fort wall turned away as she dressed. Summer walked with Eliza back to the fort.

Inside, Javier approached them. “Roger wanted to know if you were up to voting on Derek. He said we can do it later if you want.”

“Now’s not the time,” Summer said.

“I wanna do it now,” Eliza said.

Everyone was in the common room. They’d arranged the plastic tables and chairs in a horseshoe pattern. Only a few guards weren’t in attendance. Someone had to patrol the walls and keep watch. Derek sat in a lonely chair in front of the group. Summer, Eliza, and Javier sat at one of the tables. Summer glowered at Derek, willing him to look her way. When he did, he quickly looked away.

“All right, let’s bring this meeting to order,” Roger said, sitting at the apex of the horseshoe.

Everyone quieted.

Roger said, “Derek will have his chance to talk and answer questions. Then any group members are welcome to voice their opinions. Once everyone’s been heard, we’ll vote whether or not to let Derek stay. Any questions?”

Nobody spoke.

“Derek, why don’t you explain how it is that you ended up here.”

Derek cleared his throat. His beard was thick and dark, matching his wavy hair. His eyes were bloodshot. “I know y’all know about the games. The Race War. I didn’t wanna kill anyone.”

Summer crossed her arms over her chest, one side of her mouth raised in contempt.

Derek continued, “I did what I had to do to survive, but I didn’t win my freedom. The Aryans said they owned me. They assigned me to a raider group. The raiders scavenge for supplies and kidnap people, specifically women. Six other men were in the group besides me. I didn’t want anything to do with kidnappin’ or anything they were doin’. I’m sorry I didn’t stop it, but … I was afraid.” Derek swallowed hard. “Then they all fell asleep, and I snuck Eliza out of the compound, and we walked back here. Y’all seem like decent people. I’d like to stay, but I understand if that’s not possible.”

The room was silent for a few beats.

Roger said, “Does anyone have any comments or questions for Derek?”

Gavin said, “How do we know he’s not an Aryan spy? Maybe they sent him here with Eliza on purpose.”

“I find that unlikely,” Roger said. “He was only with the Aryans for a few days. They wouldn’t send someone so new.”

“What can he do?” asked a male group member. “It’s already tough enough to feed everyone.”

“I was a farmer,” Derek said. “I can help with foraging. I know plants, even tropical plants. If you need someone to go out for supplies, you can send me. I can shoot. Shotguns, rifles, handguns. I’ve been shootin’ since I was ten. I can hunt and trap and butcher animals. I know a little about medicinal herbs.”

The group nodded along with Derek’s words, obviously impressed with his résumé.

Javier raised his hand. “I have a question.” He stared at Derek and said, “What did you do to be sent to this island?”

“I killed the man who raped and killed my girlfriend,” Derek replied.

“You were a killer before you came here.”

A few group members nodded in agreement with Javier.

Derek also nodded, his expression resigned. “That’s true.”

“He’s a psychopath, like the rest of them,” Summer said.

More groups members murmured in agreement.

“I don’t think so,” Eliza said.

Everyone turned to Eliza, the room dead quiet now.

“When I first came to the island, I spent three months with psychopaths,” Eliza said. “I know psychopaths better than any of you. Derek’s no psychopath. He didn’t like seeing me hurt. It was written all over his face. He refused to rape me, even though the rest of them took their turn. He was afraid when he lied to the guards to get me out of there. I could hear it in his voice. But he did it anyway. Never once did I see him act like a psychopath.”

The vote was nearly unanimous, only Javier and Summer in opposition.

Naomi sat on the couch with her husband, Alan, watching President Warner on television as he sat at his desk in the Oval Office. Warner’s face was puffy, the skin sagging appropriately for a man of sixty-two. His hair was white at the temples, brown on top, and slicked back.

President Warner said, “School shootings won’t be tolerated by my administration. It’s my job to protect the American people, especially children. In the past, school shootings were an epidemic in this country. But our government, Republicans and Democrats, took proactive steps to nearly eliminate violent crime. And we’ll take proactive steps again to prevent another tragedy.”

Warner paused for a beat. “Nine students and two professors were fatally shot by a deranged antigovernment activist. Eight more students were injured. These professors and students were sons and daughters, mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, and friends and citizens. They all could’ve been saved with sensible gun control. I know people out there are screaming about the right to bear arms and the Second Amendment. I’m an advocate for the Second Amendment. I’m a gun owner and a hunter myself. I have no interest in disarming Americans, but I won’t tolerate another school shooting.