Phil Williams - 2050 - Psycho Island

“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 you 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.”

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.”

Gavin pointed to an open area on the map, shaped like a field of some sort. “From the old army port, it’s about a mile walk as the crow flies to here. This used to be an army golf course, and this is the north side of Neta territory. They have earth-sheltered bunkers that the army built before they left. That’s probably where they keep their vehicles. We have bolt cutters to cut through their fencing, barbed wire, and any padlocks we might encounter, but, as we’ve already discussed, we don’t know how we’ll get inside the bunkers. We’ll have to figure it out when we get there. I still think we should take minimal weapons. This has to be stealth. The Netas are armed to the teeth. We won’t win a shootout.”

“We agreed on knives and a .22 pistol that’s pretty quiet, especially with the rain,” Derek said.

“Fine with me,” Javier said.

“Me too. I’m not sure I could kill anyone anyway,” Summer said, glancing at Derek.

Derek looked away.

“I’ll take the pistol, and I have the compass,” Gavin said.

“I have the tools Fred gave me to remove the batteries,” Derek said.

“Don’t forget. You won’t be able to use the batteries from any of the BRVs,” Fred said.

Summer frowned. “What are BRVs?” she asked.

“Military trucks. Blast-resistant vehicles,” Fred explained.

Derek nodded to Fred. “We’re looking for a utility vehicle or maybe even a golf cart.”

“We also need to bring buckets for the canoes in case we get swamped by rain. Anything else?” Gavin asked.

“Bags to carry the batteries,” Javier said.

They donned their black ponchos. Group members approached Gavin, Javier, and Summer and patted them on the back or shook their hands or gave them hugs. Derek stood off to the side, adjusting his backpack. Roger was the only one who shook his hand and thanked him.

They took the stone steps to the lower level of the fort. Derek glanced at the flat-black submarine, ready and waiting for them. They grabbed their canoes and stepped to the rear entrance. The guards nodded at them as they stepped into the driving rain. The wind howled. Waves on the ocean side crashed into the rocks, the sprays shooting forty feet into the air, dousing them with seawater. The bay looked as black as the night sky. Between the rain, the night, and the dark clouds, they couldn’t see more than twenty feet in front of them. The bayside of the point was much calmer, but large white caps were visible there.

Derek pushed the canoe into the bay and hopped into the back. Despite his poncho, he was already soaked. Javier and Summer did the same, only two boat lengths behind Derek and Gavin. They paddled in the choppy bay, struggling against the current. Progress was slow. Every few minutes, Derek used the bucket to bail water from the canoe to prevent swamping. It’s gonna be a long night.

“I don’t know how anyone can eat this stuff,” Rebecca said, referring to her MRE of meatballs in marinara sauce.

They were in their room, sitting at a small table for two.

Jacob swallowed a bit of the beef stew from his MRE and scowled at his wife. “Were you expecting five-star accommodations? This isn’t a resort.”

“I know that. I’m not stupid .”

“Then don’t say stupid things.”

Rebecca pursed her lips, then said nothing.

The rain still pounded the frontside of the bunker, although the worst of the hurricane had passed. They’d spent the last seventy-two hours cooped up in the bunker with no internet and no footage from the drones. They didn’t even have a book to read. Cesar was optimistic that the rain would stop soon, and they could relaunch the drones. Jacob had already talked to Cesar about ending the charade as soon as the rain stopped. Jacob was more than ready to go home.

“What if Derek’s a psychopath?” Jacob said, itching for a fight.

Rebecca set down her plastic fork. “We’ve been through this.”

“You can’t prove he’s not a psychopath. The government has the test. What do you have?”

Rebecca shook her head, her jaw set tight.

“Is this because you still feel guilty about leaving him?”

“I don’t feel guilty about the divorce. The marriage wasn’t working. It’s the affair that was wrong. I was married. You were my boss. Derek was on the farm, killing himself to make ends meet. His mother was taking care of Lindsey while you and I carried on like teenagers.”

“Don’t put this on me. You were the one who was married.”

“You knew I was married, yet you made your advances.”

Jacob pointed at his wife. “You wanted out. You wanted more for yourself and Lindsey.”

Rebecca nodded. “You’re right. I wanted you, so I threw him away like trash. You know what Derek did?”

Jacob shrugged.

“Nothing. A few years ago, after Lindsey came back from visiting Derek, she asked me why we got divorced. I felt defensive, like maybe Derek told her about our affair. I told Lindsey that Derek was stubborn and set in his ways. I told her that he refused to leave the farm, and I felt trapped. I told her that he never had time for us, that he worked seven days a week. I told her that we drifted apart. You know what she said?”

Jacob stared at Rebecca, nonplussed.

“She said Derek told her that it was his fault, and all Lindsey needed to know was that everyone loved her. He could’ve turned Lindsey against both of us, but he didn’t. If the situation were reversed, I doubt I would’ve had that much restraint. That’s how I know he’s not a psychopath.”

They were exhausted from the three-mile paddle in rough seas. It had taken them nearly three hours to make it to the abandoned army port. They hid their canoes in a rusted sea container. The wind howled, and the rain still peppered their ponchos, but the storm eased.