Burn Phone

by Thomas Malafarina

  “Oh… yes… the deal… yes,” Edmondson said sounding somewhat confused, “Please tell me how things went. I assume the deal was signed and we are now their contractor of choice.”

  “Most certainly,” Wilson replied. “However, I found out when I got there that Mr. Harcourt was thinking about going with Ultra Tech instead.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me in the least, Wilson.” Edmondson said, “J. P. Harcourt and Bill Simpson go back a long way. But I knew that with all the work you put into this project you would find a way to turn things around.”

  “Well.” Wilson continued, “The old man apparently told John Showalter that he was adamant about not using us but with, shall we say, my powers of persuasion, I managed to convince Mr. Showalter to sign with us anyway. That means that I just delivered a multimillion dollar deal for Edmondson Systems, probably the largest deal the company has ever seen.”

  “You may be right Wilson,” Edmondson replied, “This deal will help our little company grow into a force to be reckoned with. We will be able to play ball with the big boys now.” Charles laughed to himself at the arrogance that Edmondson had. If he only knew the future that Wilson was planning for him, he would not be so overconfident.

  “And hopefully as Edmondson Systems grows, you will remember who helped to make it all possible.” Wilson interjected, still playing the part of the dutiful employee.

  Edmondson replied, “Oh yes Wilson, I will not forget. In fact, when you return I will make sure you get everything that you deserve for all the work you put into this.” At first Charles thought that he heard a note of menace in the old man’s voice and wondered if Edmondson was working on some sort of double cross. He decided to continue to play along.

  “Thank you very much, Mr. Edmondson.” Wilson said feigning humility. Then he thought to himself, “And you will be getting exactly what you deserve from me, you washed up old has-been.”

  “Mr. Edmondson. I also need to mention something. There was a tragedy at H & W this morning. A major tragedy that will change the management structure at Harcourt & Washington.” Wilson started to explain, wanting to tell how Washington had gone mad and killed Harcourt.

  “Not interested,” Edmondson interrupted. “I have no time for H & W’s problems. Is John Showalter still on the job?”

  “Ye..yes.” Wilson stammered, shocked at his boss’s lack of interest. Perhaps the old man was finally losing it, going senile. Wilson thought of how Edmondson had changed during the last year since recovering from his heart attack. He did not seem like himself most of the time. Charles had an image of an old Model T Ford in his mind clunking down the highway with parts falling off in all directions.

  Edmondson continued to rant in the background, “As long as they pay us, nothing else matters to me.” Wilson could not comprehend why the old man would not have at least a little curiosity about what happened. Then out the blue Edmondson announced. “By the way Wilson. I would prefer if you would come home early now that this deal is taken care of. I want you to change your flight to leave first thing tomorrow morning.”

  Wilson argued, “But, I have appointment this afternoon and another tomorrow morning with potential clients. My wife also sent my business cell phone to me overnight and it should be here by tomorrow morning around ten. Coming home tomorrow morning doesn’t sound very practical to me.”

  “I don’t recall asking you what you thought Wilson.” Edmondson shouted. Wilson knew the old fart was about to put him in his place again. “Regardless of what you might think, Wilson,” Edmondson continued sternly, “I need you back here as soon a possible tomorrow morning. In fact, I want you to come here directly from the airport. Don’t bother stopping home. I need you here immediately. Just tell the front desk at the hotel to overnight your phone to your home address and charge it to your corporate card. It will be at your house by Wednesday morning. Now get busy. Change your flight arrangements and get back here.”

  “May I ask what is so important?” Wilson interjected.

  Edmondson interrupted, “No you may not. I will see you as soon as you return tomorrow morning. Goodbye Wilson.” And, the phone went dead.

  “You miserable old senile lunatic!” Wilson shouted slamming down the phone. That old man was going to get his just deserts and very, very soon. For a moment Wilson considered reaching in and using the cell phone right that very minute. He knew the phone was powerful enough to take care of Edmondson from half way across the country; after all he had used it on that horrid child rapist the night before. But, Wilson decided instead he would just wait and bide his time. First, he wanted to get his hands on that commission check, plus he wanted to be there in person to watch his creatures from the other side, ripping Edmondson to bits, right before his very eyes. Maybe he would force Edmondson to sign a document turning over the company to him in just before the flayed the old man’s flesh from his decrepit body.

  Fine, Wilson thought. He didn’t really want to go to his other two appointments anyway and the sooner he returned home the better as far as he was concerned. But, this did put a damper on his plans to try to get some cash tonight. He might have time for one or two quick hits but that might be all. Moreover, what did he care? He had all the time in the world to put his plan together and raise his cash. Maybe tonight he would just do a test run to see how things worked out. It was probably a good idea to try it out this far from home anyway, where no one knew him, just incase something went awry.

  Wilson called the airport and managed to get a flight leaving at 7:00 am the next morning. Edmondson might not be happy, as Wilson would not get into the office until the afternoon, but screw the old fart. Wilson also called down to the front desk at the hotel and told the young girl that he would be checking out Tuesday morning, but that a package might be arriving for him later Tuesday morning. He instructed them to overnight it to his home and to put the charge on his credit card.

  With all that completed Wilson decided to stretch out and take a nap. He thought again about calling his wife on her cell but changed his mind. She would have to wait for a while. He needed to get some rest so that he was alert to start his new and exciting career in crime.

  Wilson pulled the blinds on the hotel window and put the ‘Do No Disturb’ sign on the outside doorknob. He put his very special cell phone on the night table next to his bed, took off his suit and crawled into bed, pulling the covers up to his neck and getting as comfortable as possible.

  He quickly fell into a deep, restful, dreamless sleep.

  Chapter 22

  Wilson awoke in a fog in his dark hotel room and looked at the digital clock on the nightstand, which read 9:47. He was surprised to realize that he had slept from about two in the afternoon until almost 10:00 pm. He seldom slept that long during a normal night, yet in the past thirty hours or so he had probably slept over fifteen of them.

  He had been more exhausted than he realized. Apparently, his newfound abilities took a greater amount of his energy then he had expected. This was good to know, as he would have to plan his future use of the phone accordingly. He wondered if he were in his twenties instead of his forties, would using the phone exhaust him as much. Somehow, he guessed that no matter what age, the sheer energy it took to release such unearthly powers would be enough to weaken anyone.

  He stumbled into the bathroom and once again was shocked by the face looking back at him from the mirror. “What a mess!” Wilson exclaimed. He thought that he looked as though he had been out partying all night with a heavy metal band and had taken too many unidentifiable substances, and then woke up in a fleabag motel naked with three dead hookers and a goat. He chuckled to himself at this image.

  Wilson said aloud, “Wow! It looks like I need to freshen up a bit; maybe a lot.” He started a hot steaming shower; his second of the day, and climbed in to revitalize himself in the hot flowing water. While enjoying the refreshing spray, Wilson started to formulate a plan for the night. He had to find some places to score a few quick hits to
throw some fast cash together.

  As he stood under the water’s soothing massage, he started to question his motives. He wondered if he was actually planning these robberies based on the need to raise cash to start his own company, or if he was simply doing it just because he wanted to see if he could get away with it. After all, he was not in too bad of shape financially, especially with the bonus coming from his latest deal. Since his credit rating was superior, he knew he would have no trouble securing a loan to start his new endeavor. So why was he so obsessed with planning a robbery?

  Just a day earlier, he never would have even considered trying to rob someone. It was a concept that never would have ever entered his thought process. He recalled for a moment how he, himself, had felt violated when the mugger tried to rob him in the alley only the night before. Now, strangely, none of that seemed to matter to Wilson any longer. With his newfound power, not only was he considering robbery, the idea actually excited him.

  Perhaps it was because the strange cell phone made him feel almost invincible. He understood that he was not actually indestructible, and as such, he could be hurt or killed, but he felt certain that the phone could provide all the protection he might need in any situation he might encounter. In addition, maybe that slight risk factor, that possibility of being hurt was where the rush of excitement was coming from.

  He became conscious of the fact that perhaps this robbery had nothing what so ever to do with raising cash; that maybe it truly was simply the new Charles Wilson trying to see what he could get away with; testing his power.

  Regardless of the reason, Charles was eager to get out there in the night to see what would transpire. He did not plan to use the phone unless he had no other choice, especially since it seemed to drain him so thoroughly.

  He already planned that he would look for the right sort of business; walk into his potential victim’s establishment holding the phone in his hand inside of his trench coat pocket poking the pocket out as if he were holding a gun. This way the merchant would not know whether he had a weapon or not when he demanded cash. He had seen it work on several television shows during his lifetime so he figured it must have some merit.

  If the person in the store was wise or scared enough, he would simply hand the cash over and that would be then end of that. If, on the other hand the person chose to resist, Wilson could simply open up the portal release his demons and do away with the clerk. At it felt a bit odd hearing himself think in that fashion, yet somehow it also started to feel somehow right to Charles. He began to realize that this ability, this power he had acquired was intoxicating and quite addicting.

  Wilson knew that he was a now a powerful man, a superior man; no longer a mere mortal. Any resistance to his wishes was a direct insult to his newfound power. No simple human had the right to try to stand in the way of a being that could control the very essence of Hell itself. Such defiance should and would meet with the appropriate level of retribution. Yes, Charles Wilson certainly did hope that he would get to use his phone again this evening.

  He walked out of the elevator into the hotel lobby a half hour later, heading directly for the front door ignoring the curious glances he received from the desk clerk as well as several guests in the lobby. He had started to become accustomed to people staring at him strangely. He had no idea why they were doing so and didn’t particularly care why either. He assumed it was the new air of superiority that surrounded him; the confidence that he exuded.

  Wilson found himself walking down the same side street where he had his encounter with the old man the previous evening. However, on this Monday night things were quite different, in that several of the local stores were open for business. Wilson passed a newspaper store, looking into the window and seeing several people lined up to buy cigarettes and play the lottery. That particular store would never do. He walked on noting that the next several stores he encountered were closed.

  He came upon a local pharmacy, but decided that the place was too well lit for him to take the chance. He had also noticed security cameras spread throughout the store. After a few more unsatisfactory possibilities, he came to the corner where the mysterious store from last night was located. It stood empty, dark and abandoned as if no one had used it years. He cautiously peered in the window but saw nothing but blackness. The cell phone in his coat gave a slight pulse, which he seemed to feel all throughout his body. The pulsation made him feel stronger, as if he and the phone were forming some sort of symbiotic relationship, as if he was becoming one with the phone.

  As Wilson stood pondering, he slowly turned to notice a dimly lit store across the alley and down the street about a half of a block. All of the businesses surrounding that one appeared closed. Wilson realized that the business might very likely be the one that he needed to hit.

  Chapter 23

  Wilson walked slowly across the street making his way toward the business. He looked casually through the front window as he pretended to walk by noticing that it was a convenience store. From a first glance, he did not notice anyone inside save the cashier who was a disheveled looking muscular man about thirty-five. Wilson immediately recognized that this character might not be a pushover and might give him some trouble. He chuckled to himself as he thought of how any resistance from the clerk would be met with a quick reprisal thanks to his phone. This clerk might be big and bad looking but Wilson knew the man would tremble a cry like a school-girl when confronted with the ultimate power that he possessed.

  As he walked through the front door, a bell above the door issued a tinny clang and Wilson was immediately reminded of the previous night when he heard a similar bell clang as he entered the strange store where everything started. For a moment, a chill ran down his spine until he remembered that he was now the one with the power and he had nothing to fear. Still, the deja vu he felt upon hearing the bell’s clang was very disheartening and filled Wilson with discomfort.

  Charles looked about the store and saw that he and the clerk were alone. The store occupied a long narrow space about thirty feet wide by about one hundred feet deep. To his immediate left as he entered through the door, he saw a service counter about twenty feet long running along the left wall. It was about five feet tall and must have been equipped with a platform since Wilson could see most of the clerk’s torso above the counter. He assumed this was so that whoever was on duty could get a bird’s eye view of the store and be able to catch shoplifters.

  Beyond the counter, shelves well stocked with merchandise extended back toward the rear of the building. On the right side of the space, shelves ran from the front of the store to the back, where they stopped at a door, which probably went upstairs to an apartment or perhaps downstairs to a basement. He wondered for a moment if anyone else might be in the building behind that door, and if such a person might try to cause him problems. He continued to examine his surroundings.

  Between the two outside rows of shelving two additional rows of double-sided shelving also ran from front to back, creating three separate aisles. Wilson could see that the two center rows stopped a few feet short of the back of the store allowing patrons to move from aisle to aisle while at the rear of the building. He also noticed security mirrors strategically positioned so that whoever was watching the store could watch activity at the back. He saw no video cameras.

  Wilson turned slowly toward the service counter and approached the clerk who was staring at him ominously.

  “Somethin’ in can get for you?” The man said in a gruff sounding voice.

  “Yes, in fact there is.” Wilson replied realizing that if he was going to go through with this, there was little point in dragging things out; it was now or never. He said with much less threat in his voice than he perhaps would have liked, “If you would be so kind as to open your cash register and give me all of your cash, I promise I won’t shoot you.”

  The clerk simply stood his ground and stared at Wilson as if he did not understand what he had just said. His muscles seemed to inst
inctively constrict and ripple beneath his tight fitting tee shirt. Wilson noticed that the man’s hair was longish, dark and disheveled and that the man looked as if he were no stranger to trouble. In fact, he reminded Wilson of the type of person that might have spent the better part of his life in fights of one sort or another, a typical brawler. Wilson could not help but notice that in reality the two of them should have been in opposite places, as Wilson looked more like a mild mannered store clerk while the man behind the counter looked like a criminal.

  “Look, Buddy.” Wilson demanded attempting to make it clear that he was very serious and trying to recall dialect from one of his TV cop shows, “I’m not joking here. Either give me your damned money or you are a dead man.” Wilson pulled his cell phone against the inside of his trench coat pocket trying to make it appear as if he actually did have a gun.

  The clerk simply stared at Wilson with a disgusted look and said with no particular emotion, “I suppose you expect me to believe you have a gun in that pocket of yours and that if I don’t give you what you want you are going to blow a giant hole in me. Does that sound about right?”

  Wilson stood watching the man with disbelief. “Ooooh. I am completely racked with fear.” The man replied feigning terror. “There is something important that you need to understand before you continue to make one of the worst mistakes of your miserable old life. You see, most of the morons that come in here and try to rob me usually walk right up to me with as much attitude as they can gather, shove a hand cannon directly into my face then scream that they want the money. See, that would be the scary thing to do. And, however, although it might get my attention, it would not produce the desired results either. You see, even those types, those genuinely tough guys, those scary types, most of them don’t make it out of here in one piece.”