The Eye of the Shit Storm

“So let me get this straight”, says Detective Williams as he rubs his temples. “You had a ‘bad feeling’ that something was going to happen to the plane and told all the passengers that if they got on the flight, they would die?” He can’t help but sound incredulous.  

“You’re good. You get straight to the meat and potatoes of things.” Vera downs the last of her Diet Coke. “Can I get another?” Having been pulled directly from her flight as it landed, a flight she snored through, her hair is in desperate need of a brush. Makeup smudged, she’s a denim-clad, under-caffeinated wreck.   

Interview room one is sparsely furnished with a table and three chairs. And despite what TV and movies may depict, there is no two-way mirror, just a security camera affixed in the corner of the room. 

After a jaunt to New York City with her brother, Roman, her constant escort and protector, there was a snafu in the airport on the way home. Vera, a Seer, envisions death and destruction. She foresaw the crash of another flight  and did what she could to make sure the passengers knew danger was ahead. It turns out TSA was suspicious that over half of the flight refused to board, when minutes later, the plane crashed on takeoff. It wasn’t hard to identify Vera and Roman as the instigators of the pre-flight pandemonium. They were immediately detained when their plane landed on their home turf.

Ignoring her request, Detective Williams continues. “And what was this ‘bad feeling’ based on? For example, something you observed or overheard…?”

Unfortunately for her, Detective Williams is a nonbeliever. Nonbelievers are difficult to convert into believers. The believers are the people that listen, follow her advice, and live to see another day. His sidekick however, is harder to read. Officer Garcia is a young and attractive, if not very green, female officer. Vera suspects she is a fencer, neither a believer nor a nonbeliever, but open-minded enough to possibly be won over. 

“It was based solely on women’s intuition”, she replies with a wink in Officer Garcia’s direction. Belching, she asks, “And what, may I ask, have you done with Roman?” An inadvertent glance between Garcia and Williams doesn’t escape Vera’s attention. “Ah, he lawyered up”, she says with a wave of her hand. 

Frustration bubbles inside Detective Williams. Roman had been smart enough to immediately invoke his right to an attorney. Williams was hoping his sister was a crackpot half-wit that didn’t know better and would talk.  

“I appreciate you being open to speak with us, Vera, but I don’t think you understand the magnitude of this situation.” He leans forward with a penetrating gaze. “Innocent people died. I don’t think you meant for that to happen, but you have to tell us who is behind this.”

“Detective Williams, your heart is in the right place, but when all is said and done, you’re going to walk away from this with egg on your face.” Shifting in her seat to face Officer Garcia she says, “Now how about a couple of Diet Cokes and some girl talk.”

It takes all his self-control not to roll his eyes, but Williams nods to his partner and they vacate the interrogation room.  

Across the hall in the observation room, Williams assesses the situation. “I see the cameras are off in room two. Is his counsel here?” 

The officer stationed in the room sighs, barely able to look him in the eye. “Yes, his counsel is here.” He fiddles with some of the controls, vying for time. “She arrived a few minutes ago… and she’s in a venomous mood.”

“Well her client is implicated in a possible mass murder. I wouldn’t be thrilled either. Who is it? Anyone we know?”

“Yes, it’s someone everyone knows”, he grumbles. He pauses and takes a deep breath. “His attorney is Senator Lina Boswell.”  

Williams’ stare, though unnerving, is benign compared to the hardened tone he makes no attempt to temper. “And how does Roman Scamp know Senator Boswell?”

“Apparently, they are cousins.”

“Well, then”, he says, taking a seat. “I guess we better make the bird in room one sing.” He leans back in his chair and stares at the security feed. 

_____

In room two, a carefully coiffed Roman and an elegantly styled, though exceedingly vexed, Senator Boswell, survey the situation. 

“The most powerful Seer of our generation”, Lina seethes, pacing from one end of the room to the other. “Her arrival was prophesied for decades, her visions are meticulously accurate, and yet”, she pauses mid-stride, her hands clenched at her sides, “and yet she doesn’t know to say ‘I want an attorney’ when being questioned?”, she hisses. “Is she a fucking idiot?”   

“Hey now,” defends Roman, putting his hands up in placation. “Vera at times is unhinged, a little balmy, cracked, or, dare I say, a kook, but she is not an idiot. Whatever she is doing in there is part of her plan. She knows something.”

Letting out a slow exhale, Lina takes a seat. “I hope you’re right. Because there’s fuck-all I can do until she says those magic words.”

_____

The red light of the security camera stares back at Vera, mocking her. It’s time to get to work.

“Tell your stubborn-ass sergeant to ice his hand or else he won’t be able to bend his trigger finger tomorrow!”, she shouts directly into the security camera. Take that. She swings her feet up onto the table, wondering how long they plan to let her stew. 

She’s tired of fighting her gift. Her whole life she wished and hoped it would leave her, that she would wake up just a basic bitch. But now, why fight it? Why not just accept it for what it is, a really fucked up ability that no one, outside of her family, truly understands? She wishes her Sight was less of the doom-and-gloom variety though, like her Aunt Naomi, who can foresee pregnancies and marriages. But alas, that is not her destiny. The world will keep on turning and she will turn with it. 

“Officer Garcia!”, she shouts, fanatically waving at the camera. “Refreshments in exchange for some banter?”

Exiting the observation room, Garcia nearly collides with the Sergeant. She eyes his furrowed brow and his magenta-colored hand tucked close to his body. “Can I get you some ice, Sarge?” 

Flinching at the glare she receives, she turns to the team behind her in a wide-eyed, what-the-fuck expression. This can’t just be coincidence. Maybe the wackjob overheard something while they were bringing her into the station?

Two Diet Cokes in hand and a growing knot in her stomach, Officer Garcia reenters room one. 

“Are you sure you don’t want some water?”, she asks as she sits across from Vera.

“No, thanks. I’m not drinking water this month”, she quips. Eagerly popping open the can, Vera takes several gulps. “Ahh! That's good. Help yourself to the other one.”

“That’s okay. I don’t know how you drink that stuff”, Garcia says, shaking her head. 

“It’s just as well. That one’ll explode”, she says nodding towards the other can. “If we didn’t have an audience of turds watching, I might’ve let you open it.” She takes another sip. “But, I like you. You’re like me. Still figuring it all out.”  

Not taking her eyes off of Vera, she leans in and purposely ignores her comment. “How about we talk about what happened at JFK.” 

Vera sits back, resuming her repose. With a glint in her eye she asks, “How’s Sarge look?” 

“Vera, this isn’t a game.” 

“I know. I’m as serious as a heart attack.” Vera’s expression is suddenly so sobered, a veil of uneasiness settles over Garcia. In her discomfort Garcia’s gaze slides over to the unopened Diet Coke. 

“Go ahead. Open it.” 

______

In the neighboring room Lina restlessly bounces her leg and glances at her watch. “So, do you have any idea what her plan is and why she’s doing this?”

Picking an invisible piece of lint from his sports jacket, Roman ponders. “She can’t walk away if she feels there is something she can do. If I had to speculate, I’d say she’s working up to do a reading.”

Lina groans. “Disaster.”

“Either that or she has thrown in the towel and wants to spend the rest of her life in prison.” He swallows. “If that’s the case, I hope she doesn’t incriminate me.” He pauses. “Can’t you envision anything?”

She folds her arms over her chest. “No.” Lina’s Sight detects lies. Maybe she should have been a cop. “Whatever she is saying, it’s the truth.” 

A sudden chime alerts her to a notification on her phone. Picking it up and scouring the story, her brow furrows, then lifts. Roman watches as her eyes race from side to side. When she’s finished her eyes gleam back at him in an expression he knows too well. “This is it. We’ve got it.” 

_____

Back in room one Vera feels the squeeze of time and her patience is running thin.

“Darling, we don’t have much time.” She eyes the door anxiously. “I know we haven’t known each other long, but I think I’m just going to have to let the chips fall where they may.” 

Garcia raises an eyebrow, concerned about what embarrassing declaration this woman is about to make on camera. She’s getting weirder and weirder by the minute, and Garcia dreads the comments she’ll get later from her watching colleagues. “Let’s stay on point, Vera.”

“June 17th”, she bites out.

“I’m sorry?” 

“Make sure you are wearing your vest on June 17th.” The vehemence in Vera’s voice with her piercing stare is so incongruous to her behavior so far, that Garcia recoils back in her seat. Her heart pounds dully in her chest, neither of them moving, until finally the door swings open. 

______

Detective Williams, Officer Garcia, and the sergeant watch as the trio cross the parking lot to the Senator’s car. Detective Williams turns to the Sergeant. “Are you sure they weren’t caught up in something sinister?”

“Positive.” The sergeant meets his gaze with his own steely stare. “It was a bird strike.”

“A bird strike?”

“A bird strike.”

Detective Williams chews on this information for a moment. “But how could she have–”

“That’s none of your concern, Detective.” Without another word he turns to go replenish the ice on his hand.

Garcia leaves Williams to his thoughts and slips into room one. Making sure the surveillance camera is turned off, she gingerly picks up the remaining soda can. Why did she feel like her fate rested in the palm of her hand? Forcing air into her lungs, she presses down on the tab.