Zed Sunday
In a dark, dusty old warehouse, they strapped him to a chair in a room that looked as though its purpose was for dismembering cadavers. A man stood in front of him wearing bloodied leather gloves. He had just landed one more powerful blow to the man’s face, a face that looked more like ground beef than an actual face. The man in the chair pleaded with him to stop, said that he had the wrong guy. His pleas landed on deaf ears, as the man with the gloves prepared to throw yet another punch. The man in the chair passed out after that one. His torment would begin once he woke up.
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Zed Sunday was what one might call a career criminal. He’d been in and out of the pokey so many times, it was hard to keep count. Until three weeks ago, he kept his crimes to, I guess, an acceptable level by today’s standards. He had never looked at real “bad boy” prison time. That changed on a rainy night in a dark, dusty old abandoned warehouse. He got involved with a gang of knuckleheads who beat a poor guy so severely he ended up dying. To make matters worse, it was a blow delivered by Zed that proved fatal. Zed was now looking at “bad boy” prison time, and it terrified him. It scared him real bad.
He thought of fleeing the country, but couldn’t afford airfare, didn’t have a passport, knew nothing about rules regarding extradition. He thought of stealing a boat and hanging out in international waters, but remembered he’d eventually have to come ashore for supplies. Zed thought about turning himself in, but pissed his pants in response and took it as a sign to rethink that one. Old Zed found himself in a pickle. He constantly thought of life in prison and couldn’t sleep at night for visions of big Turk McKensie having his way with him in the showers. But luck would be on Zed’s side, and he wouldn’t even see it coming.
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Calvin Reese was a quiet squirmy little guy who never saw an opportunity for a scam he could pass up. He’d tried them all, failed at them all, and tried them all some more. He was in a bar one day. Strike that. He was in a bar every day. On that day, he saw a new face and saddled up next to her to try his luck. She was a pretty little thing, full of spunk and vinegar. He was smitten immediately. Her name was Sandy Jersen. She and old Calvin didn’t know it yet, but they were already on a collision course to destroy each other’s lives.
Calvin and Sandy began dating a few days after their first drink together. It was a match made to fail. It was like a bad TV sitcom in the making. Calvin the scammer meets Sandy the thief, part-time burglar, part-time con artist. She was always on the prowl for a victim. She also had no qualms about back-stabbing new boyfriends, a quality she conveniently left off her new boyfriend resume.
The new couple were sitting together at a bar in an area of town they rarely frequented. Sandy, of course, was on the prowl, and overheard a conversation between a couple of guys making plans for a fishing trip. They’d obviously had a few shots and were getting happier and louder as they hatched out the details of their plans. Conversations like that were like a guaranteed payday to someone like Sandy, and she soon had all the info she needed to move into their homes while they were away. She told Calvin and his interest in her scheme pleasantly surprised her.
She figured she’d give the manly duo (manly dude one and manly dude two) a few hours after they were supposed to be on the road before making her move. Her plan was for her and Calvin to spend a day at manly dude one’s place and a day at manly dude two’s place the following day. But what they found at manly dude one’s place was so plentiful, she didn’t see a need to go to manly dude two’s place at all. They found bank records, driver’s license data, a notepad with usernames and passwords scribbled down for a bunch of online accounts.
She got a feeling while listening to manly dude one in the bar that he was old school and didn’t need no stinkin’ computer for security. He had his own ways, and he had thus far never had an issue. He also had never crossed paths with someone like Sandy Jersen. After spending only a couple of hours in his house, she had everything on him and a lot of stuff on his girlfriend to turn their lives upside down. And that process would begin posthaste.
Sandy’s plan was to have Calvin steal the identity of manly dude one while she’d wreak havoc on the girlfriend. This was Sandy’s first foray into identity theft and it excited her. It was also Calvin’s first foray into identity theft and it excited him even more. They made love that night like mad monkeys and awoke the next morning with a clear vision of how things would go down. First, she enlisted the help of a friend who was an expert in the art of stealing identities.
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Pam Steely was a flight attendant and was at the airport about to board a short-haul flight. She went to an ATM to withdraw some cash and a non-sufficient funds message glared at her. Thinking she’d made a mistake, she tried again, got the same message. She tried a different card, got the same result. In a panic, she called the bank. While on hold, the call came for the flight crew to report to the gate. Now pissed, she ended the call with the bank and headed towards the gate.
At the gate, they told Pam that security had revoked her credentials and she could not board the plane. Confused and even more pissed, she demanded to see Tom Major, the supervisor. Her friend, the gate agent, tried to console her.
“I’m sorry, Pam. I’m sure this will all get straightened out soon,” she said with a pretentious smile.
Suddenly, Pam looked up and saw a couple of security guards headed her way. She looked at her friend behind the counter in disbelief that she ratted her out as the guards approached and asked her to come with them. She was told her personnel file had changed just a few minutes earlier and, as a result, her security clearance was under review. They confiscated her badges and told her they’d have to escort her out of the secure area of the airport. Confused, she called her supervisor. The call went to voicemail.
She went home to find a strange car parked in her driveway and someone had apparently changed the locks on the doors. She called the police and was told there was nothing they could do. Pam was beside herself, angry, confused, and didn’t know what to do. She called her boyfriend to ask if she could stay with him that evening.
Sandy rummaged through Pam’s house, thoroughly enjoying herself. She made dinner, watched movies, finally took a decent shower, and then, after changing the sheets, slept in her bed. She basically stole a total stranger’s home and lived in it as if it were her own. It was a disgusting act, perpetrated by a disgusting person who showed no remorse whatsoever. Poor Calvin’s experience was much different.
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Calvin was sitting at home drinking beer, scratching himself, and watching a basketball game when suddenly his front door flew open violently. Before he could react, a group of cops armed to the teeth burst in, shouting conflicting commands and pointing their guns at him.
“Get on the floor,” said the first guy.
“Put your hands behind your head,” shouted another.
“Don’t move,” shouted a third.
Calvin didn’t know what to do or which command to respond to. He’d read about situations like the one he was in, and they never seemed to turn out well for the person getting yelled at. He went with the first command and dropped to the floor.
“Zed Sunday, we’re placing you under arrest for the murder of Edgar Oliver. You have a right to remain silent, yada, yada, yada.”
Calvin’s heart almost skipped a beat.
“Murder,” he thought.
“What the heck are they talking about?” he asked himself.
And then it hit him. Sandy. She stole the real Zed’s identity and the cops think I’m him. He called her from the police station and he was livid.
“Sandy, I’m in jail. What did you do?” he demanded.
“I’m sorry! Who is this?” she asked calmly.
“It’s me, Calvin. Don’t play dumb. Did you change my identity?”
Calvin began screaming at her, and she hung up. He was on his own and there was no telling how long would it take them to figure out they had the wrong guy. He’d read about situations like the one he was in, and they never seemed to turn out well for the guy in jail. Sandy had turned his life upside down, and he had no clue what to do. His call to Sandy made him feel like she had stabbed him in the back and he tried his best not to break down and cry.
⁂
Zed Sunday, the real one, sat in his living room listening to the news report detailing his arrest. He looked around at his front door, which no one had kicked in. He peeped out the windows, looking for cops. There were none. He wondered just what the heck was going on. Just then, his phone rang. It was his girlfriend, Pam. She was sobbing frantically as she tried to explain what had happened to her.
Zed, confused, told her not to come to his place, but to meet him at a hotel. He explained something weird was happening to him as well, and that he was about to leave and get a hotel room. She agreed and drove to the place he suggested.
When she got there, she saw Zed arguing with the desk clerk. Apparently, someone had maxed out his bank card and he could not use it, nor any of his credit cards. He was as angry as Pam was, and they tried to console each other while figuring out how they’d get through the night. Luckily, Zed had a friend who would put them up.
Zed’s friend told them it looked like they had been victims of identity theft and that crap could take years to straighten out. And then the big question came forward. The one Zed had conveniently suppressed.
“So Zed,” his friend began. “If someone has taken over your identity, why were they arrested… for murder?”
Suddenly, all eyes were on Zed as he feverishly queried his brain for an answer. The looks on Pam's and his friend’s faces projected fear, anger, and desperation for an answer.
Pam would eventually get her house and her employment credentials back. She and Zed’s friend hit it off and became a couple. They arrested Sandy for a series of crimes. Calvin would eventually get released and the real Zed picked up for the murder. Calvin vowed to turn his life around, admitting that whole prison thing wasn’t his cup-o-tea. Sandy called him multiple times, looking for an alibi. He ignored them all.
And Zed Sunday, the poor guy, learned to shower quickly and to sleep with one eye open, just in case big Turk McKensie came calling.
K.R. Eaton - Zed Sunday
Short Stories by K.R Eaton
