SHORT STORY

Privacy Shmivacy

Hunter Forrester is wasting away from depression in his isolated cabin when he receives a call that changes everything — kidnappers have his wife, and they’re demanding five million dollars in forty-eight hours, or else she’s dead. But there’s a problem: she’s been dead for six months already.

Photo by Dayne Topkin on Unsplash

A sharp ring snaps me out of my doze. Half-asleep, I sift through mounds of unread mail, candy wrappers, and used tissues to find my phone. The caller ID reads ‘Unknown.’

“Hello?” I answer, my voice wobbly with fatigue.

“You have forty-eight hours to deliver five million dollars in unmarked bills.”

I shake my head. Surely I’m hearing something wrong? “Um… what?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself. You have forty-eight hours to bring the money.”

“Or what?” I ask, still unsure if I’m awake. Absently, I scratch Cheeto crumbs out of my week-old beard.

There’s a pause on the other end, and for a second I think the person has hung up. “Or we kill your wife.”