4 comments/ 68439 views/ 3 favorites Ed P. Rex By: l8bloom Thanks to drksideofthemoon for invaluable research. * Dr. Ira Spinks knocked once before entering the mayor's office. His face foretold the grim news. "Three more deformed births today," announced the doctor. "God damn it," swore Mayor Ed Rex. "What the hell is causing this?" Before the doctor could answer, an aide burst in. "We've got trouble. There's an angry mob outside. If you don't speak to them, I think they're going to riot." Ed jumped up. "Set up the microphones." The aide followed his boss. "What about Mrs. Rex?" Ed's thoughts darted to his wife. She'd been so upset lately -- everyone was -- but there seemed to be something deeper bothering her, some kind of dark edge. He didn't want her to watch events unfold on TV, he'd rather be able to talk to her directly. But there wasn't time now. "Try to keep Jocelyn away from the television, and tell her I'll be there as soon as I can." In front of city hall, a large crowd had gathered. People were carrying signs and chanting. Onlookers, civil servants who were supposed to be having productive days in front of their computers, were leaving the surrounding office buildings to watch. The crowd cheered when the mayor appeared. Even before the technicians finished setting up the sound equipment, the people formed a ragged half circle in front of the building. Police, some on foot and some on horseback, kept the crowd at bay. "Ladies and gentlemen," Ed started, but was interrupted by a high-pitched blast of feedback. The crowd roared. "Ladies and gentlemen, I appreciate seeing you here today." This took the people aback. They hadn't expected to be welcomed, to be thanked for their time. "I know you wouldn't leave your places of work" -- Ed looked pointedly at the city workers, many of whom he knew by name -- "I know you wouldn't come here to talk to me unless it was something very, very important. I have a few things to say, which I hope will reassure you, that in this time of crisis, the city is doing everything it can." Near the back of the crowd, someone hoisted a sign. In big letters it read, "Where is Lance Reyes?" There was a large picture of the former mayor above the words. Ed ignored the distraction. "First, I want to remind you that we have been through difficult times, and we have come through them successfully. When you elected me three years ago, this city was overflowing with filth, there were no jobs, and the electrical supply was unreliable at best. I solved this riddle by securing the aid of private investors who built garbage-burning plants, and we now have a clean city, plenty of jobs, and plenty of power." The crowd voiced its approval. Some could be heard to murmur, "That's true" or "He's right." Others clapped politely, and a few whistled. "Now we face before us another crisis," Ed went on, and the crowd grew silent. There was a feeling of apprehension. How would the politician pull off another miracle? "Today I have ordered the City Investigation Agency Officers -- CIAO -- to launch a full-scale investigation into the -- into the difficulties we have been experiencing." "It's a plague!" yelled a heckler. "We don't know that it's a plague," argued Ed. "However, I promise you, we will find out what is going on, and we... will... stop it." The crowd cheered. Ed lifted his hands, palms to the crowd, and nodded. A barrage of questions volleyed toward him which he pretended not to hear. He stepped away from the makeshift podium and let his press secretary take his place. She would handle the rest. * * * Jocelyn Rex's eyes were blank as worn coins. Ed figured she was at least on her second whiskey. It was four in the afternoon. Slowly she lifted her stare from the bay window to her husband's face. "They told me," she slurred. "Told you what?" He drew up a chair beside hers. He hated seeing her like this and he hated himself for thinking of his own political image. Wouldn't the media love this! "I never told you," she rambled. He shook his head. "Baby, you're not making any sense—" "Baby! I never told you about my baby." For some inexplicable reason, a chill went down Ed's spine. "What are you talking about?" "I was young..." Jocelyn rubbed her nose as she spoke, mashing her words. She sighed, and seemed to sober up. "Lance and I were in high school when I got pregnant. We decided to give the baby up for adoption." "Why?" Ed was shocked. "It would have killed him..." Ed stared at his wife. "He said so. He said, 'Jocelyn, having this baby will kill me.' Even then he was planning on running for office...you know how it is ..." She lifted her hands. The gesture of helplessness reminded Ed of that central feature of his wife's personality. She was a passionate, caring woman, but she was not always good at making decisions. When her husband, Mayor Lance Reyes, had mysteriously disappeared, Jocelyn had run the city for the remainder of his term. She had made a hash of it. Ed won the 2008 election, and fell in love with the beautiful, helpless widow, even though she was old enough to be his mother. The civic infrastructure was in a shambles, but he could not be angry with her. Instead he vowed he would help her clean up the mess. And he had kept his promise. "I never knew you and Lance had a child..." Ed was still stunned at the revelation. "I guess we really didn't." Tears welled in Jocelyn's eyes. "And now these other women can't have children either. Edward, you've got to do something!" "I will. Honey, I will." Ed kissed his wife's hair, still golden blonde although she was well past forty. He loved her. He would figure this out. * * * At three in the morning, Jocelyn sat up in bed, stone cold sober and angry with herself. I never meant to tell him that. She mulled the secret in her mind. Maybe it had been wrong to hold back. What difference did it make? Lance -- she shook her head -- Edward lay beside her, his back turned toward her in sleep. That was why she had first been attracted to him. He reminded her of a young version of her husband. It wasn't just his physical features -- which were similar, she admitted -- it was his cocksure arrogance, the way he strode into a room. There was something about him that seemed to say, "I can handle this." Somehow with this man by her side she felt that everything would be all right. It will be all right. Jocelyn drew up her knees and hugged her shins. But I have to quit drinking, I have to get my act together. I have to be a good partner to my husband. She gazed at the man in question. Fiercely she whispered aloud, "I will." To her surprise, he rolled over. She looked down at him. "I thought you were asleep." He laughed. "You're thinking so loudly, darling, I can't sleep." The moonlight painted his tan chest white. Jocelyn lay on her side and placed a possessive hand on his ribs. She caressed the soft skin there. "Loud thoughts, huh. Sorry to wake you." Her voice was flirty. "I don't think you're all that sorry..." Ed petted her pear-belly and nestled his fingers in the curls between her thighs. He looked up, a devilish grin on his face. "Are you?" In answer, Jocelyn crushed her mouth to his. With her hand she adored the muscles just above his groin. Her fingertips figure-skated over his pelvis, barely avoiding his sex. She loved playing with him this way. Her nails inscribed feather-light curlicues on his upper thighs. Ed twitched vertical at the teasing touch. "God, you make me crazy!" He grabbed her hand and pressed it to his cock, thrusting his flesh insistently into her grasp. Jocelyn gasped at her husband's fire. Arousal shot through her body and she found herself trembling into motion, unable to resist the ancient dance. Her own hips pumped. She felt helpless as a marionette. In the moonlight her breasts were pale as ice, though her skin was warm as fresh milk. He pinned her, hands on her shoulders while he tongue-wrestled the nearest nipple. He won. He nipped at her aureoles before sliding his nose down her midline. Tender words fell unintelligibly from his lips. Jocelyn spread her legs wide for him. Her noises echoed his own. "Don't stop. Oh, god. Oh god." The tongue-lashing spurred her desire. She writhed at the probing as her fever pitch rose. Lustily he sucked on her clitoris. "Oh. Oh!" Ed got a faceful of his wife's reaction. On impulse he pushed her buttocks apart and darted his tongue down below her perineum. Swiftly he licked the twisted skin. Jocelyn choked out a broken shriek and bucked wildly, almost throwing him off the edge of the bed. Frantically she scrabbled at him, dragging him up beside her, demanding to be fucked. Ed lanced her gladly. She was drenched. Their eyes connected in a voltage of lust. Faster than words and more primal than thoughts, they knew one another, and their motion became as one. Again and again, Ed fathomed her depths. He dove into her sweaty saline until he groaned and filled her with his own. They panted, whispering bits of sweet hot air to one another. "Where did that come from," she wanted to know. "Sometimes you don't get to know." "Yeah, but sometimes you do ... I love you, Edward Pablo Rex." "And I love you, Jocelyn Austin Rex." They smiled at one another. Unchanging as fate, the moonlight still spilled over them both. They kissed. Their connection had given them strength, and hope for the future. Each was thinking, We will work this out. * * * Ed should have slept great after having sex with his wife, but he didn't. He had a bad dream. In the dream, he was in some kind of maze. The concrete walls were half again his height. Along the base of the walls ran foul-smelling rivers. Ed hurried along, desperate to find a way out. One dead end after another presented itself to the confused and frightened mayor. Sounds of moaning filled the air -- it sounded like women in the pain of childbirth. After many twists and turns, Ed finally saw another human. The man had his back to him and was wearing a business suit. "Hey!" Ed called. "Can you help me find a way out of here? Do you know the way out?" He put his hand on the man's shoulder. At first the man seemed to be turning around, but his body collapsed at Ed's touch. Ed pulled his hand away from the rotting flesh. "Ugh!" The man fell onto his back. His hand dragged into one of the trenches of dirty water. With a start, Ed realized the man's face was his own. Ed woke with a sharp gasp. Sweat beaded his nose and forehead. His heart banged as if he had run a long way. He sat up, working to control his breathing. Sitting up seemed to help bring him back to reality. "Okay, it's okay. It was just a dream." But he still couldn't sleep. He went to his den and turned on the light. Here were many things that affirmed his identity: his books, his awards on the walls. A piece of parchment declared his political science degree from the University of Iowa. Smiling from an 8x10 was his bride, the woman he'd just made love to this night. Ed eased his frame into a heavy leather chair. He felt a little better. His office made him who he was. * * * Unfortunately, the investigation made little progress, while Ed's nightmare made a lot. More and more frequently he dreamed the same dream. He became irritable with his staff, snapping at them when they failed to produce results. Stillborn and deformed births were becoming increasingly common, and lately children and sewage workers had been turning up with ugly skin lesions. No one could offer an explanation. "What the hell do I pay you people for!" he barked at a CIAO agent. The junior officer squirmed in his chair. "Uh, actually you don't pay us, the taxpayers do." Ed growled and half stood up from his desk, looking as if he would tear out the civil servant's throat. "Then give the good people their money's worth!" he fairly screamed. The man from CIAO gathered up his papers and stammered something useless. He zipped from the room, leaving the mayor to his own foul temper. Dr. Spinks gave his customary single knock and entered the room. "Ed, if you don't see a therapist, I'm going to declare you medically unfit to hold office." Anger flared in the mayor's eyes. The doctor did not back down. "Okay," grumbled Ed. "Make the appointment." * * * "Do my eyes bother you?" asked the therapist. "If so I can wear dark glasses." They did bother him, but Ed could not say so. He had not had any preconceptions about gender -- it didn't matter to him if he talked with a woman or a man -- but he hadn't expected a blind person. He felt uneasy, as if she could see things he could not. Then he told himself that was just ridiculous. That was superstition, an old wives' tale. "Okay. My name is Teresa." She held out her hand and Ed shook it. "My name is Ed." "I'm glad we're on a first name basis, Ed. It could get awkward if we're discussing your private life while I call you 'Mayor.'" She chuckled and invited him to sit down. Teresa's skills were impressive. She drew him out in such a way that Ed spilled his whole life story in a very short time. He talked about growing up as the son of Pablo and Muriel Rex. Pablo himself had recently retired as the governor of Michigan. Ed talked about how he had been worried that no one would take him seriously as a politician in his own right -- that people would think he had grown up as a spoiled rich kid. "But you've proven that self-doubt to be wrong." Teresa's voice was smooth as glass. "You've proven yourself as a leader." "Except for the current circumstances." "What do you think of those?" Ed found himself telling her about the dream. He talked and talked until he realized that Teresa had not prompted him for several minutes. In fact she had grown quite still. "What's wrong?" "I don't know if we should proceed," she answered slowly. "What do you mean? We have to proceed. I have to get to the bottom of this. I can't function properly if I can't sleep at night and I can't sleep if this dream keeps haunting me!" "True." The therapist chewed on her lower lip. Ed watched her think. "True," she said again. Hesitatingly, Teresa asked Ed if he had ever considered hypnosis. No, he had not, but was willing to give it a try. As much as he had been opposed to seeing a therapist at first, the bottom line was that he wanted to be a good leader. He wanted to solve the problems that were plaguing his people and he knew that he couldn't do so unless he was mentally strong. And so it came to pass that Ed found himself lying down with his eyes closed, accepting commands to relax, and taking to heart the belief that he would awaken when Teresa told him to. She further instructed that when he awakened, he would remember everything they talked about. "The dream," Teresa told him. "You're in a hurry. What do you see?' "Stone walls. They're everywhere. I can't get anywhere. I'm in a hurry." "Tell me more about these walls. What do they look like?" "Poured concrete, they're --" Ed sat up. A look of realization snapped across his face. "They're berms. The road is under construction. That's why I can't get anywhere. I keep making wrong turns." "What do you do?" "I step on the gas. I --! Goddamn it! I have the right of way! SHIT! NO!! " Ed was breathing fast. His face was red. "What's happening?" Teresa asked urgently. "What's going on?" "The cyclist, I hit him," Ed moaned, "I think he's -- oh god, I think he's dead." "Are you sure --" "I'm turning him over. He still has his helmet on. His sunglasses are dark, I can't see his eyes. I can't, I can't find a heartbeat. He's dead." "Ed, you've got to tell me. What did you do next?" "I can't let anyone find out... it would end my father's career..." "Ed, what did you do? " "I dumped him. In the Coralville basin. I dumped his body ... and his bicycle ... I ran..." Teresa sighed heavily. Her worst fears had been confirmed. Her client, the Honorable Ed P. Rex, was a murderer. "Ed, I'm going to count backwards from ten now. It's time for you to wake up." Ed mumbled something that might have been, "Okay." Teresa counted backwards. "Ten...nine...eight... you're starting to come back now, Ed." "Uh huh." "Seven ... six...five...four..." "With you in a second." The mayor yawned and rubbed his hand across his mouth. "Three... two ... one. Wake up, Ed." The man opened his eyes. "Oh, god," he said. "Fuck. My own doing ... my own undoing..." "I'm sorry, Ed. Truly I am. But you know what this means." Ed nodded, his eyes full of sadness. He couldn't cry just yet. He wanted to look Teresa in the eyes, to connect with her, as if that touching of souls could bring him some salvation. Of course, her blindness made this impossible. He looked toward her anyway. "It's the water." * * * The city dissolved into scandal, one festering mess after another. Ed gave the CIAO agency a direct order to investigate the water supply, as well as the waste management of the garbage burning plants that had supplied jobs and electricity for the past three years. Not surprisingly, the plants were also supplying toxic waste. They had simply been dumping it into the local river, the source of the city's drinking water. Pregnant women who drank the water gave birth to misshapen or stillborn babies. Children who played in ditches, and city workers who directly processed water and sewage, developed a grotesque skin disease. The federal government became involved, and lawsuits multiplied like Virginia jackrabbits. At the center of the maelstrom was Ed. The city that had once trusted him and looked to him for leadership now turned its back on their favorite son. To make matters worse, blind Teresa had done her duty. Patient confidentiality cannot be maintained when the therapist knows the patient has killed someone; and she turned him in. The mayor was on trial for murder. * * * At the trial the judge banged her gavel. "Order! Order!" The lawyer repeated the question. "When did this take place?" Ed mopped his brow with a handkerchief. "I was a sophomore at the University of Iowa. It was spring, spring of my sophomore year." "What date would that have been, sir?" "2005." There was a noisy gasp throughout the courtroom. People again began talking loudly and the bailiff cried for order. The bedlam made Ed's head spin. When things calmed down, the judge made it clear that she would start throwing people out if they didn't shut up. "Proceed!" she snapped at the attorney. "Are you aware, sir, that your predecessor Lance Reyes disappeared in the spring of 2005?" "Irrelevant!" shouted Ed's lawyer. "Overruled!" directed the judge. Sotto voce she said, "Get to the point." "Lance Reyes disappeared while traveling alone in the spring of 2005. His itinerary took him directly through Iowa, on I-80, exactly where the murder took place." Ed wiped his face again. His hankie didn't have a dry place left. "It couldn't have been him. The man I struck was a cyclist." "Lance Reyes was on a biking trip! " Ed fainted. When he came to, he was in his cell. Jocelyn was seated beside him where he lay on the narrow cot. "Ed?" She looked worried, though whether for him or for herself was difficult to tell. The scandal of the toxic waste in the city's water had been hard on their marriage. Now it seemed Ed had killed her former husband. How much could one woman take? Ed swam up through the layers of damask. "Why didn't you ever tell me Lance was on a bike trip, when he disappeared?" Jocelyn looked confused. "I did tell you. You've seen the old pictures. He loved cycling." "No, I ..." Ed shook his head. "You said he was on a road trip." Ed P. Rex She nodded. "Right. You know, cyclists do that. They get on their bikes and they go on the road." She gestured with her fingers, mimicking the motions of travel. Ed sighed. What she had taken for granted that he understood had been stuffed back into his subconscious. It didn't matter now. A guard tapped on the wall. "You gotta go back in there, sir." Ed hunched his shoulders. He looked as if he'd been struck with a ten-pound hammer. Even if he were proven innocent now, his political career was over when it had barely begun. He resigned himself to his fate, and followed the guard. Despite the ceiling fans and air conditioning, the courtroom was close. Too many bodies were pressed into the space. Ed looked miserable as he took his place beside his lawyer. The prosecuting attorney called Sergei van Zant to the stand. "Who is that?" Ed murmured. His lawyer whispered back, "CIAO agent from the former administration." "I do," van Zant was saying. "Mr. van Zant, did you know Mayor Reyes?" "Yes, in one capacity or another, I worked with him or for him for ten years." "So you know what he looked like." "Yes, of course." The mean, wicked, nasty attorney held up a large picture. He showed it to the witness and then to the courtroom. Ed gasped. It was a picture of a man wearing a bike helmet and sunglasses. The attorney threw Ed a pointed look, but directed his questions to the man on the stand. "Is this your former boss?" "Yes, that's him." "Tell the court what happened on March 20, 2005." "Lance -- Mayor Reyes -- was on a road trip. He liked to do this every year," van Zant explained. He licked his lips. He looked terrible, as if he himself were guilty. "Go on." "He didn't want any CIAO agents with him, he hated having us follow him around. He used to say that all the time, 'Quit following me around.' He told us to leave him alone, let him take a vacation in peace." "But you didn't." "No. I wanted to protect him anyway." "So what did you do?" The man sighed. "I fucked up, okay? Can't we just get to the point and say I fucked up?" "Clean up that language!" barked the judge. "Answer the question, civilly please." The prosecutor was unruffled. "I followed at what I thought was a discreet distance. Lance took a road that was under construction, which at the time I thought was smart, because the road was closed, so there were no cars on it. But this, this idiot, here --" van Zant pointed at Ed, obviously thinking of a different name "-- took the road too. "I don't know what he was thinking. Anyway the next thing I know, I come up over the hill, and there's this guy stuffing my boss and his bike into the back of his SUV." The volume in the gallery rose and the judge shouted for order. The prosecuting attorney very painstakingly instructed the witness to identify Ed as the person he had seen. Then he resumed his questions. "Did you yell? Try to stop him?" Sergei van Zant was weeping. "I told you I fucked up!" The judge slapped her gavel and shouted but the man's torrent of words continued. "... I was a coward. I ran. I've been hiding in fucking Iowa in the fucking cornfields for the past, six, fucking, YEARS!! " "You're outta here!" bellowed the judge. In an unusual show of compassion, the bailiff gave Sergei a Kleenex as he left the stand. The witness blew his nose and dabbed at his eyes. "This is what I hoped would never happen." The rest of the trial proceeded fairly quickly. Ed was cooked. He had admitted striking and killing the cyclist and getting rid of the body. And a witness who had nothing to gain had now identified said cyclist as former mayor Lance Reyes. Ed wondered if a different set of decisions would have allowed him to wiggle out of this mess. Maybe a different lawyer would have been better. Maybe he should have run to Canadia, where all that Canadian bacon came from. But escape from his fate seemed unlikely. They led him away to his cell. Fortunately, he did not have to stay there. Posting bond was relatively easy for the politician. They put an electronic bracelet on his ankle, and told him he could go home. But his home was not much of a haven. His wife looked at him with eyes full of pain, sorrow, even anger. Despite the tide of emotions, there was not much to say. Ed apologized, sincerely, for everything. He had made some heinous mistakes. That was his only defense. Jocelyn nodded. "I know." She regarded him from across the room. The distance between them might have been an entire continent. "I just need some time, okay?" She retreated to another part of the house. Ed sighed and called his parents. They had offered to drive down. At the time he had declined, but it had been one hell of a day, and he decided to take them up on it. They would have heard on the news by now just who it was he had killed. He hoped they would still be supportive. "I need to talk to you, son," said Pablo. "Something we should have discussed years ago." "What is it?" "Let's talk in person. Your mother and I will be there tomorrow." "Okay, I'll see you then." His mom got on the line. "You're our son and we love you. Don't forget that, Edward." "I love you too, Mom." Ed hung up, feeling just a tad bit better. He'd lost his wife and his career, and no doubt he would wind up in jail. He'd killed a man, and inadvertently poisoned hundreds of people. But at least he still had his mom and dad. * * * The next morning Ed went downtown to meet with his legal team. The men hoped there would be a way to avoid the death penalty. "Obviously this is important, but my parents are driving down from Michigan. Let's wrap this up before dinner, okay?" They tried, but it did take a long time to wade through all the possible scenarios and strategies. Ed tried to call home, and Jocelyn's cell phone, but got the voicemail every time. There was no answer on his parents' phones, either. He was starting to get worried. Someone should have answered by now. Dr. Spinks called as he was driving home. "Ed, I'm very sorry." "What? What is it?" A terrible feeling ran down the back of Ed's neck. "I'm so sorry," the doctor repeated. He made some noises, as if trying to find the right words. "Ed, there was a terrible car accident. Both of your parents are dead." "Oh, God!" Ed pulled over. He stumbled from his car and put his hands on his knees, thinking he was going to be sick. Tears rolled down his face. Dr. Spinks' voice kept coming from his phone: "Ed? Ed? Answer me!" Ed leaned his head against the door with his eyes closed, breathing hard and mentally going far, far away. This can't be happening, he thought. This can't be real. Finally he picked up the phone. "I'm here." "Where are you?" "I'm almost home," he managed. "I'm going to go on home." The mayor drove home in a daze. His mind could barely grasp everything that had happened. It seemed now that there had never been a time when his life was simple and sweet. It seemed he had been dealing forever with one thing or another — toxic waste, law suits, murder. And now this. He stumbled into the mansion, hoping to find Jocelyn, hoping she would give him even a small measure of comfort, if only out of pity. No one answered his calls. The house had a dead-quiet feel to it, as if no one were home. He went from room to room, jogging a little faster as a feeling of dread grew in the pit of his stomach. It was in the bedroom that he found his wife. She lay stretched out on the bed. Beside her were several empty prescription bottles. It looked as if she had taken every pill in the house, and because of the stress they'd both been under, there were a lot. Folded in her arms was an old, yellowed envelope. Although his name was on the front, it was written in his father's handwriting. The envelope looked as if it had been sealed and torn open. Bewildered, Ed opened the letter and read: March 15, 1986 Dear Edward, If you are reading this letter it means that both your mother and I have passed. We have instructed that it be delivered only in the event of our deaths. What we could not bring ourselves to tell you is that you were adopted. Please know that this decision was not an easy one to make. Maybe it is wrong to keep it from you, and if so we hope you will forgive us. We love you, and only wanted to protect you and provide the best for you -- a stable, loving home -- and we hope we succeeded in doing so. You will always be our son in our hearts. It is possible that you will want to find your biological parents at this point. There is no doubt that you have grown into a fine man and they will be proud to know you. Here are their names, in case you wish to find them: Jocelyn Austin and Lance Reyes Love always, Mom and Dad. * * * The reader may wish to revisit the story of Oedipus the King (Oedipus Rex). I recommend wikipedia for a good thumbnail sketch. Please vote ~ thanks! L8.