by V. L. Dreyer
"Good. It wouldn't be any fun without you," I replied dryly, making a shooing motion at her. "Go on, off with you. The rest of us should head to bed, anyway."
"Have you eaten?" she asked, giving me one of those motherly looks that I'd gotten so used to.
"Not yet, but I've got some rations in my bag," I replied. "That'll do until breakfast. No point poking the hive, you know?"
"If you say so," she said. Melody hopped up and went over to her without being prompted, but Priya lingered beside me. Anahera smiled indulgently and held out a hand to her. "Come, little one. Let Mama and Baba sleep."
"I'm not little!" Priya protested. She still wriggled out of my arms and bounced over to stand in front of Anahera. "I had a growth spurt. See?"
"In more ways than one," Anahera said dryly. "We're going to need to get you a training bra soon, my dear."
I glanced at Michael, just in time to see him turn bright red and suddenly look very interested in a spot on the ceiling. The rest of us just exchanged a glance, then burst out laughing.
***
I woke early the next morning, dragged out of the warm, pleasant haze of sleep by the sound of shouting outside our door. Michael snorted awake and vaulted out of bed before I'd even had a chance to figure out what was going on. He rushed out of our bedroom while I was still struggling to get my clothes on, and I heard his voice join in the shouting. I was just pulling on my shoes and socks when he returned, grim-faced and angry.
"Trouble?" I asked softly, struggling to keep my wits about me and stay strong even though I was terrified.
Michael nodded, glaring over his shoulder at the door. "Bobby. He wants the trial to begin now, and he’s angry the guards wouldn't let him drag you out of bed." He looked back at me and his expression softened. "I'm glad I assigned guards who are on your side. This is turning into a witch hunt."
"I knew this was going to get bad the second I met him," I admitted, reaching out to touch Michael's hand. "They may not be related by blood, but that kid is a lot like his stepfather."
"Unfortunately for him," Michael replied, hugging me tenderly. "You're being really patient about all of this. I have to admit, I'm surprised. I half expected you to be out there kicking his ass."
"I need to lead by example now, and I have more to worry about than just myself," I said, resting a hand over my belly. "I can't go rushing off half-cocked anymore. I have to think about her. I should probably stop going on missions outside Tumanako soon – well, assuming I don't get assassinated on the way to my trial today."
"Don't say that," Michael protested, laying his hands over mine. "There are only five of them, and Bobby’s the only one actively trying to cause trouble. The majority of the people here consider you their friend and ally, and if it comes to it then we'll fight to protect you."
I smiled and nodded, though I wasn't really as reassured as I pretended to be. "We should go get this over with, but I really need to pee first. This baby thing is hard."
"I'd apologise for that, but I'm not sorry at all," he said dryly, helping me to my feet. He kept his arm around me as he led me to the door, carefully shielding me with his body just in case. I could hear voices speaking outside even before the door opened, but at least they weren't shouting any more. Michael knocked on the door, and waited for the guards to unlock it. When it opened, the first thing I saw was Skylar standing not far from the doorway, speaking calmly and rationally to a mixed group of faces both new and old. On either side of her stood Ryan and Hemi, weapons in their hands and expressions of steely determination on their faces.
"…with us in a second," she said, making a placating gesture. "Just give her time. She made the rules, and if there's one thing I know about my sister it's that she's a stickler for leading by example."
"Skye," I whispered, reaching out to touch her shoulder. She glanced back at me and gave me a reassuring smile.
"See, there she is, just like she promised," she said to the crowd. "Head down to the dining room, everyone. We'll be announcing the adjudicator in a few minutes."
"When did Skylar become such a good bailiff?" I whispered to Michael. She overheard me and shot me a glance, but her expression was unreadable.
"She needs the 'loo before we begin," Michael said, his face revealing no trace of his usual sense of humour.
Skye nodded to the guards, who stepped forward and made a path for us through the wall of bodies. As soon as we were free of the crowd, Michael picked up the pace. By the time we reached the bathroom, we were almost running.
Anahera was waiting there, flanked by every single one of my closest female friends. They took over guard duty from Michael, and protected me while I raced through my early-morning ablutions. Once I was ready, they surrounded me in a wall of protective bodies and led me down to the dining room. The tables had all been pushed back against the walls and the chairs arranged into a makeshift courtroom, with a handful on one side of the room and the rest in rows so that people could observe the proceedings. The seats were already packed, and as I was led inside all eyes turned towards me.
"How are we going to pick the adjudicator?" I asked Anahera nervously.
She squeezed my arm and gave me a reassuring smile. "We drew up a list of eligible candidates last night and held a vote on it. They're just counting up the votes now."
Michael and Priya were both waiting for me up the front. The makeshift courtroom had been set up with a low platform in the middle for the adjudicator and the witness stand, and groups of chairs on each side for the prosecution and the defence. Anahera guided me into a seat between my husband and foster daughter, then stood back to wait.
I glanced at the prosecution and saw Bobby glaring at me from amidst his friends. The boy had grown a couple of inches since I'd last seen him, and gained a rather prominent tattoo on the side of his neck. That set off alarm bells in my head: I recognised the symbol as belonging to one of the gangs that I'd so carefully avoided over the years. The people with him were male, heavily scarred, covered in tattoos, and practically reeking of danger. I glanced at the crowd, and checked faces against the ever-increasing list of citizens I kept in my head.
As if sensing my concern, Anahera leaned forward and touched my shoulder. "Everyone is safe and accounted for, don't worry. Elly and Rebecca are looking after the younger children downstairs and the people on guard duty are all loyal to you. They have walkie-talkies on them, so if anything happens we'll know about it."
I nodded and took a deep breath, willing myself to relax. It wasn't going to happen, though. As positive as I was that I'd only done what I needed to do to protect my family, Henry's death had always bothered me. I felt guilty about it, and that feeling coloured my thoughts.
The kitchen door opened and Skylar emerged, again flanked by Ryan and Hemi. A step behind her was a tall, dark-haired man I didn't recognise. Although he had the same tattoo on his neck as the other gangers Bobby had brought with him, he carried himself differently, with authority and a confidence that reeked of intelligence rather than violence.
Skye stood in front of the gathered crowd and addressed them without further ado. "We've counted your votes, and Johan has been selected to act as the adjudicator. Johan, please come forward."
All eyes turned to the veterinarian. He stood and came to the front, his expression unreadable. While he was settling into the adjudicator's chair, Skylar addressed the crowd again.
"I will be acting as Sandy's defence," she said, then she gestured to the tall man following her. "This is Owen Gordon. He'll be speaking on behalf of the prosecution. Whenever you're ready, Owen."
"Thank you, Miss McDermott," Owen replied. His voice was smooth and practiced, and something about it sent a shiver down my spine. It didn't take a rocket scientist to guess that he'd probably been a lawyer before the plague. "My client accuses the defendant of murder, for taking the life of Henry Barrett in cold blood four months ago. Sandrine McDermott, the prosecution calls you to bear witness."
I took
another deep breath and stood up, making my way up onto the makeshift stage to sit in the witness chair. Suddenly I felt very alone and exposed, looking out across the sea of faces. I swallowed hard and looked at Owen.
"Ms McDermott," he said, "please tell us in your own words what happened that day."
I started in surprise and looked at Skye. "Just like that? Aren't you supposed to swear me in or something?"
"What, you want me to make you swear on a Bible?" she said dryly. "Last time I checked, you were an atheist obsessed with telling the truth anyway. Just tell us what happened."
"Okay, okay." I backed down and closed my eyes, focusing on the story I had to tell. It was a story I'd replayed a thousand times in my head but it still seemed somehow unreal, as if it had happened to someone else or occurred in a dream I only half remembered. "It started when we were living in Ohaupo – 'we' being Michael, Skylar, Doctor Cross, Madeline, and myself. We'd received a plea for help by radio, from Jim and Rebecca at the Arapuni Power Station. We agreed to help them. Michael and I originally set off in our car, but it broke down near Te Awamutu and forced us to travel the rest of the way on foot. Along the way, we met Priyanka and decided to bring her with us.
"While we were passing through the township of Pukeatua, Henry Barrett ambushed us. He came up behind us and grabbed Priyanka by the throat before I knew he was there. He said that I could leave if I wanted, but he was going to kill Michael and Priyanka…" I paused for a second, glancing towards the prosecution, "…because he said he believed anyone who wasn't fair-skinned and of European descent was responsible for the plague."
A stir passed through the crowd at that. While many of us matched that description, myself included, more than half of the people in the room did not.
Owen glanced at the crowd, then looked back at me. "I bet that made you angry, didn't it?"
"I married a Chinese man and adopted an Indian girl as my daughter," I answered dryly. "You better believe that it made me mad."
"Did you try to talk to him?" Owen asked. "Or did you just decide that was enough to warrant his death?"
I shot him a scathing look and a deep frown. "Of course I tried to talk him down. We both did. He wouldn't let us reason with him, and he had a machete against Priyanka's throat. As soon as I saw an opportunity, I took it."
"So, you admit that you attacked him first?" Owen asked, raising his eyebrows.
"No, he'd already attacked us," I argued. "He'd grabbed Priya and was holding a bloody great machete against her throat. He'd left bruises on her and told us twice that he was going to kill her and Michael."
"But you said that he was willing to let you go," Owen said. "Why didn't you just leave?"
"He said he was willing to let me go, as in just me," I repeated. "He wasn't going to let Michael or Priya go."
"Doesn't that make it their problem, then?" Owen said cryptically. "Your argument is that it was self-defence, but you were in no direct danger."
"But the people I love were!" I argued back, stunned and furious by the implication of his words. "Would you leave your wife and child to die? Of course not! It was my duty to defend them."
"But you weren't married at the time, and you didn't have a formal adoption," Owen said, his expression one of practiced intensity. "So you're telling us that you killed someone because he said threatening things to the man you were sleeping with and a girl you'd just met?"
"I didn't kill him," I snapped, anger clouding my mind. I knew that every word I said was being measured and judged, but for a second I was just too furious to care. "I haven't finished telling everyone what happened yet! Would you just shut up and let me tell the story?"
Someone in the crowd laughed at my outburst, and a few others whooped and whistled. Owen glared at them until they fell silent, then finally nodded to me.
I nodded curtly in return and resumed my narrative. "Henry had Priya pinned, with one hand around her throat, and in the other hand he was holding this massive machete. He got himself so angry while he was ranting and raving that his guard dropped for a second. I could tell by that stage the only way I was going to save Priya was to go on the offensive, so I did. I hit him in the face with the butt of my shotgun to distract him, then I yanked Priya out of his grip."
"So, your foster daughter was safe?" Owen extrapolated. "But you continued the fight?"
"No, I did not," I replied, giving him another scathing look to shut him up. "I stayed on the defensive. He attacked me. I had a shotgun, but I did not at any point shoot him with it. I was trying really hard not to kill him or even do any permanent harm. I can't say he felt the same way." To illustrate my point, I lifted the hem of my shirt up to reveal a deep scar across my ribs from where the machete had cut me. "This is what he did to me. Can you imagine what he would have done to Priya?"
Another ripple passed through the crowd. I glanced over and caught them exchanging looks and whispers, and I could see uncertainty on more than one face. I lowered my shirt and looked back at Owen.
"It's important to note that Henry was a very big man," I said, raising my voice a little more, so that there could be no doubt that everyone could hear me. "He must have been six-five, built like a bodybuilder, outfitted in full battledress and carrying a sidearm in a holster. I mean, Michael's big and even I'm on the tall side, but this guy could have torn Priya in half if he wanted. She was terrified – hell, I was terrified. Any sane person would be when there's a wall of muscle coming at you swinging a machete. I managed to flatten him with a well-placed kick to the groin, but not for long. We grabbed Priya and ran for our lives."
"You ran?" Owen echoed. For the first time, he looked a little uncertain of himself.
"Yes, we ran," I replied. "He had other men with him, all of them armed. I managed to knock one over before he could shoot us, then we all ran into the bush. While we were running, we heard him shouting orders to the other men. He ordered them to kill us. We were travelling on foot and we were heavily outnumbered. I had to do something… something I didn't want to do."
"What did you do?" Owen asked, and this time there was no guile in his voice, just honest curiosity.
I sat up a little straighter and steeled myself. "Priya, honey, I want you to cover your ears."
"Yes, Mama," she replied obediently. I didn't have to look to know that she'd done as instructed. She was still a good girl like that, even with Melody's rebellious influence.
"While we were running, I heard the sound of pigs in the bush nearby," I said, forcing myself to lift my voice high enough to be heard even though I dreaded saying the words. "There were two of them, a boar and a sow. Both infected, of course. I sent Michael and Priya off towards Arapuni, and then I shot the pigs to goad them into chasing me. That was the only time I fired my weapon. Then I turned and ran back towards Henry and his men with the pigs hot on my tail."
There were gasps all around the room, and the whispering increased in volume. I swallowed hard and looked Owen right in the eye. "At the time, I didn't think it was going to work. It felt suicidal. I've fought pigs off before, but never by myself. I made the choice, even if it cost me my life, because it might just buy my loved ones the time to escape. I could still hear Henry shouting for his men to kill us, so I ran towards the sound of his voice. He grabbed me and we scuffled for a second, but I managed to get away and hide just in time. He didn't see the pigs coming. They knocked him to the ground, and they… they killed him."
Tears welled up in my eyes, and I suddenly found myself unable to maintain eye-contact any longer. "I didn't mean for any of it to happen. We were trying to do the right thing, to help the people at Arapuni keep the power going. We didn't know anyone lived in Pukeatua, and there were no warning signs. We had no way to know about Bobby and Isabelle, and by the time we'd fought off the rest of Henry's men we were too exhausted to even think about the possibility that they might have had captives. I've regretted what happened for every moment since, and I don't think I'll ever stop regretting it, but even now I
can't think of anything else I could have done."
I finally worked up the courage to look up and found Owen watching me thoughtfully. After a few long seconds, he looked at Johan. "I have no more questions."
Johan nodded and looked at Skylar. "Do you have any questions for her?"
"Nope," Skye said dryly. "As usual, my sister has managed to express herself quite eloquently. I would, however, like to call a few new witnesses to the stand. Some new information has come to light in relation to the nature of the deceased."
"Oh?" Johan raised his eyebrows and looked at her curiously. "That's fine, but who did you have in mind?"
"Solomon and Charu," she said, her expression one of stern resolution. She turned to face the crowd, and beckoned to the young man in question. "Solo, are you still happy to come up here and tell us what Henry Barrett did to your family?"
Solomon leapt to his feet, nodding vigorously. He said something that none of us could understand thanks to his missing tongue – none of us, except for Melody.
"He says that he will, for Sandy's sake," Melody translated. "He says that it's a painful memory for him, but Sandy’s always been kind to him so he'll do it for her."
"All right, come on up here," Johan said. He glanced at me and gave me a smile. "You can go back to your seat, Sandrine."
I relinquished the witness chair and rushed back to my place with Michael and Priya. They both hugged me, and then we all turned our attention to Solomon. Melody came up to the stand with him, to act as a interpreter. Solomon looked at me for a second, then looked back at Skylar and began to speak. It was the first time I'd heard more than two words out of his mouth, and listening to him struggle over his syllables hurt more than I'd ever imagined it could. He was so determined to get his story across, though. I'd never seen that kind of look on his face, and it made me proud.
"Solomon’s grandfather was the leader of the Samoan gang in Tokoroa," Melody translated as the young man spoke. "They were happy there, and hurt no one. Occasionally people came to trade with them. That's how Henry Barrett got inside their compound. He said that he was there to trade, but once his men were inside the walls they started shooting…"