“If you are ever seen near any of our settlements, you are to be shot until you are dead.” Judge Bob pounded on the table. “Now get outta my sight.”
The Marines dragged Trent toward the hallway. The convicted kicked at any by-stander, twisted and turned. His curses rang from the wall.
The crowd murmured among themselves. Here and there, heads nodded. Some men punched their palms, women shook their heads. He wasn’t the only one unhappy with the sentence.
Mavis pushed passed him and stalked toward the judge.
Now what was she up to? David shadowed her movements.
Lister moved to the front and raised his hands. “If everyone could prepare to board their assigned vehicles, we need to get on the road. Colorado awaits.”
Although many rose from their seats, few moved to the doors. “How do we know he won’t kill again?” a voice shouted from the back.
“Or find others to hurt?” another asked.
“He won’t.” Judge Bob’s voice boomed across the cafeteria. “He’ll be dead from radiation exposure shortly.”
“Radiation? What are you talking about?” The question was chorused around the room.
Mavis bit her lip.
David’s stomach cramped. The radiation would take longer than Judge Bob planned to kill the fucker.
Mavis climbed up on Trent’s chair then the table. “If I may have your attention please.”
The crowd hushed and jostled forward.
“Many of you are aware of the anthrax attack from the emergency alert system.” She opened her arms. “That message was drafted before I fully realized the extent to which the government was compromised.”
David twitched. Damn. Except for the slight throat clearing, he had a hard time reading the lie in her body language. She appeared as if she was truthful and forthcoming. Yet, she’d just lied her ass off. Her simulation models had depicted these events from day one.
“Within five days after the attack, we lost the people who operate the nuclear generating stations.”
A woman on the left fainted. She was scooped up. Like in a mosh pit, hands lifted her above heads and transferred her to the outside.
Mavis’s attention drifted over the crowd.
David knew with whom she made eye contact. The men and women seemed to relax. It quickly spread to their neighbors.
“The reactors themselves automatically powered down and then the fuel rods were transferred to the pools, where they’d be safely stored underwater.” Mavis dropped her hands to her sides. “But the rods are hot and require a constant supply of water from the waste water reclamation facilities. There is no one left to man those either. After eighty-four hours the water boils off, leaving the rods to burn and spew radiation. Killing most of the life on the surface.”
“We’re going to die!” A man wailed. He pushed and shoved against his neighbors trying to get out.
They held onto him, trapping him. His agitation spread.
Mavis shook her head. “We’re not going to die. We’re going to Colorado to live in some abandoned mines that will shield us from the worst of the radiation. It won’t be easy, but if we work together we can make it a home until it’s safe to come out on the surface again.”
A man in the back stood on a chair. “So that…that asshole might find a rock to crawl under and survive this too?”
Shrugging, Mavis flashed them her palms. “He doesn’t know. In this case and every case hereafter, banishment means death. There will be no lone survivors living off the land.”
So he would be walking around getting a nuclear tan. Damn. David grinned. It was almost better than a firing squad. Except for one small point.
The man set his hands on his hips. “What’s to say he won’t follow us?”
Got it in one.
“We’ll take him out into the desert and drop him off,” Lister barked. “He won’t be able to find his way out.”
Unless he followed the tire tracks.
Judge Bob scratched his chin. “Sedate him. Then take him out to the desert. Give him a week’s rations and leave him.”
One problem solved. But the big one remained. David waited in silence with the others. Would Mavis solve it?
“We’ll chip him like we do wild animals. Our satellite network is still up and running. We’ll track his movements and if he sets foot in Colorado, we’ll kill him. And if he goes near any other settlement, we’ll do our best to get a warning to them. Crimes like his means he’s not fit for society and only those doing their part have a place and a share in the food, water and supplies needed to survive. It isn’t perfect but it’s the best we can do.”
A few grumbled, but most seemed to accept it. David smiled. And as a bonus, Mavis gave anyone planning to cause problems a warning. The civilians filed out the door chatting among themselves.
David set his safety. He’d like to see one of them come up with a better solution.
Mavis sat on the table and hugged her knees. “We’ll need a medic or corpsman for the proper sedative dosage and a vet with a chip.”
“Damn fine idea.” Judge Bob unzipped his purple robes. “I know killing him would be the best solution, but after what he’d done, I thought we’d use him as an example. A bad example.”
“Why Brother Bob I didn’t know you were so vindictive.” Mavis sat her chin on her knees.
Judge Bob shrugged out of the robe and rolled it into a ball. “I’m not. There are worse things than death, Doctor Spanner. And I’m thinking one of those things is Trent Powers’ company. He’ll die broken and alone.”
And hopefully horribly and slowly, David added. That would be justice.
Chapter Forty-Seven
“I’m innocent!” Trent punched the door to his cell. Pain rocketed up his arm. The skin across his knuckles split. He pounded again. Again. And Again. Blood streaked the wood. “You can’t do this to me!”
The door didn’t open.
He flattened himself against the door.
No murmurs. No voices.
Son of a bitch. He shook his hand but it didn’t help. He felt his pulse race across the broken skin. He wouldn’t let the bitch win.
As for that traitor Jake Turner…
He’d have to think of some way to repay him. Crossing the small space, he knelt by the bucket and plunged his hand in the water. Red bloomed in the clear liquid. He stroked his thumb across the cuts, used the pain to focus. Killing outright was too good for Jake Turner. He’d have to suffer first.
Trent licked his lips. Maybe he’d have Jake strapped to a table then cut pieces off of him. Little bits at a time and feed them to him. How much blood could a person lose before they died? He wouldn’t want the asshole to die too quickly. The fucker should lose his fingers, toes, ears, nose, lips, balls and dick first.
But was it enough?
Maybe for the lies, but not for the humiliation. Rocking back on his heels, Trent rested his wrists on the lip of the bucket. Blood ran down his hands and dripped into the pink water. He’d rethink his plan later, after he got out of this hellhole.
Which would happen sooner rather than later.
He’d heard the trucks moving out while he’d sat in that sham of a courtroom. And the fools had sentenced him to banishment. Pushing to his feet, he dried his hands on his slacks. Like he wanted to be part of their stupid settlement anyway.
No, he would rule his own kingdom and, one day, he and his descendants would crush that bitch’s world and wipe out everything she stood for.
He just had to wait until they let him out.
Standing in the center of the room, he closed his eyes. Her weak children would grovel at his feet. He’d rape the girls and maybe find someone to fuck the boys over. His hand skimmed down his wool sweater and he stroked himself through his new slacks.
Once they’d been broken, he’d have their hearts cut out on the floor of his throne room. He’d force captives to watch them eat the pieces. Yes. His heart thudded heavily in his chest. It would
be wonderful. So wonderful, he might make it a yearly occasion.
No monthly.
His enemies would need to think twice.
Keys jingled.
Trent opened his eyes and the fantasy faded in the yellowing walls of his cell. He grunted. His release was going to be faster than he thought. The losers. Only the weak showed mercy.
When it came their time, he would show them how the strong delivered justice.
They would not live to tell the tale to others.
He smiled at the door. Although, a head on a spike might get the message across. Really, it was a shame the practice was discontinued by bleeding heart liberals.
Jake Turner poked his head around the door. “All finished with your little tantrum?’
Trent clenched his fists. Blood spotted the floor. Turning his attorney’s face into hamburger would be too quick. Besides, the fucking soldiers would stop him just as he popped out the traitor’s eyes and squished them like grapes. No, his revenge would wait a bit longer.
“If you think you’ll ever seize power from that bitch and her lapdogs, you’re wrong. You should have stuck with me. I would at least have allowed you to eat at the table, they won’t even throw you scraps after they learn about Flagstaff.”
Jake eased the rest of the way into the room and leaned against the door. “They already know all about Flagstaff. My version, of course.”
Trent forced his fists to uncurl. “And when I tell them the real events…”
“They won’t believe you.” Jake smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. “But the teens are backing up what I’ve said. They think I’m a hero for coaxing you away from them by taking you shopping. Besides, I’ve already gotten what I wanted.”
“To lick that bitch’s boots.” Trent laughed. Who did the idiot think he was fooling? Jake had no power, no authority. He’d blown his best chance to get even a little respect. “With all the soldiers panting to get into the ugly cow’s underwear, you won’t even get to fuck her.”
Jake shook his head and folded his arms over his chest. “You really don’t get it, do you?”
The hair on the back of Trent’s neck itched. Had he missed something? “Get what?”
Jake pushed away from the door. “I never wanted power or women. I wanted revenge.”
“The military—”
“Not against the fucking military. You.” Spittle foamed at the corners of Jake’s mouth. “I wanted revenge against you!”
Trent blinked. What the fuck was going on here?
“You don’t get it.” Jake’s laughter fell like stones in a dry well—hollow and potentially lethal. “Does the name Deirdre Turner ring a bell? She went by the name DeeDee.”
DeeDee Turner. A face swelled from the depths of Trent’s memory as well as a two million dollar policy and a little extra something-something for him. “Blond hair. Nice rack. Shaved—”
Closing the space between them, Jake grabbed Trent by the throat and shoved him against the wall, lifting him to his toes. Drywall flaked around him. “She was my wife!”
Trent tried to suck in air. His lungs inflated but there was no oxygen in the vacuum. He clawed at the fingers digging into his neck.
“I worked so damn hard to make a living for us, to establish my practice. “ Jake’s face turned red. “It was my fucking idea to get a life insurance policy. Mine.”
Black tinged Trent’s vision. His lungs caught fire. He gave up trying to pry loose the fingers and went for Jake’s eyes.
Jake swatted his hands away and annoyance drew his features in tight. “And while I was working on a case that would allow us to put a down payment on a house in Carefree, you screwed my wife.”
Trent raised his knee to the other man’s groin. The bastard was going to kill him over an unfaithful bitch? No way.
Jake twisted his body, blocking the shot. “She confessed the affair when she contracted the Redaction, begged me to forgive her.” His eyes glistened. “And I did. But I will never forgive you.”
Trent’s ears buzzed. His vision reduced to the man in front of him. From a great distance, he heard knocking. God damn it! He wasn’t supposed to end like this.
Jake banged him against the wall once. Twice.
Trent barely registered the pain. His eyes fluttered closed.
Jake released him.
Cold air poured down Trent’s throat. His numb fingers reached for his damaged windpipe as he slid to the floor.
“When you showed up pretending to be a preacher, I knew God had given me an opportunity I couldn’t refuse.” Jake bent over and shoved his face into Trent’s. “Just a word in Dirk’s ear, and you reacted like I knew you would. You couldn’t resist the power.”
“Mr. Turner?” The bitch’s voice was muffled behind the door. “It’s time.”
Jake straightened. “I only wish you’d gotten a real taste of it before I took it all away.”
Trent coughed. He wasn’t anyone’s puppet. The fool was delusional. Jake Turner was a coward—one of those losers who dreamed of having it all but when the time came, didn’t have the balls to follow through. “DeeDee was a lousy fuck.”
Jake sucked in a breath.
“And you should have paid for a better tit job. It would have distracted from her flabby ass.”
“Come in!” Jake’s shout rattled the metal sink.
The bitch and her lackeys crowded into the small room. Trent memorized their faces. Dawson—the short, bland Hobbit extra. Lister—the graying Marine caricature. Judge Bob Anderson—a pattern card for the Monopoly cartoon without the monocle.
All of them would suffer for this insult.
“Let it be recorded that the sentence of banishment was carried out at…” the judge smoothed his vest, tugged a gold chain out and consulted the watch at the other end, “seven-oh-three on the morning of March thirteenth.”
What century was the man in anyway?
The bitch fished a vial out of her pocket. She flashed the white labeled vial at the judge. “Please verify that this contains the sleeping aid as recommended by the medical staff.”
Trent stiffened. “What sleep aid?”
The judge patted his chest then slid his reading glasses down from his comb-over. “Yes. Yes, it does.”
They were not going to ignore him. Setting his hands on floor, he pushed himself up.
Dawson pointed a pistol at his head. “Stay sitting.”
“You won’t dare shoot me.” It would violate their stupid code. Plus, his supporters would learn about it.
The judge waved his hand. “Not fatally. I’m sure you can still hobble around with one good leg.”
“Or I could just target other pieces of his anatomy.” Dawson shifted from targeting Trent’s head to his crotch.
Fucking asshole. Trent cupped himself. “This borders on cruel and unusual punishment.”
“Stubble it or I’ll have you gagged.” The flunky general grinned.
The bitch ripped open a syringe, bit off the cap and spat it on him. Staring at him, she jabbed the needle into the vial and drew back the plunger. “Four-point-five ccs were the required dose to knock him out.” She removed the vial then aimed the needle from the ceiling and depressed the plunger. Liquid arced out of the tip and sprayed him.
“Hey!” Trent brushed at the liquid staining his new sweater. “Watch the clothes.”
She handed the syringe to the judge who passed it to Jake. “That’s the agreed amount.”
“Corpsmen!” Lister barked.
A soldier in Navy blue and an anchor tattoo on his steroid-induced bicep marched into the room.
“Do it.”
“Yes, Sir.” He knelt, pulled a length of rubber from his pocket and tied it around Trent’s upper arm.
“Think you can get it a little tighter?” Trent snapped. His arm began to prickle from the constriction.
The corpsmen shoved Trent’s sweater up to his elbow. Grabbing his hand, the military lackey twisted his wrist until a plump blue vein came
into sight. Cold air washed over Trent’s skin when he cleaned the area with an alcohol swab.
His traitorous attorney handed him the syringe. “How long until it takes effect?”
“Not more than a minute.”
Trent shrugged. They could ignore him all they wanted. His time would come. He faked a yawn. “I feel tired already. Oh, wait. That’s just boredom.”
The corpsman shoved the syringe into the vein then unsnapped the band.
Cold heat blazed up Trent’s arm. He sucked in a breath. Fuck that hurt. The bastards just stared at him, waiting for a reaction, no doubt. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.
The corpsmen jerked the needle free and taped a cotton ball to the puncture.
The bitch crouched down next to him. “There’s one thing we forgot to mention. Along with the drugs, we injected a GPS capsule. It’ll settle in your heart and if you ever set foot in Colorado, we’ll use it to hunt you down like a rabid dog and blow your brains out.”
They’d tagged him like a dog? His tongue swelled in his mouth. Fatigue slammed his lids closed. Trent felt himself falling over. Then he felt nothing.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Trent opened his eyes. Bright sunlight flared across the back of his skull. He blinked several times until his vision adjusted. Wobbly muscles pushed him to a sitting position. Wet fabric molded to his body and a saturated blanket rolled onto his lap. The world tilted on its axis. The shrubs and sand see-sawed back and forth. He set his hand on the tire tracks. Eventually, they had to lead him to a road.
And a road meant people.
Yet, the sun was near to setting and he hadn’t found anyone. He dragged his tongue across his teeth. And the drugs the bastards had given him hadn’t helped. He kept fucking passing out. But he wouldn’t let the military stop him. He was destined for greatness.
Then they would pay.
But first, he had to find the God damn road.
A noise scratched his ears. On his left, a crow pecked at the brown Meals-Ready-to-Eat pouch. It pulled up a shred of brown then threw back its head and swallowed it down.
“Get!” Trent croaked.
The crow flapped its black wings, dug its yellow talons into the MRE and shifted away.
Redaction: The Meltdown Part II Page 41