by Mark Goodwin
His lips mouthed a single word. GO!
She saw no way to get him free without a gun, and maybe an army. Disappointed, she nodded and mouthed three words. I love you.
His face was pained as he nodded to show he understood.
Ava swallowed hard as she headed for the crowded exits. Suddenly, the fire alarm halted, and the bright lights came on, replacing the hypnotic low colored lights, which panned around the floor and up the walls. Roman’s English voice came over the speakers.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please calm down. There is no fire. We believe we had an assault on this evening’s host, Shane Lawrence. EMS is en route. I’m sure Shane will be fine if we just keep thinking positive thoughts on his behalf.
“Unfortunately, Lure security staff will be manning the exits until the police arrive. This was a hostile attack and the police will want to get statements from everyone before you are allowed to leave. Thank you in advance for your cooperation.”
Ava shook her head. “No, no, no!” She had to get out of the building before anyone discovered Mercedes.
She headed for the back door where she’d let her father in. Two bouncers stood guard.
“Please, I’m having an anxiety attack. I need to get some fresh air. You can watch me. I work here, I’m just freaking out right now.”
The larger of the two looked at the smaller, who wasn’t all that small. “What do you think?”
“Sorry, ma’am. We can’t let anyone out the door. The police will be here in a few minutes, then they’ll start letting people leave.”
“This is false imprisonment. That’s a felony! Both of you can go to prison for this!”
The bigger guy again looked at the more moderately sized bouncer. He seemed to take her claim seriously.
But once again, the comparatively-smaller guy shook his head. “No one is going to leave until the police get here! Go get some water or something!”
Ava stormed off to try the same tactic on the remaining exits.
“Ava?” said a female voice from behind.
Particularly since everyone in the club knew her as Tamara, that was not a name she wanted to hear. She squinted and clenched her fists, knowing exactly who was behind her.
“I like what you’ve done with your hair. And the outfit! If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to look like me. What’s wrong? Did you get tired of your prude life? Well, I’ve got news for you! If Shane doesn’t pull out of this fit, you’ll be in for some excitement alright. I’ll make sure you die the most horrific death you can imagine. You’ve already killed one of my boyfriends. If this one dies, I’m going to take it as a personal insult.”
“I had every intention of upholding my end of that bargain. You double-crossed me. Chip’s death is on you.” Ava looked at the empty champagne bottle on the bar. She wondered if she could break the bottom out of it and cut Raquel’s throat before security grabbed her.
“Restrain her, guys. Whatever happened to Shane, you can bet that she’s in on it.”
Ava turned to see that Raquel was flanked by four Lure security guards. She glared at her nemesis. “You’ve slept your way to the top, Raquel. Who says you don’t have ambition?”
Ava had no choice but to let the guards put the zip-tie restraints on her wrists.
Raquel snarled. “Your dad missed all those father-daughter dances when you were a little girl. But now you’ll both get a chance to make up for it. I know some people around town. I’m sure we can arrange a father-daughter execution.”
Reality began to set in. Ava felt sick at her stomach. She could think of no possible way out of this mess.
CHAPTER 15
Thou art my hiding place and my shield: I hope in thy word. Depart from me, ye evildoers: for I will keep the commandments of my God. Uphold me according unto thy word, that I may live: and let me not be ashamed of my hope.
Psalm 119:114-116
Sunday afternoon, Ava was brought into the small concrete interrogation room wearing an orange prison uniform with her hands cuffed and her feet shackled together.
“Wait here.” The guard slammed the heavy metal door shut before Ava could reply.
“Do I have a choice?” she asked of the empty room in which she sat. Ava took a seat at the metal table which was bolted to the floor.
Minutes later, a heavy-set woman in a grey pinstriped skirt suit came in with a worn leather briefcase. She put the case on the table and opened it. She pulled out a folder and passed a form to Ava. “My name is Vanessa Cooper. I’ll be your advocate for the tribunal.”
“Advocate? You mean like a court-appointed lawyer?”
The woman tapped her finger on the form. “Not exactly. Your status as an enemy combatant doesn’t afford you any rights under the constitution. This form clarifies my role. Look it over and sign it.”
“Not that the constitution has proved to be much of a deterrent for the regime anyways.” Ava read the paper. “So, no attorney-client privilege.” She continued scanning the text. “Wait, you’re from the Social Justice Law Center?” Ava looked up at the woman. “Can I request an advocate from another organization?”
“Let me be clear, Ms. Wilson . . .”
Ava cut her off. “It’s Mrs. Mitchem.”
Vanessa replied sharply, “Wilson is what is on your most recent government documents. We will not be recognizing any of your aliases. And no, you can’t request another advocate. My advocacy is for justice, not necessarily for you. My role is simply to inform you of what you can expect from the tribunal. So you can prepare yourself.”
“You don’t represent me?”
“My fiduciary duties in the tribunal are to justice. Not either party.”
“Forgive me if I’m hesitant to believe that you’ll be impartial, being from the SJLC. After all, the person I’m accused of killing was close with Mark Polpot and other top-level people at SJLC.”
“I won’t pretend to be impartial. Shane Lawrence has long been a champion of progress in America. His death marks a tragic day for this country. He can never be replaced.” Vanessa glared at Ava. “However, the SJLC is tasked with overseeing the tribunal, and I’ve been granted the pleasure of preparing you for the process.”
Ava sensed that Vanessa was sincere about it being a pleasure. It would be her opportunity to watch Ava squirm while she detailed the horrible path that lay ahead. “Okay, what’s next?”
“The tribunal will be held one week from tomorrow. It will be televised.” Vanessa looked up from her briefcase. “The execution will also be broadcast via the internet and cable news networks. Lethal injection is the only available form of execution in California.”
The blood drained from Ava’s face. “Execution? You mean if I’m found guilty?”
“Ms. Wilson, multiple eyewitnesses saw you apply the nerve agent on Shane Lawrence. We have the towel, the bottle, as well as the gloves which have trace amounts of the nerve agent on the outside, and your fingerprints on the inside.”
“So, I’m already condemned. What’s the point of the tribunal?”
“The public at large has been wronged, Ms. Wilson. This coming week, they’ll have the opportunity to mourn Shane’s death. Then the tribunal and execution will grant them some small amount of closure.”
“Can’t I appeal?”
“Like I said, you are an enemy combatant and aren’t afforded any rights under the Constitution.” Vanessa seemed to be suppressing a grin of enjoyment.
Ava looked at the metal table. “What about the other man that was incarcerated with me? If I agree to confess on television that I killed Lawrence, will they let him go?”
“Your father is being held in a separate facility. As you can imagine, the administration has some questions for him. For one, VX nerve agent isn’t readily available on the black market nor is it easy to produce. President Markovich is curious about the role that the Alliance, and more importantly, Turner Blackwell had in the assassination. The CIA will be seeking those answers from yo
ur father.”
Ava understood that Vanessa was referring to torture. “I can tell you everything you need to know if you’ll let him go.”
“That won’t be necessary. The president has determined that your father will be the one to provide the information, and you’ll be the person who will go before the tribunal. Your trial will be very public, for the good of the people. We wouldn’t want you to look like you’ve had an intense interrogation.”
“Of course not!” Ava interjected. “We wouldn’t want people to think this is a communist dictatorial regime that executes people without a trial!”
Vanessa placed a pen on the form. “I understand that you’re upset. If you’ll just sign the form, stating that you understand our relationship, I’ll let you get back to your cell where you can process all of this. I’m sure it’s difficult.”
Ava grabbed the pen and lunged at Vanessa who jumped out of her seat.
“Guard!”
The door flew open and a giant correctional officer stormed in, shooting Ava with a Taser. She was restrained hand and foot, then dragged back to her cell.
Tuesday morning, a guard came to Ava’s cell. “Stand up and face the wall.”
She lay on her bunk. “Why should I?”
He drew his Taser.
“Okay! Okay!” Ava held her hands up and complied.
She heard the door open behind her, then close again. Ava turned around to see a woman wearing an orange uniform in her mid-forties standing inside the door.
“Hi.” Since Sunday, she’d not seen another person other than the orderlies who brought her food.
“Hello.” The woman’s face was downcast.
The LA County facility Ava was being held in was known as Death Row, so if the woman was in Ava’s cell, she wasn’t long for this world. “I’m Ava.”
“Maggie. Nice to meet you.” She took a seat on the floor with her back against the bars of the entrance.
“What are you here for?”
Maggie glanced up, but not for long. “I’ve got a healthy liver, and I’m the right blood type. Someone with a high SVA score wants it. So . . . tomorrow, it will be theirs.”
“Oh.” Ava felt terrible for the woman. “But I meant why are you locked up in the first place?”
“I was sent to a level-one education facility in San Francisco. I continued to pray openly while I was incarcerated, so I was expelled. I can’t be rehabilitated. Organs are harvested and transplanted in LA. That’s why I was brought down here.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’ve wanted to get out of California for years. Now I’m getting out. And I’ll be going to heaven. It’s a good trade.” She smiled for a brief moment and nodded confidently. “A really good trade.”
Ava sat beside the woman and took her hand. “Me, too.”
The woman’s smile quivered and she began to cry. “But it’s tough. They took my husband to another camp. I can’t get any information about him. He’s strong.” She dried her eyes with the tail of her shirt. “My kids, they’re the ones I worry most about. My son, Daniel, he’s twelve. We taught him about God, I think he’ll hang on to his faith. But my daughter, Diana, she’s only seven.” The woman’s voice cracked and she quit talking for a while. Finally, she dried her eyes again and said, “I’m afraid they’ll turn her, convince her that there is no God.”
She hated to hear the woman say such a thing. What could be more terrible? Ava thought. Yet it solidified in her mind that she’d done the right thing and that her sacrifice was worthwhile, even though she had less than a week to live. No price was too high to put an end to this wicked regime.
“What’s your story?”
Ava didn’t admit to pulling off the assassination, but briefly described what she’d been accused of.
Maggie smiled. “Lawrence was effective at delivering propaganda. For my children’s sake, I’m glad he’s gone. Not that the administration won’t be able to brainwash the children they’ve taken away from conservatives without Shane Lawrence, but every time they lose a major player on the board, America has a better shot at survival.
“My kids, they’re wards of the state. California has taken over a million children from parents who have been assigned to re-education camps. I’m sure a lot of parents will go along with the re-education program to get their kids back. California has nowhere to house them. For now, the kids live in tent cities, refugee camps basically. No one knows how long the administration will attempt to re-educate minors before they’re classified as unable to be rehabilitated and euthanized.
“The ones who are successfully brainwashed will go into the Social Justice Legion’s security force when they’re eighteen. The ones who aren’t . . .” She looked down at her hands. “They’ll be organ donors.
“I begged my husband to get out of California when the riots started, but he didn’t want to leave his job. He said things wouldn’t get this bad. I wanted to believe him, so I didn’t keep pushing.
“We’d hear people from time to time talking about a second American civil war or a communist revolution, but I thought it was hyperbole or political rhetoric. Our pastor at church felt the same way. He said to just ignore that kind of talk—focus on Jesus and not get caught up in politics.”
The woman sighed. “Of course, now I think it was the Holy Spirit that we were ignoring.”
Ava clenched the woman’s hand. “But you know where you’re going. It still works out in the end.”
Maggie nodded. “For me, and for my husband—I’m confident. But my kids, Markovich is going to use every tactic in his satanic arsenal to get them to turn from the faith. Retrospectively, I realize how successful this agenda has been in keeping the American Church in a blissful state of complacency. I have no illusions about how powerful the state is when it comes to convincing children there is no God. Unless you have little kids, you can’t possibly know how that weighs on a mother’s heart.”
Ava said the only thing she could think of that might possibly lift Maggie’s spirit. “Then let’s spend the time we have left asking Jesus to protect the souls of your children. Let’s ask him to guard their hearts and minds and to put the right people in their lives who will get them home to heaven.”
“I’d like that.” Maggie looked up into Ava’s eyes, then the two took turns praying for Daniel and Diana.
Ava awoke on Wednesday morning to the sound of the cell door buzzing. Soon after, she heard the guard’s voice. “Maggie Sloan, it’s time.”
Ava’s heart sank for the woman she’d known only a few hours.
Maggie crawled down from the top bunk. Her lip quivered, and she looked at Ava. “Thank you.”
Ava forced a smile. “See you soon.”
Maggie bit her lip. “Yeah, see you soon.”
The guard slammed the cell door and escorted Maggie away.
Ava prayed for Maggie and her children. She prayed for Ulysses and for Foley. She wanted to see her father and her husband once more before departing this world. She missed them both so badly it made her sick.
Wednesday afternoon, Ava was served lunch in her cell by another inmate at the prison. “Thank you,” she said to the trustee.
The woman wore a prison uniform like Ava’s, but it was blue. She did not reply to Ava’s expression of gratitude but looked at her with sympathetic eyes.
Ava dissected the meal on the plastic tray. She had a fistful of shredded iceberg lettuce, two pieces of stale white bread, and a square-shaped item that smelled remotely like fish. Ava broke it in half. Inside the square, it was grainy, more like cornbread than fish. But, it was all she had, so she ate it anyway.
The meal acted as a temporary distraction, but it was soon over and Ava’s mind returned to contemplating what her death would be like. Lethal injection was designed to not be painful, but how would she feel in the moments before, while she watched the needle being inserted into her vein? Would she panic? She felt afraid at this particular moment, just thinking about it.
Soon, the terror of death faded and she felt peace welling up inside. It was slow at first, but her sense that everything was going to be okay grew and grew.
“Thank you, God. Thank you for your peace and for your Holy Spirit.” Ava lay down on her bunk and fell fast asleep.
On Friday, Ava heard the door to the cell block being opened and a new prisoner being brought in. The woman entered the block singing a familiar hymn; her voice filled the block. The woman was still singing when the guard brought her to Ava’s cell.
“Keep it down,” the guard instructed as he slammed the door.
“What are you going to do? Kill me?” The young woman looked to be about Ava’s age.
“Just keep it down!” the guard replied smugly and began walking away.
“Maybe you’re going to beat me up. Oh, you can’t do that. I’m donating both lungs and a kidney on Monday. Can’t risk damaging the merchandise.”
Ava liked the woman’s spunky attitude. She was glad to have company in the cell but hated that the two wouldn’t have long to get to know each other; at least not in this world. “Hi, I’m Ava. Welcome to my humble abode—temporary, humble abode that is.”
The young woman turned to her. “It’s all temporary isn’t it?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Anyway, thanks. I’m Yolanda.”
“Nice to meet you. So, you’re here for the weekend.”
“Yep. Checking out Monday.” Yolanda’s face showed that she didn’t feel as lightly about the matter as her words implied. “You?”
Ava swallowed hard. “Same. Checking out Monday.” Ava proceeded to explain her situation, telling Yolanda how much she wished she could see her father and husband one last time.
