Sunfall (Book 3): Impact

by Gideon, D.

  She blinked a few times, and tried to focus. The buzz turned into words. It still took a few moments more for her to understand them.

  “-Absolutely ridiculous, Your Honor. State law requires at least thirty days so that an appeal may be filed. There are personal papers and affairs to be put to order. This is nothing short of outright murder!”

  Dotty blinked again. She didn’t understand. Was Sorenson saying she’d committed murder?

  Wilhelm sighed. “We simply don’t have the resources to incarcerate a criminal-”

  “The Governor himself ordered all criminals, even felonious murderers, to be set free, Your Honor,” Sorenson said.

  “And that was done,” Wilhelm said. “This is a new case. The Governor’s pardon does not apply.”

  Sorenson released her shoulder and held out his hands in placation. “At the very least, give us twenty-four hours. So that she might visit with her family and say goodbye. Please, Your Honor. Show mercy.”

  The crowd’s murmuring rose to a swell.

  “Show mercy!” A woman cried out.

  “This ain’t right!” Said a deep voice.

  “She tried to kill the kid! She doesn’t deserve any mercy!” Yelled another woman.

  “Even prisoners on Death Row get more than twenty-four hours!” Called out a third woman.

  Wilhelm scowled at the crowd and looked over to Cindy. Dotty looked, too. What in the world were they arguing about? Letting her see her family before she was sent away?

  Cindy shook her head. “In twenty-four hours Michael will be here.” She raised her eyebrows and made a move along motion with her hand.

  Sorenson spoke again. “Your Honor, do you want to be known as the Civil Officer who sentenced an old Black woman to death and immediately executed her? That harkens back to the days of mobs and lynchings! What do you think they’ll think of that in Annapolis, and in D.C.? They’ll never let you near Congress with that on your record.”

  Executed? What?

  “That’s a career-killer right there,” called a member of the crowd.

  Wilhelm glared at Sorenson.

  “Your Honor, it’s best that this be done immediately, so as to set an example to anyone else who might try to use these same tactics to rise up against the City-” Cindy started.

  “We’ll hold the execution by firing squad at first light on Monday, assuming the weather’s clear,” Wilhelm said. “That gives you at least twenty-four hours to seek an emergency appeal from the Governor or to get her affairs in order.”

  “Execution?” Dotty echoed. Her voice came as barely a whisper.

  “Delaying this will only encourage other troublemakers-” Cindy started.

  “My ruling is final!” Wilhelm barked at her, and slammed his fist on the table. “Court is adjourned! Chief Stalls, take the prisoner back to her cell.” He stood up and stomped from the room.

  Dotty turned back to Sorenson. He was still standing, looking down at her with a stricken expression.

  “I’m so very sorry, Mrs. Parker,” he said softly. “I’ll do the best I can. I’ll try to get to Annapolis tonight, myself.”

  “I’m being executed?” Dotty asked. “I didn’t...I didn’t understand that last bit.”

  “Stand up please, Mrs. Parker,” Frank said from behind her.

  Sorenson’s face softened and she saw pity there. “The City has nowhere to keep a criminal long-term, so Judge Wilhelm has sentenced you to die by firing squad. Monday morning.”

  “No,” Dotty said. “No, that can’t be true. He said life sentence. That means I live out my life in jail-”

  “Let’s go, Mrs. Parker,” Frank said, pulling her chair out from the table. Stella stepped beside her and tugged at her arm.

  “I’ll try my best, I promise I will,” Sorenson said. “I’ll pool together all the fuel I can find and leave for Annapolis as soon as I can.”

  “Firing squad?” This couldn’t be happening. She was going to die? In less than two days?

  Sorenson nodded.

  “Okay, we’ll do this the hard way,” Frank said, and grabbed the zip-tie between her wrists. He lifted, and she came up out of the chair with her wrists on fire and her feet dangling.She caught a glimpse of Cindy standing to the side watching, her face smug.

  Everything snapped into clarity.

  She’d been railroaded far further than any of them had imagined could happen. They weren’t just going to remove her, they were going to kill her.

  And she’d bet every minute of life she had left to live that after she was taken care of, they’d go for the rest of the family.

  “Bishop, tell Seth Miller to take the boys,” she said, struggling as Frank dropped her on her feet and started yanking her around by her plastic cuffs. She twisted around and yelled at Sorenson. “He’s the closest thing they’ve got to a father. Tell him I said to take everyone and leave, now! Now! Don’t wait!”

  Sorenson was nodding. “I will. I will.”

  “She’ll come for them!” Dotty called. Frank was practically dragging her down the aisle between the cafeteria benches.Stella followed close behind. “Tell them to get out now!”

  Frank slammed through the cafeteria doors and pulled her into the hallway. The doors swung shut with a bang, and he wrapped his arms around her torso and lifted her from the floor.

  She struggled, but he was far stronger and taller. He held her in a vice grip all the way back through the gymnasium, past the offices and classrooms-turned-residences, and to the restroom jail.

  He dropped her inside and slammed the door shut, and she heard the pin slide into place.

  And only then, crumpled on the floor in rage and heartbreak, did she realize she hadn’t told Sorenson to tell her family how very much she loved them.

  Preacher

  Preacher leaned against one of the brick columns outside the front doors of the Rec Center. He was still under the portico, but it didn’t matter. He was soaked through. The rain had been pouring steadily since they’d arrived, and the wind had blown it under the portico and around the columns.

  They’d been inside the lobby, for a while. They’d arrived early for the supposed “trial” with all of the supporters that Father Bill had been able to round up trickling in behind them. They’d filled the place.

  All of the inmates were there. A plump little woman Father Bill introduced as Betty immediately set about managing people and getting the crowd to make room as others came through the door. A large white man and a much smaller, very pregnant Black woman were there; Ripley hugged and talked with them for a long time. They’d brought two little girls along, who clung to their parents and looked big-eyed at all of the strangers. Most of the neighbors from Dotty’s street that had been at the bonfire showed up. Some others came that Bill welcomed warmly and thanked for coming, but Preacher had never seen them before.

  Bill must have nearly worn the tires off of his bicycle alerting all of these people. A modern-day Paul Revere.

  Sheriff Kane was missing. Preacher hadn’t seen him since he and a little man named Fish had taken him home to Dotty’s last night. When Preacher had asked Father Bill if he’d seen the Sheriff, Bill had just nodded and said not to worry.

  Preacher was worried. He’d tossed a few ideas the Sheriff’s way, and he wanted to know if the Sheriff had worked out any of the logistics. Plus, it might be useful to have him here with all of the city “police” looking so damn nervous.

  No one that had come in support of Dotty had been permitted to sit in on the trial. Too disruptive, the goons with the guns told them. Too dangerous. Anyone in the crowd could be armed and there were no metal detectors now that the Guard had left.. Patting everyone down by hand would take too much time, and the only one of them trained to do it properly was inside the “courtroom”.

  When four o’clock had come and gone without even Corey and Thomas being permitted to observe the proceedings, the crowd had gotten indignant enough and loud enough that the goons had forced them outside i
nto the rain. Then they’d stood in a line inside the double sets of doors, holding their personal shotguns and rifles like riot police.

  Nice and safe and dry behind those glass doors. It made Preacher’s blood boil.

  The big guy, who looked like a farmer in his worn ball cap and faded overalls, took his girls to his truck and brought back a rain poncho. He slipped it over his little wife and it nearly brushed the ground. He’d tried to get her to sit in the truck too, but she refused.

  The inmates formed a line at the back of the crowd, almost mirroring the goons inside. They had no guns, though. Some members of the crowd tried to get them to come in closer, where there was more protection from the rain, but they politely declined.

  The rain had finally tapered off to a light drizzle, so now he was able to hear what people were saying without being right next to them.

  Thomas paced in front of the door and checked his watch. “It’s nearly five,” he said. “You think they’ve finished and they’re just not telling us?”

  “If they were finished, Bishop Sorenson would let us know,” Seth said. He was busy holding up his own brick column on the other side of the portico. “How about you come over here and stand? You’re probably making the guys inside nervous.”

  “Let ‘em be nervous,” Thomas said. He turned and glared at the goons. “I’ve gone into burning buildings beside some of you, and this is what I get? This is how you let me be treated?”

  “Thomas,” Lily came forward and reached for him. “Come on-”

  “No!” he yelled, pulling away from her. He kept eye contact with the men inside, banging his hand on the outer door. “You make me stand out here while my Grams is in there being tried for attempted murder? How many casseroles has she brought to the firehouse? Huh? And you just let us be treated like this? One of you? One of your brothers? Screw you! Screw all of you!”

  He was beating the door so hard it rattled in its frame. A few of the guys inside turned their heads, suddenly fascinated with the ground next to their feet.

  “Cowards!” Thomas yelled. “You’re all cowards!”

  “You’re not helping her, Thomas,” Lily tried again. Thomas spun on her, wild-eyed. Tears tracked down his face.

  “What else can I do Mrs. Miller? Tell me what to do! They won’t let me in there to see her!” He spun and slammed his fist against the glass again.

  Corey stepped forward and grabbed his brother’s hand, pulling him into a fierce hug. They stood like that, rocking a little, with Thomas sobbing into Corey’s shoulder and Corey making shushing sounds.

  My fault. This is my fault. I came into this family and tore it apart.

  All Preacher had wanted was a slim second chance. Something to prove to himself that he wasn’t a monster, that he could be a good man.

  Dotty had made sure to tell him every day that he was a good man. She’d thanked him for every little thing he’d done.

  When he’d shot that thief in her backyard, she’d hugged him and thanked him for that, too. And just before she’d finally gone back to bed, she’d told him he’d done the right thing.

  His fingers curled into fists. He’d let her down. He should’ve been there when the goons came the next day. He should’ve been the one to confess. He should be the one sitting in there now in front of the judge, not her.

  She didn’t deserve this. The kids didn’t deserve this. And there was no way he could see that he could ever make up for it, even if Dotty was somehow allowed to walk free.

  The Sheriff’s car pulled into the parking lot and wove around the traffic cones the Guard had left behind. It came to a stop at the end of the walkway, and the Sheriff and Fish got out.

  Sheriff Kane was in his full dark grey dress uniform, including his wide-brimmed hat with the red cord on it. Fish was wearing a uniform Preacher was intimately familiar with: that of a Federal Prison guard.

  The crowd parted for them and they walked clear up to the doors without a word being said.

  “They’ve locked them,” Preacher said just before the Sheriff reached for the handle.

  The Sheriff stopped, spread his feet a bit, and crossed his arms. He stared at the men inside. They all started fidgeting.

  Beside the Sheriff, Fish put his hands behind his back and stood at parade rest. They looked like they could stand there all day.

  Father Bill wove his way through the crowd and turned to lean his back to the entryway. “I was starting to worry,” he said, keeping his voice low.

  Fish spoke without looking away from the men inside. “Preparations took a little longer than we expected.”

  “Everything’s ready, then?” Bill asked.

  The Sheriff gave a tiny, sharp nod. Bill sighed in relief and then spoke. “Let’s hope we don’t need it.”

  Preacher had no idea what they had planned. Bill had told him earlier that the further he was away from this, the better. Bill had also wanted him to stay at the house, but there was no way in hell that was happening. The consensus had been that Mel should stay there too, to reduce the risk of someone recognizing her. She’d told them all to just try making her stay; they’d be bleeding by the time she was done. The two of them had walked up here side-by-side.

  Preacher looked over the crowd and found Marco. The young man met his eyes and gave a little nod. He’d spent most of the day out by the shed, cooking up something noxious on the Miller’s fire pit that he’d dragged back there. When he wasn’t stirring the concoction with a rag tied over his mouth and nose, he’d been sitting nearby pounding charred wood into powder.

  Preacher liked him, even though Marco had ordered him around earlier as if he didn’t expect to be questioned. There hadn’t been any insult in it, just efficiency. Preacher could respect that.

  “Someone’s coming,” Ripley said, and everyone’s head turned.

  The goon squad in the lobby parted, and Frank Stalls escorted Bishop Sorenson to the double doors. He unlocked the first set, and stood in the vestibule for a moment looking over the assembled crowd. Frowning, he took a deep breath, unlocked the outer set, and pushed one open.

  The Sheriff didn’t wait. “Has she been convicted?”

  Frank turned to the side and leaned to keep the door open as Sorenson went by. “Yes, on all three charges. Her attorney will give you all the information-”

  “Then I’m here to pick up my prisoner,” the Sheriff said.

  Preacher could have cheered.

  “Your what?” Frank helped Sorenson’s rolling case over the frame with his foot and straightened to block the doorway.

  “She’s been convicted of a felony. She’s now a federal prisoner. I’m here to escort her to the prison,” Kane said.

  “No you’re not,” Frank said. “She’s not going anywhere.”

  “I’m acting Warden of the federal prison. My guard and I are here to safely take the prisoner into custody, as is required by law.”

  Frank snorted. “So you can take her back to her house and act like nothing’s happened? I don’t think so, Simon.”

  “Her cell’s been prepared and ready. Guards have been assigned shifts. We’re fully prepared to carry out our responsibility as is required by law,” Simon said, stressing that last bit.

  “Let’s pretend for a minute that I believe you, that you’ve actually talked a couple of your old buddies to pony up and go back to work. We both know it’s total bullshit, but let’s pretend,” Frank said. “It was all for nothing. She’s not going to prison. She’s not getting released. She’s going to stay here, in our custody, until her sentence is carried out.”

  The Sheriff cocked his head. “What do you mean, carried out?”

  Frank shook his head. “Like I said, her attorney will give you the details. Now if you’ll excuse me?” He started to pull the door shut.

  “Frank,” Simon said, “This isn’t small-town stuff anymore. The moment an elected judge convicts a suspect of attempted murder, it becomes a federal matter. You’re messing with federal laws, here. You
sure you want to do this? Or do you want to stand on the right side of the law and release the prisoner into my custody?”

  “Simon, take your bullshit and shove it up your ass,” Frank said. “You’re not impressing anyone, and you’re not getting your hands on my prisoner. You and all these people have five minutes to get the hell off of this property.”

  He pulled the door shut and locked it, turned, and disappeared back through his line of men.

  “Bishop?” Bill asked.

  Sorenson looked out over the crowd. Preacher didn’t like the expression on his face.

  “If any of you have any fuel at all, I need it,” he said. “I need enough gas to get to Annapolis and back, as fast as I can do it.”

  The big farmer spoke up. “What for?”

  “Because Mrs. Parker has been sentenced to be executed at the first opportunity Monday morning-”

  “Executed?” Multiple voices cried out. Everyone started shouting questions.

  “Please, please!” Sorenson yelled.

  “QUIET,” Preacher and Simon boomed.

  Sorenson spoke quickly into the silence. “Time is of the essence. I need all of you, please, to go get any fuel you have and bring it back here so I can leave immediately. Meanwhile I’ll relay as much info as I can to Mrs. Parker’s family, and they can pass it on after I’ve left.”

  “But what do you mean, executed?” Corey asked.

  “I’ve got the fuel, and I’ve got a four-wheel drive,” the big farmer said. “I’ll take you.”

  Sorenson shook his head. “I can’t ask you to go with me-”

  “Have you ever driven through an occupied city, sir?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I have. You’ll be going through the equivalent of war zones, and you need someone with experience and a gun.”

  “Are you sure, John, Charlotte?” Father Bill asked. He gestured to the man’s little wife. “That’s a big risk.”

  Charlotte lifted her chin. “He knows what he’s risking, Father. And I support him in it. If he says he’ll get the Bishop there and back, that’s what he’ll do. There’s no one better.”