At the back of the room, Wills’ people faced off with the cops.
“I said take him out!” Judge Maxine screamed, and a few in the room screamed along. “This my court.”
“Your court is a sham,” Wills said, not drawing a weapon. “We’re a slow-motion rescue party for Beth. Your phony court is over.”
“Like hell it is!” Becca jumped up. “Officers, arrest this man. He’s a Patriarch. He killed my father.”
Wills said loudly, “I liked your father, even though we often disagreed.”
Some of the officers started shouting at each other, and the judge was egging them on to open fire. Wills turned to the back of the room. “You officers at the back, we know many of you, we work with you, please stand down. There doesn’t have to be blood spilled today.” He eyed Becca.
“I didn’t kill your father. He was attacked by Coyotes.”
Becca left her seat and approached Wills.
“You want me to believe it was random?”
“It wasn’t.”
A number of men and women with guns drawn came down to the front of the court as the judge banged her gavel, eyes focused on the ceiling, like trying to spot some flaw made by painters.
Wills said, “Just like the judge gazing at the ceiling, at the lights, isn’t just a random move. Right, Maxine?”
“That’s Judge Maxine Penny!”
To Becca, Wills said, “Your judge expected the lights to go out. Last time was a practice run. Today was the real deal: douse the lights, kill a few people, Beth being one of them, and blame it on the Patriarchs. All out in the open.”
Becca looked at the judge. “Maxine, you behind this?”
“He’s a crazy man. And I’m gonna take his ass apart.” Judge Maxine pulled out a big revolver and pointed it at Wills.
Becca turned her fury on Sergeant Terence Wills. “I don’t give a shit what’s going on here. Justice for this woman has been decided!”
“That’s not justice, imprisoning someone for their ideas,” Will said.
“Her ideas are dangerous.”
Beth watched the two facing off a few feet away and raised her hand.
“Mr. Wills, I know this has been a sham, but I can’t allow violence to take place on my behalf. I still believe in the court system, and I expect to be vindicated on appeal.”
“They were going to kill you today,” Sergeant Wills solemnly said.
“That’s crazy,” Becca fumed.
At the back doors, his folks and the cops were making hard eye contact.
“Let them in,” Wills said.
The officer guarding the door looked to Becca, not the judge, and she nodded for him to go ahead. In came two guys in maintenance uniforms, accompanied by Will’s Patriarchs.
One of Wills’ men said, “These two were given instructions to shut down the generator once a verdict was reached.”
“Who gave you instructions?” Becca screamed at them.
The two men wouldn’t answer, instead they stared at one officer near the open doorway who stared right back at them. The man yelled something, started to run, and was caught.
Cricket approached the defense table, coat off, her Colt .45 on her hip.
“I’m finally sending you to jail,” the judge said, shooting Cricket an evil gaze. “And in the morning I’m putting both of you white broads on a boat that’s gonna take you far away.”
“Wow, that’s your criminal justice system?” Cricket mocked.
“Judge, shut up about people being put on boats and taken away.” Becca hurried to the bench. “As of now you’re finished. And put that ridiculous gun away. You might hurt someone and have to be put on a boat yourself!”
The judge slammed the gavel weakly. “Bailiff, escort these two women convicted of some serious charges the hell out of my courtroom.”
The bailiff didn’t move; he only looked at the main players and then back to the judge. One of Wills’ men ran into the courtroom. “Generator’s almost out of fuel. Refilling it now. We’ve got enough people guarding it.”
“Thanks,” Wills replied.
“We can’t just cancel court,” Cricket yelled. “Our court system is the best a broken world has to offer!” She held up her tattered copy of the Constitution and made sure everyone in the audience was watching her. “This document speaks to separation of powers and freedom for the individual. Lousy judges and presidents, and dishonest congressmen, were to be expected. But as long as the rule of law governs us all, we can get through a few years of a bad congressman, or an awful trial like this one. Beth should walk free, not because we have more guns today, but because there are no laws that make Beth’s scientific research a crime. The judge knows that. She should have tossed it out from the get-go. The way I see it, not this court, but its decision is what’s null and void, especially with a plan for lights out and murder.”
Elaine started to clap slowly; others joined in. The judge, whose spittle accompanied each remark, scowled at Cricket. Maxine had just gotten pink-slipped. The audience drummed their feet until finally Wills raised his arms and the chaos subsided. Though livid, Becca remained quiet. A few of the courtroom cops holstered their weapons and walked over and shook hands with the Patriarchs, their fellow officers.
64
Fair Play
“Great-sounding words, Cricket, but where do we go from here?” Becca called for all her men in the courtroom to holster their weapons.
“Letting Beth go free.”
“That’s a dangerous precedent,” the mayor said. “I’m in charge. I have to look to the future, and it will be a new civilization, not turning back the clock and living with the suicidal stupidity of a fossil-fuel-addicted world.”
“Even your world has to come about through talking, arguing; people retaining their rights as Americans, and their liberties from our Constitution, and not killing each other like we almost did today.”
“I’m grateful for that,” Beth said coolly.
“I listened to Rush Limbaugh for years,” Cricket said proudly, and Becca winced and a few in the audience cried out in shock, offended by Cricket’s reference. “He taught me, along with my father, to love and understand my own country. It’s a great country. My dad knew it. Your dad knew it also,” she said, tears streaming down her face.
Becca didn’t soften, hearing the words, seeing the tears. She clung to a host of wrong ideas that made her frail and bitter. The judge had climbed down from the bench and stood in front of her and Cricket.
“You white broads talk way too much for my taste.” Maxine patted the large purse that held the revolver. “I know about real justice. It won’t be served by either of you—”
“You’re finished in this courtroom,” Becca said. “You’re a disgrace.”
“And you’re a racist!” the judge screamed back, and the majority of the crowd roared their approval of the judge’s declaration, as if the racist charge was the exciting cry from the Roman Colosseum: Let the games begin!
A look of horror stamped Becca’s face. Her mom said, “How does it feel? Your dad got attacked with the same charge whenever he expressed a different point of view.”
Almost in tears, Becca said, “Judge, you’ve known me for years—”
“Sometimes it takes years for that ugliness to surface again.” The judge smiled.
“Some opportunists wait years to play the race card,” Wills spoke up, confronting the judge, who was ready to spit out her next charge. “Oh, I’ll save you the trouble—I’m an Uncle Tom, white on the inside, a traitor to my race.”
“That’s a good start,” Maxine retaliated.
“There’s not a black cause I didn’t share with you,” Becca said, flabbergasted by the sting of the racist label.
“You were always hated by the likes of such a woman.” Elaine came forward a bit tipsy, moving slowly.
“Looks like mom’s been in the bottle.” Maxine laughed stiffly. “Maybe you could make her judge? A drunk white woman on the b
ench. Who the hell needs that?”
“You’re right, we don’t need a drunk on the bench,” Elaine said, “nor do we need a vicious moron, perhaps one in cahoots with other morons and murderers. They’ll find a replacement for you. This town has a lot of fine people ready to fill that role.”
Maxine stomped off to confer with Ralph the prosecutor, who had been momentarily defanged, yet eyed Cricket for his pound of vengeance. Cricket knew this had to end. Bloodlust had to be quieted. She looked to Wills and he intervened.
“I’m taking Beth with me,” Sergeant Wills announced.
It worked. All the sinking into the race squabble ended. Becca’s trial had been stamped null and void by the “enemy.” And a woman whom Becca believed was guilty of sins against humanity was now free.
“If it’s laws you need, Sergeant, then it’s laws you’ll get.” Becca grinned coldly at the young scientist: You’re free for now. “City council will meet this afternoon. Ralph, I want you there, too. This court is adjourned.”
Amen! Cricket grinned and nodded to Sergeant Wills, who started quickly for the back of the room with Beth in tow. Everyone clapped, relieved that some kind of justice was finally taking place. Or, Cricket thought, maybe it was no more than appreciation by a lot of the spectators for an exciting game show.
Maxine sat in the judge’s seat one last time, frowning straight ahead, not focused on any one person. One of her supporters ran up with her trademark cowboy hat. She donned it and rose from her seat, mumbling about white people.
Becca aimed for the exits with Cricket on her tail. The two women just stared at each other in the hallway, and then Becca did a 180 and headed for her office. Cricket followed.
Outside the mayor’s office, two bodyguards closed ranks after Becca entered and slammed the door. Moments passed; Cricket paced and was about to engage one of the men when Elaine came running up.
“The hospital. There’s been an attack.”
Cricket yelled for Becca.
65
The Glow of Weapons
The bodyguard, who had brought news of the attack to the mayor’s office, was out of the car first. He opened Becca’s door and immediately cautioned her. “It’s terrible in there. I can bring you to the front desk and have a survivor give you a briefing, but you shouldn’t continue any farther.”
“I’ll go where I want to go,” Becca declared as she stormed inside, ignoring her mother and Cricket.
Other than cops and nurses milling around an emergency room, everything looked normal until Cricket saw the door leading to the ER and the first floor. The two doors were wide open, and bloody handprints marked the area near the handle where people had stampeded from the killers.
Elaine took a seat, buried her face in her hands, and shook with grief. She had known friends who had been receiving treatment when the attack occurred. Becca ignored her, talking with a woman, a survivor who stared at the floor as she talked. When Becca headed into the ER, Cricket was right behind her.
Blood smears along the floors, blood on gurneys, and blood splatter in every room from floor to ceiling. Most of the bodies had been brought to the morgue in the basement, but a few were outstretched on the floor or across beds in the last moment of agony. It appeared the killings had been administered with a variety of weapons—“machetes to machine guns” was how the bodyguard escorting Becca described the slaughter.
Becca turned to him. “My father. Is he safe?”
“I sent most of the men down as soon as we were hit. They’re still there guarding your father.”
In the room where Predator had been staying, only the head of the doctor they had put to sleep remained on a pillow, eyes up, contemplating the ceiling.
“This is the one you and your hillbilly friend tortured?”
Cricket didn’t respond to Becca, and kept her distance.
The sound of machine gun fire came from the lobby of the ER, and all three rushed back only to take cover with one of the drivers behind the admissions desk. Cricket glimpsed the dead lying from inside to outside and the flashes of muzzles spitting in the darkness. With her gun drawn, held in both hands, she aimed for the attackers.
Becca lay on her side, hands pressed to her ears.
Cricket didn’t spot Elaine or anyone else in her line of fire. She fired every round into a small area of blackness surrounding the glow of weapons fire and then reloaded. When she had two magazines left, she pumped the bullets at a slower rate, wanting the ammo to last. An officer came up from behind with a fully automatic AR-15 and swept the area in front of the ER, thirty rounds at a time.
Another officer emerged from a nearby stairwell with a shoulder-fired rocket, took aim, and destroyed several cars in the parking lot where the concentration of firepower had been centered.
“Stop firing,” the man called, “and keep your positions!”
The big noise of handguns, pump shotguns, and the blistering AR-15 halted. No cries of the wounded came from the lobby. There were no nonfatal injuries. The dead lay everywhere, including Elaine Givens.
Cricket ran to Elaine. She must have taken one of the first bullets, for the entry was at the back of her head and her forehead had been obliterated. But the expression was one of quiet and sorrow for those she must have lost, not for her own death.
“She died instantly,” Cricket said to Becca, who walked over slowly, like a stranger drawn to a terrible accident, not the death of a loved one.
The guard who had accompanied them through the first floor of hell was taken aside by one of the nurses, who had blood down the front of her lab coat and was crying as she talked.
The man approached Becca full of fear. “All my men are gone,” he said in amazement.
“What? They’re dead?” Becca said.
“No, they’re all gone. Left through the loading dock. They were never my men. Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”
Becca shouted, “My father!”
66
Lucy in Action
Lucy ran down her prey in moments. One of the guards of her platoon was an informant for the Patriarchs. He had tried to lead them away from the mayor. The man neared the rear doors of the basement when Lucy leapt the last few feet onto the man’s back, sliced his right ear clean off, and then stabbed toward his genitals. He was over six feet tall, and he grabbed hold of her and dragged her up the front of his body. Lucy took advantage of the momentum to open his torso from pelvis to stern with her cobalt knife. It was as though the man had rapidly pulled off his shirt with a sharp blade affixed to it.
Her breathing only slightly faster, she observed the dying man and had other ideas when she heard gunfire from the first floor and ran back to the mayor’s room, where men were putting the final touches on decorating the room according to Ajax’s wishes.
She whistled her approval, and the seven men followed her as she again sped down the hallway and out the building.
67
A Second Death
Becca led several of her bodyguards down the stairwell. Cricket, gun out, guarded their backs. The basement as before was brightly lit and quiet. No guards were seen, and Becca cried out something unintelligible to anyone in the basement or any deity listening from above to answer her anguish. Only the silence greeted her.
Approaching her father’s room, she put her hand out when one of the armed guards tried to take the lead. Without a weapon, she walked into the hospital room and screamed.
The men sheepishly followed. Cricket pushed past them and witnessed the horror. Becca’s father was everywhere, literally. They had used a nail gun to pin limbs and other body parts to the wall. The guards traded glances: what happened to his head? Becca’s driver found it inside the toilet.
Cricket caught Becca before she fell. Both women were standing next to the bed and its occupant: a headless, limbless torso cracked open like a lobster’s shell.
In the hallway, Becca’s hands icy cold, Cricket held on to the devastated woman, who gripped the wall to help prop up her
shaking body.
“He lied to me,” Becca whispered.
“Who lied?”
“Wills. He knew what was taking place as he stalled us at court.”
“That’s crazy, Becca. He’s the only friend you’ve got. It was your men who came down here. They did this. Wills’ men would never do this.”
The men came out of the room and waited for Becca’s orders, although they searched Cricket’s face for leadership.
“We have enough men to go after them tonight,” Cricket said.
“Good. But I’m going home.” Becca said to her driver, “I want my father’s remains burned.”
“And your mother’s?” the man asked.
“The same.”
Part IV
STORM
68
Overlord
Ajax flew down the darkened halls. The people he passed were featureless except for the beautiful pregnant woman. He wasn’t sure yet how to take her: in life or in death. She was an extraordinary adversary and companion at the same time. His own energy in this otherworld grew when he was close to her. This growing power would soon allow him to touch the living. A simple touch could then be magnified into a killing hand, invisible claws streaked with lightning, a gift from this kingdom.
It was exciting to devour the dead, but he’d finished his repast always feeling hunger for the living. He planned on taking the leopard that roamed the city. He had reached toward the animal and felt the leopard’s fear. Tonight he’d attempt to reach inside the big cat and rip the beating heart from its body—a trick he learned from his ancestors…
69
Orphaned
American Blackout (Book 3): Gangster Town Page 20
