|The Transformation Story Archive||The Visionary Saga|
Justice For Two
The man in the orange jumpsuit paced nervously back and forth like a trapped animal.
Like the trapped animal that he was.
Across his back were emblazoned the words "Reed County Jail". He kept looking around his empty cell, as if he expected to find something different in the cold gray cinder block and steel environment.
He kept licking his lips to keep them moist.
He paced back and forth some more.
He rubbed the back of his hand, where that bitch had bitten it.
He waited a little longer, and a little longer.
He had no where to go.
For the first time in hours, the scene changed abruptly. He looked through the dull black steel bars to see an older man. He was an older man dressed in a drab black suit, a white shirt and black tie. On his head was a black fedora, with a white doves feather sticking in the headband.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Kyle."
Jeff Jay Kyle raced for the bars, trying to scare the old man. "Who the hell are you?"
The man never moved, never flinched. "I'm am here to help you Mr. Kyle, for your upcoming judgment."
Jeff smiled a toothy grin, "You're my court appointed? Look, mister, let's get one thing clear: I'm getting off. I don't care what you have to do, I'm getting off."
The old man looked at him a little sadly, "I see, Mr. Kyle. Is that all that matters to you?"
Jeff sneered a little at the man, "Of course, you old fool. Isn't that what you're here to do?"
The man nodded slightly, but not at Jeff's words. "Mr. Kyle, please have a seat."
Jeff turned around and walked to the bed. When he sat, he realized that the old man was standing in his cell. "How did you...?"
"Mr. Kyle, I want you to tell me honestly what happened out there."
Jeff looked at the old man and grinned again, "This is attorney-client, right? Nothin' I say can be used against me?"
"Nothing will leave this cell.", he said simply.
"It's not my fault at all! It was those two stupid kids!"
"You mean, of course, Mr. and Mrs. DuBois?"
"Yea! If they hadn't driven up then, none of this would have happened!"
"Mr. Kyle, these are the facts of the case as I am aware of them. Please feel free to interject what you think you must. Your 1984 Dodge "K" car broke down on Tank Farm Road about three miles from the nearest occupied building at 11:47 last night. You had been driving home after getting fired from your job as a night clerk at a nearby 7-11"
Jeff spat on the floor, "That idiot boss. This is his fault too! All I did was doze off!"
The man simply nodded, "Of course, Mr. Kyle. Mr. and Mrs. DuBois, both 22 and married two weeks, were driving from dinner at his parents home when they happened upon your disabled car. You saw this 22 year old kid driving a brand new Honda Accord and got angry. You wanted the car. So, as Mr. DuBois exited the vehicle, you pulled a 9mm Smith and Wesson pistol, which you carried for protection on the job, and shot Mr. Mark DuBois three times. You ordered Mrs. DuBois from the car, raped her, and shot her six times."
Jeff looked at the old man a little suspiciously. How the hell did he know so much? Was there a witness he didn't know about?
"You then took the license plates off your car to confuse identification."
Jeff smiled his toothy grin again, "Yea, that was a stroke of genius, wasn't it? They can't be sure that this was my Dodge, can they?"
"Mr. Kyle, you left your registration and proof of insurance in the car. Once more, all automobiles have a VIN number on the dashboard and engine which is recorded in state computers. Once more, they found your license plates in the abandoned Accord. Mr. Kyle, everyone knows that you did this."
Jeff looked at the man again, "What? Can't you get that tossed out of court?"
The man continued as if Jeff hadn't spoken. "I trust that you were not aware that Mrs. DuBois was pregnant? She was one and a half weeks pregnant to be exact. It's unlikely that she was even aware of it."
"So? They can't charge me with that...things murder."
The man leaned back a bit, a peculiar twinkle in his eyes. "I also believe that you are unaware that Carol DuBois would have grown to be a fine young woman. She would have entered the workforce as an emergency paramedic. She was slated to save many lives. A slate that you wiped clean."
Jeff was really confused now. What the hell was this guy talking about?
"Mr. Kyle, do you feel that you are a predator?"
Jeff Jay smiled again. It was the kind of smile that would have chilled the most battle hardened man. "Oh, yea. I like the sound of that. A predator. Do you think you can get the media to call me that? Might be able to make more money on the book deals!" He stood and began pacing again in front of the bars, his bright orange jumpsuit screaming out against the drab background.
"I see, Mr. Kyle. Then I guess there is little more to discuss."
Jeff looked at the man and a slow realization hit. The man didn't carry a briefcase, hadn't taken notes, hadn't expressed any concern over his well being or treatment. He wasn't like any other lawyer he had ever had. "You're not a lawyer! You're some kind of cop, aren't you?" he yelled accusingly.
The man looked Jeff in the eyes and for the first time, smiled. "No Mr. Kyle. I am not a member of the police forces of this city, this state or this nation. I am no cop. But, I have all the information that I need now."
Before his eyes, the man faded from sight. Jeff stared open-mouthed at the scrawny bed on which the man had sat, and suddenly turned around to shout for the guards.
But what came out sounded like a roar.
His body suddenly felt different. Not wrong, just different. He looked himself over and his mind seemed to somersault over what he saw. He knew little about animals or wildlife, but he recognized a tiger when he saw one. He could feel the rippling muscles, the power in his teeth, the sharpness of his claws.
He was a killing machine.
He was also in a zoo.
Jeff looked around the tiny cage. It was no bigger than a bathroom, only a little more room needed than to turn around. Three walls were made of rusty steel bars, too narrow to stick his fat paw through. The back wall a huge steel door with a food slot and water trough.
He looked at all the gawking people and suddenly felt a deep hatred for them. He roared again and lunged at them, but they all burst into laughter as he flew into the steel bars.
He spent the rest of the day pacing, his bright orange stripes standing out brilliantly against the drab background
The snow scrunched lightly with each footstep under the cover of night. The old man looked bundled from a cold that would never bother him. Anyone looking at him would think he was lost, so far north of anything resembling civilization.
But this man was far from lost.
They were standing where he knew they would be, where he had called them. They had never met, but the words that passed between their eyes were all that needed to be said. They understood.
Still, the man spoke. "I am sorry. I only wish I could do more. There is so little true love in this world, what is here must be protected. Believe me when I say that this is all I could do. All anyone could do."
They tilted their heads in understanding and leapt back into the woods, the buck leading the doe.
Once again, the old man faded from sight.
Justice For Two copyright 1996 by Brian Eirik Coe.
|<< Fight or Flight||Flashes >>|