So, I saw my dad again.
I came back into consciousness in a jail cell at the Sherriff’s office with a sullen Jean across from me. The cell was all white, the size of a hotel room and looked like it should have more people in it than us. The first thing I noticed was my leg. At some point they had a doctor come in and set it in a cast leaving me with a pair of archaic crutches. Jean was slouched against the wall staring at me. No one else seemed to be acknowledging us-- just going about their day. I was in pain still, it had been so long since I felt real pain. I needed a shot of chrome, adrenaline or whiskey
“I’m going to fucking kill you, “Jean whispered to me with a smile from his side of the bench.
“It’s kind of funny,” I told him, “ I mean of all the things we have done and we get jailed for what ? Speeding, breaking and entering.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Jean smiled, “After all I am sure we are being watched,”
He looked over at the tired guard sitting by our cell.
No matter what I did I was always one step behind.
We both looked like crap and in the hours we sat together neither of us had been allowed a phone call or been questioned.
That was when I saw my dad.
I should have known it would not take long for them to put the pieces back together. I was driving my old car and all my things were in the trunk. I was sure I was easily identifiable. Dad was dressed in one of his thousand dollar navy suits and looked more pathetic to me than I ever imagined. As he came towards the cell he stopped short and looked like he was going to cry but held it back.
“Alan,” he said coming to the white bars and sticking his hand through.
He turned to the officer near the cell.
“Please,” he said,” I haven’t seen him in so long,”
The officer let my dad into the cell and he sat next to me. Jean conveniently moved to the farthest corner away from us. Dad put his hand on my face and I thought he was going to kiss me or something so I backed away from him.
“Don’t touch me,” I said,”Where is mom ?,”
“Alan, son. Alan, we have been looking everywhere for you. I really thought I’d never see you again. I don’t know what has happened to you or what you have been through but, I don’t care. I will help you. You can have your life back--,”
“I don’t want it,”
“Alan, tell me what have they done to you ? They found chrome in your car and said you---”
”What did you do to Mom ? Where is she ? What is your company up to ?,”
He seemed hurt. I imagine it had to do with my decision not to return his affection.
“I can explain,” he said
“I don’t want an explanation.” I said, “ I haven’t been coerced into anything. I wanted to do it. I used to look up to you dad but now I look up to myself. I’m an adult now and I am not going to go with you.”
“You are practically still a teenager, I’m not giving you a choice. I love you, son I-”
“Dad we are in the Republic—an entirely different country. I was arrested here you have no power. I can’t go back,”
“I can maybe pull some strings,” he told me, “Listen, Alan I love you and so does your mother. Her condition was a part of a prenuptial agreement. She is still a flesh and blood woman who wants to be a mother again,”
“Will she remember me ?,” I asked
“It will take some work but, yes I am sure of it.”
We sat in silence for a while.
“Are you ready to go ?,” he asked
“No, I can’t accept your life choices or anything else at home. I’m not trying to punish you. I’m just doing what I want.”
“Fine,” he said standing up and knocking on the gate, “The offer will always stand, no matter what. You have no idea the shit you have gotten yourself into, young man.”
He stood up and walked out looking back a few times before leaving. Jean slid off the ground and back into the bench
“You are a motherfucking idiot, Alan Gray.” Jean said,”We broke into a federal building and burned it half way down, I attacked an officer, you had an illegal weapon and the police captain--who is by the way in town-- is running for office. He will want to make an example. I’m thinking death penalty, people in the Republic love that because they are always televised.”
I hadn’t known that.
***
I had never seen Belle look so normal as she came up to us in the holding room at the courthouse. She was wearing a modest orange skirt and blouse, flat shoes, no makeup, gloves over her peculiar nails and a pair of glasses set on her nose. I was sure the reason most of the people in the LOLA who dressed so outlandish did it was because they felt it was the only way they could be different.
Belle had come by to bring us clothes before we went in to the court room. A smile crossed her face as she saw us. Jean walked toward her but, I stayed seated because I still had no idea how to walk in the god damn crutches.
“You two are the newest laughing stock in town,” she laughed and handed me a white shirt and black pants.
“I blame the motherfucker who can’t drive,” Jean said,” I finally finish my grieving process and I end up here. Dammnit, all I want is some E or chrome to hold me over.”
He wasn’t the only one.
She gave us an update on what was happening in the sprawl. Luce had made it back home and Sara knew what we had done and requested no one try and help us get out—not that anyone would. Nobody had seen Luce since he came home so there was no indication if he was different or not. Belle had let Allison know what happened and Belle promised to look in on her every once in a while. There was over 100,00 dollars in cash beneath my bed that could last Allison a while. I wanted Belle to promise not to make Allison a prostitute but, she never promised that.
Before leaving Belle gave me a short kiss on the lips and gave Jean the same. He seemed slightly repulsed.
“Just a kiss goodbye,” she said, “You know, good luck so that when they sentence you to death there is little suffering. Also Sara said if you choose the electric chair she will come to watch live—excellent entertainment.”
***
The courtroom was pristine; it was all white with hard oak furnishings. I hated being handcuffed—I hated being trapped and I wanted nothing more to break free. Freedom had meant so much to me these last few months.
The judge, Marilyn Brady was a bitch.
“Alan Gray,” she said
I was going to have to do something about my last name. My father was not that well known for his work in the Kyto industry but, I still wanted very little to do with him. I awkwardly crutched my way over to her and leaned all my weight on my good leg.
I begrudgingly made eye contact with her as she read of a litany of charges.
“Doctors said you have 7 illegal black market surgeries, officers found 8 ounces of illegal substance on you, breaking and entering and arson of a federal building with intent to kill not to mention the speeding and evading police. Mr. Gray do you have anything to say ?,”
“No.” I said trying not to lose my balance.
“After some consideration of your need for reeducation and the needs of this Republic I am sending you to a work camp program for 8 years,”
“What the f--,”
“Excuse me I am speaking. You will be reporting to Fort Perch where you will be receiving your assignment. You may leave and I hope to never see you again.”
I honestly never wanted to see that bitch again.
They couldn’t put handcuffs on me because of the crutches so, the officers walked on my sides as I hobbled to the doors fuming. When I got to the doors I reached over and pushed it open with my arm and lost my balance falling flat on my face.
***
Jean and I received the same sentence.
We were in the back of a van heading to Fort Perch, neither of us mentioned his family. For the most part I considered Jean and I friends but, he was tweaking and pissed off as hell at me, like it was my fault. He was the one who let himself get shot, he was lucky it only grazed him.
“We can work this out--,”
“Shut the fuck up, Alan. I swear to God,” he breathed,” The only thing I hate more than technology is the government and now they fucking own me. I spent years getting off the grid and now I am back on it because of you. ”
We were both chained down but, I am sure if he could hit me he would have.
The van left us at the correctional facility in Fort Perch and we were escorted by officers into the building into an office. A set of corrections officers came in and placed Government Issue syndicates in our ears.
We were taken to a locker room and told to change into a pair of gray slacks and a gray collared shirt. On the lapel was an embroidered military insignia—a black 5 petal flower inside of a a black triangle. The insignia had made a comeback these last few months and appeared everywhere. The back of the shirts said Property of Western Republic.
I wondered if it referred to the shirt or the person wearing the shirt.
We were escorted to a large holding room—which was really the prisions cafeteria where there were a few other men. The room was set up with a row of chairs and we were taken to the row in the very back—I heard laughter as I hobbled pathetically trying not to fall on my ass.
Some of the men were sharing silent conversation and none of them looked like real criminals. They were the pathetic guys who ended up owing the cartel thousands of dollars. I was sure I was the youngest guy in the room.
After a few minutes, the doors swung open and everyone quieted down as a small group of men in black military uniforms came in. Even from where I was in the back I could tell man in the center was the leader of them.
He was in his 30s, handsome and dark haired well over 6 feet and looked to be mostly muscle. He jacket was the most decorated with pins and patches. I found myself staring at the soldier next to the leader.
They were a girl.
Her hair was pulled into a bun underneath her cap and her eyes casted down but, it was clear there was a woman body underneath the men’s uniform. Her sleeves and hems were rolled up, her belt was cinched to the top of her pants awkwardly around her feminine hips. The only thing that was different from her uniform and the others was her peter pan collared shirt with a tied ribbon instead of a straight collar with a tie. She was small and was all but eclipsed by the other man. I didn’t even know they allowed women in the military these days.
“ I am Sgt. Maxwell,” the tall man barked.
His voice was being amplified by something but, it sounded arrogant.
”You are all coming to Camp Independence—we are located in the war zone. You sons of bitches are not soldiers but you will work for them. You are still prisoners and will be treated as such but will still be held responsible to following the military codes. On the ride over you will learn every rank and what respect you give that rank. You are all direct subordinates to me and my corporals. I demand absolute respect and obedience, you will address us as sir. You will not speak unless spoken to, you will obey every order and if that sounds like too much you better kill yourself on the way over,”
With that he turned his army entourage following behind him.
