The Last Plague

Chapter Twenty-Two: Judgement

The soldier dragged me, literally dragged me, down to a small building near the middle of the hill. "Can I speak to the sheriff?" he asked.

I felt like I was in old-western times, ready to be punished by the sheriff. I found it slightly funny they called him sheriff, but I wasn't sure why.

A man walked into the room with a tan leather jacket. He seemed just about as country as you could get; he had light-blue jeans, leather boots, and a holster, surprisingly without a gun. "What is it?" he said with a smile as if he enjoyed dealing with people. "Also why are you tugging on this kid's shirt? Let him go," he spoke in a very non-country accent, but his voice was deep.

"This," he paused, it seemed like he was trying to figure out what to call me, "kid, almost killed us all. When the zombies came he ran up to me and told me zombies were on the other side too. I ran over there, with other troops, and there was nothing. He pulled my leg, and made it harder to fight the zombies." He paused for a moment, then took in a deep breath. "I want to charge him with attempted homicide."

"Attempted homicide, trying to murder multiple people." He explained without reason. "Why would you charge him with that?" The sheriff asked.

"He tried to kill us all, he didn't succeed. It's simple." He paused, "So can I charge him?"

"I don't think that's technically attempted homicide." The sheriff told the soldier.

"I don't care what it technically is, I care that it is it!" The soldier yelled at the sheriff.

"You can charge him with attempted homicide, but he does get a fair trial."

A fair trial? I laugh every time I hear it. I think this guy's crazy into political stuff or something, because he is making things way too complicated for the apocalypse. It's the end of the world—why do we have to do a "fair trial" again?

~Trina

"Fine," the soldier snapped at the sheriff. "When is the trial?" he asked, snapping again at him in hatred.

"I'm bored," the sheriff laughed at his own pun. "Let's do it today."

Fear started to well up in my chest. I had never been in a trial before; I had never broken the law. I was led into a small room, just the sheriff, me, and the soldier. The room had a few long benches, a stand in the front of it, and looked like it could hold a dozen people in it.

The sheriff began to speak, "We don't need to make this a completely real trial. I can't be here all day, but it will be fair. Mark, you'll speak first. Then, I don't know your name, you'll go next." The sheriff explained, he seemed leaning toward my side, the side where I'm innocent.

Mark began accusing, "We were all shooting at several, and I mean several, zombies coming when he ran up. He grabbed my shoulder and told me there were zombies on the other side. I ran to the other side with all my men, and there was nothing. I believe he was trying to distract me from the other side; trying to kill us all. He was trying to get us to focus on one side so we could be killed by the other. I have reason to believe he is a spy here, that he works with RADD," Mark concluded, and everything he said sounded reasonable.

"I don't really know what to say to counteract this." I began, probably giving the least convincing reasons ever of why I'm innocent. "When I said I had seen creatures in the distance coming, I had seen them. I don't know if I'm hallucinating or what, but I saw them; an illusion or not. I saw several of them in the distance, so, naturally, I went to warn someone, when he came back they were gone." I paused, dumbfounded on what to say next. So I just reiterated what I had been saying, "As I said, I don't know what happened, but it happened. One moment they were there, in my vision at least, and the next they were gone." My explanation was unconvincing, there was no denying that. I was sitting there listening to my own words coming out unconvincing, stupid even.

Mark talked once more, "You aren't actually considering this case are you? The man is obviously lying. One moment they're there, the next they're not," he said, mocking my voice. "He's obviously lying, how can you not see it. Just put him in his little cell for whatever period of time it is for that punishment, and get it done. I don't see what's so difficult." Mark threw up his hands in frustration and annoyance.

"I don't think I can argue against Mark's logic. I can not find a reason to say you are innocent; you are guilty. The time you serve in prison can be up to twenty years. These are trying times we are in though. I will leave it up to Mark how long you serve. He can bring it down to five years, or for maximum punishment, twenty years." The sheriff said.

Mark sat there, seeming to consider what to do. "I won't charge minimum; I won't charge maximum penalty either. I want ten years of prison for him," Mark said as if he was being friendly toward me. He acted like he was doing me a favor.

"I guess that settles it." The sheriff said, walking towards me. "Don't resist or give me any trouble, okay? Let's not make this any harder than it has to be," he said lifting me up.

I was shocked, I couldn't feel anything. I was numb all over, everything secure seemed to shatter all over the floor into a million pieces. I couldn't believe I had to go to jail, as an innocent person. Prison had always scared me, but I think it was mostly the guilty conscious. I wouldn't be guilty and be in jail, I'd be in jail though.

The sheriff lifted me and I walked with him towards the cell. Wait a minute, I thought to myself. Ten years inside that small cell, that doesn't seem right. As the sheriff walked up to the door, he opened it, and we walked in. I had thought some rescue mission would suddenly take place, but I was thrown into jail. They wouldn't keep me in here for ten years, that doesn't seem logical. My thoughts were clouded, I was confused.

The sheriff sat in a chair to the left of the cell. "I think you're innocent," he said to me calmly, without looking up. He seemed to be staring down at the floor. "My name is Joshua Lincoln; most people just call me the sheriff. Since you're supposed to be in here for ten years I guess we might as well get to know each other."

When he said I'd be in ten years everything came over me again. It didn't come to me like a reminder, it came like a new realization all over again. Everything, again, went numb in me and I became worried. The stress that came with the ten years drove me crazy in ten minutes.

"Are you okay in there? I haven't heard you say anything." Joshua asked me. After a few more minutes of silence, he spoke again, "Are you okay in there? Can you at least answer me?"

"I'm fine," I barely squeaked out. I was so frozen in shock I could barely speak.

"You don't seem fine," Joshua told me. "How about some tea?" He offered.

I didn't feel like I was being treated like a prisoner; I felt like a guest in someone's home. The only thing that made me feel like I was a prisoner was the bars. Every time I looked up I saw the bars separating me from freedom. They seemed to be taunting me, trying to get me to escape.

It took almost everything in me to not scream out in anger. If I screamed out in anger I'd seem like a drunk madman. It would be near impossible to convince that I was sane and innocent after a stunt like that.

I sat on my small bed, staring down at the floor. I was taking in everything that had happened. You were just rescued from Joseph, I told myself. You came here after being rescued by Oran, who was shot. I had to remind myself. A man named Xavier supposedly rescued me and took my blood for tests. I saw several creatures and ran to get someone, I was trying to help. He thought I was causing problems and accused me of attempted homicide. I gave an unpersuasive speech about why I was innocent, and now I'm in prison. The man that decided I was guilty, falsely, just told me he thinks I'm innocent.

After replaying all these events I could hardly believe I was leading a base not even a month ago. I was wondering what I would be doing for the next ten years, if even this fort would be around for another ten years.