Guilty

Prologue

Prologue

The world was spinning. Dizziness overcame his sweating face, and he struggled to gasp for air as his heart screamed to rip out of his chest. Doctors swarmed his dying body; one shoved a mask of sickly sweet air in his face, another jabbing several needles in his arm. As the world began to go black, he felt his body being lifted onto the operating table, his mind growing fuzzy but not completely blank. Years of surgeries and dying breaths had made him tolerant to the anesthesia, but too much could still kill him. His mind fought to stay awake while he fought his mind, trying to slip out of the terrifying reality that was consciousness. Another heart failure, from this sick and twisted heart that was not his, that was not human. As his muscles began to abandon him, he made one last effort to reach out to his father, hand outstretched, eyes pleading. His father stared at him from the corner, analyzing the scene. But he did not comfort his son. He only watched as his son faced the trial of life and death.

 

In the city, a scared, frightened girl quivered in the face of the jury, another kind of trial between life and death. She knew what was coming, the evidence was obvious. The only thing left was for her to hear the conviction. There was no hope they'd let her off; the government was cruel and powerful these days.  The judge stared at her, the teenager with pale skin and flowing blond hair, the one who'd held a knife to the police after they’d stopped her in the streets for taking part in antigovernment activities.

 

In another courtroom stood another defendant. She felt smaller than she had ever before. She was facing a death sentence for a book. She felt sick. Her only hope was now her end. The other infractions were minor compared to what she'd spent years hiding under her bed. Her family only cared about losing the income they'd been using her for. She's never been anything but a tool.

 

He stared at his disappointed father from across the room. He bowed his head to the floor, staring at his cold leather shoes that had been shined just for the occasion. He felt cleaner than he'd ever been, but the world now saw him as a dirty criminal for opposing the government, for calling out against the dictatorship of the president. The world needed to realize the terrors they’d created.  The sharp haircut and desperately cleaned fingernails couldn't help him pass for innocent, let alone save his life.

 

His partner in crime, a young gypsy from Spain, sat on a bench outside. He tapped his fingers on the armrest, wondering if his friend would be convicted. He ran his hand through his long sweaty hair, his dark eyes pacing back and forth across the room. He was afraid they might come in and kill him now. Foreigners no longer received fair trial, especially poor refugees. Any felony was met with death. Any other crime got a person deported, and with the war, that was even worse. He could only hope they'd be kind.

 

Tears poured from her eyes. Her father tried to whisper in her ear, but the judge quickly stopped the act of secrecy. Her wide brown eyes searched for any hope, fearful of the killer in the room. She mourned for the loss of another's life, and she mourned because she would soon lose her own. She cried for her father, and she cried for herself. She feared prison, the place where she would lose her humanity and her morals. But what she feared most was the conviction. The loss of friends, the loss of the little family she had left. The loss of her name, her reputation. Because she was innocent.

 

He stood tall and silent. His stormy grey eyes gazed straight ahead. The walls wouldn't break, not today. He regretted his actions, but it was an accident. A woman was dead because of him, though the firearm possession alone could put him in prison for life. He would be lucky to live. The fact that he was from the Southern Republic made things worse. It was worse than being foreign. He knew he had to stay strong. He might not survive until his death. The last thing he wanted to do was lose himself.

 

The courtrooms silenced as the judges read out the convictions.

 

"Jill Vadas, on the accusation of manslaughter while under the influence, you have been found..."

 

"Thalia Jackson, on the accusation of practicing religion and possessing a Bible, you have been found..."

 

"Rush Harrison, on the accusation of manslaughter due to neglect and possession of illegal substances with intent to sale, you have been found..."

 

"Alain Moreno, on the accusation of accessory to crime and possession of Illegal substances with the intent to sell, you have been found..."

 

"Rosamond Markey, on the accusation of second degree murder, you have been found..."

 

"General Travis, on the accusation of manslaughter and possession of firearms, you have been found..."

 

"...GUILTY. For your crime, you have been sentenced to ten years of slavery in prison and then execution," the judges read the exact same verdicts, each having committed an equal crime. Any death, no matter how accidental, was repaid with life. Religion was considered the worst crime a person could commit, even worse than rebellion, because it could spread and conquer, take the place of the government's authority. Six pairs of eyes lost hope. Then, before the police could take them away, the judges began to speak again, " However, there is an alternative. Due to your lack of former infractions, seemingly innocuous behavior, and good health, you are eligible for a different sentence."

 

All eyes turned to the judges.

 

"You can choose to be a medical research subject for the government for ten years. For the majority of the time, you will be able to stay at your home, though you will not be allowed to leave the country, and any overnight trips must be approved. Your crime will not be on your records, and your family will be paid $10,000 a year for any medical expenses that might arise. After your sentence is over, you will be completely free, no parole, no jail, no government monitoring. You have to decide now." The defendants looked at their families. Ten years that would normally be spent in jail would be spent testing drugs and being studied? Then, instead of death, they would be free to live their lives? It was an easy decision. They chose life.