Alone in her cell, she sits and thinks. A dangerous game indeed, one they cannot monitor, cannot watch. Soon that will change, her research into the human mind had been quite introductory. But in the meantime, she could think. About the various geneticists, that had toppled as a result of her efforts. Lewis Dodgeson, death by acid, concealed in a water pistol. Burnt far enough into his brain, and his body. Only her testimony identified him. There was another, they knew that. Running somewhere, away from the corruption, the 'rape' of the natural world.
They had different views. One loved dinosaurs, the other, hated them as an abomination. One was being used, the other was using. And she knew that. She accepted it. He was most likely dying. He was getting quite old now. She, in comparison, was rather young. One was being abused, and that was the one that was using him. Abused with words, heavy words. Simple and painful. Like bumping into a wall was painful. More shocking that hurtful. He was always drunk at the time. A common drunkard, only, he wasn't common. He was delightful, and even in drink, he was far more aware of the world around than she was. He was her reality.
She dreamt of him. Every minute was given over to him. The sad song she sang softly in the secret silence, reminded her of him, somehow. 'Are you being served, sir' It annoyed the guards, creepy as it was. She knew that, somewhere, but it was not bourne by a subconscious desire, much less a conscious one. She had no time for that. She wanted peace, and quiet, somewhere in her heart. But he was there, peacefully tyrannical. Raptorical. He was a lot more like Velociraptors, curse the squint-eyed bastards. Not at all like Tyrannosaurus Rex, oh no. He dominated her entire heart, since she was just a (relatively) small girl.
Well, not her entire heart. She still loved things he scorned. But he was important. Not the most important, but fairly important. Unconditional loyalty. She would not delude herself into believing it love.
The guards came to take her away. 'they're coming to take me away, ha ha!' It was to a judge, she could recall that much. And in the witness stand, there they stood. Even he hadn't done what she had done. But she was a rebel, always had been, no-one to understand her, not even him. They were going to sit her on the seat, the hot spot, and try her for her crimes. Someone would have her plead insane. She wasn't insane. Just crazy. If she wasn't crazy, she would go insane. From what she had done, or from all the guilty looks. Accusing, Accriminating her. The lawyer for her case walked over. She eyed him, not very critically. Just inspecting. Not very young, just old and inexperienced. Sweating too. They were in Arizona. Near her childhood home if she wasn't mistaken. Hey look, she wasn't. Maps are rather handy, aren't they.
Did they know? Those scientific minds, did they know what had driven her? Did it matter? Cold-blooded murder, ooh, lookie, they were involving that older case. Grief, she was only seventeen at the time. Did it matter? Apparently so. Everyone, all of them, nodded. They had found the body. Through the head, but it was kindness. Better shot than eaten by living garbage disposals. Alive. Uncaring.
Staang, they were all there. Even that one, that little girl, bratty cored. And the little prat. Not so little, but does that matter? What does matter in this courtroom-oh. Witness for the defense was being called. Him. Guess that does matter. And there he was, to the gasps of the rest. They thought him long since dead. He was dying. All were born dying. But this one, striding forward. Reluctance on his face. Some how his weapon wasn't checked at the door. She pitied the bouncers. And speaking of bouncing, delovely, his arse is still pretty delicious looking. Bounce, bang, bang, she really hoped it didn't go off, Franchi SPAS 12.
Robert Muldoon