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THE DAY AFTER
6. Behind glass.
[SONIC, Stephen Zacharus]
"You have a visitor."
I do?
"Peachy."
Forgive my sarcasm, asshole, but I'd much rather stay in my cell and finish "reading" this Playboy…
"Let's go, Hedgehog. Now."
*Shit*.
I fucking hate prison.
Two guards escort me to the Visitors Wing--which is really nothing more than a dim, largish room split in half width-wise by a long counter, consisting in turn of about fifteen separate cubicles. Visitors sit on the other side of the counter, behind a pane of nice, safe, thick glass. Need I go on? Come on, you've seen 'em in a dozen movies.
I can guess who my caller is even before I see him. Sure enough, the guards take me to my designated booth: face to glass to face with Tails Prower. Damn, I'm good.
"How're ya, kid?" I say as I sit down, trying my best to look at least somewhat enthusiastic for him; he's really the only person I can still call a friend anymore, after all. One of the guards is about to remind me about the time limit, but I give him a look that tells him I don't need to hear it again.
I turn back to Tails, saying something along the lines of: "Hey, I'm sorry to hear about your cousin; I read that article in the paper a couple days ago."
It suddenly dawns on me that I'm no good at this sensitive shit, so I shut up.
Tails just nodded sullenly. "I was just at the funeral."
Heh. Funny. Not "Meaters' " funeral or "his" funeral, but "the" funeral. Psychological disassociation--subtle, but still there. I read about it in some magazine a while ago.
…………
Fuck, I just thought it was interesting. OKAY?!
Well, in any case, now I knew why the kid was so dressed up.
"This is, what, how many murders now?" I ask, trying to make conversation. I know damn well how many murders there were, so keep your fucking comments to yourself.
"Three."
"Damn. I hear that they think it's some sort of vampire or something."
He gives a sarcastic snort. "Yeah. That's the police for you."
We laugh a little. God, this is awkward. I don't want to be here…
"So, uh… what'd ya come down here for, bro? Small talk or whatever?"
"I dunno," he says, shaking his head. He looks uncomfortable--almost as uncomfortable as *I* feel, come to think of it. "I guess I'm just a little shaken up by this whole… thing. I figured you've been reading up on it, so I was wondering if you had any thoughts on what these murders really mean… any patterns you notice so far, maybe. You know, criminal stuff. You're good at that sort of thing, aren't you?"
Something about the way he says that pisses me off.
"Just what the fuck is *that* supposed to mean?"
Whoa… cool off, Hedgehog. The kid probably didn't mean anything by it, anyway.
"Solving crimes," he says, suddenly more than a little tense now. "That's all I meant. I'm sorry."
See?
I feel like shit now.
"It's okay, kid. I'm… just a little messed up lately, that's all. You know, prison life. That sort of crapola. It's got me a little on-edge."
And just then I notice that Tails looks pained, maybe even…
Guilty?
He swallows it down, whatever it is.
"I did notice one thing," I say, "about the murders."
"That they're all related somehow to you or me or Rouge?"
"Bingo."
"I noticed that, too. But it's too early to tell if it's just coincidence or not, isn't it? We've got a lot of friends and family in Station Square."
We? Ha, ha.
"The odds of somebody that we know getting randomly murdered by whoever this is just doesn't seem all that unlikely to me. None of them were particularly close to us, either."
Hmm. Smart kid. Not jumping to conclusions. I should take a few lessons from him.
But still…
"Eggman's behind this somehow," I say.
"You think so?"
"I *know* so."
"There's no proof yet."
"He's trying to get to me--annoy the hell out of me. It's a mind game. He knows he can get away with it because I'm in *here*."
"So what do we do?"
"We wait it out, I guess. There's really nothing we *can* do."
And I lower my voice so the distant guards won't hear me, snickering. "Unless, of course, you want to help me bust out of here."
We laugh. What Tails doesn't realize, though, is that I'm only half-joking.
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To be continued. Reviews are appreciated. Oh, and visit our site: http://tdaproject.tripod.com.
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