Like Sheep
Chapter Seven
The streets weren't very crowded at that time of day, since the average workday had not yet
ended. Amber strolled along at her leisure, her long blonde hair falling gently around her
shoulders. The few people on the streets bustled past her without giving her or her strange eyes
a second look. She uncurled her fist and revealed the eye patch her mother had used after
acquiring eye surgery when she had gotten into a car accident. Ducking into a side alley, Amber
quickly put the eye patch over her completely black eye and tied the string. As she was about to
leave she heard a noise further into the alley. She frowned and followed the noise.
As Amber went further into the alley she discovered that it had obviously been a sanctuary for
homeless people at one point in time but was now mostly abandoned. She continued onward,
but then stopped short. In front of her lay a still body, with a dark pool of blood around it.
Before Amber had time to react, she was suddenly spun around to face a gnarled, dirty face.
The man it belonged to was dressed in shabby, torn clothes that were covered in dirt and grime.
He appeared to be homeless as well.
"What are you doing back here?" he demanded.
She couldn't find an answer.
He studied her for a moment and then moved away. "I didn't do anything wrong," he told her.
"What?" she choked out in disbelief.
The man motioned to the dead body. "I didn't do anything wrong, 'bout him," he repeated.
Amber quickly evaluated the man: he looked homeless himself, and as if he had been for years.
"Why did you kill him?" she asked him finally.
"He had it comin'," the man said gruffly. "An eye for an eye."
The man was staring at her. "Why aren't you ruinnin' like any other person would? Aren't you
going to scream for help? You're with a murderer you know."
Amber didn't move. "What'd he do?"
"He's the reason my sister's dead. I thought I'd repay the favor."
She was silent. Her eyes darted to the dead body on the floor.
The man sat on a couch across from Amber and looked at her thoughtfully. There was a deep
silence between them, one that could not even be penetrated by the traffic on the street, for a
few moments. Amber wasn't sure why she, like the man said, wasn't running for help, but
instead stood staring calmly at a murderer and his victim.
Finally, the man said, "You know, you kind of remind me of my sister."
Amber took a startled step backward.
"You look a little bit like 'er." He pointed to the crates next to Amber. "Have a seat, miss."
Amber did as she was told.
The man stared off into the distance. "I wasn't always homeless, you know. I had a good life. My
parents weren't rich or anything, but we wasn't poor neither. I wanted to grow up to be a DA, I
did…But I got that out of my head real quick."
"What happened?" Amber asked quietly.
He looked her in the eye, as if contemplating whether he should share something with her. "You
listen to me: if there's one thing that separates humans from animals is our aptitude for revenge
and justice. And in some cases those two are the same."
"I-I don't understand-,"
"The world is cruel. There's no right or wrong in it anymore, especially in Gotham nowadays.
The only good people this city has seen in years was those Wayne people- the doctor and his
wife. And look what 'appened to them, miss: they got shot in some alley, just like that bastard
not ten feet from you."
"Why are you telling me this?" Amber asked quietly.
He looked at her. "'Cause I know who you are. You're that girl from the papers."
"What girl?" she asked, but her heart was pounding and her blue eye dilated with anxiety.
"The one at the circus. I know you're that girl." The homeless man's eyes are gentle. "That's why I
know you understand."
She stood up. "You're wrong. I don't understand at all."
"Oh come on now, that's just plain horse shit." He was up and in her face before Amber had time
to blink. She stayed before him, frozen.
"You think what 'appened to you is okay?" he snorted.
She was angry. "No I don't."
"Then why the 'ell are you standing there telling me you don't understand what I just did?" he
demanded. "You'd do the same in an instant- I can see that in your eye." He leaned even closer;
she tried to recoil but she had nowhere to go. "Get angry, miss. Why ain't you out there beating
him like he beat you? You're letting him get away with near-murder."
Amber swallowed. "The police-,"
"HA! The police? Miss, I dunno what you've been smokin' to dull the pain, but the police in this
city are about as useful as a toy gun. They don't do shit. Tell me, miss, has they arrested the guy
who attacked you?"
Her silence was confirmation enough.
Suddenly Amber felt cold metal against her hand. She looked down and saw with shock that the
man had pressed his gun into her hand.
She swallowed again. "Are you telling me to commit murder?"
He smiled. "No, miss. I'm telling you to get justice."
Amber was about to say something to him, but they could hear sirens approaching. A wide blue
eye searched wild green ones.
"I called the police," the man said simply. "You might want to leave now, miss." And with that,
he turned and began trotting in the opposite direction.
"Wait!" Amber called. "Aren't you going to stay?"
"And get arrested for serving justice? I don't think so, miss!" he called over his shoulder. Then he
paused and turned around to fully look at her. "I'm not ashamed of what I did, but that don't
mean I'm going to go to jail. Now hurry: if they sees you, you'll get thrown in the slammer. I
couldn't stand it if you get arrested for something I did, miss. Hurry!"
By the sound of the voices and footsteps getting louder, Amber could tell the police officers were
getting closer. Like a scared rabbit, she ran off in a random direction, but not before a policeman
saw her.
"HEY! YOU! STOP!" he yelled.
She ran even faster, not oblivious to the fact that she was being followed. She ducked into an
adjoining side alley that smelled even worse than the one she had been in before and pools of a
grimy, liquid substance were everywhere. It was in one of these puddles that Amber stepped in
and felt herself sliding painfully forward. With a small scream she fell and attempted to brace
herself with her hands.
She lay on the ground for a few moments before she heard behind her the sound of guns clicking
into place and labored breathing.
"Fuck," she whimpered, attempting to bury her face into her hands.
"This is so wrong," Amber said. Again.
"No, what's wrong is you shooting a guy and then running from the police," a cop called to her.
He sounded annoyed.
"I didn't shoot him," Amber argued.
The cop merely rolled his eyes and went back to his card game. The blonde sat alone in the
holding cell of the Gotham Police Department, watching the policemen file paperwork and chat
around the water cooler. Someone had taken her eye patch from her so she merely stayed still
and kept her black eye closed while the other stared out of her gaunt face.
The door leading into the PD opened again and a familiar face strolled in, a box of doughnuts
balanced on her hand. Amber's heart began to thud painfully.
" 'Bout time, Ramirez!" a few of the cops shouted at the incoming detective.
"Quit your whining," she told them playfully.
Amber watched her warily through her one eye, peering at the box. Her stomach rumbled: she
realized she hadn't eaten since….when exactly? Yesterday morning? The night before?
"Who's in the cage?" Ramirez asked absently as she dished out doughnuts to the swarm that
surrounded her.
"Eh, some girl named Amber Smith. Caught her in an alley running away from a dead body with
the gun in her po-,"
"Smith? Amber Smith?" Ramirez screeched. All talking ceased around her.
"Yeah, why?" the same cop asked, confused.
"You idiot," the woman snarled, pushing through the crowd over to the cage. When she caught
sight of Amber sitting on the bench, staring at her silently, she slowed her walk. Amber never
took her eye off the detective as she retrieved the keys to the cage from a nearby desk. She
approached the door to the cell cautiously and unlocked it. Ramirez quickly stepped inside, not
bothering to shut the door behind her. Amber stayed immobile as the detective came toward her.
"Amber? Is that you?" Ramirez asked gently.
The blonde girl said nothing.
"What're you doing here? What happened?"
"They think I killed a man."
A cop decided to speak at that moment: "It was a good arrest, Ramirez. She had the murder
weapon in her possession."
"Is that true?" Ramirez inquired softly. Amber nodded once.
The detective turned to face the police officer. "Who was killed?"
"A homeless man: Eddie Jenkins. Was convicted of rape a few years back."
With that sentence, what the homeless man had said suddenly made sense: "He's the reason my
sister's dead."
Ramirez thought for a moment. "She didn't do it," she finally said.
"What?" the officer roared. "How do you know?"
"Let's put it this way: Amber wouldn't be killing a homeless man. If she was going to kill anyone,
I know exactly who it'd be." She turned back to the blonde before her. She knelt between her
thighs. "Amber, do you know who did this? Did they give you the gun?"
Amber's gaze was icy. "I don't know who did it. I found the gun lying next to the body, and I
picked it up to turn it in," she lied. "The next thing I know, some cops are chasing after me."
Ramirez sighed and stood. "Let me get you out of here. You don't belong in this cage."
Just as the Hispanic detective was about to exit the holding cell, Amber called out: "Yeah, you're
right Ramirez…. There's someone who does, but you haven't caught him yet, have you?"
The detective froze and turned slowly. Her deep brown eyes rested on the fuming blonde.
"Peter," Amber mouthed. "And you won't catch him will you? 'Cause he's in the mob's pocket
and I'm just some faceless kid."
Ramirez swallowed. "Amber-," then she stopped. There was nothing that she could say.
Amber realized in that moment that the homeless man had been right. She needed to help herself
since everyone, even Ramirez, was useless. And she knew just how to do it.