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She giggled. The girl already looked healthier. She was a
redskin, and redskins tend to stay healthy or die young. Benny sauntered out the
door.
“Stay. I’ll get your tea.”
Sue made a stinky face, but Benny only laughed. “Some day
you’ll have to tell me just how you found out how bird crap tastes. The moldy
stuff.” Frowning, Benny shook his head. “I mean dog crap.”
He stepped out, but she called, “Benny?”
Benny turned and got a worn pillow in the face. He threatened
to throw it back, charging her with it brushing the scabby ceiling, but stopped
and gently raised Sue’s head, sliding it under her.
“If you feel good enough for a pillow fight, tomorrow you
can go to work.”
Face stricken, Sue turned from him and Benny winced, cursing
himself for reminding her.
“Yeah,” he said, forcing a laugh. “At the docks. How
are you at tossing around forty kilo sacks?”
When she turned back, she was smiling and relief washed
through him.
“Go get my tea.”
Bowing fast and many times, he said, “Yes, ma’am. Yes, my
lady. Will that be all, mistress ma’am, or would you like to take a stick to
my butt?”
“Naked or covered?”
A cramp hit him in a very sensitive place, right below the
belt. Benny stared at Sue. Her eyes sparkled with an age-old Mona Lisa smile.
“We’ll see. But I get to return the favor.” Throwing
her a wicked leer, he dodged the pillow with a mocking jeer and ran to the
kitchen with that cramp threatening to kill him.
Judge Harrison sat the bench with a certain aplomb. It was
difficult, fighting the boredom of the job. The next docket was the same as the
last. Another raider’s brat. Doubtless he was caught stealing.
A bailiff stated the case, and a sullen boy of eight or nine
was dragged in wearing chains enough to stagger him. Harrison sat up. The brat
wore a wire muzzle, as well. A biter?
Prosecutor Guillame, a rather handsome woman for all her cold
airs, stood before the bench.
“Your Honor,” she said, and grimaced. Staring at the wall
behind Harrison’s head, she said, “The child refuses to give a name.”
Harrison touched a black ball on the bench. It was plastic
with a clear spot in it. He rubbed it, thinking, Guilty or not guilty?
“So? Not our first, ma’am. These children are almost
always far below any reasonable level of intelligence. Perhaps it doesn’t have
a name. The charges are?”
“He. The child is a boy . . .” At a cool look from
Harrison, she hesitated. “Well, the family was flushed out of the sewers.
Apparently there are side tunnels from prior to the last century. It was
directly under the outer part of South Philadelphia . . . ” She gagged and
turned away to sip at a glass of water.
“Yes, yes.” Harrison consulted the ball. Guilty? It
remained a smooth black. “Continue, please.”
Taking several deep breaths, she returned to the bench.
“It was the smell, your honor. The raiders apparently had
been kidnapping people and eating them.”
Harrison glanced down to hide a smile.
“As I understand it, there are some one thousand reputed
cannibals in the metro area.” He shrugged. “Berlin has easily twice that
many, and in some of the finest homes, as well. The good Baron Nebalnur, for
one.”
“The German Lama?” Eyes widening, Ms Guillame took a
slight step back, then stiffened to regain her composure.
“The parents were taken by the Harvesters before we could
get a statement. I wish to ask the court to recall them to our custody until we
can.”
Leaning over the ball, Harrison felt the quirt wrapped around
his scrotum tighten in a delectable twist of pain.
“And then what? According to notes your office sent, even
when given enough truth serum to choke a mule the parents refused to speak.”
He eased back on the quirt. “No, they’re where they belong. As for the
boy?" He glanced down at the ball. Guilty?
Nothing showed.
Frowning, Harrison said, “In such cases the law calls for a
frontal lobotomy. After the child is healed, he can be made of some use to
society.” The mallet cracked on the block to cut off any words the woman might
have. “Bailiff, make certain the boy is marked appropriately.”
“Sir.”
Taking the lead, the man jerked on it. Puzzled and trying to
smile through his fear, the boy shuffled along behind him and the gate clanged
shut.
“Your Honor, I must protest,” Guillame said. “The minor
is a child too young to understand the charges. He should be placed in a creeche
and trained, not simply lobotomized and sterilized.”
Harrison leaned forward and the quirt tightened hard.
“I am judge of this court. If you feel the need to see it
as otherwise, then I suggest you take it to a higher source.”
She gave a slow nod.
The bailiff shouted out another case. Harrison was forced to
lean back. He touched the ball. Guilty or not guilty?
The case involved a young woman and he smiled. She gave a
timorous smile back.
When Harrison asked the ball again, the circle turned red,
clearing to show the word YES.
If the girl had black hair, she would very nearly be a twin
to Sue.
Guillame stepped forward. “She confesses her guilt and had
returned the watch she stole. We ask for lenience from the court.”
“Hm?” Harrison glanced at the prosecutor. “Of
course.”
The girl beamed at Harrison.
“Twenty lashes.”
The girl stared in shock
©2004 StoriesByEmail.com
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