Hadrian's Rage (22 page)

“What?” Frank spits out derisively. “You think fucking heals all wounds?”

Even though Frank refuses to look at him, Devon shakes his head in response. “I guess I really came here because of those girls.”

“What girls?”

“You know, the ones who murdered that girl.” Devon doesn't know that Frank has little to no contact with the wave, being prohibited from wearing a voc lens or using any wall screens unless supervised. Frank has never missed any of that. It all belongs to a world he has chosen to be devoid of.

“No, Devon, I don't know.”

Devon shudders. “It was brutal. They raped and beat her first.” Shaking his head at the wonder of it, Devon adds, “Some folks think they'll get off, you know, like you did. I mean, I know you didn't get off—what I'm trying to say is there are those who think they should be sentenced like you.”

“What do you think?”

“I think they'll get exile or henbane. If it's exile, they'll be leaving Hadrian here.”

“I'll probably be on tower duty if they do.”

“Why do you figure that?”

“I'm always on tower duty.”

“You may have to be the one who has to—”

“Has to what? Shoot the bitches?” Cold and cynical Frank muses, “I suppose I will if they run back.”

“You really don't know about what they did?”

“Nope. And I don't give a shit either.”

“Wow.” Devon is stunned. “This is like the biggest news since—” Devon cuts himself off. What he avoids saying is exactly what is on Frank's mind.

“Since my trial.”

“Sorry, Frank; I—” There is a long pause while Devon waits for Frank to chastise or apologize. He gets neither. “It's just, well, their case is remarkably similar—No, that's not right. They claimed their case was similar. You see, they raped and murdered some chick because she was strai, and then after killing her, they tried to use your case for precedence. They actually believed that they were right to kill her because she was straight. Can you believe it? And then they try to use you to get off. They actually thought they would get lifetime military service like you. I can't fucking believe it. There is no way in Hadrian that defense would ever work. I mean, your cases are so radically different. First off, you weren't the one actually to rape Todd; that was that…what was his name, the guy who ran the re-ed camp Todd was in?”

Frank's mutter is barely audible. “Gideon Weller.”

“Yeah, yeah, that Weller dude; anyway, he was the one to rape Todd, so what you did was an act of mercy, an act of love. I can see that now. I couldn't before, but I understand now. I really do, Frank.”

At this point in their conversation, Devon is leaning up on his left elbow, staring at the back of Frank's head. Frank's violent response so shatters Devon that he collapses back onto the bed in complete wonderment. And yet, Frank does not move. He just bellows from the depth of his belly. His voice ricochets off the wall, slamming into Devon's head. “You don't know anything! You don't understand shit!”

Memories start banging around Devon's mind; memories of that night Roger had him come over so Frank could show off his latest possession: Todd Middleton. They didn't have sex like Frank had claimed. Todd had been broken, shattered, terrified, and completely complacent to Frank's requests. Todd had been raped—and by Frank, by his best friend. “Oh, man. Oh, man, Frank.” Devon just lies there, shaking his head, no longer looking at Frank but at the wall opposite him. Frank emits a pitiful moan. “Hadrian's Lover, Frank, how can you fucking live with yourself?”

Not his lover,
Frank thinks ruefully,
his rage. I'm Hadrian's rage.
But Devon never hears those words as Frank only shouts a command, “Shut up and fuck me.”

Devon, filled with anger and lust, wants to hurt Frank, and Frank, in self-loathing, wants desperately to be hurt. Roughly tossing Frank onto his back, Devon grips his throat with one hand and uses Frank's penis like a saddle horn with the other. It is like riding a brahma bull, with Frank bucking Devon at every thrust.

Hadrian's justice system is seldom cumbersome or overburdened. Only those few who contest the accusation laid against them find themselves inside a courtroom. Most are brought before Judge Julia Reznikoff after having confessed under interrogation while inside the temporary holding cells. Thus is the case with Angel Higgins and Grace Godoy. Neither girl denied her actions when informed that not only had the bartender seen them leave with Tara Fowler the night of her murder, but that a DNA match was found between that of Angel Higgins and the spit found on the victim. It was at this time that both girls admitted to the deed, but requested a trial by jury anyway. They had argued that their case was similar to that of Frank Hunter's, the only other known case in Hadrian where the guilty party had confessed to his crime, but due to the influence of his fathers' insistence that the act was assisted suicide and not murder, a trial had been granted. Angel Higgins also claimed assisted suicide and asked for their exile sentence to be converted into lifetime military service. Regardless of an outcry from the conservative right, causing their case to drag on through the summer months and well into fall, the two women were denied. This decision came about after Hadrian's head defense attorney held a brief interview with the young women.

Inside the small government office set aside for small meetings, Faial Raboud sits in wait for the arrival of the two young women who murdered her daughter's best friend in what was described to her as one of the most brutal forms of cruelty she has ever known to exist within Hadrian's walls. Looking about her, she notes how the room is similar to the one she sat
in while awaiting the arrival of Graham Sabine, Crystal Albright, and her two mothers.
In fact,
Faial muses,
this is almost the same view
. The only difference is that it is now early winter; a slight dusting of snow covers the mounds of dirt that were once blooming with flowers and vegetables, as well as a thin powder coating the skeletons of a few leafless trees. Even in its state of hibernation, Hadrian's Central Government's rooftop garden is strangely beautiful. It speaks of loss and promise. Faial is brought back into the moment by the door opening. A civilian peace officer enters, escorting the two women into the room. Their hands are bound with plastic ties. These items have been recycled from the numerous mounds of plastic fished out of the Hudson Bay by detritus fishermen. Angel is the first to speak.

“Are you her?”

“Her, who?” Faial asks. Though she knows Angel means her, the lawyer who saved Frank Hunter's life, she harbors so much resentment towards Angel and Grace that she is determined not to give either girl any sort of break.

“Faial Raboud.” “The lawyer.” Angel and Grace both answer, their voices crawling over one another in desperate hope.

“I am she.” Giving the women a quick glance, she points to their chairs with her eyes. “Sit down.” They do as they are told, both girls locking eyes on Faial, who purposely ignores them. Turning to the peace officer, noticing he is about to leave, she advises, “Officer, you should stay.”

Both girls start at this curt order. They were led to believe their time with their counselor would be private. What neither girl seems to realize is that Raboud has no intention of representing them. She is merely there as the Head of Hadrian's defense to determine whether or not another member of her team should be given the task of defending them. This decision, though already made up in her mind, is based on the facts of the case as presented by the interrogation team. In the voc vid, Angel confessed to getting Tara so intoxicated she could barely walk, to their stripping off her clothes, beating her, raping her with a beer bottle, then punching and kicking her until she is unconscious. When the investigator asked what she did after that, Angel said Grace was worried Tara might wake up and tell on them, so she hit her in the head three times with a brick. What really struck Faial as horrific was the cold and precise way in which Angel described the scene. When asked to give a reason for this attack and for spitting on the
woman's dead body, she replied simply: “She was a strai” and then acted as if this justified the matter. Thus, as Faial sees it, this meeting is merely a formality; she could easily make her decision without talking to the guilty parties. Watching the interrogation, hearing both women confess, was enough upon which to base her opinion. And yet, Faial is suffering from a masochistic need to hear the girls' answers for herself. What she viewed seems too surreal. It is unfathomable that any human being could think this way and honestly believe her actions justified.

“So,” Faial begins, “you admit to killing Tara Fowler.” Faial isn't even bothering to put the question mark in her voice.

“Yes, ma'am,” Angel responds first, “but it's like Frank Hunter, see; we were killing a strai and—”

Before Angel can finish, Faial cuts her off. “Like Frank Hunter? Tell me, when did Tara beg for you to take her life?” Angel stutters at this point. “No doubt,” Faial responds for her, “Tara's life was so unbearable after being raped but—” here Faial pauses “—you were the ones to rape her.”

Grace finds her voice. “I didn't!”

“No,” Faial agrees. “You just held her in place so Angel could rape Tara with,” looking Angel in the eyes, “what was it you used to simulate penile vaginal intercourse, a beer bottle?” Angel closes her eyes and sinks back into her chair. It is clear now Faial Raboud will not be defending them. “No, ladies,” Faial points out to them as if speaking to children, “you cannot equate your crime to that of Frank Hunter's. Frank Hunter did not rape the victim. Frank Hunter did not beat the victim. Frank Hunter was the victim's lover and best friend. He acted out of a false sense of mercy. You two, on the other hand, raped, beat, and murdered Tara for one reason only—because she told you she was heterosexual.” Glaring at the two girls now, Faial ends their meeting. “I will not defend you; no member of Hadrian's National Defense team will defend you. You may seek out a private lawyer if you wish, but it will do you very little good as my recommendation, along with that of Hadrian's National Prosecutor, Graham Sabine, is that you both be summarily exiled or offered Black Henbane for assisted suicide. Only one more voice is needed to seal your fate, that of Judge Julia Reznikoff.”

Grace immediately bursts into tears as Angel cries out, “You can't do this to us!”

“I can and I will. You see, ladies, you both confessed, a witness connects
you with Tara near the time of the murder, and your DNA, Ms. Higgins, was found on the dead girl's body.” Faial turns cold. “In the name of Hadrian, why did you spit on the dead girl's body?”

“Because she was a fucking strai and strais make me sick!” Angel's voice hisses out like that of a snake.

Faial smiles grimly. “That ends this meeting. The facts of your case are simple. You are guilty. If Hadrian had hate crime laws, and I'm going to make sure we do
very soon,
I'd see to it that you were both executed. As the law currently stands, you get to choose between exile or assisted suicide.”

Grace gasps.

Angel glares, her eyes filled with hate. “Fucking strai lover.”

“Call me what you will,” Faial sneers. “This meeting is over.” Standing now, as she intends to leave, Faial places both hands on the table and leans in closer to Angel's face. “It doesn't matter to me which choice the two of you make, just so long as it means you will never again reside in Hadrian!”

Today’s
Salve!
is going to look at the survival kit given to the exiled. As you know, when our citizens are exiled, they must head out into the unknown and find their own way in the outside world. The first few weeks are the most difficult as they trudge their way through the unruly terrain beyond Hadrian, which lies between our walls and the rest of humanity. As we know, this is to be the fate of two of Hadrian’s darlings. We will be losing Angel Higgins and Grace Godoy as they walk through the Midwest Gate tomorrow morning, deep into the tree line, making their way through the forest and what little wildlife might exist in the neutral zone between our world and the masses. As our girls will be heading in a western direction, it is most likely they will end up living in the country of Alberta. Hadrian has had some positive dealings with Alberta in the past; its prime minister helped curtail the attacks against our Wall by the Manitoba brigade. This gives the young women hope that they will be embraced within this outsider world.

Honestly, I have no idea what it would be like to live amongst heterosexual barbarians. No doubt these two will have to hide their identities and pretend to be people they are not. This is something we have worked so hard against here in Hadrian, ensuring that no gay man or lesbian need ever have to hide whom he or she is ever again, and now two of our own are forced to venture out into that cold, intolerant world. It is sad irony, indeed, that they must now go live with the very people from whom they tried to defend Hadrian. Now, don’t get me wrong, Hadrian. I do not condone murder, but their act was not so very different from that of Frank Hunter’s five years ago. He, too, killed a strai, but he didn’t get exiled or offered henbane. No, this man is still alive and a member of our society. Granted, he must remain a part of Hadrian’s ground forces for the
rest of his life, but even that is better
than
exile or death. It is the opinion of HNN and this reporter that Hadrian’s justice system abandoned these girls. They, too, should be sentenced to life in the military given the opportunity to shoot heterosexual barbarians from the top of our walls as was the advantage granted to Frank Hunter.

Again, I veer off topic. Now I must race to tell you about the items that go into the survival kit for the exiled. Don’t worry; these women are not going beyond our Wall empty-handed. Each girl will be given a pair of thermal underwear, long rain slickers, thermal blankets, a tarp, a coil of rope, one bowie hunting knife, matches inside a waterproof box, a paperback guidebook to surviving in the forest (both women lost their vocal contact lens when incarcerated), a paper version of Hadrian’s most recent map of Alberta, as well as six weeks’ worth of dehydrated rations. Hopefully, this will be enough to help Angel Higgins and Grace Godoy survive the challenges they will no doubt face during their trek from Hadrian to the nearest town or city in Alberta.

And now, a final word to the two women being exiled: Ladies, what you did was wrong. We all know that. I know you know that, and I am certain you feel remorse for your actions. Killing that strai was foolish. I wish there was a way to change the minds of Hadrian’s justice system, but it appears your case has been irrevocably closed. Take care of yourselves out there in the wild terrain of the outside world. Be there for one another and stay strong. My thoughts, and the thoughts of Hadrian’s citizens, go with you.

Vale!