Second Solace Page 5

  But it didn’t last for long.

  ‘This way,’ Corser barked.

  He grabbed hold of my arm and hauled me down the midnight path. Something or someone was out there. Though I couldn’t see another soul, I felt an army of eyes watching me.

  ‘Be ready to fight, James,’ whispered the Wolf. ‘That tall bitch won’t let you off easily.’

  ‘Relax, would you? No one’s got a gun to my head.’

  ‘Are you so sure about that?’

  Of course I wasn’t. Whoever these people were, they meant business. Corser, the woman and her cronies all wore military-grade gear, yet their actions were not that of any governmental agency I had seen.

  But then, were we still in America? I had experienced firsthand just how easy it was to traverse the Canadian border. The terrain was precisely what I remembered from my last time in Canada, albeit colder and snowier. If I was in the Great White North, I was one step closer to freedom.

  Or one step closer to a bullet.

  ‘What is this place?’ I asked Corser.

  ‘That’s classified.’

  ‘No it isn’t. You guys aren’t government.’

  ‘Talk back and I’ll put you on your ass.’

  So we walked in silence. The forest was dense. Pine trees, if I knew my trees well enough to guess. They stretched hundreds of feet into the moonlit sky like a thousand swaying giants. The path twisted and turned up the hill. Wherever we were, we had to be hundreds of feet above sea level. Thousands maybe. I had no doubt in my mind that once the dawn came, I would be privy to one of the most breathtaking views on the entire planet. So long as I made it to dawn.

  ‘Where are we going?’ I asked.

  ‘That’s-’

  ‘I swear, if you say it’s classified again I’ll take that gun off you and shoot myself in the head.’

  ‘I’m taking you to meet the chief. He needs to decide what we’re going to do.’

  ‘This Cage guy, who is he? What’s he like?’

  ‘He’s a considerate man, but you don’t want to get on his bad side.’

  ‘And if he decides I’m not needed?’

  ‘We’ve already got a few spare graves dug out.’

  We walked through the night until finally a tiny shred of light began to appear through the dense forest. The welcoming orange glow grew lighter and brighter as we approached until finally I could see where it originated from.

  The cabin was a magnificent beast. Easily the size of a small manor, it stretched up three storeys into the trees, and at least one hundred feet out into the darkness. Replicating the resplendence found in places like Washington DC, the manor looked like an enormous nineteenth century courthouse. Six huge pillars supported a massive gable protruding over the entrance, with a message carved proudly into the wood, and illuminated by torchlight. Imperium In Imperio. My Latin is far from noteworthy, but I thought I could garner the meaning behind it.

  The door swung open as we approached, and a figure appeared. Silhouetted by the interior light, it was the woman from earlier, the woman who wanted me dead.

  ‘We’re here to see the chief.’ Corser said matter-of-factly.

  ‘He’s busy. You will have to wait until the morning,’ she sniffed.

  ‘Cecilia, I’ve been on the road for over thirty hours. Give me a goddamn break and let me see him.’

  ‘Detain the prisoner for the evening and he can await trial at dawn,’ Cecilia snapped, speaking as though I wasn’t standing feet from her, or lacked the finesse to comprehend speech.

  ‘Await trial? He ain’t convicted here.’

  ‘He will stand trial to determine his fate. That is the law of the land. We cannot allow a snake in our midst.’

  ‘You’ve got a thing for calling me a snake,’ I interjected. ‘It seems a little rude, don’t you think?’

  Her fierce eyes finally reached my own.

  ‘Then what would you prefer?’ she leered. ‘Rodent? Hound?’

  ‘I’d prefer James. But if you have to go with the animal analogy, I think I’d suit wolf.’

  ‘This is bullshit,’ Corser barked. ‘I know Cage is in there, and I know you’re stalling. This job was his call. He sanctioned it. He needs to make a decision.’

  ‘He will make a decision in the morning when this snake is on trial and not a moment sooner. Now put him in the hole before I arrest you for obstruction of justice.’

  ‘You can’t do that.’

  ‘I will do whatever I please, Corser. I am Cage’s second in command. I could have you hung, drawn and quartered if I felt like it. So do not tell me what I can and can’t do. Now put the prisoner in the hole before I put you both in there myself.’

  Without another word, Corser turned and pulled me back into the darkness away from the mansion. His fingers squeezed into my bicep. With my hands still cuffed, I could do little to object, and sensing any further discussion would only hinder my current predicament, I decided to stay silent.

  Corser led me down a track that slithered around the side of the courthouse and down into a clearing in the woods. There were more buildings here. Squat and square in the frame of an old western settlement. All probably built with resources scavenged from the surrounding forest and built to a professional standard. We walked down the centre of the street. I felt more eyes watching me from behind curtains, but no one showed their face.

  At the end of the street was a crossroad. To both sides I saw other rows of buildings in the same style as the one we had just walked down. More homes and amenities built by hand. Straight ahead, I could see a large wall. Again, built from the woodland, the wall looked like something found around a historic English castle in ye olde times. I wondered if there was a moat on the far side. From the sounds of it, there was a paranoid king hiding behind it on his throne. Corser steered me left, and we walked for several minutes in the pitch black with the wall to our right. It had to be at least fifteen feet tall and built to last.

  Up ahead I could see a figure standing alone in the darkness. As we approached, he turned to face us. He was a big guy armed with a big rifle. The moonlight cast an eerie light over his features, making them appear paranormal.

  ‘So this is the prisoner, huh?’ he grunted. ‘Cecilia didn’t get her way then?’

  ‘This is all her doing,’ replied Corser. ‘It’s the hole for our guest tonight, then a trial in the morning.’

  The big guy took a step back to reveal a large hole in the ground. It had to be at least six feet wide. No telling how deep. To the right of it was a cover built from crisscrossing wooden planks and covered in a camouflaged tarp. The big guy took a step forward and grabbed hold of my other arm, and together they lowered me down into the pit.

  ‘Watch your step down there, son,’ said the big guy. ‘These here pits attract all kinds of wildlife.’

  He barked a merry laugh as he heaved the cover into place, and just like that I was back in a prison cell.

  Brilliant.

  The ground beneath my feet was freezing and uneven. Clear signs from where the shovel met the earth were visible all around, immortalised by the cold. I figured the pit had to be around ten feet deep. No way was I going to be able to climb out without encountering a myriad of difficulties. Every inch of dirt that I touched was as solid as concrete. No give whatsoever. I was stuck here until someone came and pulled me out. Either that or I froze to death first.

  My torn prison garments could whip up a chill on a hot summer day, and there was nothing in the pit save for a couple of bugs. If I lay down and tried to sleep, I would die. No ifs, ands or buts. My body temperature would drop faster than the Hindenburg, and I was not about to die in a damn hole in the ground because some psycho lady had a beef with me meeting her boss.

  I didn’t know what time it was. Maybe eleven o’clock. Maybe earlier, maybe later. I decided to go for eleven o’clock on the dot. That meant I had around ten hours or so until the sun rose and the ice began to thaw. Ten hours worked out as thirty-six thousand se
conds, or exactly one round of a game I was about to get intimately familiar with.

  A game I liked to call, don’t die from hypothermia.

  The aim of the game was simple. Walk round and round the short circuit of the pit, keeping your feet as close to the edge where the ground didn’t seem to be as unspeakably cold, and try to ignore the ever-growing sense of blinding exhaustion that followed you around like a shadow. For every thousand laps, you get to sit down for two minutes. Rinse and repeat until light or death came.

  By the time the sun finally reared its ugly head, I was exhausted. Every part of my body cried out for rest, but I knew that even though it was warm enough to risk sleep, there was no chance in hell I would get more than a couple of minutes before Cecilia summoned me to stand trial.

  Sure enough, no sooner had I shut my eyes did I hear the sound of the cover scraping across the dirt, and sunlight dazzling my face.

  ‘How did you sleep?’ asked the gruff man who had stood guard all night.

  ‘I think I’ll need to speak to the manager,’ I groaned. ‘I found crumbs on the bed sheets.’

  He gave a hearty laugh, and leaned down into the pit, hand outstretched. I took it, and he hauled me up and out with incredible ease. Sure, since my arrival in America, I had lost a bit of weight, but even still he acted like I weighed less than a child.

  Waiting for me above ground was Corser. He had changed clothes. He’d swapped out his menacing black soldier attire, for an equally menacing navy blue get up. Really brought out the irritation in his eyes. A bundle of clothes were tucked under his arm. Standing beside him were two other guards. Both were women, dressed in the same garb as Corser. Both carried sub-machine guns. The same cheery, welcoming smile completely vacant from their faces.

  ‘You’re to change into these,’ Corser said, passing over the garments. ‘For your court appearance. We do things by the book.’

  ‘You’ve changed your tone,’ I replied. ‘I thought you said the court hearing was bullshit?’

  ‘Cage gets what Cage wants. Now get changed.’

  I struggled to pull off my torn orange jumpsuit. With my hands still cuffed, it was damn near impossible. The guy who had pulled me out laughed.

  ‘Wait here,’ he said. ‘We’ll get you out of those things.’

  He was gone for a few minutes, in which I stood and savoured the sour taste of stagnant silence as the four of us waited for his return. He returned with a bolt cutter and made quick work of the links between my cuffs.

  With that out of the way, I changed quickly into my new attire. The trousers were similar in style to those worn by Corser, except light grey instead of royal blue. The top consisted of a tired white shirt that was a few sizes too big, but I hid it nicely under a thick knitted jumper. Boots were not provided, which was a shame because my ridiculous prisoner plimsolls had already worn thin from ten hours of trying not to die. But at least I had something better to wear. I could already feel the benefits of a few extra layers. I threw my prison garments back into the hole before anyone could object and fell in line behind Corser with the two armed females burning holes into the back of my jumper.

  The settlement had burst into life. As we walked back up the main street, I saw people going about their business. The whole place felt like a western town that had been picked up and dumped in the mountains, with all the cowboys replaced by armed militia. Men and women walked about with rifles slung over their shoulders, and pistols tucked into their holsters. Even some of the older children that ran about were armed with knives and pistols. As we walked past, people stopped and stared at me with looks of amazement, confusion or anger. At least here I didn’t have to worry about people figuring out who I was.

  In the light of day, the courthouse was even more impressive. The fine details that adorned the exterior were second to none. Clearly, the building had been crafted with exquisite care. It emitted an aroma of authority that most stone-clad city alternatives struggled to achieve. As we ascended the steps for a second time, the doors swung open, and once more Cecilia stood to greet us with her solemn and downright hostile face.

  ‘You’re late,’ she snapped. ‘Cage is waiting.’

  ‘We’d have been done with this farce if you’d allowed Stone an audience with Cage last night,’ retorted Corser.

  Cecilia didn’t respond. Instead, she spun on her heel and stormed back inside. Corser followed her at a distance as though afraid she might contaminate him with her misery.

  Inside, the courthouse was just as extravagant. At last, I saw objects that had to have been sourced from the real world. Leather chairs and oil paintings and ostentatiously framed mirrors had been positioned with thought throughout the building. The interior walls had been plastered and painted ruby red in an effort of portraying the building as some sort of seventeenth-century stately home. On either side of the main hall was a set of staircases that ran up to a maisonette on the second floor. Between them on the ground floor was a central double door, through which we entered.

  The room on the other side was massive. Almost the entire width of the ground floor, it looked as though it was some sort of banquet hall, although it was now moonlighting as a court room. At least sixty people sat on rows of wooden pews, all facing towards the head table. As we entered, every head turned to watch. The heat of one hundred and twenty eyes on me was almost unbearable.

  Corser ignored them and led me down the centre towards the head table. There were four seats taken with the centre seat left vacant. To the right of the centre seat sat Cecilia. She scowled at me as I approached. Next to her was a man easily in his early hundreds. His silver hair stretched down past his shoulders, and his platted beard stretched down to his stomach, making him look like off season Santa after he had gone off the rails.

  The two seats to the left were taken up by two men. Both had to be at least forty and looked like brothers judging from their facial similarities. The one on the left looked more intense. He had the kind of eyes that restricted the viewer from looking directly into them without causing trouble. As I looked at him, he looked ready to leap over the table and beat me bloody.

  The one on the right had more charm to him. He was one martini and tuxedo away from playing the next James Bond. With his hair swept back, he eyed me with discontent, like I was the one inconveniencing him. Both were dressed in black, just like Cecilia and Rogue Santa, and were big enough to take my head off with a single punch.

  Corser reached the gap between the head table and the rows of onlookers and gestured for me to sit on a lone wooden chair positioned in the epicentre. I sat and watched as Corser squeezed into a space on the front row of the crowd. I could tell from the look on his face that he was nervous. He was invested now. I was the reward for all his hard work. He had brought me here, into the lion’s den. He was responsible, come what may.

  An uneasy silence drifted across the courtroom for a moment. It didn’t last long.

  ‘All rise for the honourable Maddox Cage,’ shouted Cecilia.

  In unison, everyone stood. I followed suit. I didn’t want to anger anyone by being imprudent. From the door we had entered through, I heard the sound of heavy footfall. I turned around and saw the man himself.

  Maddox Cage was an enormous brute of a man. Easily seven feet, which made him a statistical anomaly that afflicted about three in every million people. Every single muscle on his body looked like it had been pushed to the limit, yet he carried himself with the ease of a man half his size. The tight black t-shirt covering his chest left little to the imagination. He had to be at least fifty, maybe older, yet I had no doubt in my mind that he could crush me in just about any competition I could think of. His grey hair was cut short, and barely visible on the sides and back. He allowed a smattering of silver stubble that had probably grown in the time it took for him to walk from his bathroom to the courtroom. He had the look on his face of a man who knew he owned the room, yet wasn’t audacious enough to let it get to his head. A born leader.

/>   He strode down the aisle and walked right past me without so much as a curious glance and settled in behind his centre chair.

  ‘Sit please,’ he said to the crowd. His voice was deep and booming, each word packed the punch of C4. There was a brief commotion as sixty four bums found sixty-four seats before finally the man himself sat down.

  I remained standing. It felt right.

  Maddox Cage looked at me.

  ‘James Stone, welcome to Second Solace.’

  Five

  The Trial of James Stone

  His voice carried across the room, bouncing off the far walls, and echoed back at me a split second later. He gave me a wide smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes and gestured for me to take my seat.

  ‘I’ll be candid, Mr Stone. I don’t believe there is a person in this courthouse, or even anyone across our sovereign nation that expected to see you here,’ Maddox Cage said. ‘As such, I have decided to call this hearing in order to assess the gravity of the situation, not only for you, but for ourselves, and to come to a unified decision with my fellow members of the court that ensures the welfare of my people is kept in the highest regard. Mr Stone, normally I would offer you a representative to speak on your behalf should you wish. However, in light of the situation, I am going to ask that you represent yourself, given the nature of your background. Will that be a problem for you?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘Let it be known Mr Stone has agreed to represent himself,’ Cage said. His booming voice reverberated against my chest. ‘Now, could you please stand and tell the court why you were being transported across the state of Colorado without a security detail?’

  Five pairs of eyes watched from across the head table, and sixty pairs bore a hole into the back of my skull. I stood slowly and addressed Maddox Cage.

  ‘A while back, I was arrested in Florida,’ I said, because I couldn’t think where else to start. ‘There was a storm, a hurricane. I got hurt, then I got caught. They held me somewhere, I’m not so sure. A small room with no windows, and a bed like a slab of granite. Obviously it was a barrel of laughs, but it was kind of hard to keep a track of time.’