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"Bastian, please! You weigh a ton and you're all sweaty!"
It was fucking hot, but that wasn’t all that surprising. We were on a tropical island for fuck’s sake. I could feel sweat clinging to my back, and I was fairly certain Raine and I were kind of stuck together. I didn’t mind it, though, so I didn’t move even when the little hands started hitting me harder.
“Damn it, Bastian,” she growled into my ear. “I have to pee, and you are crushing my bladder!”
I grumbled but rolled enough so she could slip out from under me before I slumped back onto my stomach. I could hear her moving out of the shelter, and I didn’t like it. I wanted her to be closer to me, but I was so fucking tired I couldn’t even open my eyes long enough to keep watch over her. My ears picked up on her movements, and I listened to her take a few steps away. Even that much energy proved to be too much, and I felt my head swimming before I let the darkness of sleep try to take me. I don’t think it was more than a couple of minutes before I heard her voice again.
“Bastian, wake up, please?”
I could feel small, cold hands on my shoulders, shaking me. Trying to open my eyes seemed like such an effort, and I really didn’t want to bother. The cold hands were a shock, though. The rest of my body felt so hot, and my leg was throbbing.
“Can you hear me, Bastian?”
“Yeah,” I mumbled. Opening my mouth wasn’t quite as much effort as my eyes.
“What happened to your leg, Bastian? You’re cut and…and it’s all red.”
“Fucking hurts,” I grumbled and rolled a little to my side. Fuck, that hurt. There was no point in being awake if it was going to hurt like that. I rejoined the darkness.
I sit up in my seat as the jury is brought back into the room. I see Landon’s head tilt slightly, but Franks doesn’t move a fucking inch. His attorney leans over, whispers into his ear, and Franks nods.
“Mister Foreman,” the judge addresses the juror who had remained standing. “Have you reached a verdict?”
“We have, Your Honor.”
The bailiff takes a piece of paper from the juror’s hand and gives it to the judge. He opens it, reads it, and drops it down on the bench.
I can feel my heart pounding. The next few seconds will decide so much, so much – justice for a bunch of people I didn’t know but watched die. Possibly life or death for me, but that didn’t matter so much. I can see Landon looking at me out of the corner of his eye.
“How do you find the defendant, Joseph Franks, in the matter of the first charge – murder in the second degree of Officer Henry Gayle?”
“We, the jury, find the defendant, not guilty.”
My stomach lurches, and I am unable to swallow.
“How do you find the defendant, Joseph Franks, in the matter of the second charge – murder in the second degree of Officer Michael Walton?”
“We, the jury, find the defendant, not guilty.”
I have to fight with my body to stop it from doubling over.
“How do you find the defendant, Joseph Franks, in the matter of the third charge – murder in the second degree of
Mister Roland Nickles?”
“We, the jury, find the defendant, not guilty.”
I feel a hand on my shoulder. Landon pulls me off the bench in the back row and out the door as the juror’s words continue to pound into my skull.
“Nothing…he’s going to get nothing!” I scream. Landon’s fist connects with my jaw, knocking me sideways.
“Shut the fuck up,” he commands. “Gunter is going to get life. He’ll be fucked up the ass and probably killed off in the first week. You can’t have everything.”
I’m hauled outside into the bright sunlight. There is a cab waiting.
“What the fuck?” I question.
“It’s been fun,” Landon shrugs. He looks at me for a moment. “Don’t ever try to contact me again, son.”
