ALIVE: The Aftermath Chronicles (Book 1)

Chapter 26 - TRIBUNAL

In the absence of a breeze, the corpse of a leaf drifts to the ground of the colony.

The dead leaf crunches underneath her boots as Hannah takes the heavy walk. The watchful eyes of the guard on her back and the rest waiting for her ahead, her gathered strength shakes her clutched hands. Her knuckles white, her face drained of color, she saw a light in knowing she wasn't alone.

Not this time. This time, there wasn't only one witch on trial. She certainly, wouldn't be the only one to burn. If she should die today, this colony would crumble to ash shortly after.

She had her predictions, of course. Doyle was going to be killed. Sophie, along with him. Whatever they had done to be accused, she knew it didn't matter. Russell didn't trust them, so they'd kiss death just like she was about to.

Hannah wished she could sigh, wished she could expel her discomfort in pain and mental agony, but she moves as if she's one of the infected herself. To the courtyard's platform, the beat of her own pulse brings a racing beat to her walk. Beyond, the seats on the swings from the school's playground swayed by themselves in the breeze. A harsh one warning of the winter she shuddered against last night, that stung at her cheeks to pierce colder than the eyes of her enemies upon her.

Her wrists are tied in painful zip-ties. Her bruised flesh, pinches as she takes her waiting seat, as her ankles are zip-tied together too.

In this demeaning position on the platform, Hannah felt her resolve slipping as angry tears filled her grey eyes. No justice resided for Hannah, no power, no luck. Not once. Not ever. In the grand story of her pathetic life, she'd asked herself often why she'd lived above the others. Why, she, the likes of Russell, and the rest she looked out onto escaped the clutches of the carrion virus.

She was nothing. A cashier girl with no motivation, no purpose. Now, a lowly meager survivor with no family, no hope, but somehow, she managed to find friends here. Brave friends. Friends, that assured her with nods and a bright shimmer to their grieving eyes.

All those she stared on, gave away their own verdicts by how they stared at her. Here, nor anywhere, held sanctuary from rampant tongues that wagged preposterous rumors birthed from ten percent truth. As much as she avoided people, avoided being in that mold, she somehow always found herself to be the center of everyone's attentions. No matter what card she played, if she even played at all, she was forced into the game of any standing society. Societies, she never held faith in.

Though her eyes bore now into the worn wood beneath her feet, she could feel Dalton near her. Her lawyer of sorts and juror on her side, as it were. In Dalton, she trusted above all, along with Nick. Yet, in her blackest heart of hearts, Hannah remained detached. A darker outlook on humanity, Hannah's vision may have been rattled by Dalton, but it stayed locked under key. Not even the boy with the strongest of jawlines and shoulders, coupled with his kindness, could break her. She wouldn't allow it.

To her left, another finds the vacant chair. Another accused. One, from a walk of life far different than her own.

And then, from the corner of Hannah's unwavering blank stare, the third seat fills. His form rattles in chains, showing the colony just how dangerous and non-compliant he is with the amount of restraints on his body. All for show, Hannah's sure, though she wouldn't put it past the soldier to give Russell a good beating should he get out.

Shame, really, that he hadn't. 

As Russell rattles off the bogus charges against Sophie, accusing her of stealing medical supplies, Hannah can't help the sardonic laugh she gives. Complete bullshit.