hair with the soft gray ash. ‘Perhaps, with time, you will find yourself moved to less demanding surroundings.’
Byron licked his fingers and smoothed his own temples down, smearing away the powder in his own hair before he reached down and placed his hands inside the manacles on the table top. Aaron slipped the slim glasses on as he reached down and quietly clicked the manacles closed around Byron’s wrists.
‘Why the hell would I want to move?’ Byron snarled. ‘This place is perfect! I don’t have to listen to idiots like you spouting your psycho-babble to anybody who’ll listen! I don’t have to watch war veterans spat on in the street!’
‘The Vietnam War was a long time ago, Aaron,’ Aaron soothed. ‘The people revere and respect our servicemen now.’
Byron gestured to the cell around them with a hateful grin. ‘Doesn’t look much like that to me, does it?!’
‘You’re here due to the murder of several innocent civilians, Aaron,’ Aaron said calmly. ‘Surely you don’t expect to walk the streets with…’
‘I expect a goddamned trial!’ Byron screamed as he shot up out of his seat and yanked wildly on the chains.
The door to the interview room burst open and the two guards rushed in as Byron thrashed and snarled, fighting uselessly against his captors as they wrestled him face down onto the desk.
‘If I ever see you in here again, I’ll kill you with my bare hands!’ Byron screamed.
One of the guards looked up at Aaron as he struggled to keep Byron pinned down, fully occupied with the task.
‘Get out of here!’
Aaron nodded, his eyes wobbling with fear as he hurried out of the interview room and turned down the corridor. Two more guards were rushing toward him and he pointed back toward the room.
‘Hurry, they’re struggling with him in there!’
The guards dashed past, night sticks in their hands as Aaron continued on. The desk sergeant at the first set of gates opened them immediately as a silent alarm, flashing red lights that would not agitate the other inmates, warned him of the unfolding drama back on the block.
‘He gone crazy again?’ the sergeant asked as Aaron walked through.
‘Can’t stand the solitude,’ Aaron replied as he passed by. ‘Blames everybody but himself.’
‘Shouldn’t murder people then, should he,’ the sergeant replied as he filled out a form and passed it to Aaron. ‘Sign here please, doctor.’
Aaron dutifully signed the form, having practiced the signature in his mind a thousand times. The sergeant compared it to another on file, and then opened the second security gate to allow Aaron to pass through.
‘Have a good day, Doc’.’
‘You too.’
Aaron passed through no less than twelve more gates, all manned by security staff who had seen Byron pass through a half hour before. Nobody challenged him, although he was subject to the same rigorous searches as Byron would have been on the way in. There was nothing to find, and ten minutes after donning the Doctor’s clothes Aaron James Mitchell walked out of the prison’s main entrance and into the parking lot.
The sun was up in the sky now, the fearsome orb flaring in the perfect blue sky. Mitchell inhaled deeply on the air, but forced himself to walk normally as he pulled the doctor’s keys from his pocket and hit the central locking button. A silver Prius’s tail lights flashed nearby and Aaron subtly altered course toward it, conscious of the watch towers arrayed around the prison and the armed guards likely watching him from within.
Moments later, Aaron drove out of Florence ADX and vanished toward the north.
***
VIII
McMurdo Sound,
Antarctica
‘Welcome to the bottom of the world.’
The voice sounded disembodied to Ethan’s ears as he sat in an uncomfortable seat in the shuddering belly of a giant C-130 Hercules aircraft, the loadmaster speaking into a microphone that connected to the headphones Ethan wore to protect his ears from the tremendous roar of the
Byron licked his fingers and smoothed his own temples down, smearing away the powder in his own hair before he reached down and placed his hands inside the manacles on the table top. Aaron slipped the slim glasses on as he reached down and quietly clicked the manacles closed around Byron’s wrists.
‘Why the hell would I want to move?’ Byron snarled. ‘This place is perfect! I don’t have to listen to idiots like you spouting your psycho-babble to anybody who’ll listen! I don’t have to watch war veterans spat on in the street!’
‘The Vietnam War was a long time ago, Aaron,’ Aaron soothed. ‘The people revere and respect our servicemen now.’
Byron gestured to the cell around them with a hateful grin. ‘Doesn’t look much like that to me, does it?!’
‘You’re here due to the murder of several innocent civilians, Aaron,’ Aaron said calmly. ‘Surely you don’t expect to walk the streets with…’
‘I expect a goddamned trial!’ Byron screamed as he shot up out of his seat and yanked wildly on the chains.
The door to the interview room burst open and the two guards rushed in as Byron thrashed and snarled, fighting uselessly against his captors as they wrestled him face down onto the desk.
‘If I ever see you in here again, I’ll kill you with my bare hands!’ Byron screamed.
One of the guards looked up at Aaron as he struggled to keep Byron pinned down, fully occupied with the task.
‘Get out of here!’
Aaron nodded, his eyes wobbling with fear as he hurried out of the interview room and turned down the corridor. Two more guards were rushing toward him and he pointed back toward the room.
‘Hurry, they’re struggling with him in there!’
The guards dashed past, night sticks in their hands as Aaron continued on. The desk sergeant at the first set of gates opened them immediately as a silent alarm, flashing red lights that would not agitate the other inmates, warned him of the unfolding drama back on the block.
‘He gone crazy again?’ the sergeant asked as Aaron walked through.
‘Can’t stand the solitude,’ Aaron replied as he passed by. ‘Blames everybody but himself.’
‘Shouldn’t murder people then, should he,’ the sergeant replied as he filled out a form and passed it to Aaron. ‘Sign here please, doctor.’
Aaron dutifully signed the form, having practiced the signature in his mind a thousand times. The sergeant compared it to another on file, and then opened the second security gate to allow Aaron to pass through.
‘Have a good day, Doc’.’
‘You too.’
Aaron passed through no less than twelve more gates, all manned by security staff who had seen Byron pass through a half hour before. Nobody challenged him, although he was subject to the same rigorous searches as Byron would have been on the way in. There was nothing to find, and ten minutes after donning the Doctor’s clothes Aaron James Mitchell walked out of the prison’s main entrance and into the parking lot.
The sun was up in the sky now, the fearsome orb flaring in the perfect blue sky. Mitchell inhaled deeply on the air, but forced himself to walk normally as he pulled the doctor’s keys from his pocket and hit the central locking button. A silver Prius’s tail lights flashed nearby and Aaron subtly altered course toward it, conscious of the watch towers arrayed around the prison and the armed guards likely watching him from within.
Moments later, Aaron drove out of Florence ADX and vanished toward the north.
***
VIII
McMurdo Sound,
Antarctica
‘Welcome to the bottom of the world.’
The voice sounded disembodied to Ethan’s ears as he sat in an uncomfortable seat in the shuddering belly of a giant C-130 Hercules aircraft, the loadmaster speaking into a microphone that connected to the headphones Ethan wore to protect his ears from the tremendous roar of the
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