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MITCH DROVE THE SQUAD car around the back of the small police station, pulling up under the portico that served as the prisoner entrance for the hundred year old red brick building. The police station had seen better days. When the town had been prosperous, before the current ills had assailed the town, the station has boasted ten squad cars and as many police officers and support staff. With the decline in the population of Melona to one-tenth of its population during the heyday of the farming community, the officers had moved on with their families into the bigger cities, where food could be found more readily.
He turned off the engine then twisted in his seat to look at his prisoner. The skinny girl looked to be ten or twelve years old, a street urchin who had never had a home as far as he could tell. He could give her a bed and a hot meal for a change, even if it was in a jail cell. She huddled on the seat, knees drawn up to chin and head buried between her arms. Her shoulders shook. Against his better instincts, he felt his heart go out to her. Food was impossible to find at the best of times when one lived on the street. These were not the best of times.
With a sigh, he shouldered open the door and got out of the car, then opened the back door and held out his hand. “Avalon, come.”
She raised a defiant, tear streaked face to him, dropping her knees and sliding across the seat. She ignored his hand, scrambling out of the car on feet that looked poised to run. She bounced slightly on her toes and her eyes darted around as though searching for the best escape route. “Don’t try it, Avalon. I will hoist you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes if you even think of running.”
Her eyes widened in shock, furious. Then her shoulders slumped and she nodded, defeated for the moment.
“After you,” he said, gesturing toward the metal door where light spilled through a square of reinforced glass.
Avalon trudged toward the door and paused while Mitch punched in the security code and pulled open the door. A concrete block walled corridor greeted her, the paint faded and scraped as though too many prisoners had been dragged up and down the passage. Mitch gave her a push in the back and she stepped into the hallway with a shiver of apprehension. Her eyes darted nervously around the sterile space, even as she was herded down its length. At the end a second locked door required a second code. As it swung shut behind her with an echoing click, she squeezed her eyes shut.
“Avalon.” When she didn’t respond he lifted her chin again. “How old are you? Do you know?”
Avalon opened her eyes and glared at him. “Of course I know. What do you take me for?”
He studied her outraged face and said “OK then, what is your date of birth?” She immediately rattled off a date that made his eyes widen. “You are sixteen?” he said, searching for the lie in her words.
“Just because I am small doesn’t mean I am a child.” She glared at him, daring him to say the obvious, well you sure look like a child and then there is your behaviour. But the words didn’t come. Instead, he gestured toward a wooden door on the right side. A brass plate announced the room as “Sentencing and Parole Review” in raised lettering. She entered a room of rich polished wood paneling and benches set like pews in a church that ended before a raised platform on which sat box, presumably for the judge. No one was in the room.
“Have a seat in the front row,” Mitch commanded and then rang a bell sitting on the raised desk, before seating himself beside her. Avalon’s feet did not reach the floor. She pulled them up and sat cross-legged on the bench, watching him out of the corner of her eye. She had pushed back the filthy hood and her fringe of black hair swung into her eyes. It was cut short at the back, a ragged, uneven chopping as though she cut it herself without the aid of a mirror.
“Where do you live, Avalon?” Silence greeted his words. “Where are your parents?” She shrugged, years of living on the street keeping her lips sealed. “Are you a member of the Firebrand gang?” She shook her head no, but still did not offer any information. He switched to a different line of questioning.
“Why did you break into the greenhouse?” She gave him a disgusted look. “I know you are hungry, but you could have snatched the first thing that came to hand and gotten away clean before the guard made it around the green house, but you stayed and filled a sack full of food. This looks really bad, Avalon. You know the law. You know that the black market rings are being hunted down and eliminated. The government has make it their number one priority, to eliminate the underground food marketing. All food is to be distributed by the government in equal portions as per the registry.
She gave him another disgusted look at the obtuseness of his comment. “To register for the food stamps, you have to have an address. It is a piece of information I prefer not to give.”
“Because you prefer to steal? Why? So you can sell it to the underground?” He shook his head. “The gangs that run the black market are more of a threat to you than the police are, Avalon.” He studied her mutinous face then sighed and turned away as a side door opened and an elderly woman entered. She mounted the stairs to the huge oaken judge’s pedestal but instead took a seat at the scribe’s desk to its right. A green leather bound ledger sat on the table and she flipped it open then looked at them. “Please approach the lower court”
Avalon slid off the bench and stuck her fingers in her pockets, only to realize that they were full of sticky berries. She resisted the urge to pull them out and lick the mash of off her fingers. Instead she shoved them deeper, searching in vain for a few that were not crushed.
“Your Honour, I wish to present Avalon - “ He paused waiting for Avalon to fill in her last name but she remained silent. “ - Avalon, a young woman who was caught breaking into the greenhouse on Federation Way. She is to be charged with break and enter, and theft over five thousand.”
“Five thousand!” gasped Avalon. “Those few apples are not worth five thousand dollars! Are you insane?”
The judge rapped the gavel on the wooden plate, silencing her. “That is enough, young woman. You will remain silent until asked to speak. Continue, Captain Anderson.”
“The food was recovered and has been returned to the greenhouse, but the fact that the thief was caught with the goods does not change the facts of the crime committed.”
“The facts have been presented and the charges recorded. Do you have a witness?”
“Yes, myself, and the guard at the facility, and the new federal cameras recorded the entire event.” Avalon winced at this pronouncement.
The judge scribbled notes for a few more moments.
“Now you may speak, what do you have to say for yourself, to these charges, young lady?”
Avalon shifted her feet guiltily and looked up at the judge, pleading in her amber flecked eyes. “I am sorry, I will not do it again. I was just terribly hungry. Can I go now?”
The judge stared at her then shook her head. “I think not. We will reconvene in the morning. You will be our guest this evening and forever as long as we wish to keep you, young Avalon, until you confess the truth behind your actions.”
“No! I must go, I cannot stay here!” Desperation pitched her voice higher than she intended and her plea came out as a squeak. Both the judge and Mitch stared at her. “Please!”
“I am sorry, Avalon.” The judge reached under the bench and run a bell and the side door opened. Court security came through, dressed in the colours of federal security. “The crime you committed is not against Melona, it is federal jurisdiction. Even if I wished to release you with a warning I cannot. We must await review of your case by a representative of the government before a decision on your punishment can be made. Bailiff, take the prisoner to the women’s cell block and she that she is showered and given a change of clothing.”
“No!” Avalon gasped “Please, let me go! I must go!”
The bailiff took her by the arm and dragged her out the side door. Avalon screamed and began to kick the officer until he wrestled her to the ground, handcuffed her once again and dragged her up by her injured arm once again. “And see that she gets medical attention!” called the judge as a screaming Avalon was dragged from the room. Silence abruptly descended as the door closed behind her.
“There is something odd going on with that young woman,” the judge said, squinting at the door.
“There is much more than meets the eye, for sure.” Mitch stood and stretched, wincing at the old back injury that twinged. “I will see what I can find out.”
“Please do. And Mitch, I do not need to tell you that this is unwanted attention on Melona. You need to solve this problem now, before it escalates.”
He nodded in silent agreement and followed the bailiff’s path out of the chambers.
The judge watched him go with a pensive frown on her face.