Neal Barrett - Judge Dredd

Rico threw back his head and laughed. “Griffin is a… a plumber, a file clerk. All he’s doing is exploiting my genius, my intelligence and abilities. And yours, Ilsa. Yours as well. We’re the giants here, Griffin is the dwarf. Isn’t that clear to you, don’t you see that?”

Ilsa closed her eyes. “My God. It was a mistake to keep you alive. He should never have done it this way.”

Rico poked a finger between her breasts, hard enough to make her gasp.

“I don’t have to ask what you voted for, do I now?”

“Don’t be foolish. You know better than that.”

“I know what you said at my trial. You wanted me to live then. You want me to live now.” He touched the lobe of her ear, let his finger trail to her cheek. “Don’t you, Ilsa? Because then, as well as now, your reason, that fine cold intellect of yours, told you one thing, and another part of you could not imagine me dying.”

Ilsa forced a laugh. “You don’t—you don’t know that at all, Rico. You don’t know what I’m thinking. You have no idea how I feel.”

Rico touched her lips. Ilsa held her breath, stunned by the power, the force, the raw heat that seemed to draw them together. It was even more intense than the first time, when Griffin had brought him here, the first time she’d seen him in the nine years he had been hidden from the world in the depths of Aspen Prison.

And, when he finally drew her to him, his presence overwhelmed her, took her in a rush.

He bared his arm again, showed her the red spots of his blood where the silver spider had drunk its fill. He didn’t have to ask her, to tell her, she knew what to do, what she ached to do, though she had never known this need before.

“You are an extraordinary woman, Ilsa. This is a moment only you and I could share. No one else, because there are no others like us in the world.”

She brought his arm to her face, let the droplets brush her cheek, brought her lips to each small well of red.

“Yes…” she heard herself say. “Yes… yes…”

He stood in the narrow hallway, clutching the Remington, squeezing the stock until his fingers went white. He remembered every break-in he’d ever seen, a thousand doors he’d found twisted, violated, broken into splinters because they stood in the way of a terrible rage, of an anger shut out that wanted in. He remembered, too, the things he’d seen, the things he’d found behind those doors.

Hershey…

“Stay behind me,” he told Fergie. “Whatever I do, I don’t want you in the way.”

“Hey, no problem,” Fergie said. “You won’t even know I’m here.”

Dredd stepped quickly into the living room, bent at the knees, and swept the room with the Remington. He felt the tight constriction of his throat. The room was totally wrecked. Furniture was overturned, the upholstery slashed with a knife. Pictures had been torn off the wall. Broken glass littered the floor. At the far end of the room, a desk was broken in half, papers scattered about. Hershey’s computer had been dashed against the wall. Dark scars on the wall said someone had picked up the machine and tossed it half a dozen times.

“You got a machine abuser here, is what you got,” Fergie said. “I’ve seen it before. Guy doesn’t like anything of the electronic persuasion, he’s going to take a little extra time, hurt it all he can. It’s something happens when that person’s a kid. Maybe he sticks his finger in a socket, sees something scary on the screen—”

“Shut up,” Dredd said. “Hold it down.”

He left the living area and moved quickly down the hall. More broken glass. Blue shreds of paper that looked familiar to Dredd. He picked up a piece, held it to the light. It came from a Judge Training Manual: Civil Disorder 201.

“Can I say something? Can I talk?”

“What?”

“This is not what we ought to be doing, Dredd. We stick around up here, this is where the Hunters are going to expect you to be. Let’s get low, man. Ol’ Fergie’ll take you Downtown, where I know how to survive.”

“Sewer rats.”

“Pardon me?”

“You want me to hide out with the sewer rats, the lawbreakers, the scum.”

“Oh, excuse me.” Fergie raised his hands. “See, I keep forgetting myself, like I’m a sewer rat, one of the criminally inclined, and you’re not. I mean, just because every Judge Hunter in Mega-City wants your ass nailed up on the wall doesn’t mean I shouldn’t show proper respect at all times—”

“Can it.”

“What?”

“I said can it, Ferguson. I’m busy, I don’t have time for this.”

Dredd stepped into the bedroom. Everything was torn apart, upside down. “You don’t like the company, take off,” he said. “Nobody’s holding you down. Go find a sewer rat. Go find a—”

The boot hit him hard in the chest, driving him back against the wall. Hershey stepped from behind the closet door. She held the Lawgiver steady in both hands, the muzzle aimed between his eyes.

“Both of you, you know the drill! Up against the wall, spread ’em wide!”

Dredd stared at her. There was a dark smudge on her cheek, an angry cut above one eye.

“Hershey, I thought they’d—”

“Thought they’d what? Killed me? You thought so or hoped, Dredd?”

“Hold it a minute. Stop it. What happened here?”

“I’m a Judge. Someone wants to kill me. Someone almost did. They get you in the street, in your home, anywhere.” She paused, and gave Dredd a chilling look. “Why don’t you tell me what’s happening? They’re dying out there. A hundred and eight Judges in forty-eight hours. What the hell is going on?”

Dredd shook his head. “You think I’m part of this?”

“I don’t know who or what you are anymore. I don’t know anything.”

“I would never hurt you, Hershey.”

Hershey studied him a long moment, glanced at Fergie, then backed off across the room. Without lowering her weapon, she reached in her jacket and and tossed a viewie to Dredd.

“Tell me about this. Make me believe in you again—the way I did when I defended you. I did, Dredd. I honestly did, I-I couldn’t imagine you doing anything that was against the Law. I couldn’t, and then I found this.”

Dredd let out a breath. He took the viewie without looking at it. “The man beside me in this picture is my—brother. His name is Rico. He was the best Judge on the street. The smartest, the most dedicated. Then something happened to him, to his mind. He went insane, Hershey. He said the Judges should rule, not serve. He said that was our destiny in life, our place in history.

“He finally became more dangerous than any of the criminals he’d put away. A lot of men died trying to stop him. I had to judge him…”

“That was the one,” Hershey said quietly.

“Yes. That was the one.”

“And you’re telling me he’s doing all this? All this killing?”

“Not by himself. He’s working with Griffin.”

“Griffin?” Hershey slowly lowered her weapon. All the strength seemed to drain from her body. “Oh, my God. It fits, doesn’t it?” She looked at Dredd. “We’ve got to let the Council know. They’ve got to stop him before he—”

“It’s too late for that. There isn’t any Council. Rico murdered them all an hour ago. Griffin set it up. Griffin was there.”

Hershey sat down. She laid her weapon on the floor. Dredd watched her. She was staring past him, looking at nothing at all. Fergie glanced at Dredd, then quietly left the room.

“I shouldn’t have even thought you had anything to do with this,” Hershey said. “I didn’t know. All I could think about was the Tribunal, what happened there. I should have known when I found out you’d been drugged. I thought it was Fargo, that he didn’t want you to try to stop him from taking the Long Walk for you…”