Wilson Harp - EMP

“That’s right,” Dad said as he walked into the living room. “I’ve been called and I must go.”

He was dressed in a full suit and stood a little taller and straighter than I had seen in many years.

“Have a job interview?” I asked. “Look like you’ll impress them.”

“No.” he blushed and waved his hand. “Ike came down and told me they wanted me for the jury tonight. I figured I had a nice suit, I should wear it. When else am I going to wear it?”

“That’s true. Wait, they are having the trial tonight?”

Dad nodded. “Yeah, they are sending the Ford down here to take me to the library in a little bit. I told Ike I didn’t think I could walk all the way into town and he said they would provide the limo.” Dad laughed and shook his head. “A busted up 1944 Ford pickup is as close as we have to a limo service in town. What a world we have slipped back into.”

“You sound cheerful for what is bound to be a tough night.”

“I know,” he looked over at Mom and Rose sitting on the couch. “I guess I should be more somber, but I’m sick of it. I broke into the bottle of brandy that’s been up in the cabinet for years.”

“You got that on your trip to France on your 25 thanniversary,” I said. I lowered my voice and stepped closer to him. “Are you drunk?”

“No,” he said. “Just buzzed a little. I only had a couple of swigs.”

I was stunned. I had never seen Dad drink before. I knew he had drank during his Navy years, but Mom hadn’t wanted alcohol in the house and it never seemed like it was a big deal to not have it around. I remember I was a senior in high school when they took their 25 thanniversary trip to Paris and came back with a small bottle of brandy. Mom said they bought it as a keepsake and Dad always said they would drink it on their 50 thanniversary. That had already passed and I suspected Mom’s keepsake argument won the day.

The sound of the truck pulling up to the house pulled my attention away from my dad and the brandy.

“Pat, you’re ride’s here,” Mom said. “Don’t be gone too long.”

“I won’t be, Honey. Davey, you want a ride? I’m sure they won’t mind.”

I looked at Mom and she smiled and waved me on. I followed Dad out to the road where the rusted out truck waited for us. It was shaking so hard you could hear the windows rattling in their loose fittings. Dense smoke poured out of the decrepit tailpipe and it almost sounded like the vehicle had a chronic raspy cough.

“If you want a ride, David, you need to get in the back,” said Clint as I walked over to the truck.

I nodded and smiled. I had grown up riding in the back of pickups. Way too dangerous for the modern world, but I guess we weren’t in the modern world anymore. I pulled myself up on the bumper using the tailgate as leverage. That was not a prudent decision, because it felt as if the tailgate might give way with just an ounce more of pressure.

I was about to jump in when I saw the bed of the Ford already had a sizeable amount of passengers. Several boys, none more than seven or eight, and about half a dozen dogs were milling about in the rough metal pit. I climbed in and took a seat against the back of the cab.

The truck lurched forward and I thought it was going to stall the way it sputtered, but the engine righted itself and we went flying down the road. I realized we were probably not going more than thirty miles per hour, but this was the first time I had been in a moving vehicle in three months and I could not help but laugh. A dirty grey hound lay down across one of my legs and looked at me with his tongue hanging out. I smiled back at the dog. The sheer exhilaration of riding where the wind blew by and the fields drifted along was something I never even realized I missed.

The truck slowed as we headed into town. A three minute ride, like an amusement park roller coaster, and it was over. Twenty minutes saved and my legs were glad for it.

The truck jostled to a stop and kids and dogs started pouring out of the bed. The tailgate never came down, it was just like a mass escape over the rusty steel sides. I found my footing and stood up.

“Dangerous to ride in an open bed like that,” Anne said. She looked up at me from the side of the truck. “Why don’t you get out of there and join me? They are almost ready to start the trial.”

I wanted to hop off the side of the truck like a young foolhardy teenager would, but I decided a broken ankle wouldn’t impress Anne much and would cause considerable problems for my own well-being. Why did I want to impress Anne? The thought pierced my heart, but I pushed it aside and scrambled out of the truck.

“Nice dismount, Grace,” Anne said as she smiled at my safe yet clumsy climb down the side of the truck.

“How are they going to do a trial? Who is the judge?”

“Mayor Mueller will be the chief judge, but the council and six citizens they have chosen will be the jury. Ted, of course, has been removed from the proceedings.”

“How will it work? I mean does Kenny get a lawyer?”

Anne shrugged. “Buck Fredrickson is going to speak for Kenny from what I understand and Deputy McDaniels is going to act as the prosecutor.”

That news made me feel a little better. McDaniels, especially in the state he had kept himself, wouldn’t be able to build a good case against anyone. But Buck’s involvement didn’t sit well with me.

“Buck?” I asked. “Is he really the best choice? I mean, just yesterday he opened fire on a bunch of men on the bridge.”

“And he isn’t in trouble from the council, is he? He must have showed them why it was in the town’s best interest to kill those men.”

“Okay, you have a point,” I conceded.

People were milling about the library as word had spread of the trial. Ted was standing at the top of the steps talking with several men, including my dad. I waved at him and he waved for me and Anne to come join him.

We worked our way up the steps and waited until the men who would serve as the jury had filed into the building.

“I’ve saved some seats, we better get in there, it will fill up soon,” Ted said as he turned to us.

“Seats?” I asked.

“Come on,” Ted said.

When I passed through the doors, I couldn’t believe the changes that had been made to the main room of the library. Dozens of chairs had been set up in rows all facing the far end of the building. All of the bookshelves and tables had been moved to the side. I never even imagined they could be moved, although it made sense. They had seemed like permanent fixtures. But with them cleared away, an enormous room was revealed.

At the far end, several long folding tables were set up. One had six chairs sitting behind it. Two other tables were set up facing it. Six chairs were set to the side. That was where the jury would sit.

Behind the tables that were for the prosecution and defense, there was a barricade of library carts. Ted led us up to the third row, where he had saved three seats for us. The building was filling up as people realized they would have to be seated before it began to have any chance of watching what was happening.

Mayor Mueller came out of a door near the head of the room and looked at the table he and the rest of the council would sit behind. He walked behind it and sat down. He looked out toward the crowd and nodded. It apparently met his approval. He walked to the doorway he had appeared from and motioned to the others inside. Soon the entire council had seated themselves behind the long table in the front and the citizen jury had taken their seats along the side of the court.

The seating around us had filled up when the Mayor had appeared and soon there was a commotion near the back of the room.