Zipped

2: The Sentence

Thomas

As we reached the zipper, I saw a man standing up above the large crowd. It was the town police chief, Officer Thompson. He was looking around, scanning the crowd. To him, something wasn’t right.

Next to me, Molly was frowning. She hated seeing things like this. She especially didn’t like it, because it was Mitchell. Any other person, I think she wouldn’t have been so distraught.

“It’s going to be fine,” I told her.

She looked up at me and shook her head in response. “No, it’s not Thomas,” she said. “A friend of ours is going to die today. You don’t even care,” she accused. Her gaze went back to her feet.

I frowned at her, hearing this. “Molly, I do care,” I said softly. “I just know there’s nothing we can do about it.”

Molly looked up at me again. “You’re not even sad about it…” she said softly.

I sighed. I wasn’t going to be able to convince her otherwise. My gaze wandered away, meeting the eyes of a man I recognized from my dad’s work. “Do you think Mom and Dad are here?” I asked.

“Why wouldn’t they be? It’s a stupid social event,” Molly mumbled. “They’re going to be just like everyone else, entertained by death. You’re just like them too,” she added.

“Molly, why don’t you believe me?” I asked, looking down at my sister. “I am sad about this whole thing!”

“No, you’re not,” she muttered again, not even looking at me.

I give up. I just give up. If Molly is anything, she’s stubborn. I whispered a single, “I am sad,” and turned away.

As soon as my mouth closed, Officer Thompson was given a microphone. He turned to the whole crowd. “Good morning, citizens of Restless Isle!” The whole crowd cheered at this.

Well, the whole crowd except Molly and me.

“Mitchell Oliver has committed crimes against authority and the government, your government!”  Officer Thompson said. Yup, the exact same thing he always says. Apparently Mitchell’s done the same things everyone else has done. Apparently he’s just like the people who were thrown in last year, or that couple who was thrown in when Molly and I weren’t even born.

I think I was the only person who made the connection. All around us, people were yelling things. On the less obscene end, they yelled “traitor” and “throw him in”. Molly and I didn’t say a word. Instead, I just mouthed the words of Officer Thompson’s speech.

As we stood there, someone tugged on my arm. I mumbled something to them. “Stop, I’m trying to pay attention,” I said. But, at that exact moment, the crowd started yelling even louder, drowning out my words. I craned my neck to see, but it was fairly obvious.

Mitchell was in handcuffs and a bright orange jumpsuit. He was being escorted through the crowd to Officer Thompson by four police officers. Instead of looking terrified, like other prisoners had been when it was their turn to fall into the pit, Mitchell was looking straight forward, not a single hint of remorse in his eyes. He had accepted his fate completely. I was impressed, and admired that.

As Mitchell walked, people threw things at him. The people were yelling things at top volume, things even more obscene than what had been yelled in the first place. Apparently, the worse curses come out when you see the person in question. But, again, Mitchell didn’t flinch once. He just kept walking with his police escorts.

I glanced over at Molly to see her reaction. Her face was scrunched up a bit, as if she was holding back tears (who am I kidding, she obviously was). But, she faced forward, knowing there was nothing she could do unless she wanted to end up dead at the bottom of the pit.