Monster Gauntlet Read Free Page A

aside and sprayed the rest of the spray in her face. Then I dropped the can and twisted the Taser out of her hand.
    I turned to find Alysh. Then I saw him - the man who had attacked her. Even in the armor, the cop was recognizable, like some type of giant. He looked at me and I could see the hate in his eyes. This riot had triggered something in him, in all the cops, and in the crowd. He started coming towards me. He raised a club over his head. I could make out some debris on it, a combination of blood and human hair.
    “You!” he shouted. “You’re ...”
    The Taser darts hit him squarely in the chest. He started shaking uncontrollably. The bloody club fell from his fist. He dropped to his knees and fell to the ground like a tall tree crashing down in forest.
    I can’t really say what possessed me to do what I did next. Maybe it was the sight of all the violence. Maybe it was the fear that he would recover and come after me. Like the woman cop, I was sure he would fight to the end. He would fight to win and never give up. That was his job, and his authority had removed any fear of consequences. Mostly, I was thinking of Alysh. I didn’t see her, but I thought I saw blood on the spot where she had been.
    That was the trigger. It was like I was on autopilot. This whole situation felt like a nightmare that wasn’t really happening, so while the thug cop was lying on the ground, convulsing, I swung my foot back and then forward, kicking him in the teeth. I actually felt my foot crunch through as it crashed deeper into his mouth.
    I stood there, looking at what I’d done with a strange combination of horror, awe, and satisfaction. Suddenly, the street beneath my feet seemed to be an upright wall I was leaning against. White light flashed in front of my eyes as if someone had taken a photo of my face. The whole world turned sideways, and my vision and consciousness went black.

3
     
     
     I woke up in jail, of course, even though I don’t remember being arrested. I was on a hard hospital bed, handcuffed to the rail. The right side of my face was fractured. It had the color and tenderness of a purple plum.
    I was not allowed a phone call or counsel because of the “special circumstances of my crimes.”
    My face slowly turned pink and then back to normal as I waited for weeks for sentencing. But instead of going to court, I was then taken to another prison at a secret location. I was blindfolded so I never saw the outside of the building or where it was. All I could see out the window were patches of cloudy skies and frequent rain, which told me I was still in England.
    Several times a day, I was allowed to go to a small, paved, inner courtyard. The courtyard was surrounded on four sides by high walls with small windows. I really enjoyed my time in the courtyard. I liked looking up at the patch of open sky above it.
    Walking was good. It was healthy and it was free. It also was the prison’s answer to almost everything. Depressed? Walk. Stressed? Walk. That exercise worked remarkably well for those ailments. Internal bleeding? Not so much.
    I didn’t know anything about what was going on in the world anymore. My access to information was severely limited. I wasn’t allowed visitors. That included my parents.
    One day, guards came and demanded I put my hands through the slot in the door. They cuffed me while there was still a closed door between us.
    Oh great, I thought. Another inspection.
    But it wasn’t another inspection. I had a visitor.
    I was led to room. Inside were two simple chairs and a metal table. A good-looking man in a suit stood next to the table. When he saw me, he smiled and extended his hand. I looked at him suspiciously, and then at the guard. The guard remained expressionless. Apparently, extending my arms and touching the man’s hand was allowed. We shook hands.
    “Moira MacMillan. Please, sit.”
    He gestured towards one of the metal chairs. I looked at it and guard shoved me towards it. I