Ogreness, Black Lake-book5

Chapter 28
~

Two trolls greeted me and the professor on the other side of the gate’s turnstile. A lanky, and a petite fellow I looked eye-to-eye with, wearin’ black suits complete with black ties. Stern expressions. Maybe that was good because I ached from a torn abdominal muscle after six hours with our crazy, unlicensed orc pilot.

The shorter of the two, Shorty, held out a vest. “Please put this on, sir.”

“Kevlar? Are ya serious?”

Tall-guy nodded, all very serious. The professor walked away. I guess he had his own ride. I asked why no vest for the professor. Shorty cocked his head. What? Maybe I’m dense.

“Ya have a sport coat in yar bag. Be better to—”

“I’m not wearin’ that,” I said.

Tall-guy said, “Zug warned me that if ya said that, to shoot ya. Ya want me to shoot ya?”

This came from Zug?

“I’m only carrying a nine millimeter,” Tall-guy said. “But it’ll still hurt.”

I bet it would. I didn’t want to be a dingus, but I really didn’t want to put on the vest. Shorty asked me if I wanted to get back on the plane. Gettin’ shot or returnin’ home. Not the options I cared for, so I tried to walk around Tall-guy. But he placed his hand, the entire twenty-inch wideness of it, into my chest.

“Go ahead and shoot him,” Shorty suggested.

“It’ll raise a scene,” Tall-guy said.

“We got badges. We can control the panic.”

“Funny,” I hissed.

“Who’s being funny?” Shorty asked.

What a day. I stood up my case and slipped into the vest. Tall-guy set the Velcro latches for me. I felt like an idjit. Grabbin’ the handle of my carryon, I fell in behind Tall-guy, with Shorty close on my heels.

Within seconds the oddness of the narrow, human faces turnin’ to check me out, made my flesh crawl. To a one. Maybe not hostility, but everyone we passed in the terminal wore at least an uneasy expression, clearly recognizin’ me.

Stink.

Over my shoulder I said to Shorty, “I hear I’m on TV a lot.”

“Not as often as the beer guy,” Shorty answered.

“What do ya think about all this?” I asked.

“Nothing new. We been living it our whole lives. Kind of nice they’re turning the vitriol up on ya guys these days.”

“Yar whole lives?” I asked.

“That a news blast to ya, Twinkie?”

I almost laughed. I’m kind of used to being spoken to like I’m special, at least at Ogreware. This guy didn’t see me as special. Hmm. The reality was kind of nice.

So why would these folks put up with this?

“I was born here,” Shorty said. “Where else would I go?” He must be a mind reader.

A woman to my left flipped me a bird. She was dressed professionally, in her thirties. Not the persona I woulda expected for a malcontent.

“Is anyone tryin’ to, ya know, change things?” I asked.

Shorty remained quiet. I was comin’ up with my own answer. Trolls aren’t much for conflict. Rather find a dark place and sing of their ancestors. As non-confrontationists, they make good peace keepers.

My mind flipped into another gear. “Will ya take me to visit the officer charged with, ya know?”

“The chief is expecting ya,” Shorty said.

“He’s a patient bull,” I said.

Tall-guy pried a look at me over his shoulder. “He’s a good friend of mine. Busted up about this. Ya ain’t gonna—”

“Just want to be supportive,” I said.

“If ya wanna be diplomatic, ya ought to visit the parents of the three he killed.”

“That ain’t happenin’,” I said. “Seen the bodycam tape.” I’ve played enough checkers with trolls to realize they get all of their frustration out growlin’. For that cop to snap like that, the intensity of the situation had to have been far past what any ogre could have taken.

We entered the main lobby of the regional terminal and the bustle softened. The echoes from the higher ceiling and granite walls flowed in a hush. I recognized the stress that had built up in my shoulders as we weaved through the crowd.

Shorty and Tall-guy got me safely to their giant SUV parked at the curb, watched over by a couple of TSA-uniformed trolls. The two gave me a hard look, that raised the stress again. I hurried into the vehicle.

I probed my escorts about their thoughts on the times. They were surprisingly tight lipped, especially for trolls. But thinkin’ back on my previous tenures up North, I’d noticed a significant difference from the laid-back giants livin’ in the Range. So maybe it wasn’t me, or the purpose I’m here. I could think positively.

Shorty drove. Tall-guy sat shotgun, and made a call as soon as we were underway. Struck me odd he spoke Trollish. I never even hear the language in the Range.

A picture formed in my head. The police are segregated here. The human and troll forces have separate 9-1-1 dispatches. They speak Trollish among themselves. I asked Shorty. Yep. They pretty much live in their own communities. Claimed it was because of the short ceilings the humans build.

“Ya stinkin’ folk have never integrated,” I mumbled.

“Easy for ya to say,” Tall-guy growled.

I shut my face after that, until we reached the federal lockup. Turned out it was an annex—for giants only. The staff was expectin’ us. As soon as the first guard saw my face, and spoke—Trollish, over his radio, the three of us didn’t even have to slow down as we wandered deeper into the smallish facility.

I’ve never been in jail before, but I’ve seen movies portrayin’ them. Lots of iron bars. Not when ya’re holdin’ trolls and ogres who can bend a two inch bar without breakin’ a sweat. Here, four-inch steel I-beams were everywhere where there weren't concrete walls.

A left took us to the troll side of the prison, where the fixtures overhead nearly disappeared. Gave the sense of emergency lighting. I looked over my shoulder, to the ogre side disappearin’ behind me. An itch scraped inside my chest, wantin’ to stay over there, in the light. Never occurred to me that they’d give the place a mine ambience.

Shorty and Tall-guy stayed back at a watch-room. I was escorted wordlessly by a local attendant, through a cross-hatched corridor overlookin’ a tidy common room, where bulls and hens mingled together.

A left turn, along a length of open cells, and a stooped but youngish-lookin’ troll trod toward us. He turned right and entered one of the cubbies. My escort stopped, waved me on. I guess it was clear the stooped guy was the one I was here to visit.

I walked tentatively to the dark hole between the forest of steel I-beams.

“Welcome to my palace,” a gruff voice nearly whispered.

“I feel like I’m in a mine in the Range,” I said.

“Relaxin’ ain’t it.” It wasn’t a question. He had to know it was freaky as heck to an ogre.

Usin’ shovelin’ steps, my mind worryin’ me I could be approachin’ a vertical air shaft, I padded into the cell, blinkin’ my eyes to adjust to the gloom.

“Have a seat.”

A hint of movement to my right, the flat of a hand slappin’ concrete, echoed. Figgered. Just like a mine, the inmates would sleep on a facsimile of the hard earth.

Finally, the slate edges of the bull’s domicile came into focus. I extended my hand and we introduced ourselves. I sat next to him on polished concrete.

“What can I do for ya?” the troll asked.

“That’s what I should be askin’ ya,” I said.

“Not much ya can do. I murdered three people. I’ll spend the rest of my life in a place like this.”

“Maybe not.”

The vibration of his chuckle worked through the concrete, into my bones.

“I’ve seen the video,” I said. “Ya were protectin’ yarself.”

“A troll versus humans, might as well have been premeditated. That’s what the prosecutor will say. Actually that’s what my attorney said.”

“No jury will see it that way.”

“Ya’re not from around here, huh?” he joked.

“Yar attorney talkin’ that bleakly?” I asked. My eyes had adjusted enough now to make out the stern edges of his face, the hint of a shine off his dreadlocks.

“My troll attorney, yeah. The idjit the council sent me, is naïve.”

“If ya can’t get a fair trial here, we’ll get it moved South.”

He laughed. It was gonna take some gettin’ used to the reverb among all the iron and concrete.

“Like any human judge would send my case to a Range court.”

“Hmm.”

“What?” he asked.

“That may be how we need to work this,” I said softly.

“Ya’re not makin’ much sense, ogre.”

“International law,” I answered simply. The troll sounded intelligent. I doubted I had to spell it out. “As soon as I get my phone back, I’ll initiate the process.”

“Uh. But the crime was committed on Northern soil.”

“First of all, it wasn’t a crime. It was an unfortunate incident, and if I hear ya use any other language I’ll kick yar butt.” He chuckled. I continued. “Second of all, not uncommon for a case to be taken to the Global Court if a fair trial is in question.”

“That ever happen?” he asked.

“Not since, maybe, the pirate days.”

My bench vibrated with his laugh.

“But there’s legal precedence,” I said.

He asked what I knew about the law. I claimed I had a couple college classes. Actually I got a D on my first Business Law 101 attempt. I was playin’ too much hoops back then. Retook the class to get the D removed from my GPA. But law is all common sense. For the most part.

~ Nuel ~

Doke recessed early, without an idea of when we’d get back together. The troll, Laerid, kind of latched onto me with Ike being missing. He seemed as lost at sea as I did.

We didn’t talk much. But we caught each other’s eye often.

So what was that stinking Ike up to?

I could rip his hide off of him.

~