Dedication (The Medicean Stars Saga Book 1) Read Online Free Page A
Author: McCullough Crawford
slaps a plain beige folder on the table to bring William’s attention back to reality. He folds his gloved hands neatly once more before him atop the folder while he waits for William to make eye contact.
“I said, I was just hanging out with—” his response is cut short by a sharp gesture from the pale glove of the man in the suit’s right hand.
“We know that’s not what you were doing, tell us what you were doing.”
“I’m not going to say what you want me to so you can just send me to a work camp.”
“Oh, we don’t need you to say anything Pseudo-Citizen 3742; the decision has already been made,” the suit says coldly as he closes his folder he had not even glanced at before standing, turning crisply, and striding out of the armor-plated door. As the door closes behind him, the suit reaches back into the room and, almost as an afterthought, extinguishes the light, plunging the cell into complete darkness. William is illuminated by nothing more than a faint glow coming through the bottom of the door once it is slammed shut.
William is left in the darkness with only two things by which to orient himself: a hazy memory of an awkward and cold night with friends standing and joking behind a grassy knoll while the rain fell on them and watered their drinks, and a massive headache stemming from the swollen and broken left half of his face. He would reach up and touch the throbbing and oozing place where his eye should be – if only to confirm that it is still there – but his hands are chained together in his lap. If he were to touch his face, he’d find small pieces of gravel and asphalt embedded in the skin where it had been slammed into the road next to his parents’ vehicle. However, he doesn’t even think to move his hands and test the reach of the shackles that bind them to his feet; he is numb from shock, and so he sits still, staring at the door, and then slowly closes his eyes. As the footsteps of the black suit round a corner in the hall and begin to grow quieter, William opens his eyes so as not to be deprived of all his senses. Almost out of his range of hearing, the footsteps pause just long enough for the suited man to flip a switch.
Then it is completely dark. And silent.
Chapter 4
The Capital
Congressional Chambers
The Tuesday afternoon lethargy is all gone, the peaceful routine has been shattered and the congress has come alive. Gavitte is grasping both sides of the podium, his knuckles turning white as he tries to dig his finger nails into the highly polished wood. Spittle flies from his lips as he speaks with a passion he’d thought had long since died within him.
“… we can’t keep just managing the problem we must find a way to fix it!”
The gathering before had been slow to respond, even Gavitte’s fiery words taking time to melt through the layers of ice they’ve cocooned themselves within. A senior member perhaps less distracted than the others turns languidly to the microphone before him and, overriding the feed from the podium, looks down his wrinkled nose at Gavitte’s outburst.
“Senator Gavitte you are out of order, stand down.”
“I will not stand by and let your bickering and power struggles leave this nation neglected until it collapses in on itself taking the world with it.” Gavitte shouts while striding out from behind the podium, having lost the benefit of its microphone.
“Senator, you will stand down or be removed from this chamber and face criminal charges.”
There is a pause, the breathing of the suddenly excited elite can be heard over the drone of air conditioners, and then something snaps within Gavitte. Last night’s strange encounter, the frustrating line of thought he’d pursed on his morning commute, and thirty years of frustration come crashing down, filling him with uncontrollable emotion. His face, which had been flushed with anger, goes pale. His breathing, which had been short and sharp, each breath sucked in quickly to
“I said, I was just hanging out with—” his response is cut short by a sharp gesture from the pale glove of the man in the suit’s right hand.
“We know that’s not what you were doing, tell us what you were doing.”
“I’m not going to say what you want me to so you can just send me to a work camp.”
“Oh, we don’t need you to say anything Pseudo-Citizen 3742; the decision has already been made,” the suit says coldly as he closes his folder he had not even glanced at before standing, turning crisply, and striding out of the armor-plated door. As the door closes behind him, the suit reaches back into the room and, almost as an afterthought, extinguishes the light, plunging the cell into complete darkness. William is illuminated by nothing more than a faint glow coming through the bottom of the door once it is slammed shut.
William is left in the darkness with only two things by which to orient himself: a hazy memory of an awkward and cold night with friends standing and joking behind a grassy knoll while the rain fell on them and watered their drinks, and a massive headache stemming from the swollen and broken left half of his face. He would reach up and touch the throbbing and oozing place where his eye should be – if only to confirm that it is still there – but his hands are chained together in his lap. If he were to touch his face, he’d find small pieces of gravel and asphalt embedded in the skin where it had been slammed into the road next to his parents’ vehicle. However, he doesn’t even think to move his hands and test the reach of the shackles that bind them to his feet; he is numb from shock, and so he sits still, staring at the door, and then slowly closes his eyes. As the footsteps of the black suit round a corner in the hall and begin to grow quieter, William opens his eyes so as not to be deprived of all his senses. Almost out of his range of hearing, the footsteps pause just long enough for the suited man to flip a switch.
Then it is completely dark. And silent.
Chapter 4
The Capital
Congressional Chambers
The Tuesday afternoon lethargy is all gone, the peaceful routine has been shattered and the congress has come alive. Gavitte is grasping both sides of the podium, his knuckles turning white as he tries to dig his finger nails into the highly polished wood. Spittle flies from his lips as he speaks with a passion he’d thought had long since died within him.
“… we can’t keep just managing the problem we must find a way to fix it!”
The gathering before had been slow to respond, even Gavitte’s fiery words taking time to melt through the layers of ice they’ve cocooned themselves within. A senior member perhaps less distracted than the others turns languidly to the microphone before him and, overriding the feed from the podium, looks down his wrinkled nose at Gavitte’s outburst.
“Senator Gavitte you are out of order, stand down.”
“I will not stand by and let your bickering and power struggles leave this nation neglected until it collapses in on itself taking the world with it.” Gavitte shouts while striding out from behind the podium, having lost the benefit of its microphone.
“Senator, you will stand down or be removed from this chamber and face criminal charges.”
There is a pause, the breathing of the suddenly excited elite can be heard over the drone of air conditioners, and then something snaps within Gavitte. Last night’s strange encounter, the frustrating line of thought he’d pursed on his morning commute, and thirty years of frustration come crashing down, filling him with uncontrollable emotion. His face, which had been flushed with anger, goes pale. His breathing, which had been short and sharp, each breath sucked in quickly to
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