There's always something I've wondered about people. I've wondered it ever since I lost my voice six years ago, and the question remained, boggling me even more after I gained it back and had the opportunity for my voice to be heard.

Why do people feel so entitled and self-righteous that they would rather scream over others instead of waiting for their turn to speak?

The very thought passes through my mind as I hear the chatter of those in the courtroom. Voices clash, one person always trying to one-up the other, as if what they have to say is more important, when they're all really saying the same thing.

"Order!" The head judge yells, banging her gavel, effectively silencing everyone in the room. "Order in the court! Ladies and gentlemen, we have heard both sides of the case. Horace Bailey stands accused of committing war crimes against the town of Little Rook under the regime of Sigrid Hakkinen.

"As a member of the Exmoore Militia, I'd like to thank the citizens of Little Rook for inviting me to sever on this trial's judicial panel. We are always happy to provide council to our allies. The judges will now retire to consider our verdict. Thank you."

As soon as she finishes speaking, the chatter starts up again, and I bring up a hand to rub my temples, my face probably mirroring the annoyed one Janine wore three days ago when I screamed at Milo in her office. My hand never gets to reach its destination, stopping short when my elbow jabs Tom in the side.

He fidgets, sending me a look. I didn't hurt him, but we've been bumped and knocked into so many times today, I can understand why he looks at me with such annoyance.

"Sorry," I say quickly, and he nods.

"It's alright." He looks around, his eyes simmering at all the people talking to each other, unable to stay still and causing a ripple effect that ends up with us getting brushed up against and poked by strangers. "This courtroom is more crowded than a London commute."

"Yeah. It reminds me of the time my coach forced me and all the other girls on the Varsity volleyball team into a minivan to drive to our game. She had everyone in there, subs and the ball bag included. Felt like a clown car."

That gets a smile out of him, blue eyes shifting at the mental image. "Still, it's a nice change from fighting V-Types and Riders, eh?"

"This trial is just as important," Kefilwe says from beside Tom. She's only a person away and yet I can barely hear her over everyone else. "The country must heal the wounds of Sigrid's rule. We must not descend into mob mentality and rough justice. If anything, this is more vital than any single victory. That is why Janine gave us leave to testify. Even with all we've done, even after you recused all those patients from the recuperation center, Five, Abel must still prove we are not the enemy."

A growl rumbles in my chest, but I silence it. Nothing we ever do is enough. Abel has literally taken down three of the biggest threats to humanity, and yet people still see us as untrustworthy. We've not asking for much! We're not asking to be worshipped or praised like Sigrid did! We just want people to listen. Is that too much to ask?

From some of the looks I get from those in the crowd, apparently.

"The fact this trial hasn't descended into chaos is a victory," Tom says. He peers over at the man closest to us, whose face disguised by large wire frame glasses and an unconvincing comb-over. "Bailey doesn't look like much, does he?"

I open my mouth to reply, mostly because that's not something you should say when the person you're speaking about it maybe four feet away from you, even with how loud this room is. Kefilwe reaches around Tom and grabs my arm, blunt nails digging into my skin painfully as she jerks me towards her. I slam into Tom, and he grabs my shoulders to keep me from tripping.

Something flies past my head-a glass jar-and Bailey ducks down so it won't hit him. It shatters on the wall, and I hear a distinct hiss of acid eating away at the wood. I look at the direction it came from, and spot a short, portly woman with eyes of fire, her arm still outstretched. It takes me a moment to realize her rage wasn't at me, but at Horace Bailey.

The lanky man looks terrified, nearly trembling as he stares at the liquid covering the wall and the broken glass that litters the floor.

"Clerks of the court, do something!" He yells, and it's then I notice the shouting is growing louder. "That woman nearly killed me!"

"This crowd isn't going to wait peacefully for a verdict," Kefilwe sys. "A group of men over there are carrying a rope. If we don't get Bailey out of here, there will be a lynching."

"Five, grab Bailey," Tom instructs. "I'm under orders from Jane. He must be tried, not murdered."

I hop over to him, offering no words as I grab his arm and practically drag him towards the exit.

"What? Get off me!" He yells, his voice cracking. "Clerks, these people are assailing me!"

"Mr. Bailey, we were appointed by the court to keep you safe," Kefilwe explains as we run, people shouting angrily as we do so. "The lynchers are coming right for us. Head down the fire exit. Run!"

I continue to drag a whining Bailey towards the exit. He struggles, but he's not a very strong man. It's obvious that he wasn't a soldier for Sigrid, seeing how I manage to drag him down the stairs of the fire exit without him actually getting out of my grasp.

It is slowing me down though, and I have half a mind to knock the idiot out and carry him. I mean, he'd probably be heavy, but I've carried heavy things before. Doesn't this guy realize we're trying to help him? The angry crowd behind us are planning to kill him, and if they catch up, they may even kill us.

That's why I lead us into the redwoods. It's good cover. Tom comments on it, and I grin at his praise, along with his addition of how lucky we are that Little Rook was built in the middle of a nature park.

"Unhand me!" Bailey cries, and I huff at the man's shrill voice. His voice is like Jaime's if he had a bad sinus infection and was trying to impersonate one of his roller girls. "This is madness. I keep telling everyone I'm an innocent man!"

We all ignore him, and Kefilwe looks back, her face twisting in uncertainty.

"That mob is spilling out of the courthouse. We must find somewhere to hide until things die down."

Bailey pales. "Hide? You have to get me out of here! Even if the locals don't kill me, that court is going to give me the death penalty!" He pauses, recognition bleeding into his eyes as he looks at the blonde. "Wait a minute. I know you. You're that doctor from Abel. You gave a statement for the prosecution about how awful the Ministry was."

She nods, her face neutral. "Yes. I saw enough men like you behind Sigrid's wall, but Abel will always defend the rule of law. If you are to be put to death, it will be by a court, not a mob."

"I was a clerk in Sigrid's office. Just a clerk! I don't deserve to be treated like this."

Her face hardens. "You signed orders to Ministry troops to tear down the protective fence around Little Rook just because Sigrid caught the town trading with the Exmoore Militia. Over a hundred people died here when the zombies came."

"Countersigned. I countersigned those orders. They were from Sigrid." He trembles as he says her name, fear of just remembering her seeming to shake him down to the bone. "It was just my job to clear the paperwork. I'm a pacifist, for heaven's sake! I was trying not to make a fuss."

I open my mouth to reply. It's not often I relate to people who were my enemy, but it's obvious this man was obeying out of fear and not genuine loyalty like those of the Wakened Land. I was like that with the Torrencers. I did terrible things because I was afraid of them, of what they would do to me, Katelyn and Wesley if I rebelled.

"I think-" I start, but I'm cut off by an angry shout.

"There!"

Tom looks over his shoulder, thick brows furrowing as his lips press together. "Uh oh, that mob just spotted us."

"Do you think we can outrun them?" I ask, and he looks up, a cunning smile on his lips.

"Look up. See those wooden canopy walkways between the treetops? It's a good tactical position if we can get up there."

"Oh, we can get up there," I say, although there's no smugness in my voice. It's more like dread as I point to the wooden staircase between two large oaks that leads up to the walkways. I swallow down the lump in my throat and press on. "Come on then."

I keep my grip on Bailey, reminding myself not to squeeze too tightly as we reach the stairs and ascend them. They have railing, but the boards below my feet creak with each step. It's hard to tell if they are rotten. I cannot stop to truly inspect them and looking down for long isn't ideal for my growing fear that causes my heart to hammer in my chest like the heavy beat of a drum.

Oh, I hate this. I hate this. I hate this.

It gets even worse when we step onto the wooden bridges, and when Tom speaks, my grip on Bailey tightens so much that he yelps.

"Not ideal, these wooden bridges. Class 4 rickety, as we used to say in the service," He says, only making the panic in my blood spike.

"Tom, my friend," I breathe out, "remember that conversation we had about not pointing out certain things, even though they are painstakingly obvious because it can sometimes make people feel worse?"

He blinks. "Oh, yes. Apologies."

"It's-it's fine. And it was a good plan, still. The mob seems to no longer be following us."

"Wait, Tom?" Bailey repeats, wiggling in my grasp a bit. I loosen my grip. "I recognize you too, Mr. De Luca. I don't know why you're with her," He sends a sharp look at Kefilwe, "after you defended me-"

A growl cuts him off, and I sigh, my shoulders slumping.

"Of course."

Bailey looks behind him, and he gasps at the corpse behind us. "What is that?"

"That is a zombie," Kefilwe says. "No doubt some climbed up here after you had the town's fencing destroyed. No wonder we were not followed."

Tom gives the man a raised brow. "You've never seen a zombie before?"

"No. I mean, not up close," Bailey replies, and he grimaces when he looks back. "I worked in an office. The soldiers kept them away. I never realized... the skin on its hands... ugh, it's horrible!"

There are more starting to gather around it, mouths gaping and dead eyes boring into our backs. They sound normal, which is better than if they were V-Types, but we didn't bring any weapons with us. Well, we did, but all weapons were checked at the door of the courthouse since we didn't anyone to try to shoot or stab Bailey. We weren't able to grab them when we left.

"We must hurry," Kefilwe huffs, wiping away the perspiration from her forehead. "I did not bring any of the cure with me into this tree. If we are bitten, the mob will not allow us to find treatment."

"I don't-why didn't you bring any of the cure with you?" I gape at her. "We could always use it!"

"Why didn't you bring any then?" Bailey asks, but his glare cracks when I send him a harsh look of my own.

"Because I'm not a doctor, and unless it's an emergency or unusual situation, only doctors are allowed to have vials of the cure." The breath I let out is angry, so angry that it almost overtakes the fear filling my lungs like liquid, drowning me. "We have to run. To the rope bridge. God, this day just keeps getting worse. Let's go!"

•

"I think we've lost the zoms," Tom says, and I sigh with partial relief. We're still off the ground, held up by an unstable bridge, so I can't be completely calm. "Better slow down. Bailey's lagging behind. Man's wheezing like hell! I almost feel sorry for him."

"Yes," Kefilwe hisses as we slow. "We all heard your statement in his defense."

Tom studies the glare she sends him, before giving her a shrug. "Look, like it or not, both sides of that court knew words from Abel would carry weight with an Exmoore judge. The defense asked for my honest opinion as a government operative, and I gave it."

"That man is no better than Ian."

"Uh, Ian shot a ten-year-old girl in the head," I point out. "He wanted to keep me as a pet after we thought I'd turned zom. I'm not saying I like Bailey or anything, but he did paperwork for a living. Ian tortured people for fun. He starved people just because he felt like it."

Tom nods in agreement. "And Bailey's advocate made a fair point. When you're in a chain of command, you follow orders, and Sigrid was the highest authority in the country. And if he disobeyed, she would have shot and replaced him."

She doesn't look convinced. "Still, there are things one should not do even on the pain of death." Heartbreak floods her eyes. "Do you know I have been caring for the babies Sigrid used to make her filthy serum?"

"I... thought they'd mostly been rehoused. Didn't Amelia at Fort Canton take seven?"

"Nine, and yes, mostly they have been rehoused. Except for a few, who have had an adverse reaction to the treatments. Immunity did not mean the same thing in all those children. A few have experienced permanent brain damage."

His face crumples, and I feel a stab of sympathy in my chest. "That's terrible. I had no idea."

"What is the point of broadcasting this grief?" She replies. "There were only a few affected. I held a little boy in my arms three weeks ago. Stroked his head with the palm of my hand until he passed in peace.

"But of course, the people who injected them with zombie saliva were just following orders." She spits out the words like venom, and a familiar sense of guilt digs into my skin, tainting my thoughts. "Tell me, Tom, how many deaths were you responsible for when you worked for the government?"

The dark-skinned man freezes, his blue eyes widening. Kefilwe's stare doesn't falter.

"I-I mean, it's hard to say," He stammers. "Covert ops is a muddy business. One has to complete mission of objectives."

"No, one doesn't."

"I lost count after..." I pause, my voice soft, softer than either of the two are used to, "I think the last number I remember was 114. I killed at least 114 people while I was in America at the A.M.T.B."

Tom looks at me, his eyes just wide enough to show his surprise.

"The difference between you two, Five, is that you were a child," Kefilwe says. "The place that was supposed to keep you safe instead forced you, a terrified girl with no one to lean on to survive, and threatened the life of the last two people you had. They emotionally manipulated you to do as they please. You were defenseless."

She looks at Tom. "You had a choice. I have seen you haunted by your own pain, Tom, but never that which you inflicted on others. And you were in perfect mental health in those days. Never pretend such action can be excused as 'following orders'."

I frown. "But you just said-"

"You were a child who was emotionally and physically abused. You and your sister were both manipulated into doing what you did."

"I still knew killing someone was wrong. My actions are just as bad as Tom's."

I mean, God sees all sin as the same. The murders I committed at twelve are just as bad as the murders Tom committed in his twenties.

"You did, and you still feel guilty over all that you did in America. I've heard you say over and over that you deserve nothing short of death for your actions."

"I-" I'm cut off by a loud crack of wood from impact, and the bridge beneath our feet shake.

"What was that?" Tom shouts.

"The mob!" Kefilwe yells. I see them below us. They have a catapult. Where the hell did they get that? Where they did they get burning tar to throw at us?

"What's going on?" Bailey asks, having finally caught his breath. We start running, no longer having time to sit around. The flaming tar that made first impact on a tree is now nothing but flames, and it's spreading to other trees.

"Serious trouble," Tom replies. "Operational decay."

"We must get down from here before this bridge burns," Kefilwe says, and I grit my teeth at her pointing out the obvious. "There's a wooden platform over there. I see a ladder leading to it from the ground. Five, help Bailey, please. Now run!"

The flames are spreading quickly, red and orange zipping along branches and leaves. I keep hold of Bailey, pulling him along as we try to outpace the flames.

We probably could have, if the mob wasn't catapulting more flaming tar at the trees.

What is wrong with them? Are they trying to burn the whole park to the ground? Are they really doing all this over one man who, in all actuality, was insignificant to Sigrid and her rule? He wasn't a good person, no, but these situations are complicated. Sometimes it's hard to know how to do the right thing without thoughtlessly throwing your life away. I get that.

He probably could have done something. He's not completely innocent. I don't think Bailey is a good man, but I don't think he's worth all this trouble. People died, yes, and I feel for them, but setting trees on fire in the middle of a nature park puts everyone here in danger!

Suddenly a hand grabs the back of my shirt, and I let out a strained yelp, breathing in the thick scent of smoke as I'm forced to stop. Bailey slams into my back, his forehead smacking painfully into the back of my head.

But I forget the pain as a flaming branch falls right into my path. It would have crushed me had Tom not grabbed me. The flames spread quickly, creating a wall of fire that separates us from the platform and the ladder.

"Damn it!" I curse.

"Careful," Tom says, backing away from the quickly spreading flames. The rest of us follow his example. "There's no way we'll be getting to that ladder now."

"What do we do?" Bailey asks, and I look around. I close my eyes, hissing out words through clenched teeth.

"The trees."

Tom thankfully doesn't need me to explain anymore. "Good thinking. If we jump into a tree, the branches will break our fall. We can shimmy our way to the ground."

Bailey's eyes grow wide as saucers. "What? No! We'll never make it! That wall of flame isn't so high. I'm going for the ladder."

He tries to pull from my grasp, which he does rather easily since I loosened my grip on him, but Kefilwe grabs him almost immediately. Her face is stone cold and her eyes glare knives at him.

"You will not go anywhere without us. You're still on trial."

"Why?" He shouts, his fear replaced with irritation. "Why am I the one on trial? The world ended a long time ago, and we've all done awful things to survive. You people think it as like a movie, as if I could just stand up and do the right thing.

"Sigrid tortured people who disobeyed her. I saw her pluck a man's eye out because he brought her the wrong kind of coffee! She made doctors and scientists do torture for her!"

"Doctors?" Tom repeats, and when his eyes shift to Kefilwe, she flinches.

"Scientists?" I add, my mind immediately going to Feive.

"I was afraid and alone, and I just wanted to keep my head down. How is killing me for that justice? How does it make anything better?"

He doesn't give him an answer. "We have to move."

"I don't want to die."

"Then you'll need a run-up to make the jump," I say, before grabbing at my backpack strap. "I'm going to hate every second of this... Alright, I'll go first, then Bailey can go next, then Bots, then Tom."

"You'll be alright, Five," Tom says, and I don't know if he's saying that to be reassuring or if he's saying that because he knows I'm immortal.

Taking a deep breath, I sprint, my muscles tensing as I jump up, over the railing of the walkway. Gravity takes hold instantly, pulling me down, the wind flying through my hair.

I can't stop myself from twisting, and a shocked cry wretches itself from my throat when my back slams into a large tree branch. It's not large enough to hold my weight, unfortunately, and it snaps, sending me barreling down to the ground.

When I hit the ground below, I'm positive I ruptured an organ. The burning I feel inside and the blood that leaves my lips when I cough seal the deal, and I have to take a second to breathe properly.

Bailey is screaming a moment later, but he doesn't twist like I did. He manages to grab onto a tree branch, only to let go of it a second later, scramble for another one and then fall to the ground. He manages a more graceful landing than I, able to stand almost instantly, even though he's limping.

Tom and Kefilwe only take a minute to get down, and she tells me she'll check me for injuries as soon as we're safe.

She won't find anything.

"Everyone alright?" Tom asks, and I grunt in reply as I push myself up.

"We need to move. The bridges above us are on fire. They'll collapse any minute."

"Come on then."

We start to run, pushing onwards. It hurts, but I think being crushed by flaming walkways would hurt worse. It's only a minute later that I hear multiple loud cracks, and heat sears at my back as the walkways all crash down to the ground, fire eating away at the grass.

"Keep running," Tom commands. "I can see people trying to put out the fire, but we don't want to be around them or the flames."

"The flames were a very stupid idea," Kefilwe comments. "If they don't get the fire out, the whole park will burn."

"You saved my life," Bailey says, and he looks at us with fear shining in his eyes behind the glasses. "What happens next?"

"We need to take you back. These people are not wrong to hold you accountable for your actions. You will pay the price, as we all do." She pauses. "I... tortured a man I cared for because there was no other way."

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry. For everything that happened because people like me didn't speak out against her. I wish I could do it again. I would do better. I'd be braver, I think."

"It looks like the fire hasn't reached the courthouse," Tom says. "We'd better get back there before anyone tries to stage a lynching. Come on!"

•

The loud smack of the head judge banging her gavel silences everyone.

"Now that the defendant has returned, we can begin. A verdict has been reached. Please sit down."

We all obey.

"No matter how strong the temptation for vengeance, a society on the edge of apocalypse cannot simply throw lives away. If we do so, we are no better than the death cults who threaten all of us. It is, therefore, the verdict of this court that the defendant, though guilty, will be spared the death penalty."

Bailey slumps in relief, while the crowd shouts in anger.

"Order! Order!" She demands. "Instead, Horace Bailey will be kept in protective custody at Little Rook, where he will spend the rest of his days maintaining a new fence around the town. In this way, he will redress the damage caused by his actions." She bangs her gavel again. "This court is adjourned."

"Bailey looks shell-shocked," Tom says as we make our way to the exit, only pausing to get our weapons back. "I think he would have had an easier time with the death penalty. People here hate him. It's going to be a long, hard road for him to prove he's worth a damn."

"We all have to prove that again and again," Kefilwe replies. She looks at him with sorry eyes. "I was too harsh, Tom. I know you have suffered for your past."

He shakes his head. "No, you were right. I've done plenty of things I'm not proud of. For Janine, or Queen, or country. I've always been good at following orders. Maybe I should think more about the kind of person that makes me."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I think you're a good person," I say, and he replies with a small smile. "Better than me."

"Didn't you say the same thing about that cartoon pharmacist character when you and Sam were watching Phineas and Ferb?"

My smile quickly morphs into a pout. "Just take the compliment and move on."

He chuckles, and I find myself laughing with him.

"You helped save a life today," Kefilwe cuts in. "That is a good sign."

He hums. "Not exactly an innocent life."

Is there anyone truly innocent anymore?

"No, but those ones are easy to care for. Now, let's head back to Abel."

A/N: Here you go guys! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It is dedicated to skyler0425 Please be sure to vote and comment! Thank you and have a blessed day!