Capitol Punishment. Andrew Welsh-Huggins
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Prologue
I had to bend over to catch my breath when I finally reached the top of the stairs, which is why the bullet missed me and splintered the wall just above my head. I didn’t wait for a second shot. I lunged to my right and started counterclockwise around the curved room, away from the origin of the gunfire. A moment later, exhausted by the climb, I stumbled and fell, dropping what I’d been holding and hitting my head on the worn, century-old wooden bench hugging the inner wall. Staggering to my feet, I touched my forehead with my right hand and felt something warm and sticky. I took a breath and listened. The layout of the room, an enclosed circular walkway, made it impossible to see more than a few feet in either direction. Was I being followed from behind or approached from ahead? I was like a knight in a drained moat trying to escape an oncoming dragon. Except that my armor wasn’t very shiny and the dragon was more of a snake. The ringing in my ears from the gunshot made it hard to hear above the rock anthem pumping up the crowd outside and far below, and I nearly missed the sound of footsteps. I glanced behind me, reached down, picked up what I’d dropped and, ignoring the popping in my knees, limped away from the noise as fast as possible. I just hoped I’d guessed the right way to go.
“You don’t want to do this,” I said, trying to make myself heard over the music. “It’s over.”
“You’re right about that,” came the reply, in an unnervingly calm voice.
I paused, trying to figure out how far behind me the words were coming from. I heard another voice echoing outside. Authoritative, confident and assuring, the tone of a man who has gazed into your eyes and knows your heart and wants nothing more than to help you.
“That’s Governor Hubbard,” I said. “The introduction’s about to start. You’re wasting time.”
“I’ve got plenty.”
“I don’t think so. We both know you’re on deadline.”
“Dead is right.”
I took another breath and used my left hand to wipe away the blood dripping into my eyes. I put my hand back on the wall to steady myself; the bloody palm print