The lawyer’s truth is not Truth, but consistency or a consistent expediency.
-Henry David Thoreau
George paced across the floor of the front desk area in Jennifer’s office. The space was dark, lit only by a floor lamp in the corner. The lights and HVAC had turned off for the building hours before. A TV was mounted on the wall behind George. Jennifer and Tristan sat across from him in two padded metal chairs in what was normally the waiting area. Jennifer sat closest to the frosted glass door and Tristan sat next to an end table that held a few local magazines and a pair of scissors. Tristan took note of the scissors while she sat and prayed. Jennifer was staring down George with a clear look of seething rage.
“George, you have to know that there is no way this sits well with a jury.” Jennifer said. George stopped by the large front desk and returned her glare. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “None of those cases matter anymore.”
“Because of the zombies, right?” Jennifer said. The condescension in her voice was palpable. “You have to know how that sounds with your history.” Tristan stared at her, dumbfounded. This woman was talking down to a man that was holding them at gunpoint. She couldn’t tell if Jennifer was the bravest or dumbest person she’d ever met.
George rubbed his head, clearly full of anxious energy. “I know, ok? I know how it sounds,” he said. “But normal people don’t just start randomly biting folks.” He winced and glanced down at his bloody hand. Tristan could see what looked like necrosis creeping up from the wound.
Jennifer interjected. “Bath salts, psychosis, weird kinks, there’s plenty of-“
“F*** you, Symchak. I know what I saw.” George said, cutting her off. His voice was beginning to take on more of an edge. Jennifer threw up her hands to stave off the man’s anger. “Ok, fine. Why are you here then?” She asked. George deflated at this question.
“I didn’t think anyone would be here.” He said, his voice full of regret. This sudden softening surprised Tristan. He seemed just as lost as she was in this situation.
“So, you wanted a place to hide out and see if you could trust your mind. I get it.” Jennifer said. George grew agitated again at that comment and resumed glaring at the lawyer. “I trust my mind just fine.” He growled. “I just don’t trust others to see the truth right away.” Jennifer laughed derisively. “George, I gotta say, I don’t think this is a very productive Attorney/Client relationship.” George began to curse Jennifer out again, but Tristan decided to butt in before tensions got any higher. “Hey, why don’t we just check the news?” She asked, muscling through her paralyzing fear. She wanted to prevent Jennifer from antagonizing the man further.
George thought for a moment and then shrugged. He motioned for Tristan to turn on the TV. She cautiously stood up and walked towards the front desk, keeping an eye on the gunman as she went. She opened the top drawer and pulled out the remote. She hit the power button and the TV flashed on. The screen showed a stagnant test pattern with “PLEASE STAND BY” written at the top. “Huh.” Tristan said. She flipped through a few different channels, each showing the same thing. She turned towards George and saw that even more color had drained from his already pale face. “Oh god,” he said. “How has it all gone to s*** already?”
Jennifer chimed in from behind Tristan and George. “Huh. Must be a test or something.” She said. George turned towards her. “What is this, the 80’s?” He said, exasperated. “The channels don’t just turn off at the end of the day.” Jennifer looked genuinely offended at that. “The 80’s? I’m talking about the emergency-“ she said, clearly annoyed. She took a breath and reeled herself back in. “Look, George, you have to-“ she began to say before she was cut off by George. “Just shut up.” He snapped. She did not shut up. “Look, I’m just saying that one thing doesn’t-“
“It’s not just one thing.” He said, growing louder and more defensive. “This is all circumstantial.” Jennifer pointed out. “Shut the f*** up!” George roared, raising the gun towards her face. The whole room stopped. Jennifer looked at George defiantly as he trembled with a rage that he could barely contain. Tristan, once again, felt as if she had to step in to make sure Jennifer didn’t get the both of them killed. She felt like she was a child caught between two warring parents, just trying to have a peaceful family dinner. She cleared her throat, breaking through the silent tension. “Why did you come here if you think the world is ending?” She asked. Once again, the reminder of her presence changed George’s demeanor completely. She could see the rational side of his brain trying to break through his anger. He sighed shamefully. “I didn’t know what else to do. Where else to go. And I… I didn’t wanna get anyone else sick.” He said.
Jennifer rolled her eyes. “Glad to know we don’t count.” She chirped. Tristan braced herself for the return of their captor’s wrath, but, surprisingly, he remained calm. “I know. I’m sorry. I really didn’t… I’m sorry.” He said, looking at the floor. Tristan studied the man’s face. She could tell that, regardless of what the reality of the situation was, George truly believed what he was saying. She found herself pitying him more and more by the minute. “What’s your plan? Are you gonna let us go soon?” She asked in earnest. He turned to her incredulously. “Let you go? Have you been listening at all? You could be sick already.” He said. “I hear you,” Tristan said. “But how do we know that you’re telling the truth?”
“Well, there is the big ugly bite on my hand.” He said, gesturing towards his bloodied and black right hand. That wasn’t a bad point, if Tristan was being honest. How didhe get such an ugly wound? Jennifer, deciding it had been too long since she’d made things worse, piped up with another sarcastic retort. “Listen man, what you do in your free time is between you and your god. I’m not gonna judge. You can be honest with us.” She said. This time, both George and Tristan glared at her. “I am being- this isn’t a game, Symchak.” George scolded.
Jennifer began to shift uncomfortably. It seemed that she was finally realizing how little control she had over the situation. She clearly did not like that. “You’re right, this isn’t a game. This is our lives, George.” She said, her tone growing more urgent. “Don’t you think I know that?” George said. Tristan started shrinking into the corner. She could tell that both of them were reaching a boiling point.
“If you’re telling the truth, then we’ve got zero chance of survival staying here with you.” Jennifer said, desperation creeping into her voice. “If you let us go, we could still make it out of here alive. We could get you some help.” George shook his head. “No. No, you don’t understand.” He said, his voice growing frantic. “You have to trust me, if this is airborne, we can’t… I can’t do that.” He continued to avoid eye contact with anyone, but Tristan could see the desperation on his face. “You want us to trust you? Show us we can. Put the gun down.” Jennifer retorted. She tried and failed to give a reassuring smile, fear breaking through the cracks. George considered this and, for a moment, Tristan thought he might just do it. “I-“ he said. He sounded as if he was physically struggling to get his answer out. “I can’t.”
Jennifer couldn’t hold her anxiety back any longer. The dam broke and she shouted, “Just put the god damn gun down!” She stood, as if she was going to step up to the gunman. George responded to this outburst in kind. “SIT DOWN. SIT THE F*** DOWN!” He screamed, shoving the gun into the lawyer’s face. His finger was on the trigger for the first time since Tristan had met him. Jennifer sat down and glared at George with a white-hot fury. She glanced at the gun. George’s eyes followed hers. “Don’t try it.” He said. Jennifer looked away.
Tristan found herself wishing that she could be even smaller. Someone was going to get seriously hurt, she knew this. She wanted to intervene. She wanted to help and defuse things, but she felt as if her anxiety was smothering her. George lowered his gun. “There. Was that so hard?” He said to Jennifer. Jennifer rolled her eyes and stood again, this time turning towards the door. “Well, this was fun, but I’m going home. You two crazy kids have fun.” She said as she reached for the door handle. George groaned with frustration. “Jennifer, please sit down. I need you to understand.” He pleaded.
Jennifer turned toward him sharply. “Understand what?” She spat. “That you’re desperate? That you’ll do anything to get out of trouble?” George looked as if he was on the verge of tears. “I need you to understand that I’m doing the right thing.” He said, softly. Jennifer sighed. “Look, George, you didn’t come here looking for trouble, I know that. But if you don’t let me leave, I can’t represent you anymore. That’s it. You’re on your own. Do you get that?” She asked. George hesitated before speaking, once again struggling with his words. “I understand.” He said, decisively. “Good, then I’ll see you later.” Jennifer said, turning back to the door and pulling it open.
“Jennifer. Last warning. I will shoot you.” George said, ominously. Without missing a beat, Jennifer called back over her shoulder. “I don’t believe you.” She said. She stopped in the doorway for a moment. “Besides, you’re a righty.” She stepped through the door.
A shot rang out.
“I shoot lefty, dumbass.” George said.
