The Exodus of A Gender - A Fiction

 "Have you mirandized him yet?" one of the  policewomen asked.

"No, but I'll do —" wrestling the arrested fellow's arms to his back, trying to cuff him. "— just that now."

Out of breath from the scuffle that had ensued, the cuffed dude asked, "What the hell did I do? Why are you arresting me?" 

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you by the court. With these rights in mind, are you still willing to talk with me about the charges against you?" said with a smirk on her face.

Flummoxed, he returned, asking for what he did, of which the policewomen warned those questions, at this point, won't help him in this situation. 

"Oh well! I need to call my lawyer."  He said as he was tucked behind the unmarked Mazda SUV parked outside the pub. 

"That'll be arranged, mister." the woman smiled. The door closed. Looking at each other, the women burst into a fit of laughter.

Fear gripped him with its talons and shook him. He shuddered visibly. Confused, he tried to recall his last activities before he was taken in.

Just some minutes after the Clock struck 8 O'clock, he got off bed, after some hours of sleep, he washed himself and dressed, then he left his home, an ensuite one-bedroom apartment he got just the year before. 

Obviously there was nothing wrong with leaving your home to the pub via a very silent street — that was ominously silent if he gave it some more thought now — to some, equally silent — and has never been this silent — pub. 

Whaat! How could he have missed that?! 

Truly, there were almost no cars plying the road, and how the hell was the pub that silent, and empty, save for the two plump whiskey-drinking, weed-smoking ladies he met there. 

Something was definitely wrong, it has dawned on him, and it must have been that while he was away somewhere, or asleep, a curfew has been announced. But then, wouldn't that be so ridiculous as nothing worthy of the declaration of a state of emergency had happened. 

Even if there was, and let's say he wasn't aware of it, how come it was policewomen who came to arrest him? And when they came to arrest him, why weren't the ladies smoking marijuana arrested, too? The more he racked his brain for answers, the more his confusion deepen. 

"The world has changed overnight, and I am very unfortunate to still be in it, obviously." 

Well, whatever it is to come, he was in already, and although knowing the worst is yet to come, for in his mind of mind, he knew something ominous lurked around him.

 

And he was scared. 

Very scared. 

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In the Interrogation Room, the light flickered for a moment. It shone on the bare room that contained a single long table, two chairs at both ends, a digital wall clock and a thick obscured single pane window. Two CCTV cameras hung down the ceiling  And of course, the newly-detained young man, restrained, by a single handcuff, to the table.

He looked up, slowly waking up from his short slumber. He has been practically detained for more than 12 hours — or was it 24 hours? He has lost track of time, evidently. It was getting totally out of hand. He was losing his grip on hope. 

Still dejected, he heard the only door in the room opened. A woman, in her late forties walked in.  Short and plum, in blue blouse, Dark Armani suit and relatively short skirt. She had the countenance of a legal practitioner. 

Now, where's my damn attorney?, the detained man thought. He had requested that his lawyer be informed before anything. He had gotten no word since. 

"Hi, I'm Barrister Palmer", he heard her say as she placed her bag on the table, in front of the young man, and sat. "And I'm your attorney". 

Silence. 

Clearing her throat, she proceeded, opening a file she had been holding, "I believe you're  Mr James Huck, right?" She only met a cold stare. "I'm only here to help you, Mr Huck. Please co-ope —" 

"No, you need to shut the hell up now. I WANT MY LAWYER. MY LAWYER ONLY" The last word pronounced like a life depends on its stressed enunciation. 

Shocked, Barr. Palmer managed to mask her reaction with flawlessness. A look of professionalism returned on her face as she continued. 

"Mr Huck, if you have a clue about the charges against you right now, you'd be grovelling to be rescued no matter what."

 James felt but more anger. He exploded. 

"Are you threatening me? No, are you threatening? I have done nothing wrong. Get me my lawyer and get the hell out of here." His nose hot red like it was fresh out of a punching bag. 

"Fine, Mr Huck." The lawyer stood up, "we'll have it your way. You can choose to stay and rot quietly here or co-operate and be free once again." And she walked out.