Once the multitude seemed reasonably restrained, I felt the nausea move to the top of my gullet, and I couldn’t think straight. A soft but unsettling guttural noise emanated from my throat as my chest and innards clamped up. It didn’t sound human. I didn’t feel human. Beyond bilious, I thought my torso and stomach might rupture and a beastly, alien creature would burst out.
This can’t be happening. No. Please God.
“Yes, Scott was murdered very early this morning. When we found out, we immediately called this emergency assembly. The good news is we know who did it and why. Please, we ask you to allow us to deal with the perpetrator correctly; we do not need mob justice here. We have our way of dealing with this sort of thing, and Scott … Scott would have wanted us to follow this to the point of the rule.”
He, along with the Mzees, fought to calm the incensed assemblage one more time.
“Okay, okay!” Dylain finally bellowed over the now quietened but agitated crowd. “Scott Adam was murdered during the early hours of this morning,” he hesitated for effect. “In the dark! And the person responsible, the person who killed him in cold blood was…”—he paused again and reached for the final climax—“…was Ristan Abel!”
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