Roy Villein's Arc

Chapter 11 of 11

Roy sat in his truck three miles from the plant and waited for the sirens. They came at 7:42 AM—fire trucks, ambulances, police cars screaming past his position toward ChemCorp. He listened until the sounds faded, then started the engine and drove home. The bottles had done their work. Twenty years of poisoned soil couldn't come back, but the men who caused it were gone. Justice didn't fix what was broken. It just made sure the guilty paid their debt. Roy pulled into his driveway and cut the engine. The farm was still dead. The courts were still corrupt. But for the first time in three years, his hands didn't shake with rage. He stepped out of the truck and walked toward his house. It was over. The radio station broadcast the news at noon. Roy stood in his kitchen and listened to the reporter describe the parking garage fire. Three executives dead. Cause still under investigation. Chemical residue found at the scene. He switched off the radio and ate lunch at the table. The food tasted the same as it had yesterday. The farm outside his window looked the same—dead rows where crops used to grow. Nothing had changed except the men who killed it were gone now. Two days later, Roy drove past the Justice Building on his way to the bank. Workers were removing records from the basement after a pipe leak. He recognized the marble steps where he'd walked three years ago for his first hearing. The building stood tall and clean, just like it had when the judges ruled against him. He kept driving. The courts hadn't given him justice then, and seeing the building now didn't make him feel anything. He'd found his own answer. At the community health clinic, Roy picked up the pills for the cough he'd had since working in the tunnels. The brick walls were faded and the notice board showed warnings about chemical exposure. The nurse asked if he'd been near any industrial sites. He lied and said no. She handed him the prescription and told him to come back if it got worse. Roy walked out and threw the pill bottle in the trash. The cough would fade or it wouldn't. The executives were dead. His farm was still poisoned. But the debt was paid, and that was all that mattered now.