Fiction: Afterlife Volume 3 (Chapter 23)

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Afterlife is a sci fi/western action serial published every other week. Join us in a post-apocalyptic journey through a future where life has become little more than a struggle for survival. However, where there’s life, there’s always hope.

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Read the previous chapter here:

Afterlife, Volume 3, Chapter 22

Where:

The leaders of the Southwest Resistance discus the defense of Rose City.
Razor sees Jenny’s body hanging outside her quarters and flies off the handle.
Ace McCoy goes to trial for armed robbery and murder.

Find the Volume 3 Table of Contents page here.

View the Map here.

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Afterlife, Volume 3, Chapter 23

Della waited patiently and listened to all of the witnesses as he waited to be called.  It seemed that the prosecutor was focusing mostly on the murders and the victims while the defense attorney was trying to paint Ace as a resistance supporter who did everything in the name of the resistance against Herman Rennock.  Della knew that was only true to a point, but he hoped the jury bought it.  It seemed to be Ace’s best chance at being found not guilty.  Either way, Della was very impressed with Ace’s lawyer.  She was smart and she was a great speaker.  Eventually, the defense attorney called Della and he walked over to a chair to the left of the judge and sat down.  “State your name,” the defense attorney said.  She had a kind, round face and though her voice carried, it had a sweet, jovial sound to it.  She was also short, which added to an overall non-threatening nature.

“Della Luscious,” he said.

“Is that your legal name?” she asked.

“It is,” he said.

“And you are a high ranking member of the Southwest Resistance, is that correct?” she asked.

Della nodded.  “I currently hold the rank of major.”

“How do you know the defendant?” she asked.

Della looked at Ace, who smiled at him.  “We worked together.”

“And what did that work entail?”

Della cleared his throat.  “We robbed Herman Rennock’s banks in the name of the Southwest Resistance, under the orders of Abigail Song.  The money we stole is here in Rose City now.  We gave all of it to the resistance here.”

“And how much money was that?”

“Fifty-one billion dollars,” Della said.

The attorney’s eyes widened.  “That’s quite a hefty sum.”  Della nodded.  “That’s sure to help the resistance here immensely,” she said.

“It is,” Della agreed, looking at the jury to see that they were also in awe of the amount.

“While you were doing this,” she said, “did you see Ace McCoy kill anyone?”

“I did.”

“How many people did you personally witness him kill?” she asked.

Della frowned.  “I don’t know.  It’s hard to say, exactly.  Before we started robbing banks together, we were part of a posse with Nat Bigum.  Ace killed a man and saved Bigum’s life.  After that, I only remember one other instance while we were robbing banks.  It was a young man who was attacking Annabelle Rose, who was also with us.”

“And would you call that self-defense?” she asked.

“I would,” Della said.

“Do you recall anyone else Ace killed?” she asked.

“There were some enforcers, but they were enemy combatants.”

“So none of those would constitute murder, right?” she asked.

“Objection!” the prosecutor shouted.  “Leading the witness.”

“Sustained,” the judge said, banging his gavel.

The prosecutor frowned.  “So would you call Ace McCoy a murderer?”

“No,” Della said.  “To my knowledge, everything he did, he did in the name of the resistance, under orders of Abigail Song.  If he killed someone, it was self-defense.  It was either them or us.”

“Very well,” she said with a smile.  “I have no further questions.”

The prosecutor stood and approached Della with an arrogant grin on his face.  He was a tall man in a dark blue suit with a red tie.  His short brown hair was combed meticulously, and to Della, he had a look of the most popular kid in school, the quarterback of the football team who all the girls wanted.  He definitely wasn’t Della’s type, though.  “So,” he began, “Della Luscious.  Before you reached Rose City, when was the last time you checked in with the Southwest Resistance?”

Della frowned.  “I don’t know exactly.”

“Was it before or after you started robbing banks with Ace McCoy and Annabelle Rose?”

“Before,” Della said.

“So one could say you’d gone rogue, then,” the prosecutor said.

“I was acting under orders from Abigail Song, a member of the Lead Council,” Della said.  “That’s all I need.  My orders came from the very top.”

The prosecutor nodded, but his grin was sardonic.  “But one could say Abigail Song had also gone rogue at that point.  She’d murdered Judith Israel, a member of the Lead Council, and she’d gone against the will of all of the other council members when she ran off with you and Mr. McCoy.”

“Objection!” the defense attorney shouted.  “He’s speculating.”

“Sustained,” the judge said.  “This could also be deemed irrelevant.  This court still sees Abigail Song as a high ranking resistance leader.  There have been no orders or messages from the leadership to suggest otherwise.”  He banged his gavel.

“Well,” the prosecutor said to Della, “regardless, do you have any way of knowing whether Mr. McCoy was working for the resistance before he met you?”

“He may not have been working for the resistance officially,” Della said, “but his actions were for the good of the resistance.  He was robbing Herman’s Rennock’s banks.”

“And murdering people,” the prosecutor said.  “As far as the murder you witnessed during your bank robbing escapades, was this Howard Martin?”

“I don’t know,” Della said.

“Did this murder occur in East End?”

“It wasn’t a murder,” Della said.

“Did the death occur in East End?” the prosecutor asked.

“It did,” Della said.

“Then it was Howard Martin,” the prosecutor said.  “A teenager.  An unarmed teenager.”

“Ace had reason to believe that he was armed,” Della said.  “It happened so quickly that he had to react.  The boy was running towards Annabelle.”

“Another thief and murderer,” the prosecutor said.

“Objection!” the defense attorney shouted.  “He’s speculating again.”

“Sustained,” the judge said.

The prosecutor smiled.  “I have no further questions.”

Della looked at Ace and shrugged as he got up from the chair and returned to his seat in the gallery.  The trial went on for a few more hours.  Other witnesses were called.  Most were from bank robberies years before Della had met Ace.  Della was nervous for Ace.  The jury could have gone either way.  Della was a little biased, but it seemed both lawyers were building pretty solid cases.  According to Southwest Resistance provisional law, the defendant had the choice to address the court before the closing arguments, so Ace took the stand and smiled cordially at the members of the jury, the people in the gallery, and the judge.  “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,” he said in his southern accent.  “I wish we were meeting under better circumstances, but I’m honored to be in your presence.”  He presented himself well.  Della was impressed with how he was able to pour on the southern charm when he wanted to.

“I’d like to say in my defense,” Ace said, “that though maybe I wasn’t officially working for the resistance before I met Abby and Della, I was with the resistance at heart.  I was hurting Herman Rennock and helping the resistance with every action I took.  As many of you know, we took from the greedy and the wealthy and gave to the poor and the needy.  We gave millions to poor people who needed food and shelter.  That’s the types of people Annabelle and I were.  Our hearts were always with the people.  And of course, once we met Abby and Della, we were taking orders from them.  And as you all know, when it comes to resistance leadership, Abigail Song is as high up as you can get.  As I understand it, according to Southwest Resistance provisional law, if you commit crimes while working for Southwest Resistance leadership and said crimes are committed against enemy combatants for the reasons of furthering the war effort, you may be eligible for exemption at the discretion of the jury.”  He smiled at the jury on both sides.  “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, all of my robberies were from Herman Rennock’s banks, so I believe as far as the armed robberies go, I should fall into this category.  I’m not a criminal, just as a soldier isn’t a murderer.”  Della tried to read the faces of the jury.  It seemed like people were possibly buying it.

“Now,” Ace continued, “as far as the alleged murders and manslaughters go, according to Southwest Resistance provisional law, a defendant is allowed to plead not guilty due to self-defense if the potential victim of the crime is armed or the defendant had reason to believe they were armed and said victim was approaching the defendant in a threatening manner or acting in such a way as to alarm the defendant into thinking his or her life was in danger, also at the discretion of the jury.  I can assure you that in each of those situations, this was the case.  I ask you to take all of this into account.”  He smiled at the jury members, the gallery, and the judge once again.  “Now I know you’ve all heard things about me.  Some of you may have come into this room thinking I’m some sort of monster.  Let me just tell you now that a lot of what you’ve heard, quite frankly, just isn’t true.  It’s hearsay.  Rumors.  Some of the rumors were spread by Rennock and his authorities in an attempt to turn people against us.  I will admit that Annabelle and I spread some of the rumors ourselves.  We wanted people to fear us and we didn’t want things to turn violent during any of our robberies, so we spread some rumors in news sources and stuff, you know, so people wouldn’t want to challenge us.  I always told her that would come back to bite us, but, well, here we are.”  He smiled and gestured to the courtroom.  “Let me make a few things very clear.  I’ve never killed anyone who wasn’t trying to kill me.  I’ve never killed any women or children.”

“Liar!” someone shouted.

“Order!” the judge shouted back as he banged his gavel.

“Okay,” Ace said.  “I did kill one woman.  But she was pointing a double barreled laser rifle at my head.  Still, most of what you’ve heard about me is made up.  Lies and rumors.  I stand up for the poor.  And I’ll always fight for the resistance.  For the good of the people.”  He smiled at everyone once more before walking back to his seat.  Della looked at the judge.  He didn’t look happy, but Della was starting to think that was just his natural expression.  There was no telling how things were going to go.

In his closing argument, the prosecutor addressed the points Ace tried to make.  He argued that Ace was not working for the resistance before he met Abby and Della, so before that, his robberies were just that, armed robberies.  He also argued that self-defense would be a stretch with at least two of the murders because neither of the attackers was armed and Ace was acting in aggression.  In her closing arguments, the defense attorney reiterated that though Ace wasn’t with Abby yet in most of his robberies, he was still working in the interests of the Southwest Resistance, and Abby’s later willingness to work with Ace and Annabelle pulls their former actions under the same umbrella as the robberies they carried out under her orders.  The defense attorney also argued that in both cases the prosecutor brought up, Ace wasn’t acting in aggression because both people had been approaching him.  She wrapped up and the jurors went into a room to deliberate for what seemed to Della like an eternity.  When they were finished, they returned to the courtroom and took their places once again.

The judge banged his gavel and looked at some papers in front of him.  “Very well,” he said.  “Ace McCoy, the court finds you not guilty on nine counts of armed robbery, three counts of murder, and one count of manslaughter.  However, the court finds you guilty on twenty counts of armed robbery, two counts of murder, and one count of manslaughter.”  He looked up from the paper and into Ace’s eyes, his angry eyes burning holes through his glasses.  “Now, as far as sentencing, I sentence you to life in prison without parole.”  He banged his gavel.  “You, Ace McCoy, are the worst sort of vile criminal.  You, sir, are not a human.  You are an animal, and we need to cage you up like one.  The Southwest Resistance doesn’t use the death penalty because we don’t believe in capital punishment, but I’m going to see that you’re locked away where you’ll never get out as long as you live.”  Ace stood as two large, silver robots with laser rifles walked up to him and escorted him out of the courtroom.  Ace was still smiling, but Della could tell he was hiding dejection.

It had all happened so fast.  Della let out a deep breath.  Now it was all up to Abby and the Lead Council.  Della hoped Abby arrived soon.  He remembered Matt telling him about a military pardon where the Lead Council could vote unanimously to pardon someone integral to the survival of the resistance.  That seemed to be Ace’s only hope now.  Ace had done everything he could to rig the game in his favor, but this time, there was little he could do to cheat from his position.  The odds had been stacked against him from the beginning.  Della stood, stretched, and headed to the exit.

<>

Razor walked past a man with two empty scabbards hanging from his waist.  The swords which had been in the scabbards were now stabbed into the ground in the center of the arena.  Four guards standing near the man with the empty scabbards were pointing old style rifles at Razor as she walked out of the tunnel.  Razor’s head was still throbbing from the tranquilizers, but she’d have to find some way to fight if she wanted to stay alive.  After she’d seen Jenny’s hanging body, she tried to kill a guard and was hit in the neck by a tranquilizer dart.  When she came out of it, she was in a bed in the infirmary.  The doctors did their best to get her ready for her fight.  Then, she was rushed out to the arena.  The crowd of thousands was chanting her name from above the fifteen-foot-high metal walls.  The chanting made Razor sick.  She knew it was mainly because Razor was white and her opponent, judging from the races of the slaves in the Southwest Iron Mines, was most likely either black or Hispanic.  Razor wanted to kill all of them.  She wanted to kill everyone responsible for Jenny’s death, but most of all, she wanted to kill Phillip Brevington.  She scanned the seats for him and couldn’t find him anywhere.  If she’d seen him, she would have thrown a sword through his neck.  For now, even Warrick Baines took a backseat.

Razor looked out across the arena to see who her opponent was.  It was a muscular black woman with a shaved head.  Like Razor, she was wearing a gray jumpsuit, and she was looking at Razor with angry, sadistic eyes.  Razor realized it was Star Saturn, the gladiator who’d defended her and Jenny when Simone Blaze had tried to bully them.  Razor decided right away that she wasn’t going to fight Star.  There was no way she’d kill someone who had been kind to her.  Star ran out and picked up one of the swords.  She spun it through the air, looking angrily at Razor, who stood still, frowning.  Blaze shrugged and picked up the other sword.  She ran towards Razor and sliced with one sword.  Razor dodged it as Blaze tried to slice low with the other sword.  Razor jumped over the attack and Star ran past her.  Razor spun to face Star, who was preparing for another attack, her two swords gleaming in the blazing evening sun.  “I’m not going to fight you,” Razor said as the crowd booed.  “Why should we fight one another for the amusement of thousands of racist lowlifes?”

Star frowned.  “I admire your morals, but if we don’t fight, they’ll sick the lions on us.  Six of them from what I’ve heard.  And they’re huge.”

“I’m not going to kill you,” Razor said.  “You’ll have to kill me.”

Star shrugged.  “All right, then.”  She swung her sword at Razor’s neck, but stopped it inches away.  “Damn it.”  Star threw the swords to the ground and gave the crowd the finger, as did Razor.

The crowd booed louder as Razor hugged Star and Star hugged her back.  “Fight!” someone in the crowd shouted.  “Or you’ll be food for lions.”

“Send out the lions!” someone else shouted.  “Let’s watch ‘em tear these bitches to pieces.”

“Yeah!” someone else shouted.

The crowd started chanting “Lions!  Lions!  Lions!”

Star picked up one sword and Razor picked up the other and the two of them made their way to the center of the arena, where standing back to back, they prepared for whatever happened next.  A huge pair of metal doors opened in a section of the wall, and before Razor had time to think, six massive lions with two long, saber-like fangs jutting over a foot out of each of their mouths were bounding towards Razor and Star.  They looked hungry, and their shoulders rose at least eight feet off the ground.  They were bigger than horses.  “We should split up,” Star said.

Razor nodded and they stepped several yards away from one another, keeping their swords pointed at the lions.  Three lions came at each of them.  Razor swung two fast slices and leapt out of the way as the huge beasts lunged in her direction.  One of the lions barely missed her with its claw.  She spun to see the three lions which had attacked her positioning themselves to lunge once again.  One roared a loud, intimidating roar that filled the stadium and could probably be heard for miles.  Razor had sliced two of them across their sides, but it had done little.  It appeared they were just angrier.  Razor heard screams beside her and glanced over for a second to see that one of the lions which had attacked Star was dead with a sword through its breast.  The other two were ripping Star’s bloody body to pieces with their powerful mouths.  Razor breathed deeply and took several steps back as the three giant lions prepared to attack again.  The people in the audience were cheering, hooting and hollering.  Razor realized she probably didn’t stand a chance against the giant beasts, even with her sword.  She could hold them off for a while possibly, but she was as good as dead.  She thought about the unborn child she was carrying.

The lions lunged at Razor once again.  This time they were spread further apart and she had nowhere to go, so she tried to roll underneath them.  She closed her eyes and braced for impact as she rolled through the sandy ground and she felt one of their huge paws on her back.  She heard the hisses of laser fire.  Razor looked around her and watched as a laser blasted through the head of one of the lions which had been feasting on what was left of Star.  Another laser blasted the other lion through the back.  The huge paw was still on Razor, pinning her to the ground, but she was surprised that there were no lions ripping through her skin with their teeth.  She heard panicking people shouting.  There were more laser hisses and several rifle blasts.  Razor pulled herself out from under the huge paw with all of her strength.  She stood and looked around at her surroundings.  Star was ripped to shreds and there was blood everywhere, but all six lions were dead.  There was the one Star killed with her sword.  The other five, including the one which had its paw on razor, had been blasted by lasers.

The stadium was full of shouting people.  Red lasers were firing all over.  One hit the sand just a few feet away from Razor and she ducked behind one of the dead lions.  Brevington’s soldiers were firing their rifles at black soldiers who were wearing black uniforms.  The black soldiers had laser rifles and many had disruptors.  They’d probably used those to shut off Brevington’s men’s disruptors before they had a chance to use them.  That was the downfall of disruptor and bullet tactics.  If someone else had disruptors and got to you first, they’d be free to use their lasers or whatever else they had.

Razor noticed that the guards near the tunnel were all dead, as was the man with the two scabbards.  She grabbed Star’s sword out from the dead lion’s breast and ran to the tunnel entrance, where she took the belt off the dead man and put it around her own waist.  She slipped her two swords into their scabbards and used a gate near the tunnel entrance to help her scale the wall.  Once she was in the bleachers, she drew her swords and ran up the stairs.  The bleachers were mostly empty as many of the spectators had fled in a panic.  Many others were dead and their bodies scattered the seats and isles.  Razor saw a man nearby in a gray uniform aiming his rifle at one of the black soldiers and she swung hard, slicing off his head.  She ran as fast as she could up the stairs, seeing two more guards ahead of her.  They also had their backs to her, so she sliced one in half from his left shoulder to his right hip.  The other, she stabbed through the back, pulling her sword out as his body fell into the seats.  She kept running until she was stopped by three black soldiers who pointed their laser rifles at her.  “Who the hell are you?” one asked.  He was wearing a black beret and black sunglasses.

“A slave,” she said.  “I was fighting in the arena.  I’m on your side.”

“Are you?” he asked.  He grinned.  “You definitely don’t look like you’re on our side.”

“I just killed three of Brevington’s men.”  She pointed behind her with her sword.

“She’s right,” one of the other soldiers said.  “I saw it.”

The soldier with the beret nodded.  “Where you goin’ now?”

“To kill Phillip Brevington,” she said.

All three soldiers laughed.  “We’ve already got his house surrounded.  Alpha’s gonna kill ‘im.”

“Alpha?” Razor asked.

“Evileye Alphacore.”

Razor recognized the name, though she wasn’t sure from where.  “Well can you let me by?”

The three soldiers laughed and shrugged, clearing a way for her to run up the stairs and through a doorway that led to the outside of the stadium.  It was quickly getting dark.  Razor found herself at the edge of town, trying to remember where Brevington’s mansion was.  There were burning buildings everywhere and the town was gray with smoke.  Black men in black uniforms were running through the streets firing laser rifles and there were dead men in gray uniforms cluttering the ground.  Razor found the main road that ran through the center of town and remembered Brevington’s mansion was at the end of that road.  She started running past burning houses and screaming women and children who were out in the street.  She had to get to Brevington before this Alpha killed him.  She had a promise to keep.

<>

Bud Johnson had been content staying behind the controls of the Ruff Ridah, Evileye Alphacore’s leveler, but he had orders to help clean up the town, whatever that meant, so he’d left the comfy confines of the huge machine he helped operate and was now walking past burning buildings and screaming white women.  It was dark out, but the fires filled the town with blazing light.  Bud noticed Maven James, the sergeant he took orders from, questioning a white man in front of a burning house, so he approached him.  Maven was large and muscular, with a goatee and always angry eyes.  He chose to wear the black beret many of the Warriors of Freedom wore.  Two other men from his squad were cheering as they burned a Confederate flag in the street.  Maven noticed Bud approaching him and smiled.  “We got one of their men right here,” Maven said.  “A lawyer, apparently.  Said he used to work in the mines as a guard.”

The frightened man was kneeling on the ground in front of Maven.  He was wearing a torn black suit and he had one of those stupid-looking high and tight Hitler haircuts.  “I hated it,” the Nazi said.  Tears were streaming down his cheeks.  “They treat people inhumanely in there.  I won’t argue with that.  That’s why I had to leave.  I couldn’t take it anymore.”

“That’s why you had a Confederate flag hangin’ from your house,” Maven said.  “’Cause you love black people so much.  And that’s why you moved to this racist hellhole in the first place.  So you could look out for our best interests, right?”

“It’s a safe town,” the frightened man said.  “It’s a safe place to raise a family.”

“If you’re white,” Maven said.

The man nodded with a frown.  “If you’re white.”

Two more of Maven’s men pushed a boy of about eight and a woman towards Maven.  They were dressed in sweat pants and tee-shirts and looked like they’d been relaxing at home before the attack.  “His wife and kid,” one of Maven’s men said.

Maven grinned at the boy.  “You gonna grow up racist like your daddy?”

“I ain’t gonna talk to you,” the boy said.  He spat at Maven’s feet.

Maven laughed.  “A brave one.  Well we’ll see how brave you are when we kill your daddy in front of you.”  Bud’s heart sank as Maven turned to him.  “Bud, kill his father.”

“No!” the wife screamed.  “You’re all savages!”  Maven slapped her across the face.

“I ain’t killin’ nobody,” Bud said.  “The battle’s over.  We won.”

“We ain’t won,” Maven said.  “Long as there’s racist white murderers alive in this town, we ain’t won nothin’.”

“I ain’t killin’ nobody,” Bud repeated.

Maven shrugged, drew his laser pistol, and blasted the man’s brains into the sandy street as his house burned behind them.  The wife and son were crying hysterically.  Bud looked around to see similar scenes happening nearby.  One Warriors of Freedom soldier had several white men and women lined up in front of him.  He was pointing his laser pistol at one man’s head, preparing to execute him.  Bud turned and started walking away.  “Hey!” Maven shouted as the wife and son of the dead man cried.  “You’re a deserter if you leave.”

Bud turned and scowled at him.  “You ain’t no better than them now.  You might even be worse.”

“This is war!” Maven shouted.  “It ain’t no garden party.  You don’t think they’d be doin’ the same if they’d won?  They’d be doin’ way worse!”

Bud turned and walked away.  “I’m leavin’!” he shouted.  “Shoot me if you want to.  But I’m done with this.  This ain’t what I signed up for.”  Bud thought about things as he walked towards the edge of town.  Hatred only bred more hatred until right and wrong were blurred to the point of meaninglessness.  Bud looked around to see that he wasn’t the only person leaving.  There were several other black uniformed men walking away from the town.  Bud wondered how Alpha would react if he knew what was going on in the streets of Iron Town.  Alpha didn’t seem like someone who’d stand for injustice within his own ranks.  Still, there were a lot of former bandits fighting for the Warriors of Freedom and Alpha seemed to be okay with it.  They were good fighters, and the Warriors of Freedom needed the numbers, but now the drawbacks of having criminals in your army were starting to show.  Bud, like Alpha, was an escaped slave.  Bud had never killed anyone before he joined the warriors.  He’d never committed a crime in his life.  Maven had been a bandit, a thief and a murderer, before he’d joined the group, and he still had the same mindset.

Bud remembered how happy he’d been when the disruptor attack was successful.  Alpha had several of his men sneak up on the town with disruptors and fire them while the rest of the Warriors of Freedom waited safely out of range.  Brevington’s men used disruptor and bullet tactics, so once their disruptors were taken out, they were forced to try to fend off advanced lasers with weapons from thousands of years ago.  Bud drove the leveler into town and they used its laser canons to take out the horse stables and armories, along with other strategic targets.  Several of the Warriors of Freedom went up to the mines and freed all of the slaves, killing the guards.  Bud had never been more proud than when he looked up to see the freed slaves cheering in the hills above the town.  It was a great moment for everyone who valued freedom and justice.  The rumors going around were that Brevington’s guards tried to murder as many slaves as they could, though, before being killed themselves by the Warriors of Freedom.  Those rumors spread quickly and had probably fed a lot of the anger running through the streets now.  Everyone was out for revenge, for recent events, and for centuries, millennia even, of oppression and injustice.  Things boiled over quickly and now there was no semblance of order.  Iron Town had now gone from a war zone to a massacre site, and Bud no longer wanted any part in it.

He walked past the Ruff Ridah and made his way out into the desert.  From what he’d heard, Rose City wasn’t far.  If he could stop in a nearby town and get a sand bike, he could make his way there.  He’d heard the Southwest Resistance was forming an army there to fight the IAO.  He wasn’t sure that battle would be any less savage than this one, but at least it was worth a try.  Bud wanted to help restore some order to the chaotic world, and he was a warrior.  He just needed to find the right battle to fight in.

 

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M99nzyiS830]

 

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Continue on to the next chapter:

Afterlife, Volume 3, Chapter 24
Where:
Razor confronts Phillip Brevington again.
Eileen Traymont and her men are found in the desert.
Abby is desperate to get to Drummond.

Find the Volume 3 Table of Contents page here.

View the Map here.

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