Ryan's Redemption
Ryan`s Redemption
Author: The Empress
The bus rumbled slowly down the two lane road, as if it knew its destination, but was in absolutely no hurry to get there. The prisoners were in the seats two by two, shackled together at the wrists and ankle a small length of chain separating them. Ryan looked at the passenger sitting next to him. He was a Negro. There were several on the bus with him, but this was the first time in a long time he had actually been this close to one. He tried to appear nonchalant as he studied him. The black man, a boy really, looked so scared he might actually pee himself. Ryan sighed and ran his free hand through his hair. He turned to the grimy window and stared out at the rolling hills as they passed by his view.
Ryan replayed in his mind the events leading up to his present situation. What miserable luck he had most of his life. One way or another life had been full of getting himself in and out of trouble with the law. It started when he was just a boy of five. Stealing candy from the local five and dime while his mother tried to barter her personal property for food, had earned him several boxes around the ears, as well as a working off his thievery in the store where he stole from. The grocer had no sympathy for a boy trying to stave of the hunger pangs for another day, and finding the only source of sweetness in his life from the peppermint candy that beckoned him from the rack.
Ryan then remembered the gang of kids he got himself tied in with when he was only ten. Trying to be accepted by the older boys, he would do whatever they told him, to prove that he could be just like them, even if it meant doing the unthinkable, like beating up kids younger than he or stealing old women's purses as he watched from the bushes, the older kids egging him on. He took his fair share of the beatings as well, earning him not only his current tough exterior, but several battle scars that he would carry with him forever.
He shook his head at the memories and turned back to the man sitting next to him on the bus seat. Ryan could tell that the man was trying his very best not to cry. His bottom lip was stuck out a mile long and he kept nervously twisting and pulling at the chain that linked them together. Ryan gave the chain a yank and frowned hard at the man. "Hey man, what's the deal?"
"Oh oh..I'm ssorry." The man said nervously, not daring to look in his eyes.
Ryan scowled at him. He hated cowardice. He hated it more than the people who beat the crap out of him on a daily basis. At least he could fight back with that; all he could do with cowards was intimidate. He needed more of a challenge. He yanked on the chain once again, pulling the man's hand along with his over to his face. He buried his face in his hands for a few seconds before scrubbing them across the tired weary lines around his eyes and focused again on the road ahead of him.
The bus hit a few bumps in the road shaking up the prisoners. After a few loud curses and yells from the guards to "shut the hell up" Ryan turned to his attention back to the man who still had his hand half poised in front of Ryan's face. "What's your name kid?"
The "kid" looked back at the older man in near panic. It was the first time someone spoke to him since he got on board the bus, since the first time he actually found himself in this mess. He knew he should have listened to his mamma. You should always listen to your mamma. He knew full well he should have never done what he did and now he was going to pay for it in the worst way. He put his free hand in his pocket and stroked his lucky rabbit's foot. Where was the luck when you really needed it? He didn't bring it out for fear that it would be taken from him and then he'd never have anything to keep him safe. To remind him of his life at home and of what he missed. Again he kept his eyes downcast as he answered the giant of a man sitting next to him. He was more of in a panic for what would happen if he refused to say anything. "Wwayne." He stuttered, stroking his rabbit’s foot urgently.
"Well, Wayne," Ryan said studying him further, "since we're stuck on this shit hole bus together we might as well make the best of this long ride to hell, what do you say?" Ryan leaned back as far as he could in his seat and thumped Wayne on the back. What he wouldn't do for a cigarette right about now. He thought he could actually kill for one. "So whatcha in for?" It was the standard question. He really didn't want to know or care; it was just some background noise to get his mind off of his own tortured thoughts about his own problems. He figured if someone else's had to be worse it would be this petrified blackie sitting next to him. They were after all, in the Deep South and it was 1936. Things couldn't be too good for ole Wayne, he realized.
Ryan had been transported all the way from New York. He had only heard about the South's reputation from other convicts that he'd been involved with over the years and he knew he didn't want to be a part of the system he was now entering. The south had no compulsions in treating their prisoners unfairly and a good amount of them never made it out of the system alive.
Wayne swallowed a couple of times, trying to decide whether or not to trust Ryan enough to tell him his sad little tale. Ryan looked disinterested enough for Wayne to safely give him the short version of how he wound up here. "Uhm, well, I made a mistake." He replied hesitantly.
"Didn't we all?" Ryan said rhetorically. He leaned his head back against the seat and stared out the window. It was getting darker outside.
Wayne laughed a little at this and shakily sighed. "You do have a point. Well I hope whatever you did will not get you into the same situation I'm unfortunately finding myself in now. I always thought I could use my easy nature to get me out of anything...I suppose this time I thought wrong." Wayne stared down at his feet. He didn't know how much he felt like opening up, but it seemed easy to do with this guy.
Ryan smiled a little and closed his eyes. He didn't need to see the man to listen to him. He hoped he could try and fall asleep before he got to the large Alabama penitentiary that was looming in the distance waiting to pull him in, claim him and make him one of its own. "Name's Ryan, by the way." He said at Wayne's pause.
"Nice to meet you, Ryan." Wayne said offering his shackled right hand to shake Ryan's free one. It seemed to Ryan that once you got him started, Wayne appeared easy going enough to forget who and what he was and expected to be treated as equal as anyone. Wayne relaxed a little and settled back in his seat. He took out the rabbit's foot and studied it while he stroked it's soft but almost worn fur.
"So," Ryan said after a longer pause.
"So," Wayne repeated. "back in my home town in Tallahatchie County, Mississippi, I'm known to a lot of folks as somewhat of a goodie two shoes, you know a negro that does as he's told, gets along, keeps his nose clean, etc." Ryan nodded. "Well, I did that for a reason, because the white folks over there will find any excuse at all to give the black man a hard time. There is no way on God's green earth that you could even look at a white man over there without getting your head turned around and put on backwards, let alone look at one of the women. You do that and you end up dead." Wayne looked down at the rabbit’s foot regrettably once again.
"Anyways, one day as I was walking over to Old Mr. Greenwood's curb side country store, with some buddies of mine, we were laughing and goofing off like usual, staying on our side of the road like we're supposed to, and out walks Mr. Greenwood’s daughter Kathy." Wayne got a far away look in his eye when he spoke about Kathy. Ryan opened his eyes at Wayne's mentioning of her. He saw Wayne's shy, but pleased smile, and it didn't take long for him to put two and two together. He let Wayne put it into his own words.
"I saw Kathy and I couldn't resist showing off to my buddies who looked at me and started egging me on because they knew how I felt about her. We all knew I shouldn’t have had anything to do with a white woman and I knew it would come to no good end for me if I pursued it, but she was so beautiful." He sighed wearily. "My buddies told me to go over and start a conversation with her, you know, just say hello. What would be wrong with that? And there was no one else around, so it wouldn't hurt just to say hi or something right? So I did. I knew I shouldn't have listened to them. They wouldn't be the ones after all who'd get in hot water if anything went down. And I was right, as you can plainly see." Wayne let out a shaky sigh that bordered on a sob.
"I went across the street, just with the intentions of saying hello. It's all I wanted to do. But the closer I got, the prettier she got, and with the guys hootin and hollorin behind me, all I could think to do was whistle at her. I'll never forget the look she gave me as she went back to the store, I suppose, to go and get her daddy. My friends came up then and snatched me away. We ran as long and as far away as we could to get away, but they came for me anyways. She pointed me out as the one who whistled at her. I didn't get a fair trial and now here I sit. They said I sexually harassed her and that I made lewd comments and gestures to her. I never did any of those things. I'm not that kind of a person. I made a mistake; I guess I should be lucky though. People in my shoes get off with a far lot worse than a death sentence in a state penitentiary, where I come from, they just wind up dead."
Ryan studied his companion a little while longer and thought to himself, that's a hell of a stroke of bad luck. How in the world could anyone be sent to death row for whistlin at some chick? It must be shit to be black in the South he reasoned. He would never have pegged the man sitting next to him as being a hardened criminal or criminal of any kind for that matter. He knew he wouldn't survive long on the inside without some sort of protection. He gave half a thought to being that, but he couldn't be bothered with new shit while he was still trying to work out his own. He looked out the windows of the front of the bus and realized that by this time they had entered the city limits to the home that was to be his and the poor unfortunate soul's sitting next to him for a very, very long time.
Chapter 2
The bus came to a full stop in front of the massive complex that housed somewhere around 3000 plus criminals, Ryan had heard somewhere, at current count. He stared up at the looming building with growing distaste and the bitter bile of apprehension in his stomach. Wayne was slightly trembling at his side. Ryan guessed it was around maybe six or eight in the evening judging by the twilight sky and the darkening clouds. He picked at a hole that was in the back of the seat in front of him. The calm before the storm, he realized. Up ahead the bus door opened and Ryan turned his attention toward it. The top of a buzzed head came into view and before the head reached the top step, it disappeared and a slight thud was heard. "Shit" a slightly high pitched deeply southern accent preceded the thud.
Ryan tried to suppress his grin as he realized whomever it was had stumbled up the stairs. He watched as the man, a very stout bespectacled individual, righted himself and brushed off his pants and surveyed the prisoners with beady little eyes that seemed to disappear into his pudgy, square face.
"Well, well, Mr. Sherwood, is this our new batch?" The man drawled to a tall, goofy looking police officer at the front of the bus. The officer gave a full-toothy grin to the man and Ryan couldn’t help to think that the man seemed more suited in any other job than the hardened job requirements of a correctional officer. He had known quite a few in the past and none of them seemed as jovial or as affable as the man appeared to be.
"Yes sir, Warden Carey. All dressed up and ready to go." Officer Sherwood tipped his hat to his boss and then banged his stick on the wire mesh that separated the prisoners from the driver. "All right you son’s a bitches listen up!" He said as if the entire bus was in an uproar when in fact it was a still and as quite as a church inside. No one wanted to know what awaited them and they were even less excited to participate.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to our quaint little home away from home." Warden Carey started. There were only men on board the bus, but they all knew what the implied meaning was behind his greeting. "My name is Warden Drew Carey, but you wonderful ladies can call me Warden Carey, if you will. Now if y’all wouldn’t mind following Officer Sherwood here into the building we can get the rest of this little orientation started. I will tell you right off that we will keep the volume down as to not disturb the other inmates. And we will not attempt any daring escapes from here to the door. I guarantee y’all won’t make it to the gate. Welcome once again, and remember this from here on out: You are permanent guests in my little establishment, how you conduct yourselves while here warrants the comfort ability of your stay. We’re all gonna get along just fine." He smirked, turned and stepped off the bus leaving the prisoners under the charge of Officer Sherwood.
When Warden Carey left the bus, Officer Sherwood, tapped the mesh three more times and said "Ok ladies, rise and shine." The prisoners stood to their feet and began shuffling to the bus aisle. Ryan gave Wayne a little shove as he appeared to still be in a daze from Warden Carey’s announcement. Wayne jumped a little and moved out of his seat. Ryan towered above him as well as everyone else on the bus by at least five inches. As he got to Officer Sherwood he looked him levelly in the eyes and gave him a half smirk. For some reason Officer Sherwood didn’t mind the insubordination and let him pass. They had sized each other up and read each other in the span of three seconds. That was all that was needed. Ryan exited the bus to the cool, crisp chill of the early autumn evening.
The line of dark blue denim clad convicts shuffled their way to the prisoner’s entrance at the side of the building. They each paused at the doorway where they were once again patted down roughly, ensuring that none had brought in any foreign objects on their person. Wayne cringed inwardly as a guard, roughly patted him down and felt a lump in his pocket. The guard looked at the scared black man and grinned widely. He dug deep into Wayne’s pocket and extracted the rabbit’s foot. Wayne’s eye’s pinched up in protest and his hand almost rose up, reaching for it.
The guard whistled loudly to another guard at the back of the line and then unlocked the shackle separating his hand from Ryan’s. "Seems like you got a problem here boy." He said menacingly to Wayne. "First you try to smuggle contraband in here and then you try to hit me. That, my friend, is a real no, no." Wayne couldn’t even stutter out a defense as he was roughly shoved ahead of the line and into the admittance room. Ryan clinched his fists behind him a witness to the entire scene. He could see how things got manipulated around here and already it didn’t sit well with him. "Move this line along!" The guard in back shouted. All of the rest of the prisoners were ushered into the admittance room and stood in the line. The room was dimly lit, but everyone could see that it was just an empty room with a door opposite, leading into the hell they knew they would call home.
Wayne was standing in front of everyone his hands were cuffed together and his legs still shackled. Ryan could see he was trying his best to stop his trembling, but it was not working. Ryan noticed that Officer Sherwood had come in at the very end of the line and locked the doors behind him. He walked the length of the prisoner line, studying each face and making remarks here and there about standing straighter and keeping quiet. He stopped in front of Ryan and looked at the other man once again. Ryan averted his eyes at an angle and tried to keep them on Wayne who was looking back at him fearfully. Sherwood cocked his head towards Wayne and said in a low voice. "Now the fun begins." He smiled his goofy, boyish grin, but there was a knowing glint in his eye. He turned and continued to the other end of the room where the door was and opened it. As soon as he turned, Ryan’s face scowled hard in his direction. His fists were still clinched. He wanted his opportunity to speak out against this unfair shit.
Warden Carey stepped into the room followed by another man, about his height, but considerably smaller in physique. The other man was an officer, and extremely well built. He seemed to almost have the same body characteristics as Wayne who was also very muscular and fit. The man looked as if he tried too hard to be threatening, but it really was a wasted effort. His face pinched up hard as if he were constipated, but there was also something crazy in his eyes. Ryan didn’t think at the time he’d be much of a threat for anything and wondered who would be in this joint? Everyone here looked like they were some sort of comedian.
Warden Carey walked up to Wayne and stood very close behind him, well into his personal space. "I’ve been waiting for this moment." He whispered into Wayne’s ear tickling the fine hair along the edge. Wayne closed his eyes briefly and dared to turn his head slightly in the direction of the voice. "Did I say that you could move… (he looked at a clipboard that contained the prison roster) Brady?" Warden Carey’s voice raised several octaves so the rest could hear him.
"No suh." Wayne answered him, his voice regressing back into the submissive tones of his Deep South background.
"That’s right." Carey said sarcastically. "Now ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to introduce you to Officer Esten. Officer Esten will now demonstrate some of our correctional methods for inmates who refuse to comply with the rules and regulations we’ve established here. Officer Esten, kindly inform everyone of our procedures when we suspect someone has carried contraband onto the premises."
Officer Esten came from the shadows of the darkened room and stood in front of Wayne. Wayne did not look into the man’s face and kept his eyes resolutely straight ahead and to the left. The other prisoners stood still. An air of anticipation hung in the room. Ryan tried to catch Wayne’s eye to give him a look of encouragement. He didn’t know how much more of this he would be able to tolerate. Wayne’s innocent facial features betrayed his fear, and Ryan shook his head.
"The first thing we do when we suspect someone of carrying a concealed weapon on to the premises, is to make sure the prisoner has no where to hide the evidence." Officer Esten’s accent was very pronounced even more so that the warden’s. He sounded more like a hillbilly from Tennessee and not a redneck from Mississippi, if there is much of a distinction. His voice inflections proved the nature of his intelligence which was indeed lacking in many areas.
Esten grabbed either side of Wayne’s shirt and ripped it clean off of the prisoner’s body. Buttons flew everywhere and the shreds hung down on Wayne’s wrists, the cuffs blocking the material from falling to the floor. Wayne’s white undershirt stuck to his chest from sweating emphasizing his smooth, hard muscles. Sherwood gasped from where he stood and Carey cleared his throat. Ryan trailed his eyes down the man’s body trying to keep his appreciation from showing on his face. Wayne didn’t need everyone in the place ogling him. Officer Esten ran a finger down Wayne’s chest and stopped at the edge of his prison-issued denim jeans. Wayne was breathing unevenly as Esten’s hand rested on the button. "Take ’em off." He ordered. Wayne looked at him apprehensively, keeping his hands still.
"Do you have a problem with your hearing boy?" Esten said inches away from his face.
"No suh." Wayne said.
"Then take off those pants." Officer Esten said removing his stick from his belt.
"No suh." Wayne said the tremble clear in his voice.
Officer Esten grinned incredulously around to Warden Carey and shook his head. He couldn’t believe the audacity of this Negro kid standing up to him. He was about to teach him a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget.
He walked around behind Wayne slowly and steadily like he had not a care in the world. Oh did he love an audience. He strutted up behind Wayne and without warning he slammed his stick hard into the man’s back. Wayne screamed out in pain and hit the ground. Esten continued to beat him about the back and arms with his stick increasing the strength of his blows as he repeatedly brought the stick down. Wayne scrabbled along the ground trying to gain purchase of it, hoping to stand again. Warden Carey stood to one side a thoughtful expression on his face, one finger placed on his lips as he watched the scene. Officer Esten looked as if he was performing an impromptu jitterbug on the fallen convict. He looked as if he took great joy in his work. The blood from various cuts was beginning to seep out onto the floor, staining it with the dried ones underneath. Esten actually broke a sweat from his efforts and loosened up his uniform unbuttoning the top two buttons. He could go on for hours if they ever let him.
Ryan could not take it anymore. In the middle of the third or fourth blow to Wayne’s back, Ryan rushed forward, dragging most of the line easily with him. "STOP IT YOU BASTARD!" He screamed ready to beat the living crap out of the officer in front of him. Esten turned around and stared up at the enraged man before him. There wasn’t even a hint of fear in his eyes only the deranged glee staring back through wild eyes. "I’ll fucking kill you if you don’t stop, right now." Ryan said with sheer malice in his voice. Wayne raised his bloodied face up, looking at Ryan through swollen eyes. A tear slipped down his face.
Warden Carey calmly and quietly as ever, approached Ryan and stared up at him with his arms folded. He took out the clipboard from under his arm and flipped through. "Stiles," he said. "Well my, aren’t you a tall drink of water. I think we’re gonna have real problems out of you." He nodded to Sherwood who had approached Ryan from behind. "But not today." Ryan heard the whistle of a stick come down from behind way before he felt the blow behind the back of his legs, at the knees. "FUCK" he yelled and went down on his knees in front of the Warden who had a placid smile on his face. He ran a hand through Ryan’s hair and came closer to him. "Don’t fuck with me son." He said and turned his back on him.
Wayne now lay on the ground barely breathing. He had tried his best to contain his screams, his internal pride not letting the situation get the best of him, but he broke around the 15th blow. Pleading for his life he cried as the stick kept coming down, as he watched the man dance around him and on him. One final blow to the head and a resounding crack that was felt by all, Wayne lay still on the ground, unmoving. Esten stopped immediately and went to the wall;hewas breathing hard and he wiped his hand across his brow.
Warden Carey approached Wayne, stooped down and lifted his head, and opened one of his eyes. He tsked and shook his head and let Wayne’s head go gently back to the concrete floor. He stood up and looked at Officer Esten. "Get him to the infirmary." He looked at Ryan who had managed to rise back to his feet, but he stood there hunched a little. "That, ladies and gentlemen,concludes the lesson for the day." He turned on his heel and left the room. Officer Sherwood motioned for two other guards to lift Wayne up and carry him from the room. Ryan watched him go, not realizing it would be the last time he would see him.
chapter 3
Ryan lay on his back in the small cell that was his allotted space for the duration of his sentence. He had given the cell a once over when he entered earlier, holding his toiletries and an extra uniform in his hands. The bunk beds in these places were never long enough to accommodate his lanky frame. He always hated that. But it was something he had learned to grow used to, unfortunately. He had his arms folded behind his head and he was staring at the patterns of the bunk above him and tried to will himself to close his eyes and get some sleep.
Lights out had been called hours ago, so there wasn't too much talk in the halls, save for the fact that when they had entered the hall earlier, the place seemed to come alive with cat calls, and whistles and obscenities from each cell. Ryan was used to it; he knew the drill. He shuffled along with the other inmates on their way to their own respective cells and just blocked out the noise. Now the place had quieted down considerably, and Ryan stretched his long legs out until they slightly curled over the edge of the end of the bed.
His thoughts brought him back to Wayne and the unfair treatment he had been subjected to. This would never have happened in the joint upstate, he told himself. He'd seen many riots start in the pens up there, most from guards threatening the privileges of its inmates. Of course those were just small time holding cells he admitted to himself. There they put you away for murder and mayhem. Nothing like the big joints down south where they send folks to just for looking at people funny. 'What a fucked up world', he thought bitterly. He hoped that Wayne would be taken care of in the infirmary, and that he'd find a way to contact his lawyer or someone that would help him seek justice over what had been done to him. He put little salt into that notion.
He stiffened a little as he heard the man above him roll over onto his side, the bed springs squeaking. He didn't get a good look at his bunk mate when he entered the cell. The small bulb above the sink afforded little to no light in the evening. 'Lights out was lights out' as he was informed. The snores from above told him he wasn't going to get any conversation from the man either, which was a good thing for the moment. Ryan didn't really feel like getting acquainted.
He rolled over on his side, his back facing the room and closed his eyes. He heard the hollow clicking of footsteps in the hall as the guards patrolled the floors, making sure all was well. He tried to use those sounds, as he always did, to lull him to sleep.
It was the same dream he had every night for the past seven years. It always started the same it always ended the same, with him waking up in a cold sweat. He hoped in his new surroundings that things would be different this time. They never were. As long as he was in the stir, nothing would change. This night though, his memories took him back to the days before everything went down. The days of good times and good memories. Being one of the top mob boss's number one guys had its advantages and disadvantages. He'd seen it all in his day. Not that he was old by any means; it’s just that he had done so much in his youth that he knew he was way beyond his 30 years in mentality.
It was one of his old street gang buddies that had introduced him to New York's underground life back in the early 20's. He was 18 years old and well into his life of petty crime. In and out of juvy hall most of his formative years and living on the street during the rest. His mother had died early of influenza, leaving him and his four brothers to fend for themselves. Being the youngest, he had the toughest time. The others abandoned him to his hood friends and they all went their separate ways. Ryan grew tougher on the street, learning the rule of beat or be beaten, take or be taken. One rule he gave to himself was that he would always give someone the benefit of the doubt. He wouldn't pick on just anyone. He gave up fighting the defenseless long ago, when his conscience got the better of him. Now, he rationalized, he would only take advantage of the ones that deserved it. Trouble with him was everyone deserved it in his mind. He was bitter that life didn't always work out well for him. And more often than not, there was always someone to pay for that unfairness.
He remembered one day his buddy, Jim Phillips, introduced him to Tony Malone, one of Henry Morgan's top henchmen. Jim had be talking to Malone for a while seeing if he could get some easy work on the side, to earn some extra cash. Malone fixed it so that Jim and Ryan could start transporting some of their "company's" homemade hooch from one part of the state to the other, in large covered trucks. It sounded like an easy way to make a living for Ryan, who had by this time made his way through life with odd jobs and small theft. He was always right under the radar with the law. This, he knew would cross him over into full blown hard core criminal territory, but it was a risk he was willing to take for the dough.
So Ryan lived the life of a lower-level henchman for about 3 years. He learned the ropes of avoiding checkpoints, fixing shipping invoices, cutting deals with his proprietors, running raids, and everything in between. He'd seen his fellow "coworkers" caught, busted, gunned down at times, and he grew eyes in the back of his head as the saying went. He always seemed to be lucky, except for the times when he was caught himself and served his sentences, a month here a month there.
Ryan remembered the day his buddy Jim was found floating face up in the river by his flat in the middle of town. He stood at the edge of the crowd as the police fished Jim's lifeless body out of the river, a bullet hole in his head, and cement overshoes on his feet. Ryan cried that night for his lost friend. The first time he had cried in years; Jim was only 22 years old. He had barely enough time to live, but then he lifted his pint to his fallen friend saying at least the lucky bastard got out of it when he did. Ryan would have given anything at that moment to join him.
It was around that time when Ryan was introduced to the head man himself, Mr. Henry Morgan. Malone had been talking up Ryan's reputation for getting the job done, and not taking shit from anyone. Morgan had noticed his profits increasing where Ryan had his routes and he wanted to meet the man who was making his pockets fatter. Ryan was nervous at first, but then warmed up to the genial mob boss's good natured ways. He immediately became one of Morgan's favorites. Ryan always had a way of making people laugh with his unique brand of humor. It mostly centered around sex with the prostitutes that he favored visiting after a hard week's worth of work. Morgan thought highly of his employee and he let him know by offering him a section of the neighborhood to take control of. It was the turning point in Ryan's career.
Ryan woke up to harsh sunlight in his eyes and a blaring of a horn in his ear. It took him a moment to remember where he was and then the realization settled back in on him and he sighed. 'What would today bring?' he wondered. He looked down on his chest noticing something there. It was small and odd shaped. He recognized it as a rabbit's foot, worn and well rubbed.
chapter4
"Will you look at what just walked in here." Greg studied the "fresh meat" as they entered into the cafeteria for breakfast that morning. He whistled low and appreciative. "Well helloooo gorgeous." He said, eyeing one new inmate in particular.
The man sitting across from him paid him no attention. He didn’t bother to look up from his runny scrambled eggs, grits and dry toast. ‘A meal fit for a king; the same one everyday.’ He thought ruefully to himself.
"Hey, you know if you paid attention to me once in a while, you wouldn’t let these good opportunities pass you by, sweetheart." Greg said nudging the man in the elbow.
"And if you would stop thinking with your dick every 30 seconds you’d come to know that there are no good opportunities here, now or ever."
"Well I gotta do something to occupy my down time. I'm not the one spending all of Daddy’s money on my Harvard education, putting it to good use with the top executives at the local law firm of Dewey, Cheatham and Howe. I've always wondered about you my friend, and I'll ask again, why hasn't daddy paid for a stay in a more upstanding institution, instead of letting you rot down here in the middle of 'squeal like a pig' Alabama?"
Greg blatantly watched as clearly the tallest man he’d seen in his short life, pick up his tray and head to a less populated table. Greg followed the man with his eyes, and then turned in his seat to watch him sit. He had no intentions of making things less obvious.
"You know Gregory, it’s remarks like those that have kept you off of my invitation list."
"Well if you would just pick your head up out of your ass and look over there, you’d at least give me the satisfaction of saying I told you so." Greg casually spooned some of the eggs into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "Say, if they mixed this shit with motor oil, it might give it the flavor it's sorely lacking."
"I think I’ve told you before that cattiness suits you, Mr. Proops. But as we’ve also discussed, I am not now, nor will I ever be in the mood to accommodate you and your whims. Now if you’ll excuse me I have a meeting with the board of directors at my country club in an hour."
He looked at Greg with a hard, passive glare and Greg sighed, relenting. He knew he had overstepped his bounds with his comments, and deep down he knew he cared, but for the sake of keeping up appearances he, as always, acted like he never gave a shit.
"Ok, but one day you’re gonna thank me, buddy, that is if I don’t get to him first." Greg replied with a wink.
"For his sake, I hope you get to him before they do."
Greg snorted knowingly, and looked back at the man he had spent the last twelve years with as a cell mate. "I'll see ya in an hour."
"Wouldn't miss it."
Colin Mochrie sat his tray of mostly uneaten food on the counter at the front of the large prison cafeteria. He knew he should have eaten more than he had, but he didn't have the stomach for both the greasy food and the equally greasy remarks from his cellmate. Today of all days was not the time to bring up past wounds, and Greg always had a way of hitting just the right spot. He shook his head at the audacity of the man, but then forgave him as always, because he knew Greg's nature. Greg was mostly all talk and Colin knew what parts to blow off and what parts to take seriously. It had come with the territory of being around the man for the past 12 years. Greg knew the same for him, but he didn't have near the restraint Colin did when it came to class. It was true, Colin was highly educated and Greg never let him forget it with his often jealous comments and digs at his social status. Colin often wondered why he even bothered to confide in Greg, but then understood that Greg was intelligent in his own right and could pick up the things he knew by wheedling just the right way. Where he was book smart, Greg was people smart. It got Greg what he wanted, even if it did come at an emotional cost often at Colin's expense. Why Colin let him go on, he never knew. Perhaps that was why he was here now. He had been a pushover. He still was.
It was kind of a forced friendship between the two at first. They both were on the complete opposite ends of the spectrum for personality traits and the aforementioned intelligence scale. Colin had come in about the same time as Greg, but where he was petrified of being locked away, Greg seemed to be at ease with it. It was only later that he learned that most of Greg's bravado was just a good show. There would be nights when Colin would wake up to the sounds of crying from the bunk below. He never let Greg know that he heard him, but he eventually came to understand Greg better.
Colin made his way, along with about twenty other prisoners to the door of the cafeteria that led to the hallway to the prison library. The prisoners didn't have many options with what they were to do with their days, but one of them, if they so chose, was to go to the library and read. A lot of them didn't choose to do that preferring instead to go to the Rec room, the gym for the morning weightlifting session, or back to their cells.
Colin was an old timer now at 31, serving a life sentence, and he basically was a mentor to a lot of the new comers. He didn't offer much, he didn't say much, he didn't do much, but something about his calming nature, quiet tones and innate wisdom, brought everyone to him. He would only say a word or two and leave it at that, but a person would go away feeling much better than when they came. He really didn't make friends. He really didn't want friends.
Colin selected a book from the shelf, one that he had read dozens of times and sat down. 'This library could sorely benefit with the donation of a few more novels.' he complained inwardly. He flipped through the chapters not really focusing on what was in the book, but more about what was on his mind. He put on his reading glasses and tried his best to keep the tears in as he pulled the letter from his pocket once more.
Mr. Mochrie:
This is to inform you that on this the 28th day of January, 1936, the co-defendant in your case, Mr. Richard Petersen was pronounced dead at the scene due to extensive razor blade injuries inflicted by a fellow inmate in a claim of self defense. He was taken to the infirmary at approximately 7:25 in the p.m. but expired, the cause of death determined as loss of blood and shock. The doctors did all that they could to resuscitate Mr. Petersen but to no avail. Being his closest friend, Mr. Petersen has left specific orders in his will, to inform you of any and all things that happen in his life of incarceration. His mother and father have waived their legal right to council denying you access to the information.
Regards, Illinois State Correctional Institution - Joliet
Colin quietly closed his book and rested his head in his hands. He held the letter to his temple and let the tears flow. He sobbed wretchedly for his lost friend. He cried, the well of unshed tears springing forth, and mourned just as he did every day. The reason he was here. The reason he endured. The reason he even chose to stay alive was wrapped up in a casket in the Petersen family burial plot. How could he take another minute of this hell, this torture that he knew he must face everyday. "I did it for you, Richard." He sighed. "Why did you leave me?"
chaprter5
We, each of us, have a good alibi
For being down here in the joint;
But few of them are really justified,
If you get right down to the point.
I was born on a ranch in Wyoming,
Not treated like Helen of Troy,
Was taught that rods were rulers,
And ranked with greasy cowboys. . . .
You’ve read the story of Jesse James
Of how he lived and died
But if you're in need of a song, this won't take long.
Here's the tale of Johnny and Adelide.
Now Johnny and Adelide are the Barrow Gang,
I’m sure you all have read
how they rob and steal and those who squeal
are usually found dying or dead.
There’s lots of untruths to these write-ups
They’re not so ruthless as that
Their nature is raw, they hate all law
Stool pigeons, spotters, and rats.
They call them cold-blooded killers
They say they are heartless and mean
But I say this with pride, I once knew Adelide
When she was honest and upright and clean.
But the laws fooled around and taking her down
and locking her up in a cell
'Til she said to me, "I’ll never be free,
So I’ll meet a few of them in hell."
The road was so dimly lighted
There were no highway signs to guide
But they made up their minds if all roads were blind
They wouldn’t give up 'til they died.
The road gets dimmer and dimmer
Sometimes you can hardly see
But it’s fight man to man, and do all you can
For they know they can never be free.
From heartbreak some people have suffered
From weariness some people have died
But all in all, our troubles are small
'Til we get like Johnny and Adelide.
If a policeman is killed in Dallas
And they have no clue or guide
If they can’t find a fiend, just wipe the slate clean
And hang it on Johnny and Adelide.
From Irving to West Dallas viaduct
Is known as the Great Divide
Where the women are kin and men are men
And they won’t stool on Johnny and Adelide.
If they try to act like citizens
And rent a nice flat
About the third night they’re invited to fight
By a sub-gun’s rat-tat-tat.
They don’t think they’re tough or desperate
They know the law always wins
They’ve been shot at before, but they do not ignore
That death is the wages of sin.
Some day they’ll go down together
And they’ll bury them side by side
To few it’ll be grief, to the law a relief
But it’s death for Johnny and Adelide.
The young man's soft Texan voice filtered throughout the cell block in the mid morning hours. He chose not to go down to
breakfast, as he was want to always do. Maybe that was why he was so thin. Oh he had an appetite as his mamma could attest to, but it was his time to reflect. To sing a song; to play tune on his old trusty harmonica. The music echoed hauntingly down the halls of cell block C and reached many of the prisoners who were making their way back from breakfast.
Ryan had finished his less than satisfactory meal and returned to his cell. He wasn't used to southern cooking with all its grease and lard. Ryan rubbed his stomached and belched. "Ugh. I ain't looking forward to this for the next 20 years." Ryan had caught the final verse as he walked down the hallway. He cocked his head to the sound and followed it, mildly surprised to find that it was coming from his own cell. The harmonica's sorrowful sad notes hit him somewhere inside his soul and he paused at the entrance and looked toward its source.
Ryan shook his head in surprise as he studied his cellmate. "This just keeps gettn better and better." he muttered to himself. Two deep brown, almost feminine eyes stared serenely back at him, a lackadaisical smile played around his lips. 'This kid ain't no more than 20 if he's a day.' Ryan thought, stretching his long arms out to either side of him resting them on the top bunk He leaned his head back on the mattress. The boy was obliged to scoot over a little but had yet to speak, still staring at Ryan.
"Problem?" Ryan said as he felt the eyes, more than saw them, continue to probe him.
"Nope." The boy said laughter in his voice as he placed his harmonica back in its worn box and slid it in the hole he made in his mattress just for that purpose. He couldn't run the risk of his most valuable possession being thieved by the guards that tossed his cell along with the rest of them whenever the urge arose. He couldn't chance it with this new guy either.
"Well, then, do I got somthin' on my face?" Ryan said turning to the kid. "I don't take kindly to strangers lookin at my mug for no good reason."
The boy continued to stare, his smile growing wider, but at Ryan's deepening scowl he turned away shyly and look toward the sunlight streaming through the window.
"Nice tune you were singin." Ryan said after a moment more. He hated silence in most situations. Silence meant you had to think. That was something he was trying to put off for as long as possible. The kid seemed a little slow, but maybe that was just because of the dopey looks he was getting.
"Thanks." Came the reply.
"Listen Mac, we're gonna be bunk mates for quite a long time, ya might as well drop the shy and silent gimmick and tell me your name." Ryan scratched his head hoping that soon he'd be able to acquire a much needed cigarette. 'They did let you smoke in the South.' he could only promise himself.
The young man above chuckled and dangled his long legs over the side of his bunk, putting his hands on his knees. "My name's Jeff." He drawled in a nice country twang. Ryan could picture him out on the range roping cattle with a piece of straw stuck in his teeth. He smiled up at him and extended his hand "Ryan."
"Well, Ryan, it's a pleasure to make youracquaintance." Jeff said congenially, his dazzling white smile lightening up his face and eyes. 'He looks too pretty to be a man,' Ryan thought to himself. 'In a place like this I wonder how he survives.'
"So you wanna tell me what that song was about, or am I gonna have to spend the rest of my time in this joint trying to figure it out on my own?" Ryan said plopping down hard on his bunk making the springs creak and groan underneath him. 'This won't be good for my back.' he sighed and listened as Jeff got more comfortable up above.
Jeff rested his head on his propped up arms as he lay on his stomach on his own bunk. Ryan thought the man had drifted off to sleep and he almost did himself before he heard the words softly float down to him.
"I reckon you heard about the infamous bank robbers Johnny and Adelide?" Jeff said after a moment more of silence.
"The couple out west who somehow managed to avoid the law while committing some of the greatest heists in history?" Ryan said with a question in his voice. "Sure I heard of 'em. Whatever happened to those two? The news seemed to stop reportin on them back in '34. I didn't really follow much of it, but I did admire their moxy."
"You mean you don't know?" The voice took on an ominous mournful tone.
"Nah, I figure they got away and are livin it up in Mexico somewhere right about now. Lucky bastards." Ryan said dismissing the pair with a wave of his hand.
A bitter laugh was his only reply.
"Well?" Ryan said shifting on his mattress.
"Well, I do believe they would be living somewhere in Mexico if it weren't for the actions of some dumb, stupid kid that got them in a whole mess of hot water along the way." Jeff buried his head in his arms for a moment thinking back. When he spoke again his voice was tinged with regret.
"Adelide had just broken Johnny out of Eastham Prison Farm in Texas, there was quite a scuffle and a guard was killed. They managed to escape and get back to business. They were just starting over so they needed new recruits. Johnny always wanted the thrill and pursuit of more money. Adelide was just happy to be with him. She was excited too, but only because Johnny gave her the adventure. Anyhow they recruited her brother to help in the bank hold ups but they needed someone to drive the getaway car." Jeff paused and picked at something on his sleeve.
"I take it you were that someone." Ryan said starting to get a clear picture.
"Ah yep." Jeff said. "Anyhow," Jeff continued after swallowing hard. "It was one of the greatest moments of my life. I'll never forget the days of seeing them scramble from bank to bank, most of them small town banks with nothin in them but a couple hundred dollars, screaming and laughing and telling me to GO GO GO!! That was my cue to cut outta there faster than a flea bitten dog with a sunburn."
Ryan snorted at the analogy just as another horn sounded from above. A deep southern drawl came over the P.A. system. "Cell Block C Recreation Time."
"That means us," Jeff said sitting up and hopping down off of his bunk stretching and making his way to the cell door. "Ya better get moving before someone 'helps' ya." He disappeared in a line of inmates marching toward the stairs that would take them into the yard.
Ryan sat up and ran a hand through his hair. Jeff seemed to know more than he was letting on. He could get to like his cell mate but for now, the mystery was just too frustrating to ponder. "Maybe one day." He said leaving it at that and lost himself in the crowd.
chapter6
Ryan wandered the yard looking around and taking in the view. It was pretty breezy outside and they only issued each inmate a thin jacket, acap, and fingerless gloves. Up North it would never do, but he figured this was all the cold it was going to get down here. Sometimes in New York in the middle of October they'd have their first snowfall. He could do this standing on his head. He could survive it. He'd survived far worse.
The sun was shining and there were about 300 other prisoners milling around doing pretty much their own thing. There were clusters of prisoners here and there talking, playing cards or board games, sitting on the bleachers that outlined the yard's electrified fence. Several watch towers were strategically placed around the compound, each posted with two to three guards. There were guards monitoring every area of the yard. Ryan observed that the guards interacted with a lot of the criminals as if they were their pals or something.Others took turns randomly searching some of the prisoners, making sure they didn't try to sneak a knife or something else into the yard. Some inmates chose to play basketball on the run down court several yards away. More bleachers surrounded the court with groups of inmates sitting there as well, either paying attention to the game or in their own little worlds.
One thing that did catch Ryan's eye was the clouds of smoke wafting their way into the cloudless sky. This wasn't exhaled breath; this was honest to goodness cigarette smoke here! A smile touched the corners of Ryan's mouth. "Finally!" he said, inhaling deeply trying to catch the intoxicating aroma that permeated the yard. His wanderings took on a purpose as he tried to seek out its source. Several of the prisoners had cigarettes dangling from their mouths or hands, but Ryan didn't feel like approaching most. He was looking for just the right someone to charm into giving him at least one or two, until he found a way to earn them. He spotted a pair of smokers sitting on the bleachers near the edge of the fence. They were pretty much alone and seemed to be playing a game of cards. One had his head hunched down, a blue knitted cap covering it, the other was leaning back casually his legs draped over the bench in front of him his arms resting on the bench behind him. He held his cigarette in one hand his cards in the other, impatiently twirling them. Ryan decided that this would be his best bet as he approached the pair, trying to be as causal as he could make himself.
"Knock knock..." Greg said out of the blue. Colin ignored him as usual and studied the cards in his hands. His mood was still morose from earlier and he really didn't feel much like bantering with Greg today. He just wanted to get through the recreation period so that he could go back to his cell before it was time for work. It was the same routine, every day of his life: Wake up, shower time, breakfast time, free time, recreational time, quiet time, lunch time, work time, dinner time, down time and lights out. You could set your watch by it, but why bother. He knew the routine, and twelve years into the routine, he had come to rely on the routine. Most of those moments were spent in solitude and, with the exception of Greg being around him for brief chunks of his day, he preferred it. He had a lot of remorse built up and he didn't mind punishing himself. Before his partner's unfortunate, untimely end, he had hoped that it wouldn't have been much longer that he would have been alone. He had dreams of being one day reunited with Richard. Now all he had were his dreams.
"Knock KNOCK..." Greg said again, insistent. Colin looked up at Greg to see him smiling smugly back. His tired, weary eyes studied the man before him and he recognized the look almost instantly. "Your point, Gregory?"
Greg winked at him and nodded his head in the direction of the approaching man. "Here's opportunity knocking once again." He said in a sing-song voice, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
Colin looked up and up and finally up into the sun-lit silhouetteof the man who had stopped in front of the bleachers before him. He had to put his hand to his forehead to shield the light that was making it difficult to see the person in front of him. Ryan took one step to the side and nearly blinded Colin when the sun hit him directly between the eyes. "Ack." He said grimacing and turned away.
"Geeze, I'm sorry bud." Ryan said as he placed his boot on the bleacher in front of him. Greg laughed like a crow being strangled and slapped his knee. Colin glared at Greg, who took a long drag on his cigarette and tried once again to get a look at the stranger that had broken into his comfort zone. After rubbing his eyes to clear the dancing dots away, he evaluated the man who was looking to him for a reply.
Ryan was tall and thin with dirty blond hair that was curled on top. The sun had highlighted the golden tips giving him an almost angelic appearance. He had a smooth face with laughing green eyes that held secrets and pain behind him that only he knew the meaning to. He looked well tanned by comparison to the other two. His tight jeans accentuated all the right spots and Colin filed that notion away for later. It was only after Ryan smiled a most charming, shy little confused smile in his direction that Colin realized he had been staring more than a second too long. Making sure his expression showed nothing he turned his attention back to Greg.
"Hey can I bum one of them coffin nails from ya" Ryan said gesturing toward Greg's dwindling cigarette.
"I say old chap, how very eloquent of you." Greg said affecting a haughty British accent. "You're not from around here are you?"
"Don't get wise." Ryan replied, drawing back his fist jokingly. Greg fished in his pocket and pulled out a pack with only three remaining and handed one to Ryan. "I owe ya one." Greg looked at Colin and raised his eyebrows. Colin just rolled his eyes and said nothing.
"Maybe you can tell me something. What's with the screws in this joint?" Ryan said gesturing toward one of the guards who was strolling by. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone jerk someone around the way these mugs do."
"Well since you're new here and I think you’re just a doll, I'll let you in on a little something." Greg said gesturing Ryan a little closer. Ryan leaned toward Greg and watched as the other man pushed his glasses further up on his nose. "This, my friend, unfortunately is the end of the line for you. You've obviously been brought here for some sort of heinous act that even everyone up in your home town state of, I'm guessing, New York (Greg nodded condescendingly as Ryan sneered back at him) wouldn't stand for. Your fine ass now belongs to the state of Alabama boy and don't they know it. The only rules that apply here are the one's that Warden Bumblefuck makes up on a daily basis."
"Well, that boy last night was innocent." Ryan said looking at the ground as he said it.
Greg looked at him skeptically. "Well, we all are darling, don't you get it? Well except for me." Greg snickered and rubbed his knuckles on his chest and studied his nails.
"Yeah I get it, I've been gettin it for years. It's just that that kid didn't deserve the treatment he got from them coppers and they took pleasure in dishin it out. Boy what I wouldn't give to get some payback on those rats."
"Well it looks to me like you wouldn't hurt a fly." This earned him a snort from the otherwise silent Colin who had been listening intently to the conversation coming to his own conclusions.
"Your friend’s the quiet kind, ain't he?" Ryan said looking over to Colin. Colin looked at him passively, staring right through Ryan, making him feel as if he were made of glass. It made Ryan momentarily uncomfortable. He didn't like people reading him wrong.
"Oh, Colin? Well he's just a little out of it these days, due to the fact that his lover was 86'd in the shower a few months back."
"Greg for God's sake."
"Well honey, I've told you, if you just let me take care of you for a while, I'd make you forget all about him and you can lose the melancholy mollies for a change."
Colin gave Greg one of his patented long-suffering sighs and rose up from the bleachers. "What my less than articulate friend is trying to convey here is that he is an ass hole. And you'd be wise to stay as far away from his as possible."
"That's not what you told me last night, doll."
"Go to hell, Greg. Why don't you say hi to your mother the next time she's in town." Colin said flippantly as he left the bleachers without glancing back.
Greg nearly jumped off the bleachers and lunged at Colin. Ryan reached out and grabbed him, holding him from running off after Colin. "You take that back, you son of a bitch."
Colin kept walking as if he never heard a word.
"You mean you guys are both queer?" Ryan said raising an eyebrow. Greg straightened his shirt, breathing hard.
"Why whatever gave that away, sweetheart?" Greg said batting his eyelashes, and calming himself. He smiled at the now thoroughly confused man, who had been watching the other two go at it like an old married couple.
"Is he going to be ok?" Ryan asked watching Colin's retreating back with concern.
"Colin? Yeah he'll shake it off, that's just his thing. In a day or two we'll be pals again and everything will be peaches. You know once you get to know him, I think you two will be real friendly like. I for one wouldn't miss it for the world."
"I'm not gay."
"Now that is a shame." Greg tutted.
"That's not what you two are in here for?" Ryan said hesitantly. "I know that's as crazy and off the wall as it sounds, but I've seen stranger shit happen in this place and I've only been here a day."
"No, of course not. My lawyer fucked me. And not in a good way."
chapter7
Greg entered the cafeteria alone. He looked around for a familiar face in the crowd, but not seeing it, he took his place in line with about 50 other convicts. It was supper time and he hadn't seen Colin for the rest of the day. The new inmate, whom he learned his name was Ryan, had parted company with him when the alarm sounded once again. Greg was sure Ryan would be assigned a work detail sometime soon and he wouldn't see too much more of him. He hoped not. For what it was worth, Ryan seemed like the friendly sort, covered in a nice tough exterior.
He approached a server who was dishing out the usual evening slop. "Can I get the kosher meal, babe?" He asked laughing at his own joke. The inmate behind him poked him in the back. "Alright Brutus, there's plenty of this crap to go around, enough with the rough stuff."
He took his tray and went out into the cafeteria looking once more for Colin. He saw his friend's balding head four tables away and approached it ready to make amends. He could be a bitch he knew, but he didn't want to lose the only friend he had come to know while inside this hole. Of course try as he might Greg had never yet found a way to get inside. He used and abused Colin, and Colin didn't seem to mind most of the time, but Greg couldn't find that place where Colin would actually feel.
Walking toward his friend, he didn't notice the foot that suddenly appeared from nowhere until it was too late. Greg, usually light on his feet, went down gracelessly and hard right in the middle of the cafeteria floor. A raucous laughter rose up from the surrounding tables as everything on his tray wound up on his prison issued uniform. His glasses flew off of his face and skittered to a halt at the end of the aisle . With as much dignity as he could muster, he stood up, brushed off a good portion of the food turned and faced whomever the foot had belonged to.
Officer Esten stood there grinning like a hyena. He had his stick in his hand and was thumping it in his other hand inviting Greg to take his best shot. Greg looked back at him, contained fury behind his forced resigned features. He had played this game before. He clinched his fists and held them at his sides and said nothing. It was an incredible display of restraint, especially for him.
"Well come on Pansy." Esten twanged out in his red-necked yodel. The other prisoners were banging their trays on their tables, shouting and laughing. It was going to cause a riot soon, but still Greg said nothing. Greg turned his head to the left slightly, blearily seeking out Colin. Colin was still sitting at the table. He watched the scene play out but did nothing.
Officer Esten, still waiting to get a rise out of Greg, took some mashed potatoes off of another convict's plate with one finger and smeared it down Greg's cheek. He looked in Greg's eyes. Greg was trying his best not to squint, but he was incredibly near-sighted and being without his specks was like being without an arm or a leg. He didn't want to show Esten his weakness, so he tried his best to remain calm. Esten's shark-tooth smile was quite clear and Greg saw the humorless glint in it, before he sauntered around Greg and went down the aisle.
Colin watched Chip move down the row toward him. He knew most of the guards by first name, you learned them after a while. He also knew his purpose. Chip was a stoolie. He did everything Warden Carey asked of him and then issued his own brand of torment. Most of the guards just did their jobs and minded their own business but Chip took special delight in making each of their lives extra hellish. The other convicts were sympathetic to an extent. They were always happy when it wasn't one of them that fell into his radar. Colin was not a coward, but he knew when to stay out of a bad situation. If Greg was smart, and of course Colin knew how this was going to go down, he wouldn't give Chip his satisfaction, let him do what he wanted and just get it over with.
"If there's one thing I don't like around here, it's little pansies." Chip said strolling casually towards Greg's glasses. "Especially sissy boy pansies with four-eyes." Chip emphasized the word four-eyes by taking the heel of his prison guard boot and coming down hard on the only possession Greg owned. Greg lowered his head, clenching his fists until his knuckles turned white as the resounding crunch was heard throughout the now quiet cafeteria. You could have heard a pin drop.
Esten turned on his heel crunching the glasses further into the cement floor and strode back over to Greg. Colin stood up and picked up his tray and headed silently to the cafeteria window. He didn't want to see what was going to happen next, he knew. He brushed past Ryan who was making his way over to Greg and officer Esten, he didn't care what reputation it was going to earn him, he was going to kick the crap out of the officer. He was fighting the crowds of inmates who were blocking the aisles to get a good view.
Esten took his stick and tapped Greg in the center of his back, his wide shit-eating grin still plastered on his features. "Whatcha say, sissy boy?"
Greg whirled around quick as a jack rabbit and sprang toward Chip's face. He was lightening quick but the prison guards were faster. They had anticipated Greg's reaction from the start and had been steadily inching closer to him waiting for him to make his move. Two guards each grabbed an arm as Greg lunged and spat and cursed at Chip. "YOU FUCKING BASTARD! THOSE WERE MY ONLY PAIR! LET ME GO YOU ASS HOLES!" He was kicking and screaming and wrenching his arms from side to side. Chip stood inches from his face and said in a deathly calm voice. "Solitary."
"NOOOOO!!!" Greg screamed as the guards hauled him away. The crowd parted and they let the officers through. Greg was near panic now, a wail in his voice as they drug him off. "NOOOOO DON'T PUT ME THERE!!!" They passed by Colin on the way and he brushed his fingertips across the back of Greg's hand. He looked sorrowfully into Greg's frantic eyes conveying as much sympathy as he could in his own doleful depths. "COLIN!" He screamed. "Don't let them take my glasses!"
Ryan came flying out of no where. He had pushed his way through the final layer of convicts and tackled Chip to the ground. He raised his huge hand and brought it down squarely across Chip's jaw. He could hear a crack in the other man's mouth and he knew he at least got a tooth out of the deal. He raised his fist and it came down right in Chip's gut knocking the air out of the other man. The crowds of convicts were going wild! Everyone was screaming. The horns had gone off and more guards came in. It took five big guys to remove Ryan from the fallen officer. Ryan had gotten in about three more blows before he was kicked in the back. He fell over onto his side wincing in pain as Chip tried to find his barrings and stand up.
Esten stood up blood oozing from his mouth. He hawked up a big bloody spit and spat it out on Ryan. He went over and kicked him square in his gut. "Get this Goliath outta here and throw his ass into the hole." He straightened out his uniform and with one final kick to the ribs he marched his way out of the cafeteria as more guards came to restore order.
Ryan lay on the ground, trying to catch a breath. It felt as if his back had snapped in two. Before the officers helped him to his feet he was at ground level in front of the smashed pair of glasses. Delicate fingers carefully picked them up and Ryan followed their trail to the hunched down form of Colin looking back at him. "Thank you." he mouthed as the guards lifted Ryan up and took him away.
chapter8
The guards threw Greg face first into the darkened cell. It was a room that had no windows, light bulbs, or any other source of light other than the little square in the door. All it contained was a cot with no mattress and a toilet. Solitary confinement meant just that. No contact with the prisoner, no convenience for the prisoner. The prisoner was there to reflect and come to terms for why he was being punished. The length of his stay was determined by the offense. It could be a day, it could be a week. Those who were in for a week felt it as if it were a year. Just as the guard closed the door he told Greg. "Two days, Proops."
The door closed as Greg got his bearings. He turned running to it pounding with all his might. DON'T DO THIS TO ME!! LET ME OUT OF HERE! I want to see Warden Carey now!!! It was useless. The guards had walked off leaving him there in the dark. Greg whined sort of a half laugh half sob and felt his way to the corner of the room. He slumped down the wall and sat on the floor putting his head on his arms that were crossed on his knees. In the twelve years he had been in this place, he had done his fair share of solitary confinement. His mouth usually got him sent there, but he had not been in the last five years. That was mostly thanks to Colin. He hated to admit it, but some of the man's calming ways were having a decided effect on him.
Most everyone hated being put in solitary confinement, but Greg thought he felt it the worst. He couldn't talk to anyone. That drove him near insane at times. But other than that, he would be forced to come to terms with why he was in prison to begin with. When those thoughts came back on him, he practically clawed the walls to be free. Even now the niggling little thoughts were eating at his brain and he thumped his head back on the wall he was resting against. "NO...I'm not going to go there tonight." He said aloud. He rubbed his hands over his bare face, wishing he had his 'security blanket' to comfort him in his solitude. "I'm gonna be ok, you'll see. Yeah, I'll get this fixed. It won't happen. I won't let it happen." Greg rocked himself into a fitful sleep, repeating the same mantra over and over.
As far back as he could remember, Greg had always been a homosexual. He really didn't think of himself that way at 12 years old but something had to be different with him, when all of his male classmates at school were interested in pulling the girl's pig tails and chasing them around the school yard while he was more interested in being alone with his best male friend Clive Anderson. Clive had moved from England to Pittsburgh when he was five years old and Greg had been the only one to befriend him. None of the other kids in his class liked new comers and he seemed a little odd to begin with. Greg was a loner himself for other reasons, so he immediately had an affinity to the shy little boy. Greg confided most everything to his best friend and Clive was happy to listen. They also liked to one up each other in arguments that they had. It was how Greg learned to fine tune his wit.
He needed that wit to keep him sane from what he battled with the most.
Greg's mother was a pillar in the community. She was on the school board council, back in a time where it wasn't really acceptable for women to do anything. She was also an upstanding member of several church organizations. Whenever someone needed a leader or action taker, Greg's mother was there. She was a stern no nonsense woman and people trusted her to get the job done. Oh how Greg admired her for her fortitude. Oh how he wanted to be the best son a mother could ever have. Oh how he tried to be the son she wanted him to be. The son she could love and be proud of. He tried. He really did try.
It started when he was around five years old. It would begin with "Gregory, you've been a bad boy." Those were the words that haunted Greg in his dreams every night. He was always in trouble for something it seemed. Whenever his mother came home from one of her meetings he would always catch it from her. He would get whooped with a switch, a belt, her hand, whatever she could find. She would always say that he was a horrible child and that she never wanted to have him. She blamed everything that happened in her life on him.
He really couldn't blame his mother. She had so much going on in her life. His father left before he was born and she had raised he and his brother alone. She seemed to have carried a lot of resentment toward that fact and often taken it out on the two boys, especially Greg. Greg was confused often because she would punish him then bring him in to sleep in her bed with her every night. He had slept with his mother many years before learning that it was wrong to do that. He never had sexual feelings toward his mother but he did sleep very close to her almost like her lover. When he was a teen he began feeling more of a stirring in that direction. He knew he needed to get away from those feelings, but somehow his mother made it difficult.
He would never forget the day when he was around 15 years old and his mother caught him kissing Clive behind the woodshed on their farm. He had strong feelings for Clive ever since he was 13 years old and he was elated that Clive felt the same way. They had kissed each other often and explored things about the other and really came to be in love. They would take long walks and hold hands and be perfectly comfortable with telling each other anything and everything that was on their minds. Greg didn't see anything at all wrong with what he was doing, but Clive informed him that they would have to keep their love a secret. So Greg complied. He would have moved the moon for Clive if it made him happy.
His mother caught the pair and the look on her face as she grabbed her son away was one of pure and utter disgust. "YOU DISGUSTING LITTLE PIG" she shouted at Greg. Then she turned her rage on Clive. "HOW DARE YOU DESTROY MY SON YOU LITTLE FAIRY". He looked at Greg, and Greg stared back helplessly. She proceeded to beat both of the boys all the way to Clive's house where she then informed his mother and father as to what the pair had been doing. The next day, Clive with tears in his eyes, approached him at school saying he'd never be able to see Greg again. His mother and father were sending him to boarding school and he would not be able to have contact with Greg. Greg was heartbroken. They held each other for hours, but promised each other that they would see the other again one day.
Life became even more of a living nightmare for Greg after that. His mother would never let him out of her sight. She fought him, raged at him, called him names, ridiculed him, punished him more and more every day. He was afraid to wake up each day wondering what abuse she would come up with next.
All the while, she invited Greg into her bed every night. The two would sleep like spoons, he often burying his head into his mother's neck, breathing in her scent and snuggling down into her bosom when she turned. He loved her, but he never understood that she had a sickness.
It was at 17 when she started drinking heavily. She'd come home every night with a bottle of something and Greg would wind up cleaning up after her after she would get sick all over the place and smashing her bottles on the kitchen floor. Greg would dutifully clean everything up and listen to her berate him for not being his father, and for being a "little fairy" one of her favorite nic names for him. Greg would try and tolerate it but it was taking a toll. He had snuck away several times to go and visit Clive in the boarding school and they would have rendezvous whenever he could get away. He told Clive he wanted to leave, but he couldn't leave her just yet. He didn't know what to do.
Months later his mother got sick from tuberculosis and the doctor had confined her to her bed. She would shout her orders to Greg and he waited on her hand and foot. She didn't allow him to sleep in her bed with her any longer and he always felt like he had done something wrong to deserve that. He'd often go to the room his brother used before he moved out and cry himself to sleep. He didn't ask for this life. He didn't deserve this. But as the days grew longer, his mother's health and attitude worsened.
One day after a particularly bad shouting match, in which she had called him the worst names imaginable, Greg decided it was time to put an end to his mother's "loving treatment" He couldn't live like this anymore. He wanted to ease her pain and his as well. He waited until she was asleep for her afternoon nap. He stood over her bed and watched her sleeping form for several minutes. She was so beautiful and frightening all at the same time. He hated what he was about to do, but it was a way out for the both of them. He picked up the pillow beside her head and leaned down and kissed her softly on her forehead. "I'm sorry." He whispered and placed it over her face pressing down hard.
Greg screamed into the darkness. His eyes opened wide and he breathed heavily. The only sounds he heard in the deathly still room was the sounds of his breathing, panting and gasping. He ran a hand over his clammy skin and looked toward the square of light at the door. It must have been morning because the little slot at the middle of the door was rattling and someone was there with his tray of breakfast.
"Wait...WAIT..." he cried out, feeling his way to the front of the room, his eyes trained on the blurry square of light. Officer Sherwood was at the door, Greg could see his outline as he got closer. "BRAD...Brad!! Please, you gotta tell them to let me outta here! You know I can't do two days! Brad, PLEASE!!"
Officer Brad Sherwood looked at Greg pitifully through the square in the door. He shook his head and said, "There's nothing I can do Greg. Chip has told Drew that you assaulted him and you have to serve your time in there. I'm sorry." Brad slid the food tray through the slot and turned to leave. Greg pounded the glass in frustration and almost slammed the tray to the floor, before seeing something on there that made him pause. There on the tray was a mended pair of glasses.
Greg was rocking and moaning by the time the guards finally let him out on the second evening of his confinement. He was trembling and shaking when the guards opened the door. He stood up and staggered toward the light when the door opened and winced when the light hit him in the eyes. He had to blink several times against its harshness, but he was relieved nonetheless. He plastered his patented curled lip sneer on his face and straightened himself up tugging at the corners of his shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles.
"And that ladies and gentlemen is how you do "the hole" standing on your head." He gave a thumbs up to the guard as he allowed them to lead him back to his cell. It was evening so everyone was on down time.
The door to Colin's cell opened. He was on the top bunk reading his latest installment of Dick Tracy. It was the only luxury he allowed himself. His father sent him money regularly but he never used it for anything other than the occasional pack of cigarettes and his favorite comic book.
He looked up from his reading and watched as his haggard, weary, tired friend was escorted into his cell. He looked right on the verge of a breakdown and Colin hopped down from his bunk. "Thank you gentlemen, I'll take it from here." He said as he put an arm around Greg.
The guards walked off and Greg immediately fell on his friend. He sobbed into Colin's neck holding onto him for dear life.
"Shhh Shhhh...it's ok Greg. It's ok. Come here, come on. Shhhhh..." Colin led him to his bunk and they both eased their way onto it. Colin held Greg in his arms and stroked his face, running his hand over Greg's stubble. Colin kissed his forehead and wiped his tears away.
"Colin, I'm sssorry." Greg sniffled into his neck, nuzzling the skin there. Colin closed his eyes to the touch and fingered Greg's hair calming him further.
"Why are you sorry? I should be the one to apologize." Colin traced patterns into Greg's hair soothing him, wanting him to go to sleep and rest.
"I missed you Colin." Greg said after a moment more. He snuggled deeper into Colin's chest and held his arms loosely around his shoulders.
"I missed you too, Greg. Colin said with a hand on Greg's chest feeling his heartbeat. It was returning to normal and Colin exhaled softly.
"Colin, I'm afraid." Greg said tightening his grip on his friend. "I'm going to die."
"Shhhh... shhhh...don't think about it now, sweetheart." Colin said as he rocked Greg, holding him closer.
"Can I kiss you, please." Greg said pleading in his voice.
Colin closed his eyes and trembled ever-so-slightly. It was difficult to refuse Greg, but he couldn't let him get that close. Not yet. "I can't." He said regretfully.
Greg nuzzled his neck once more and sighed, finally finding sleep. Colin reached over and removed Greg's glasses only half curious as to how he got them back. He would ask him later. He held Greg closely to him and let his eyes drift shut.
chapter9
The door eased open allowing a large shaft of light to penetrate the otherwise pitch black room. Its only occupant was curled up into a tight ball on the make-shift cot at the far corner. For two weeks not so much as the sliver of light from the food slot had been admitted into the small space no bigger than a storage closet.
When the light hit the form on the bed, it stirred slightly. Officer Sherwood walked quietly toward the sleeping figure and ran his hand through his hair, feeling the soft texture of it. Brad trailed his hand down the neck and rested it on the shoulder. He didn’t want to startle him, and he knew it was going to be a rough transition back. He gently shook the shoulder bringing the owner to consciousness.
Ryan Stiles jerked fitfully and sat straight up in the cot, his fists flailing and then covering his eyes as the shaft of light blinded him. Two arms caught hold of his own and held him steady. Ryan tried to push his way out of them, but the calm soothing tones of the man’s voice settled him momentarily. He recognized it as Officer Sherwood’s, and ceased his movements.
For two weeks Ryan sat in that darkened pit and rotted; he didn’t know when the days ended or began. He only was allotted 2 meals during the day and a 30 minute stretch in the confined square of concrete designated for the solitary prisoners. This was done in the evening. Ryan had not seen the light. He did not bathe, he itched constantly, and he did not have a change of uniform. By the second week he was in and out of a stupor. No one came to see him except for Officer Sherwood and that was mostly at the meal time hour. Officer Sherwood would tell him the time, the day and regretfully inform him that no matter how much he pleaded, he would not be released. He asked at one point if anyone had ever been kept here as long as he had. Brad looked at him with pain in his eyes and told him that only a select few had been held a week at the most never more than eight days;Ryan had already been there ten.
Minutes felt like hours and hours felt like weeks. Ryan would sleep most of the days away, not moving, not eating. When he did eat he got sick; mostly due to the smell. Officer Sherwood would come to take the trays and remark that he needed to eat to keep his strength up, but he would get no reply. Brad could barely get two words out of Ryan unless it was to ask when he could leave.
Brad waited patiently as Ryan righted himself on the cot and swung his legs over the edge. They ached something awful as did his back. He needed to go to the infirmary. He didn’t think he could stand. Brad helped him to his feet and put an arm around his side supporting him. "How many?" he asked after a moment.
"Fourteen." Was the reply. "You are being released today, but you’re to see Warden Carey after you’ve cleaned yourself up." Brad released the man after helping him stand, Ryan didn’t seem to want his help, brushing him off and taking a few staggering steps toward the door.
Brad opened the door further, to allow Ryan to go through. The moment Ryan stepped out into the hall; he let out a piercing scream and fell to the ground. The light burned into his eyes and he couldn’t see anything. He huddled against the side of the wall trying to block out the light invading the thin layer of his eyelids. He dug at his face trying to rub out the sensations. "I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch!" Ryan swore.
Brad rushed over to him and helped him back to his feet. He turned Ryan’s face to his chest and held him there. He scowled hard at the other guards who approached and told them to back off. He escorted Ryan out of the hallway and back into General Population.
Brad made his way with Ryan back to his cell in Cell Block C. The doors automatically rolled open due to Brad’s instructions when they entered that portion of the building. He helped the man onto his bunk and instructed him to remain until the rest of the prisoners on his block returned from recreation time. The he was to get showered and report to Warden Carey’s. Ryan opened his eyes cautiously allowing a little of the light to penetrate focusing first on the floor. The first thing he saw was Officer Sherwood’s boots, then legs, then chest, then finally his face. A big lopsided grin met his blinking gaze.
"There you are." Brad said smiling once again. Ryan groaned and turned away. He was not going to give Sherwood the satisfaction. Brad shrugged, turned and walked toward the cell door. "Glad your back among the living," he said with his back turned.
An hour later the cell door opened once again and Jeff strolled through the door, easy as you please. He looked at the form huddled on the bed and stood there watching him for a moment. He took note that his cellmate had emaciated quite a bit in his two week absence. His skin was decidedly paler and his hair had grown shaggy in the back, and he had the makings of a full beard. Jeff sighed and shook his head; he knelt down by the bed and put a hand on Ryan’s back.
Ryan rolled over and faced the young man with the shy smile and bedroom eyes. Jeff smiled softly at him and said "Welcome back."
Ryan looked at him, his eyes filled with anger. "Ya know, if that rat was anywhere near my boys, he’d be someone’s rear bumper by now. I’d personally take great pleasure in rubbin him out."
"Ah yep." Jeff replied. "Let me just tell you, I've been talking to a lot of the other fella's out there and they let me know that they are mighty proud of what you did the other day." Jeff brought a hand to Ryan's forehead and ruffled his hair. "No why don't we go get showered. It looks like you could use one."
chapter10
Ryan stood under the hot spray of the shower head in the prison's large, multi-user shower rooms. Several other men were around him all washing themselves, but Ryan continued to let the hot water soak into his skin. He rested his head on the shower wall giving into the delicious sensation of knowing that soon he would be clean. Soon he could feel whole again. Two whole weeks of nothingness permeated his mind. Every day he had felt the weight of anger and injustice and rage for the mistreatment of so many. He wondered how many people that were actually here, were actually guilty for the "crimes" they hadcommitted. He needed to erase the hollow feeling inside of him; the hollow feeling that was slowly consuming him. The anger and rage that he felt toward the whole situation pushed him on, filled him up, helped him to get past the nothingness that had been his confinement. He wondered how Greg was doing. He wondered how long he had been made to endure. He rubbed his forehead against the tiles, letting the heat from the water soothe the aching muscles of his back and legs. The water ran trails down his long, slender back, past the scars of old bullet wounds, down his legs and to the drain. Ryan grimaced; whenever water hit his wounds, he would always get a tingling sensation and the memories would rise again. He could not block them out today. He had tried so hard to keep them buried but he was tired, and when he was as tired and as hollow as he felt, he let the memories wash over him the way the water did at this moment.
"Gotta job for you, Legs." Mr. Henry Morgan said one day, calling him out of the blue. Ryan had been quite successful in his little area of the neighborhood. He had been put in charge of two of the cities highest populated brothels. They both belonged to Morgan and his organization. The other two belonged to Morgan's top rival Frankie Capone. Morgan was always trying to gain territory, business and property from Capone. Ryan knew of their long standing rivalry and even took part in a few of the raids that involved the Capone Syndicate.
"What's that boss," Ryan said a little less than eagerly. He preferred staying with the paying customers in his booming business. Everyone loved going to Ryan's strip clubs. Ryan catered to everyone's taste including the ones that were taboo. He made the Morgan Syndicate top dollar for his selection of women and men alike. Morgan had no complaints for a job well done. Every so often though, Ryan would get itchy to do something with a little excitement. There was nothing like running a raid at midnight, stealing the competition's stored up stock of alcohol and running for dear life through the hail of bullets. There were plenty of close calls, but to date, he had survived.
"I need you to go with Malone and a few of the guys tomorrow night to the S-M-C Cartage Company garage at 2122 North Clark Street. I need you to help unload a shipment of old log cabin whiskey that will be delivered around 11:00 am. I also have some business to discuss with you and the boys."
"Gee, I dunno, boss." Ryan said hesitantly. "Tomorrow's Valentine's Day and that's when I get my biggest clientele."
"Have one of the others handle it, Legs. I need you here on this one."
Ryan knew better than to argue with Morgan. When Morgan said jump, the only thing you answered was 'how high?'
"Ok boss will do." And with that Ryan geared himself up for what he thought was just a routine shipment.
The next day Ryan arrived at the garage along with a couple of the other guys in Morgan's gang. Ryan took note that there were mostly top associates of Morgan and a few flunkies. Ryan had a bad feeling about this. He shook it off crediting it to Morgan saying he had some business to discuss. Ryan surveyed his surroundings making small talk with some of the guys and looking for the fastest exit. You didn't go into anyplace unaware in his line of work. He made sure his pistol was securely tucked into its holster in his suit coat.
As the minutes ticked on, Ryan became increasingly uncomfortable. He knew Morgan was going to arrive shortly, but in everything that Morgan did in the past, he was always earlier than Johnny on the spot. Malone was nowhere in sight.
At that moment the doors burst open and five police officers burst into the garage. Two were dressed in uniforms while three wore long trench coats and fedoras. Ryan saw out of the corner of his eye the tell-tale signs of heavy duty artillery. He saw that tucked inside their coats were sawed-off shotguns and Thompson submachine guns, the newest and deadliest weapons of choice.
"Hands up and face the wall!" one of the plainclothesman blurted. And when Morgan's gang didn't move fast enough, screamed, "Move!" The cops fanned out behind them as seven grouchy, mumbling men leaned palms-flat against a side wall, shoulder to shoulder, staring at brick and mortar, waiting to be frisked.
"Lay a hand on us and there'll be hell to pay in City Hall this afternoon, coppers," Ryan threatened. He was surprised none of the bulls answered him back.
The men facing the wall listened. In fact, the silence seemed an omen. There was only minor rustling, someone whispering something, and someone's sole scraping along the oily cement floor.
Then, a boom broke the silence, to be picked up by a staccato of something exploding behind their backs. Their instincts shouted the reality of this as they realized what was happening, Ryan for the first time in his life, actually tasted death. He felt the first two bullets rip into the flesh of his shoulder and lower back. He had no time to think, just react. He immediately fell to the ground and rolled out of the way of the spray of bullets. He never looked back to see if anyone would follow, or if for that matter anyone would mark him. He just rolled and ran. He felt more of the bullets wiz past his head and he ran into the back room. He had noticed there was a window in the back of the room when he was doing his surveillance. He turned and faced the open door when sounds of footsteps approached. He didn't hear the shouts of more men as they came into the garage. All he saw was the barrel of a gun.
Ryan drew his gun and fired. He was bleeding from his wounds but kept up his end of the fight. Suddenly there was the sound of gunplay from behind the men in front of him. The men in front of Ryan went down like playing cards. Ryan turned and grabbed the nearest object hurling it toward the window, smashing it into pieces. Just then more uniformed men rushed the room. "FREEZE" They shouted and Ryan froze. He dropped everything in his hands and reached toward the sky. He knew he was going to die; he just knew.
Ryan noticed as he was being ushered out by the actual police this time that vehicles were backed up and passersby seemed to be pausing, despite the cold, to gawk.
A Cadillac was parked at the curb beside a small convoy of squads. Two uniformed policemen stood guard at the doorway, while others were scurrying in and out between the garage and the sidewalk talking to obvious plainclothesmen outside. One seemed to be taking notes in a tablet. Ryan shuffled his way past the Cadillac and saw Morgan inside. He had balls being there because the cops were crawling all over the place. Ryan said through the window as the cops were leading him away almost inaudibly, "Capone...it's Capone..."
The water had grown cold, and Ryan still stood there unshed tears in his eyes. He didn't see any of his associates after the fact, but he knew they had all been eradicated during the set up. He later found out that he was wrong about it being Capone, but in actuality it was Morgan who had planned the take down. He and Malone had thought that several of their men were trying to scam them out of money and Ryan was one of them. Ryan had never been more destroyed in his life when he found out that his boss was paranoid enough to believe that of him. He never had a chance to confront Morgan. The last he had heard was that his boss and one time friend had met his maker in an Italian restaurant. Some of Capone's own thugs had finally gotten theirs by taking him out during his evening meal. Ryan shut off the water and grabbed a towel. He went to a bench by the wall and sat down hard. Things had a way of catching up.
During Ryan's reflections, another inmate was having his share of drama replay in the Warden's conference room. Colin entered the large room and made his way to a chair that sat in front of a long table. There were three chairs behind the table. In those three chairs were the members of the board of parole, who had convened on this day to hear the cases and determine if prisoners deserved an early release. The members of the board consisted of two men and one woman. Warden Carey sat behind his desk and waited patiently as Officer Sherwood brought the prisoners in one by one and issued them to their seat. Colin was handcuffed and was led to the chair. He looked up at Brad and half smiled at him. He had been there before.
"I hereby call this meeting of parole acquisitions to order beginning with case number uh 44568, prisoner 022 uh 175, Mochrie, Colin Andrew. Will the members of the parole board state their uhm names for the record?" Drew's stumbling over the reading of the docket was nothing new. He often lost his place because he was often distracted by something else.
Stephen Colbert, Dan Patterson and Laura Hall, all stated their names respectively for the recorded. They all opened a copy of the case in front of them. It was the standard procedure to start the hearing with a redisclosure of the crime, the verdict and the sentencing. The prisoner was then allowed to make remarks as to why he felt he was rehabilitated and then Warden Carey would confirm or disprove said rehabilitation. It was then up to the parole board to approve or deny the prisoner's request for parole. Colin had been their twelve times.
"On Wednesday, May 24, 1924, the body of one fourteen year old Bobby Franks was found face down in a patch of woods. Beside the body was a pair of reading glasses. It had been determined by the courts that the prisoner Colin Mochrie and his accomplice Richard Petersen had attempted to orchestrate the perfect crime. Mr. Mochrie, a Harvard graduate with an IQ of 210 had assisted in the brutal murder of the victim. He claimed that it was an experiment for two highly intellectual adults bored with the normal confines and constrictions of life. Initially the crime was to mastermind a plan of kidnapping for ransom and everything was planned out to the minute detail. A flaw caused a panic and the resulting murder. "The detectives proved that the reading glasses found at the scene belonged to Mr. Mochrie." Laura Hall looked up from the reading of the transcript and studied Colin before continuing.
Colin looked intently at the floor. He willed himself not to show any emotion. He listened, as he always did, to the nature of his crime. He thought back to the days of his youth in bitter remorse. He would have given anything to take back those moments of naive stupidity masked in intellectual genius. He would have done anything to persuade Richard against doing the unthinkable. It was hard to convince Richard of anything other than what Richard wanted to do. Richard held the strings and Colin danced to his tune. He couldn't blame Richard. He didn't blame him now. They were just young and thought they had the world at their fingertips. If he could take back those moments, if he could relive that day, he would gladly have given his own life in return to save the boy's he had taken.
Laura continued. "It was determined by the court beyond the shadow of a doubt that Mr. Mochrie clearly motivated by Mr. Petersen's influence committed the crime. His father procured the best lawyer for his defense, as did Mr. Petersen's. They were to be separated and put into different correctional institutions. It was the court's decision that Mochrie would be given a life sentence with the possibility of parole." Laura finished and took a sip of her water. The heat from the day had penetrated the room and it was stifling. There were no windows open and the ceiling fans did noting but rotate the hot air. It was meant to be uncomfortable.
"The prisoner will now make his remarks." Drew said to the board. He looked at Colin pointedly. He had known Colin throughout his tenure as Warden almost eight years now. He knew that Colin could be trusted. He knew that he had felt remorse for his mistake in the past, but he also knew that Colin would never be set free. The boy's parents had seen to that. Every time there was a hearing, the victim’s parents would make a plea indicating several conditions in the sentencing. So far the parole hearings always went in their favor.
Colin cleared his throat. He looked up at each member of the board and thanked them for taking their time out of their busy day to look at his case again. His soulful brown eyes told of his heartache and pain. He allowed it to shine through now.
"Of my crime, I take full responsibility for. I have no defense. I admit freely that it was a grievous error on my part and the part of my partner, Mr. Petersen. Knowing full well the nature of my relationship, with Mr. Petersen, you can all attest that it was indeed a crime of passion. I will try at this juncture as I always have to maintain my dignity about my involvement with Mr. Petersen in the nature of our sexual orientation and how that had played a part in the incident that took place. I will ask once again to express my humble apologies to the family of the victim and that I will endeavor to do everything within my power to make amends for my actions. My partner, if he were with us today, I am sure would concur with my decision as well." Colin allowed the tears to well up. He had cried so many nights over his mistakes and kept his actions first and foremost in his mind. He couldn't forgive himself. He wouldn't allow it.
"Warden Carey will now make his remarks." Dan Patterson announced.
"Convict Mochrie has shown remarkable improvement over the years under my watchful supervision; however, it has not improved to the point to where he deserves to be released back into society. He is a cooperative inmate, but requires further rehabilitation before I can honestly grant my consent to his recovery."
As Drew made his recommendations in his usual Foghorn Leghorn intonations, all the hope that had dimly shown in Colin's eyes snuffed itself once again. When would he learn his lesson? There would be no way in hell they would ever let him out of here. He was here to stay. He lifted his hands, clasped together in silent plea that maybe, just this once, he would be spared and given another chance. How much longer would he have to suffer for his mistake? He felt it everyday of his life. "Let me do some good." He whispered.
"It is hereby then the decision of this parole board that the Prisoner Colin Mochrie has failed to prove or warrant his release back into society. He will continue to serve out the remainder of his sentence until said time as when another hearing can be rescheduled." Stephen Colbert, taking the stamp that sealed Colin's fate every year, stamped his file with DENIED. The sound echoed through the room and resounded in his heart.
chapter11
Officer Brad Sherwood returned to Cell Block C in search of the freshly showered and groomed Ryan Stiles. He knew Mochrie was still in the middle of his parole hearing, so he had a moment to fetch the other prisoner. He found Ryan sitting up in his bunk, his height making his hair brush against the metal of the upper bunk. He was dressed in a fresh prison uniform and his beard was shaved and he looked marginally better. He was staring off into space. Brad sighed and approached silently.
Brad paused at the door to his cell and leaned against it. He noticed convict Davis on his upper bunk. The man had a tablet and was scribbling something furiously on the pad. Every so often he would pause, look his boyish face toward the window, smile, and continue to write. Brad tapped the cell shaking both men from their thoughts.
"Stiles, the warden will see you now." Brad said, putting his key in the cell lock and opening the door with a loud metallic screech. Ryan rose from the bunk and extended his wrists. Brad looked over to the bunk where Jeff was watching as usual. He looked back at Ryan who kept his face neutral. He placed the handcuffs around Ryan's wrists and allowed him to pass through the cell.
As they walked down the corridor, Brad glanced sideways at Ryan. "You know, you could talk to me. I'm not all that bad once you get to know me."
Ryan frowned and turned back. "I ain't gettin friendly with no coppers. Besides, I remember what you did to me when I first came into this joint." He said as they walked past several cells.
"Aww now can't we let bygones be bygones? I only do as Warden Carey tells me. I really see something noble in you Stiles and I like that." Brad said hesitantly, putting his hand on Ryan's shoulder.
Ryan shrugged the hand off. "You can save it. You're just as much a part of this as they are."
Brad sighed and shrugged and continued to walk with Ryan past a few more cells, stopping him in front of Greg and Colin's. "Proops, your lawyers got a meeting with you today."
Ryan looked into the cell where Greg was sitting at the smallest of small tables that was supposed to be considered a desk and looked up from his reading. Upon seeing Ryan he stood up and crossed over to the man. Brad allowed Ryan to go to the cell; he and Greg stood face to face. Greg looked up into Ryan's eyes and shyly smiled. "I wanted to thank you for, you know, the other day." Greg had his hands resting on one of the iron bars of the cell and Ryan reached out and patted them. "Keep your chin up." He smiled a rare smile at Greg, letting down his guard momentarily.
"Hey come on man...you don't have to tell me! That's just another chapter in my colorful book of life. I only wish I got a nice right hook on that bastard."
Brad nudged Ryan and with a final look back at Greg, Ryan walked on. Brad escorted Ryan through the courtyard to the warden's office at the north end of the penitentiary. It was much colder outside; they had entered the winter months. They didn't say another word to each other as they approached the building.
Colin was just leaving his seat, being ushered by another guard, when he turned and faced Ryan coming in with Brad. They had not seen each other since the night of the cafeteria incident. Colin took note of the now paler, thinner man and gave him a grim smile and a nod in acknowledgement. Ryan looked back at Colin and then at the others behind the desk. He wondered what it was he seemed to be interrupting; then it dawned on him. He looked into the other man's eyes and got the answer he was looking for. He tried to convey sympathy in his face and almost spoke, but all Colin said to him was, "Don't." He walked toward the door Ryan had just entered. Their shoulders brushed each other's in passing and Ryan felt his despair in the briefest of touches.
Warden Carey chose this moment to speak up. "One second, Mochrie."
Colin turned around and waited beside Officer Sherwood, who was ready to escort him back to his cell. He looked at Carey with sad, vacant eyes.
Warden Carey approached Ryan, who had waited patiently in front of Carey's desk. His head was bowed, but he was not doing it out of respect. Drew circled the man and then came to face him. He put a finger under Ryan's chin and lifted up his face to meet his eyes. Ryan tried to move his head from Carey's grasp, but Drew held him firm. He stared into Ryan's eyes, and Ryan looked back defiant as ever. The spark of life still shown through. Drew nodded and said. "So, Stiles, how did you enjoy your stay in the pent house suite?"
Ryan's anger was building again inside of him. That made him want to trash the place, including the very smug looking Warden. He stood still and held his tongue.
"Before we proceed any further," Carey said to the parole board, "I have an interesting work detail for Mr. Stiles here. He seems to have a lot of extra energy to burn off these days, and I figure he wouldn't mind putting that to good use out on the rail. We are having the train come through this part of our town and the state has volunteered us to provide the rail workers to help the process." Drew looked pointedly at Ryan.
Ryan grimaced; back breaking labor. This was how they were going to push his buttons. He twisted his wrists inside their confines and said nothing. He wasn't going to give the man his satisfaction.
Drew patted Ryan's shoulder and said, "Oh, you'll change your tune. Oh, and Mochrie, you're going to be on the detail too. Colin looked away from Ryan; he had been studying the man's reactions, and shook his head no. "I can't do that Warden Carey. I can't be out in the heat of the day during the summer time." He knew the project would last more than a few months. It would be well into the summer before they finished.
"I really don't think you have a choice Mochrie." Drew said with a slight smile. "I've checked your roster and in the past 4 years you have not been on any labor details. Your time has arrived. That's all I needed you boys for. You can return to your cells."
Ryan turned on his heel and followed Colin and Brad out of the door. As they were crossing the courtyard Ryan turned to Colin and said, "What is with the sadistic bastards in this place? How the hell have you survived all this time?"
Colin looked at him and shrugged. "You get used to it. Soon it becomes a part of you and you just learn to accept it."
Ryan stopped him for a moment and said. "You don't honestly believe that shit do you? I know I'm gonna get out of this pen just as soon as it's humanly possible. I ain't gonna let this place lick me and when I get outta here I'm going straight. I hope you have the power to do the same."
Colin smirked at him and the implication. "You're living in a pipe dream. You know they have you and you'll never be free. You might as well face those facts. They'll have you till you lose your mind or you die. Warden Carey has seemed to take a particularly fond interest in you since your little display of heroism. He would never have put a new inmate on this particular kind of detail. You better take note of that, and just not get involved next time."
"What are you saying, man? I don't get you! Greg is your friend. How could you stand there and just let it happen to him without doing something?" Ryan looked at Colin incredulously.
Sherwood issued them both back into Cell Block C. As they approached Colin's cell, Colin turned to Brad and said. "Brad, as long as you've been here, have you seen anything good come out of someone making a stand and trying to make a difference? This place is hell on earth and the more you do, the more you sink into that pit."
Brad looked at the pair. He couldn't help but remark to himself that the two had points on both sides of their argument. "Hell, Colin I've been here ten years and I can't even break free. I've seen enough of my share of despair and desperation to last me for a lifetime. I only happen to be on the other side. But Ryan has a point. If you don't do something, all you have to do is look forward to the norm."
Brad unlocked Colin's cell and let him back in; Greg was not there. Colin surveyed the room and waited patiently as Brad undid his cuffs. "Well whatever the case, Ryan, you'd be far wise to let those dreams of yours stay inside your head." He looked forlornly toward the window as the pair exited his cell and Brad walked with Ryan down the hall to his own cell.
Ryan sighed and muttered to himself as they got closer to his cell. "I don't understand him at all." Brad looked back at him and put a hand on his shoulder. "You have to go easy on him Stiles. I don't think you realize how hard it is for someone to live here with the intelligence he has and not be able to put it toward any kind of use. He tortures himself daily and he has come to believe that there is truly no hope. Try living that way day after day, year after year and see what it does to you."
Brad left him with those parting thoughts and Ryan crossed over to his bunk and lay down on it. Jeff had just taken out his harmonica and began to play a song. It was sad and sorrowful, just like all of his melodies. Ryan closed his eyes and listened for a moment. He thought about Colin and how much he wanted to convince him that there was more to this life, and that he did have a chance. He thought about Greg and how he could be good in helping to convince Colin of that. Greg had a positive outlook despite his situation.
When Jeff paused his playing, Ryan cleared his throat. Jeff looked over the side of the bunk and smiled. There was something undeniably cute in his gaze and Ryan had to stop himself from smirking back. He looked at the young man and said. "So tell me, you never really did finish your story about the bank robbers out west. If they didn't make it to Mexico, what happened to them? I get what happened to the driver. I'm looking at him."
Jeff's smile disappeared and he rolled onto his back on his bunk. He fingered his harmonica bringing it to his lips once more and blew softly into it a few more notes. After a few moments he spoke in soft tones that Ryan had to strain to hear.
"The Barrow Gang continued to commit more crimes, starting with the robbery of the Lancaster Bank. It was after this job, that that something changed with me and the others. Johnny was havin a dispute with Hamilton, Adelide's brother, over the split of money from that bank heist, Johnny had suggested we part company. But Hamilton still deserved his share, so we chose a lonely stretch of Highway 114 to meet and divvy up. Johnny put me on watch as he and Adelide slept in the car. The last thing either of them wanted right now was another direct confrontation with the law. While they dozed, some motorcycle cops by. I panicked when I saw the troopers curb their machines and begin to strut back toward me. I yanked Johnny's elbow. 'Laws, Johnny.' I told him frantically.
Johnny brushed his eyes and saw the policemen. 'Let’s take ’em,' he told me. I didn't know he meant that he wanted to take them on one of his funny joy rides that he was known to do. He loved scaring the cops by driving them all over the desert then dropping them off out in the middle of nowhere. I was so nervous I thought he meant only one thing. Before Johnny had a chance to stop me, I had my revolver out and fired, striking one of the cops dead. The other cop began shooting back. Johnny had no alternative but to defend himself and returned the shots. His aim was deadly. As both of the patrolmen lay in the hot sun, Adelide checked on them to see if either of them had any chance for survival, she wanted to make sure that if they had the chance she could call and get them help. She hated the law but she also hated death. Anyways, we didn’t know a nearby farmer had witnessed the incident and prob'ly loved his moment in the press, claimed that Adelide purposely walked up the two dying men and pumped another round into each of them. That wasn't true, but that didn’t matter now. Two more policemen were dead and Johnny and Adelide were responsible.
We made it all the way to Topeka and it was there that Johnny and Adelide stole their last car, the car in which they would die." Jeff paused at the sound of Ryan's intake of breath. He made a low sound in his throat and urged Jeff to continue.
"It was fast, sleek and accelerated like a rocket. They loved that car." Jeff said with remorse
The detective that was on the case was trailing us the entire time. He had learned of our gang's meeting with Johnny's folks in Dallas. He put two and two together and, again, guessed correctly. He presumed that they were probably en route next to visit with my father, Iverson, who lived in Acadia, Louisiana, in the northern part of the state near Shreveport. He was right. After we stole the car, we were on our way to visit my dad.
Ever since the shooting of that cop, I hadn't really been the same. I was skittish. I’d known from that moment on that I'd gotten into something way over my head. I had heard the "death talk" during the Barrow- Parker reunion; I seen the sullen faces; and I had read Adelide's poem, which spoke of death. Jeff paused again his song still playing in his head. I was not presupposed to the idea of accepting what Adelide called "the wages of sin". I just wanted outta there.
By the time we got to Shreveport, I was a bundle of nerves. Holing up at my dad's out-of-the-way cabin off Sailes Road, I told my dad that I was scared. While the pair was asleep in the other room I told my dad I rued the day I ever met them. I wished I could wake up and find myself pardoned of all my crimes and start life anew. My dad told me he had an idea.
When the lead detective and his gang arrived in Shreveport, they were planning on an ambush for Johnny and Adelide. My dad paid him a visit offering him a deal: Johnnyand Adelide for a reduced sentence for me. The detective wanted to see my dad immediately.
Sometime during the day of May 22, final preparations were made for an ambush. The plan that resulted was fairly simple. Johnny and Adelide tended to make early visits to town in nearby Sailes. The Sailes Road was dense with woodland, moss hanging low over the road. The road was narrow and there were plenty of places a posse could wait concealed.
The detective wanted to make sure I was no where with them when the ambush went down. That problem had already been conveniently worked out by fate. A day earlier we had driven to Shreveport for hamburgers; and while I went in to order, a police squad had pulled alongside the car in a parking lot. I looked out the window as Johnny calmly pulled away; I just thought it was my time to go into hiding. I went and stayed with a cousin and never looked back.
My dad told me later the rest of the story and what had eventually happened. He worked out the details with the detective. He was a logger by trade and owned a beat-up Model A truck that he occasionally used to haul pulp lumber to Sailes. Johnny often poked fun at the truck, so would recognize it on sight. If Johnny were to spot that truck stalled, say, on Sailes Road, would he not stop to investigate? A handshake and a promise of leniency on my part ended their plans.
The spot that the agents chose for the ambush that next morning, May 23, 1934, was atop one of the many low rolling hills that the road traversed. Moss-covered trees grew so close to the road at this point that we were hidden from view but they could see anyone approaching for almost a half-mile on the road from either direction. My old man's beater had been parked alongside a small ditch that ran along the north side of the road; the sharpshooters kneeled across the way directly from it. He waited among the posse, biting his fingernails.
Johnny and Adelide had gone to town at daybreak and unless this day differed from the others, would be passing this point on their way back to the cabin around 9 a.m. The lead detective, who knew Barrow and Parker by sight, were posted nearest the road to avoid gunning down the wrong party. At fifteen minutes past nine he pointed to a beige ‘34 Ford approaching from over the nearest hill. As it sped towards them, it seemed to slow down, its driver’s eyes on the abandoned truck.
"This is him," my dad heard him say, and he lifted his Browning automatic to his shoulder, the silhouette of Johnny Barrow’s head square in its sight. Each of the other officers was equipped with like weapons, loaded with five full rounds. They watched Johnny’s form bending forward, scanning the truck, then twisting sideways to look for its owner among the trees. Body movement bespoke curiosity. Beside him sat Adelide; wearing a dress of red, her favorite color. The detective heard dad, beside him, clear his throat.
But he chose not to call out a warning not to Johnny and Adelide, who always escaped when given even the slightest advantage. There would be no advantage here. Instead in a voice audible only to those around him, void of drama, void of malice, dad heard him say, "Shoot!
When it came out in the paper I read what the detective said in his own words: "...Adelide screams, and I fire and everyone fires...My BAR spits out twenty shots in an instant, and a drumbeat of shells knifes through the steel body of the car, and glass is shattering. For a fleeting instant, the car seems to melt and hang in a kind of eerie and animated suspension, trying to move forward, spitting gravel at the wheels, but unable to break through the shield of withering gunfire...My ears are ringing, there is a spinning and reeling in my head from the cannonade of bullets and the clank of steel-jacketed metal tearing steel...." And when the firing subsided..."Johnny is slumped forward, the back of his head a mat of blood...I scramble over the hood of the car and throw open the door on Adelide’s side. The impression will linger with me from this instant -- I see her falling out of the opened door, a beautiful and petite young girl...and I smell a light perfume against the burned-cordite smell of gunpowder..."
Jeff shuddered with tears coursing down his face. Ryan got out of his bunk and stood before the young man and laid a hand on his head. "You didn't know."
"Oh but I did. I was stupid. I was a dumb kid, who deserved to go down with them. I'm a coward and I deserve to be here."
Ryan who had hated cowards most of his life and rats just the same, felt sympathy for the kid. He was young, even younger than he was now, and he made a terrible mistake. It cost people their lives, but in doing so, it saved so many more lives.
"You were brave enough to do what you felt you had to do, kid." Ryan looked away from him and went to stand over at the door to his cell. Jeff watched him silently nodded and took out his harmonica once again. Maybe if he only felt that way himself.
chapter12
Greg was ushered into the small visitor’s room in the south side of the penitentiary. The guard escorting him sat him in one of the hard wooden chairs that was in front of a table with a large glass wall separating another room that looked exactly like the one he was in. He waited patiently as the guard removed one of the cuffs from his wrist and shackled it to the hole inserted into the table for that purpose. He looked back at the guard and tipped an imaginary hat toward him and looked through the glass to the door at the other side of the room.
The door opened and his attorney, Mr. Ian Gomez, entered sweating profusely and nervously as he was known to do. Greg sighed and shook his head at the already foreseen incompetence of his court appointed attorney. Ian went to the table and sat his briefcase down. His rumpled suit and half opened tie was a clear indication to Greg that he probably slept in his clothes.
Ian cleared his throat nervously and reached for the phone used as communication between the inmate and his visitor. Greg did the same.
"So what’s the news?" Greg said casually.
Ian looked around; he looked everywhere but at Greg. His eyes shifted from one side of the room to the other. He then opened his overstuffed briefcase and began to shuffle papers around. He found a file he was looking for and placed it on the table in front of him.
"What is it?" Greg said into the phone sitting forward a little more. He didn’t like the way his attorney seemed to be avoiding his gaze today. Not that the little rat had ever been totally honest with him anyway.
Ian cleared his throat into the phone once more. He looked at Greg finally with a tired gaze of one who knew he failed and failed often. He ran a hand over his balding scalp and tried to say with as much professionalism as he could muster.
"It’s over Greg."
Greg looked at the man behind the glass. His hand gripped the phone tightly, his knuckles blanching around the handle almost snapping it in two. He tried to school his features and hope that maybe he had heard wrong or misunderstood.
"The last of your appeals was turned down this week and they sent me to inform you that your execution is set to go ahead as scheduled."
"I don’t understand." Greg said, blinking rapidly trying to grasp the reality of the situation.
"The People of the state of Pennsylvania has determined that you are to be held responsible for the act that you committed and are to be so punished for that, by the means of which was determined by the judge and jury of your peers."
"Did you do anything to fight for me, you worthless piece of shit?" Greg said his anger rising now.
"Now, Greg you know that’s not fair. I did everything in my power to keep you alive for as long as I could. I used everything the appeal process allowed me to and still, they sided with the circumstances. Now I have to inform you that you will be executed in the manner of which the state determined appropriate. You know what I’m referring to."
Greg thought back to the days of his sentencing as he had every day of his life. He didn’t need to be reminded of the judge’s cold, unsympathetic voice as he brought down the verdict to a small and frightened young man. ‘Death by electrocution.’
"When?" Greg said with a lump in his throat.
"At the end of the summer." Came the reply.
"Is there any way out?"
"Only by a Governor’s Stay of Execution. I’ve already filed."
Greg nodded. "Then I guess we are finished here."
Ian stood and put his hand to the glass. "I’m so sorry, Greg."
"Don’t be." Greg sighed. "She’s won, and I really wouldn’t have it any other way."
The door to Greg’s cell open and Colin sat up in his bunk. He looked as Greg entered the cell and the door closed behind him. He rested his head on the bars for a moment before turning around. Smiling a wry smile at Colin he said, "So, anyone in the mood for a bar-b-que?"
As it turned out, Greg was also put on the rail detail, along with Jeff and several other prisoners. Ryan, Colin, Greg, and Jeff were on a team and other convicts were put in similar pairings. During the winter months, the work wasn’t so bad. There was no snow in Alabama, but the temperatures did dip low. The first few days on the job were relatively tense. Ryan wasn’t speaking much to Colin, who in return didn’t have much to say to him. Jeff, the most pleasant of the bunch, would sing constantly the songs he had written. It put everyone in a better mood.
Greg seemed preoccupied for most of the time, but it didn’t stop him from complaining about the harsh weather conditions, what it was doing to his delicate skin, as well as the fact that they put the gayest individuals in the prison on such a manly work detail. Not to mention a stick figure who couldn’t lift a pick axe if money paid for it, to which Ryan growled at him playfully, and a yodelin’ cowboy who’d probably keep him up nights wondering about what tumbleweeds actually were.
All of their moods lightened which made the working days somewhat more bearable. Ryan talked to Greg often about what he did to break Colin’s protective shell. Greg said he really didn’t have a plan of action. He just usually bullied Colin to the point of where he either fought back or gave in to Greg’s demands. On a serious note he told Ryan that listening to him was the best way to understand him. Colin really was a complex individual and he had much locked away inside of him, that no one would be able to understand. It would all come out in time.
Colin in the meanwhile, would work as diligently as he could. He knew the summer months would be brutal to him and he tried to get as much done as possible before they arrived, perhaps he could talk the work detail supervisor into letting him slide those months if he got a lot accomplished in the winter and spring. He noticed the other’s liked to joke and play around, and he’d often get frustrated at the other’s lack of cooperation, but even he had to admit that they made the work more fun. During smoke breaks they would sit around and try to one up the other with dirty jokes they had heard from other inmates. He would laugh at Ryan’s telling of the jokes because he said it in just the right way that had them all cracking up.
Somewhere along the way the guys thought it would be lots of fun and help the days move faster if they started playing games. Colin’s favorite game was one he invented called 90 second alphabet. The guys took turns getting through the letters of the alphabet in record time. They also played a game he’d rather stay out of that Greg invented called "If you know what I mean." Ryan and Greg could come up with some doozies and they usually found ways of dragging him into that one as well.
One day as Colin walked past Ryan to bring more spikes over to Jeff who was steadily hammering them into the ground, Ryan made a sound almost like a squish. Colin paused. He walked again. Squish, Squish. He turned around and glanced at Ryan. Ryan smirked and continued to work as if he didn’t hear anything. Colin turned and walked away and the squish returned. Colin half smiled and moved his arm. Swish, the sound said. He looked at Ryan out of the corner of his eye and lifted his leg. Ugh. Was the sound that followed. Colin smiled and shook his head; a new game had been invented.
They had played that way all through the winter and spring, getting to know each other’s strengths and weaknesses. It had come to the point where they were looking forward to the time when they could all share in the other’s company despite the difficult labor. They acted like children again. Ryan and Colin had found a way to get along better, and Colin began to like the taller, sometimes goofier tough guy. Ryan liked the fact that he had, on occasion made Colin smile. It was a personal goal for him. He knew something was still troubling him, and Greg as well. He decided that he needed to ask and clear the air between all of them.
He had found the pair in deep discussion one day before the summer season started. They were digging more path-way for the rail to be laid. Greg had found a particularly hard piece of ground and was swearing at it in frustration. Colin looked over and tried to help him with it.
"I said I could do it, now leave me alone." Greg pushed harder on the shovel.
"It would work better with two of us."
"I don’t need your help. Let me do something for myself before I won’t be able to do anything at all." Greg said and pitched the shovel away. "Damn it!"
"I think we need to talk about this, Greg. I don’t think you should keep it in. At least let us tell Ryan about it."
"Tell Ryan about what?" Ryan said approaching the pair.
Greg looked away from Ryan and studied the ground. He put a hand on his hip and kicked at the dirt trying to avoid the issue.
Colin turned to Ryan. "It’s just reality coming to rear its ugly head once again."
Colin told Ryan the short version of events, with Greg staring at something far away in the distance. Ryan listened in sympathy and when Colin was finished, went to Greg and wrapped his arms around the shorter man. He didn’t care if everyone in the whole prison saw them; he was going to let Greg know that he cared.
"Fuck." He held on to Greg and patted his back. Greg looked up at him and smiled. "Just take care of the little guy for me." He said indicating Colin who had given them their space.
The first few weeks of summer proved to be rather difficult for certain members of the group. Jeff didn’t mind working out in the sun. He loved taking his shirt off and exposing his back to the blazing Alabama sunshine. It was relentless. It didn’t matter that the spring time was cool and inviting, summer was here and it was HOT. Colin felt the first few twinges of heat exhaustion and knew that he would not last if it continued to worsen. He asked the supervisor often to relay to Warden Carey that he needed to be inside. He would be sick soon enough if he was left out in the sun during the entire summer. Every time he asked the answer would be the same. So he endured. He always did.
Greg knew this summer would be his last. He tried to let the heat soak into his bones and tried to soak up the warmth of the sun that he would never feel on his skin again. The hot days wore on and he labored with them, sweat dripping off of his brow and he watched his friends, all concentrating on getting the job done. It wasn’t fun anymore. And he wasn’t in the mood to play as much as he had been. He was also concerned for Colin who was looking more of an uhealthy shade of pink every day. He didn’t tan well either, but he was more concerned about Colin’s health.
The dog days of summer hit the group in August and the heat of the day was exhausting. The sun was high in the sky and the sounds of pick axes, sledgehammers, and locusts permeated the air. Colin wiped the sweat from his brow and looked wearily at Ryan who was hammering in a spike. Each swing of the sledgehammer resounded in Colin’s head. He had a pounding headache that day and it was a while until break time.
Ryan looked over at Colin and saw his expression. "What’s the matter?"
"It’s hot, mighty hot." Colin said in a slight southern drawl. He was trying to make light of the situation.
Ryan chuckled a little. He undid the top few buttons of his shirt. He was glad the prison at least allowed them short sleeves during the summer months.
Colin watched and licked his lips; he was thirsty all of the sudden. Ryan swung the sledgehammer again; the connection caused Colin to rub his throbbing temples. He was watching Ryan intently with every swing becoming pleasantly distracted. His head was getting a swimmy feeling. Greg and Jeff were farther up the rail doing their best to lay down the boards in an even line so that Ryan and Colin could come and hammer down the spikes.
"Ryan?" Colin asked out of the blue.
"Yeah..?"
"What’s it like being a mobster?"
"Well it definitely had its moments." Ryan replied.
"Well, I bet they didn’t have a hard time keeping up with you." Colin said chuckling softly.
"Why’s that?"
"Because anyone who looks like a big stick with a big nose wouldn’t be hard to spot in a crowd."
Ryan dropped his sledgehammer and glared at Colin in shock. He gaped at him his mouth hanging open. He mimed holding a violin up to his neck and sang "I’m going to shoot you when I can find a gun."
Colin laughed shrugging his shoulders up and down and pointing at Ryan.
Ryan started chasing Colin around the small area. Colin, despite his exhaustion, kept easily out of Ryan’s way hippity hopping and enjoying himself. Ryan caught up to him and tagged him lightly on the shoulder. The two slowed down and caught their breath. Ryan was too hot and struggled out of his shirt. He threw it on the ground and picked up his sledgehammer once more. He almost missed the tiny whimper from the man beside him.
Colin watched as Ryan shrugged out of his shirt. His long lean muscles stretched high above his head. The smoothness of his chest was hypnotizing and Colin watched as a bead of sweat trailed its way down Ryan’s sternum and onto his flat stomach. Colin swallowed hard and whimpered. He turned away when Ryan caught the look in his eye.
"I’m sorry." He said to Colin as he realized what he was doing. He reached out and touched him on the shoulder.
"It’s ok. No harm done." Colin told him and then everything faded to black. The last thing he heard was Ryan calling his name.
Colin woke up the next day in the infirmary. There was an intravenous tube stuck in his arm. He was receiving fluids and he assumed he had suffered a heat stroke. He shook his head, groggily trying to clear it and figure out how he had gotten there.
The attending nurse seeing that her patient had awoke, went over to check his vitals.
"How did I get here?" He asked her.
"Oh you were brought in from the rails, I assume. Couple of tall fella’s brought you in along with another guy giving directions." Colin smiled at the thought of his friend’s risking everything to get him out of the sun.
"When can I leave?"
"Well we reported the incident to Warden Carey and you’ve been re-assigned. You are to return to your cell after you improve."
‘So it took a fainting spell.’ Colin thought begrudgingly.
When he finally made it back to his cell a whole week later, the nurse said he was extremely low on his vitals and his hydration and needed to recuperate, Greg was there waiting for him.
"Well hello, Nancy!" Greg said relief in his voice. He slung and arm over Colin’s shoulder and helped him to his bunk. Colin smiled at his friend and patted his chest. "Miss me?"
"I sure did, and the little Stiles boy down the street sends his regards." Greg looked at Colin and smiled a pained smile. Colin knew that something was troubling Greg and after a moment let out a long breath.
"What is it?"
"Oh nothing," Greg lied. "I’m just glad you’re back, ya know? It would have been terrible if…"he trailed off.
Colin looked at Greg and then the realization hit him like a cold hard stone in the pit of his stomach.
"Is it?"
"Yeah, it is."
"Oh Greg, I, I…" Colin didn’t know where to begin.
"Colin just don’t, ok. It is what it is. Now I don’t want you making a fuss over me and getting yourself sick again. Tomorrow will take care of itself. Ryan made me promise to take care of you when you got back, and that’s what I intend to do, for at least this afternoon." Greg looked at his hand as it rested on Colin’s knee.
"But…"
"No, buts and I mean it."
"Ok Greg, as you wish." Colin got up and climbed on top of his bunk. He lay down and waited for the night to come.
chapter13
Colin awoke to the sounds of crying. Actually he hadn't really been asleep. He had been staring up at the ceiling with his hands behind his head. He was thinking. He was remembering. The soft, almost silent sobs from below brought him out of his reverie. Every so often a little hitch in the breathing indicated that he was trying to stop his tears, but could not.
Colin's lips trembled and he scrubbed a hand over his eyes. He was tired of fighting back the tears and he allowed them to flow, a slow sort of eeking out of his eyes as they coursed their way down his waxen cheeks. 'Why was he so stubborn?' He thought. 'I should just go down there and hold him, despite the consequences.' Colin rolled onto his side. He knew Greg tried his damndest to put on a front, going so far as to tell Colin to treat him like nothing was happening. Like tomorrow was just another day on the never ending calendar.
He tried to block out thoughts of what the morning would bring, what end was coming, tried to keep denying himself of what they both knew would happen. Greg was in good spirits earlier. Joking and laughing with him and Ryan in the yard. Taking his desert at dinner. Making cracks about Chip's sexuality. He made everyone laugh and never let on that it was his last night before going on the row.
A low whine, followed by another sob echoed through the small space and that was enough for Colin. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and hopped down into the darkness. He felt around on the bunk below until he encountered Greg's body. He was facing the wall and his back was to the room. Colin slid in behind him and wrapped his arms around Greg's chest. There was hardly room for one person on the small twin size mattress. He pressed himself tightly against the other man and buried his face into his neck. He shuddered, his body trembling behind Greg as his salty tears broke free from their confines and flowed like water through a broken dam.
Colin coming up behind Greg startled him. He had been up all evening crying and trying to find comfort in his worn blanket. He had no solace, no peace, no rest, and he was sure the rest he was seeking was not what was waiting for him. He thought he had no one to tell, no one to share, no one to feel the anguish he felt trapped inside of him until it was too late. He let the grief wash over him, the sorrow overwhelm him, and the tough guy front, becoming what it was known to be all along...just an act.
"Col…Colin?" He said into the darkness. He tried shifting on his mattress but it was difficult under the circumstances. He felt Colin's quaking sigh against the back of his neck and his forehead pressed into the soft curls of his hair. Oh this was sweet torture. How could he do this to him, now of all times? He could count the number of times on his hand that Colin actually initiated any affection towards him. Sure he comforted him, like now, when he was his lowest of lows, but he always had to ask. Colin was locked in his little world with Richard for so many years that he never let anyone in without begging. And when Richard died, he seemed to shut himself away completely.
Greg loved him more than he would ever know.
With effort, he turned and faced Colin in the darkness. Colin loosened his hold so Greg could turn and face him. Greg rubbed deliciously up against Colin and goose bumps raised on his skin. Greg's arms went limply around Colin's waist and held him, lightly thumbing the material of his shirt. He tried to allow his eyes to focus in the darkness of the cell; the soft glow from the little light bulb made it only slightly less than pitch black. Colin looked back at him with a watery gaze. Greg gave him a teary-eyed smile, and Colin returned it.
Colin thought the man beside him looked exceptionally vulnerable without his glasses. He took one of his hands and traced the outline of Greg's eyes with his fingertips, wiping away some errant tears. Greg closed his eyes to the touch and leaned in ever so slightly. Colin seemed lost in concentration as if he was remembering every line, every trace. He felt Greg's breath as it hushed over his chin and lips. They were so closely pressed together you could not slip a piece of paper between them. He let his fingers explore their way down to his lips, looked at them in wonderment and hesitated.
Greg moaned softly and made the connection by kissing Colin's fingertips. Colin bit his lip and put his hand down, and looked away. Greg sighed in frustration. "Why, Colin? Why won't you let me love you?"
Colin looked back at him once again. "I can't Greg, I just can't. I'm afraid."
Greg brought his hand to Colin's chin and turned it toward him looking him in the eye. "He's gone Colin, you have to accept that. You have people who care about you and love you if you will only open up your heart enough to let them in. Ryan wants to be your friend, you have to let him at least try. You owe him that."
"I know," Colin said. He liked the feel of Greg's fingers as they stroked his chin softly.
"You owe me more." Greg said as he brushed his knuckles alongside of Colin's cheek, savoring the feel of its softness, like a man starving for his last meal, for indeed it would be. "I don't think you have any idea how frustrated you've made me over the years, or how much restraint I've had." He brought his hands up to Colin's head and gently combed them through his baby soft hair. His lips were mere inches away from Colin's sharing the same breath.
Colin's melting chocolate eyes teared up once again. "I'm going to lose you too."
Greg gave a half-laugh half-sob and pulled Colin closer to him. He put his arms around Colin and held him tighter than he had ever held anyone. Colin wrapped his arms tight around Greg's middle and burrowed his head back into his neck. They rocked together just soaking up the hug, letting the hurt, anguish, and pain roll from one body to the other.
Greg stroked the nape of Colin's neck and eased his head up once more; he looked into Colin's eyes, dared all hope and said. "I want to kiss you. Let me kiss you. Don't deny me my one last wish."
Colin did not waste another moment thinking about his decision. With one final nod of his head, he brought his lips to Greg's and kissed his top lip, a bittersweet pang filling his senses instantly. Oh what he had denied himself! Sparks of white fire crackled off in his brain. He kissed him slowly and sweetly at first, tasting the saltiness of Greg's tears and the lingering traces of his earlier cigarette.
Greg soared on an exhilarated high. Colin felt so good. He tasted so fucking good. He didn't want this moment to end, ever. He could die now. One tiny sigh from Colin was all that it took to push Greg's limits. Instantly hands were everywhere. They were kissing each other; hard, desperate, needy kisses. Hands in hair, yanking, pulling. Moans and desperate sighs. "Colin...Colin...Colin..." Greg said over and over when he could catch a breath.
They moved against each other feeling the length of each other's bodies. The bed squeaked and groaned loudly. They knew there would be people listening and had put half a thought into quieting down. Colin finally broke the kiss, panting heavily, placing his hands on Greg's chest. "Greg, wait."
Greg gave an impatient, frustrated moan and ran a hand through his hair. He wanted Colin's mouth again so badly and it was right in front of him, cherry red and inviting. This had better be good or he might want to do the unthinkable. "Colin...you better have a good reason for stopping...do you feel what's against your leg? It's not waiting and neither am I."
Colin smiled a mischievous dimpled little grin. "I only wanted us to slow down, or this night will be over before it begins. It very nearly was."
"HaHA" Greg laughed out loud and then caught himself mid laugh. Colin placed a hand over his mouth and tickled his ribs. Greg squirmed and licked Colin's palm slowly and languidly, causing a gasp from the other man. Colin watched mesmerized as Greg lowered his mouth over Colin's forefinger and sucked it up tantalizingly slow. "Oh god." he sighed, his body surging with tingles.
"I want to make love to you Colin." Greg sighed in Colin's ear. "Nice and slow, all night long. Will you let me baby?"
Not even waiting for an answer but getting it in the form of Colin exposing more of his pale, slender neck, Greg mouthed his way down the flesh not missing an inch of it. He kissed him slowly, bringing his hands to the front of Colin's shirt and unbuttoning the buttons from the bottom up. They tried to give each other a bit of space so that he could work on the shirt, but the small confines of the bed made things all the more frustratingly difficult. Giving up, they each struggled to a more upright position and hastily undid/ripped their shirts open needing to feel skin on skin. The temperature in the small cell rose ten degrees and they were beginning to perspire.
"God, you are so beautiful, Colin" Greg said touching the slightly tinged pale pink skin in reverence. He trailed his fingers along Colin's arms, across his shoulders and down his hair covered chest. He had rolled off Colin just enough to continue his finger exploration and encountered a soft smooth nipple. He thumbed it until it became hard to the touch, earning him soft sighs from above. Greg smiled and tested the waters further. He bent down, taking it in his mouth and laved it with this tongue. Colin arched up, moaning and running his hands through Greg's hair. He had never felt the absolutely heavenly sensations he was experiencing now. His head was thrown back as far as it could go and he was panting making tiny whimpering sounds in the back of his throat.
Greg brought his hands around Colin's arched back and felt the sleekness of it, the sweat already forming intensifying the feel and he brought his body back to cover Colin's completely and lifted his head up to seek Colin's eyes once more. The looked at each other in the dark and smiled. The smiles now seductive and alluring they brought their smiles together and kissed passionately, exploring the other's mouth. There would be no more kisses after this night, so Greg savored each and every one, listening to the desperate sighs from the man beneath him. He used every technique he knew to keep Colin clawing at his shoulders and back, urging him closer.
Colin shifted, bearing the weight of the man on top of him and brushed up against something that nearly sent him to the moon. He needed to feel that again and so he moved once more, causing a moan to escape an otherwise occupied Greg who was showing Colin the many uses of his skilled tongue. "Not only is it good for witty rejoinders sweetheart" he said huskily. Feeling the hardness that brushed up against his own caught him in mid lick and he sucked Colin's bottom lip in response.
"Again." He sighed. Colin complied and a steady rocking began between the pair. Thrusting rhythmicallydancing a slow dance that only they heard the music to, they continued until it became almost unbearable.
Colin, needing to feel more, threw caution to the wind and trailed his hands down Greg's side resting them on his hips. He brought his hands to the button of Greg's jeans and fumbled clumsilywith the button. He was concentrating too hard on his task and again Greg sighed against his mouth at the hindranceof the obstruction. He reached down and grabbed Colin's hands and brought them up over his head. He clasped his fingers around Colin's and held him there momentarily, kissing him and rubbing up against him hard and slow. "I want to make you want me." He sighed his mouth moving down Colin's jaw line and on his chin, alternating his kissing from light to more pressure. Colin's eyes fluttered back in his head and his mouth hung open slightly. He gripped Greg's hands tighter and met Greg's thrusts with his own. "I do, I want you. I want you now!" Colin moaned breathlessly.
Greg didn't waste another second. "You got it doll." He said and with greater ease and grace, hastily opened Colin's trousers and slipped his hand inside. They both nearly came together with the mere touch. Colin was so very hard and hot, his warmth spread throughout his body and culminated at the head of his penis. Greg felt the pre-cum liquid as he brushed a thumb over the tip and swirled it around the head lubricating Colin's most sensitive spot.
"Greg," Colin whined, pushing up into his hand needing to feel the friction.
"Slow...slow....please go slow...I need this." Greg panted, with each thrust up he pushed down unable to control the movements of his hand because of Colin's urgency.
"Greg...Greg...Colin moaned. "Oh if only I knew it was this good, I would have been here every night...every night...." He kissed his forehead, his eyes, his cheeks, his nose, his mouth, everywhere he could as long as Greg kept touching him. He didn't know what to do with his hands, they seemed to be a hindrance, but he wanted them everywhere. He played along Greg's lightly haired chest, making the other man cry out as he found a more than sensitive nipple.
Greg heard the words that Colin had said and it brought fresh tears to his eyes. 'OH they were both fools', he thought. Well at least tonight he would make sure that Colin would never forget what they would share, and give him something to hold onto in the long days ahead. He kissed his way down Colin's chest moving toward his prize, his reward for all his years of hard work and effort. Colin knew where he was heading above and gasped. He looked at Greg wantonly in the semi-darkness and trembled when Greg reached the heightened skin on his stomach. Greg paused there for minutes just mapping his way with his tongue over all of the spots that made Colin bite back moans of pleasure, that he would more that prefer to profess loudly. Greg listened and laughed deceptively to himself. "Gonna press all the buttons on you tonight, baby."
Greg reached about as far as he could go without falling off of the ridiculously small bed. He looked up at Colin and shrugged. Colin bit back a frustrated sigh and pulled Greg back up on top of him. He rolled with Greg and now he was pinned underneath the more than attractively balding man. "Well, Colin! I never knew you had it in you." Greg looked at the man above him, grinning his Cheshirecat smile. "No, but you will." Colin said to his delightfully shocked friend. There were two quick movements and Greg's pants were around his ankles. The man wasted no time. He was even more turned on by Colin's sudden boldness. His dick was pressed hard up against Colin's side and Colin needed to feel its smoothness up against his own. Greg reached down and pushed Colin's pants past his ass and they too, were flung to the floor.
Now they were both completely naked, sweat soaked and wanting, hands again continuing their exploration of each others bodies. Again the passion took over as they clawed at one another, bit each other and squeaked the bedsprings so loudly they heard others in the cell block begin to take notice. "God this is so hard." Greg said muffled in Colin's shoulder.
"Yes and so are you." Colin reached down and stroked Greg's sleek cock making him moan in his ear. He didn't think he could hold on much longer. He reached down and took Colin's in his own hand and they began to create a new and exciting rhythm. Both whimpered and moaned and wheezed as the rhythm increased. They looked recklessly into each other's eyes, Colin's hand in the thick tangle of Greg's hair holding him steady, each daring the other to see who could bring themselves off first. All at once they laughed at the seriousness of the situation, and in doing so, the surge, the rush of pleasure overtook them both and they cried out as each felt the hot liquid spray coat their legs and thighs. Colin collapsed on Greg, shuddering breaths, his heart racing.
Greg wrapped his arms around Colin's sweaty back and stroked it soothingly, whispering soft and low into Colin's ear. "Yes, yes, shhhh...I love you. I love you Colin."
They both fell into an exhausted sleep, holding onto one another. Sometime in the middle of the night Greg awoke to the sounds of Colin panting in his ear. He felt a stinging sensation from below, that turned into the most pleasant warmth. "Oh God, Colin!?" He said in surprise that turned into a lusty groan. Colin had found his way deep inside Greg and Greg thought there was no better way in this entire world to be woken up. He grasped Colin's hips and pulled him closer with each movement. He thrashed his head from side to side trying to keep from screaming out "Fuck me...fuck me." But Colin didn't need to hear that. He was a machine. He was going so hard and so fast that Greg's teeth were clattering together, his eyes were rolled back and his toes were curling nicely.
Colin was holding onto the rail of the bed and was alternating fast and slow, smooth and rough, Greg's body was driving him wild. He was so close to feeling the earlier sensations once again, he wanted to get those feelings again, over and over and over. He was desperate for them. Greg was hot and warm and tight, and it drove him over the edge. Colin shook and trembled as he came hard inside of Greg. A thunderous applause rose up from the other cell mates. There was laughter and clanging of metal beds and chairs on the concrete floor. Greg and Colin looked at each other and went all five shades of red and then some. "Get your own ladies!!!" Greg shouted out into the darkness. He smiled softly at Colin who had buried his face into Greg's shoulder shaking with laughter and embarrassment.
The morning dawned with the pair entangled on the small mattress. Neither had slept much, just dozed off and on. They were pleasantly exhausted and deliriously happy. Each tried to put off as long as possible the overwhelming pull of what awaited. Greg looked down at a lightly snoring Colin and smiled a heavy-hearted smile, and softly traced a pair of sated lips. He studied the angelic face of a man he knew he had shared the remainder of his life with and wished him all the joy and love and happiness that he had only experienced one other time. A beam of sunlight shown through the small window above and highlighted Colin's serene features. Greg sighed in complete bliss. He was home now. In this moment, he was home. A tear shown in his eye, he brushed it onto his fingertip and looked at it. This tear embodied a night that erased all other hopeless, endless, miserable nights in his lifetime.
Colin made tiny lip smacking sounds as he snuggled further into Greg's side. Greg could no longer resist feeling the softness of Colin's hair once more. He ran his fingers through the silken texture, and patted down the little tuft that stuck up so adorably. They had made love twice in one night, but with that one little touch, Greg needed to feel him one more time. His body was so deliciously warm and cozy pressed against him. He bent his head lower and kissed Colin lingeringly, gingerly.
"Good morning, sunshine." He whispered when Colin's eyes fluttered open.
Colin smiled a small dimpled, shy little smile, looking at Greg in adoration. He didn't want to move. He giggled as Greg's fingers trailed up the side of Colin's hip, tickling him.
Greg sighed and smiled once more. "I love you. You are my beginning and my end. And you brought me happiness. Last night made everything that I've done in my life worthwhile." Greg traced the outline of Colin's nose and kissed it, simply feeling.
chapter14
A loud clanging on the cell door startled the pair who were at the moment locked away in a paradise of their own making. Their looks spoke volumes as each tried to convey to the other everything that was in their hearts in the next 30 seconds.
"Proops!" A voice called. It belonged to Chip Esten. "Time's up." He said with a laugh in his voice. Brad Sherwood stood behind him. His features were drawn and morose. He did not like the task that he was about to perform. He hated it. He hated himself. He wanted to quit this whole business. He stood unmoving behind Chip, as the short, lithe man dug out the cell keys.
"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON IN HERE!" Chip said as he entered the small cell. Greg and Colin were still locked in a naked embrace. Greg looked at Chip with sheer animosity and just a slight touch of fear. He wrapped his arms protectively around Colin, and brought his lips to his forehead, never taking his eyes off of the jack ass in front of him. Colin, who had been tasting the skin of Greg's neck under his earlobe trying to remain oblivious but failing, raised his bleary-eyed gaze to Brad. Brad looked away smiling, blushing slightly.
"Oh now this is just too much, " Chip said with a look of disgust. He started to pull Greg out of the bunk. He grabbed Greg's ankle and yanked hard.
"NO." The word came from Colin. He held on to Greg tighter.
"Get off of him, sissy boy." Chip pushed hard on Colin's shoulder.
"Don't you dare touch him!" Greg threatened.
"Or what, you gonna beat me with that limp piece of shit you call a dick? Get your ass outta that bed Pansy!" Chip removed his stick.
"That's not necessary." Brad said from behind Chip. He had entered the cell and was picking up Greg and Colin's discarded pants.
"Alright then make them move." Chip said looking anywhere but at the pair clutched tightly together on the mattress.
Colin was whispering frantically to Greg. "Don't go. Not yet. Please. Don't go."
Greg was trying his best to be strong for Colin's sake. Inside he was already dying. "Shhh..honey. It's ok. It's going to be ok."
"GET THE HELL OUT OF THAT BED BEFORE I MAKE YOU!" Chip said grabbing Greg's upper arm and pulling him. Greg complied. He knew he would have to anyway. Chip started pushing him toward the cell door. He had his cuffs out and was locking Greg's wrists behind his back.
"Hey can't a guy even dress first?" Greg said looking behind him at Chip. "Or do you like what you see? I mean I don't have any problems walking in front of you down the hall. I'll make sure I give you a good show.
Greg received a blow to the mouth for his impertinence. He looked back at Chip without making a sound, the blood oozing out of a cut in his lip.
Colin darted out of the bed and rushed at Chip. He was seeing red. He couldn't contain his animosity anymore. It was only by sheer luck that Brad was able to hold him off and hold him back before he got to Chip. He grabbed his arms, locking his own behind him and pulled him back with effort.
"Hold him." Chip said.
"Let me go, Brad!" Colin screamed. "Just once let me go!"
"COLIN!" The sharp sound of his name gave him pause. It came from Greg who stood in front of him. He was calm. He was standing still, naked and handcuffed, looking at his lover, sternly getting his attention. He stopped trying to pull away from Brad and stood there breathing heavily.
"Let me go."
"What...Greg, what are you saying?"
"It's time, let me go." Greg looked at him filling his smile with as much love as he could. Chip had already started trying to dress Greg in his discarded pants. Colin tried to shrug away from Brad once more, calmer now.
"Don't you let that gay bastard get any where near this one." Chip said ruthlessly. Brad reluctantly held Colin back tightening his grip once more.
"Don't look away from me Colin." Greg said pleading.
"I won't! I won't" Colin said beginning to cry, his hands were twisting, distressed behind him. "Greg...Greg...please! Please don't leave me now!"
With some difficulty, Chip managed to get Greg's pants up and fastened. He looked the man in the eye as he did the button, with a cold-hearted steeled gaze. A brutal smile played on his lips. Greg maintained his vacant-eyed stare at the man. He would not win this time. Instead he looked over to Colin and reassured him as best as he could with his words. "It's ok. It's alright. You'll be ok. Ssshhhh. Don't cry Listen to me. I want you to let Ryan take care of you ok? Will you promise me that? Will you give me that? "
Chip ushered him a little less than civilly toward the open cell door. Greg broke contact with Colin's eyes momentarily and Colin wailed "No..NO! Brad you have to let me go to him, PLEASE BRAD!" Brad held him back but faced him toward Greg. "Greg...GREG please please please." he repeated in a mantra.
Chip was starting to walk Greg down the corridor, nudging him forcefully when he balked. Brad clanged the door shut to Colin's cell leaving the man standing there. "I'm sorry, so sorry Colin." He said turning to go. Colin threw himself at the bars shaking them violently. "GREG, GREG COME BACK! COME BACK!" His voice became hysterical.
Greg heard the panic in his voice and immediately stopped. Chip nudged him again and before anyone could do anything at all, Greg whirled around and ran back to his cell. He stopped before it and looked at Colin desperately, pleadingly. Colin reached between the bars and held the other man closely to him, pressing their foreheads together once more. Greg wished he had his hands free, but he stayed there, pushing himself as close as he could to Colin's body.
"I forgot to tell you..." Colin whispered, tears coursing down his cheeks.
"What, what is it?" Greg said low, his voice filled with affection, he peppered light kisses on Colin's nose.
"I never told you," Colin said sobbing his voice.
"It's ok...you don't have to." Greg said understanding.
"I want to. I have to. You have to know."
Greg nodded. Colin's hand stroked the back of his neck at the base of his hairline. Their foreheads pressed together. No one would take him before he said it.
"I love you, Greg." Colin brought his lips to Greg's in a fate sealing kiss. Greg whimpered and lost his control. Chip had already come up behind him and yanked his arm hard almost pulling it out of it's socket. Colin held on to the other arm not letting go until Greg was wrenched from his grasp.
"Let Ryan love you more." Was Greg's parting words to him. He turned with Chip and was hustled down the hall once again.
The trio made their way to the first story landing of Cell Block C. All of the other prisoners were witnessing the commotion and by no means were being silent about the goings on. Ryan and Jeff were both out of their bunks and at the cell door when Greg was ushered past. Greg looked at the pair forlornly wanting to convey as much love as he could in his looks to them as well.
"Give 'em hell Greg!" Ryan shouted shaking the bars of his cage. "See you on the other side!!"
Greg stopped once again, Chip nearly tripping over him as he held onto Greg's upper arm. "You ain't going no where." He said pulling him along once again. Greg turned back caught Ryan's eyes and said simply. "Love him."
Ryan nodded. Jeff turned his back on the scene and leaned against the bars, running a hand through his hair.
Brad and Chip walked Greg to an outer building much like the solitary confinement area. This building was known by everyone as "death row" Greg was to stay here a week, while preparations were made to the viewing room, the control room and finally the chair, the last he would ever sit in. Greg was issued to a cell that contained a bunk, a wash basin and a toilet. There was also a desk for writing correspondence and eating a last meal. There was a window to look out of. It was sterile, but it was not dark and gloomy like the pit.
The cell door closed with finality.
Every day during the week, Greg asked repeatedly if the Governor's stay had arrived. Each day he received negative news. Each day he inquired after Colin. If it was anyone other than Brad he would not ask, but Brad came by at least once a day to bring him news, to bring his meals. He listened to Brad as he told him that Colin and Ryan spent most of their time together. Ryan was doing his best to console Colin, and that he was looking after him as promised. What Brad didn't tell Greg was that Colin wasn't looking well at all. Ryan told him he wasn't eating, and he wasn't sleeping. He would sit alone in the yard, and would only let Ryan comfort him at times, pushing him away at others.
Ryan was having a hard enough time of his own. He had grown to care for Greg over the short time he had known him. He had took Greg's parting words seriously, but did not know how to feel that way toward Colin. He cared for Colin very deeply. They had played together, talked together, enjoyed each others company over the past year. He looked forward to seeing the man every day and felt empty if he couldn't. Did that mean he loved him?
When he saw Colin that first day after Greg's forceful extraction, he knew his answer was clear. Colin had a lost, adrift look about him, and all Ryan wanted to do was reach out and hold him. And so he did. Despite a few feeble protests, Colin gradually melted into other man's bony yet comforting embrace, rubbing his face against Ryan's shirt collar. Ryan just held him. He brushed his nose against Colin's scalp softly, and closed his eyes. They both stood that way for hours. Sometimes Colin would cry bitterly into Ryan's chest, other times he would beat his fists against the same chest in defiance, not understanding why life was so unfair to all of them. "Why did this happen?" He would say over and over.
The week was spent catching moments together whenever they could. They met everyday when they were not working or in their cells. They ate their meals together in comforting silence, although Colin hardly touched his food, just sat there and stared at it. When they had free time, it was spent in the library, sitting on one of the few benches brushing their shoulders together every so often letting the other know they were still there, even though there was not much to say. Everything that was needed to be said was said clearly and understandably through looks and touches. They seemed to automatically read each other's thoughts and touches with an ease that came naturally.
The day came faster than anyone had expected. That night Greg stayed up looking at the moon from his window. The moonlight cast an eerily calm glow over everything. They had shaved his head earlier that day and he thought ruefully to himself that he could now give Colin a run for his money in the baldness department. Gone was his full head of luxurious hair that he had so cherished. They had also taken his glasses that evening. He requested that they give them to Colin for safekeeping. They granted him his request. He had asked several times during the day if the Governor had come through for him. It was not to be in his favor. Greg had by this time truly given up any hope of survival. He prayed a silent prayer before laying down in his bunk, letting his eyes drift shut, letting the images flood his brain once again of a moment in time that will remained etched there for all of eternity.
The rain came down, coating the hot Alabama landscape with it's cooling relief. It pitter pattered soothingly against a cell window, rousing its occupant. He looked toward the window, wishing that it were open so that he could feel the rain once more on his skin. He reached up and held onto one of the bars, pressing his hand against the glass. He watched it, his back turned to the cell door.
A throat cleared softly behind him. He turned and Brad Sherwood stood at the open cell door. He looked at Brad. Brad shook his head no. He nodded. For some reason he was glad it wasn't going to be Brad who escorted him. He wanted to spare his friend that. Two guards followed Brad into the cell and took their place on either side of him. Straightening his shirt and out of habit, reaching up to fix his glasses that were no longer there, he left the cell and turned to the right.
It was like every movie that he'd seen as a child. The door was at the end of a long hall. It stood open and inside waited the chair, a beacon calling to him. Calling him home. In a way he was happy he no longer had his glasses, because from this distance everything was a blur. The guards on either side pushed him forward a little. Brad, knowing that this was his only opportunity, tugged on his shirtsleeve and gently turned him around. He put a comforting hand on his shoulder and studied his eyes. "Be brave." He said. He turned away, overcome by tears of his own.
The guards each took one of his arms and walked slowly with him. Each step seemed like miles. Everything was going in slow motion only to speed up when they were 10 steps away from the door. Everything was becoming clearer, in his mind and in his sights. He let out a breath and something inside of him broke free. He couldn't let this happen. Screw courage, screw bravery, he wanted his freedom. He wanted his life. He didn't care what anyone of the people sitting in that room thought of him, he didn't deserve this. "NOOOOOO" He screamed. NOOOOOO you can't do this to me!!! You can't...YOU CAN'T!! I'm SORRY I'M SORRY!! DON'T DON'T DON'T let them DO THIS TO ME...He laughed and cried hysterically. The guards wrestled with him. At one point he broke free running for his life, running for the door. They caught him and pulled him back, kicking and screaming. He would NOT go down without a fight! LET ME LIVE LET ME LIVE!!! He cried to the blank faces behind the glass. The people from long ago who came to witness the death of a man they never knew. They looked at him with bitter, hateful eyes. "You don't know me," he whispered pleading.
They strapped him to the chair and placed the cap on his head. Greg looked around at the man who would throw the switch. He forgave him instantly. He would have no other opportunity. He watched the clock, desperate to hear the call of halt to this travesty, waiting for a call that never came. As the clock struck 9:00 am, the Warden Drew Carey asked if the prisoner Gregory Everett Proops had any final words. With a look of maniacal glee he shouted at the top of his voice "MADE IT MA!!! TOP OF THE WORLD!!!" The last thing he ever saw was Warden Carey's nod as the hood was brought down over his head and the switch was flipped.
The lights throughout the penitentiary flickered on and off momentarily. Colin Andrew Mochrie sat on the top bunk of the bunk bed he shared with his very best friend for 13 years. He thudded his head slow and methodically against the wall. One hand gripped his sheets, clenching and un clenching. In his other, he held a pair of thick rimmed glasses. He couldn't cry. He couldn't see. He couldn't feel.
Ryan and Jeff held onto each other tightly giving each other the comfort they wanted to give their friend. Each of them cried into the others arms, the tears flowing freely and openly. They would feel. They would feel.
Chapter 15
Ryan awoke screaming. He tossed fitfully in bed before coming to rest. Jeff leaned over the side of the bunk. He had grown used to this by now. It happened almost nightly. It didn't bother him that Ryan woke him up, but it did bother him that Ryan's nightmares continued.
"Ryan." Jeff said softly.
"Yeah..." Ryan mumbled in his half-awake state.
Jeff smiled at his cell mate. Ryan was tangled in his sheets and was trying to right himself. Sunlight was streaming through the open window and Jeff was haloed in it. Ryan looked at him and ran a hand through his mop of hair. "Did it again, didn't I?" He said morosely.
"Ah Yep." Jeff answered and brought his hand down. Ryan clasped it momentarily before letting it go.
The Alarm went off throughout the cell block. People began to rise noisily straightening themselves and preparing to exit for breakfast. Ryan and Jeff took turns using the toilet before lining up at the open door. They got in line with the rest of the prisoners and made their way to the cafeteria for breakfast. Jeff decided he would go today rather than sit in his cell. He wanted to know just as much as Ryan did how Colin was fairing. He had definitely not been himself this past week. It was understandable, considering.
Ryan entered the cafeteria his eyes scanning immediately. He didn't see him right away, but he knew he would arrive shortly. He got his food and made his way with Jeff over to a less populated table and watched the cafeteria door.
Colin came in the cafeteria with his head down. He was a ghost of his former self. Ryan watched as he made his way to the line. He was decidedly paler, if that was possible. Ryan's eyes filled with sympathy as he watched the older man move slowly, almost shuffle his way along. He was turning 32, but he looked like 50.
When he made his way through the line, Colin looked over the sea of faces, not really certain who he was looking for but nodded when he found them. Ryan had motioned his friend over with a wave of his hand. Colin made his way to the table and sat down. He stared at his food but did not pick up his fork.
"Hey Buddy, how's it goin?" Ryan asked cheerfully, trying to get Colin to acknowledge him. He patted Colin's forearm comfortingly and tried to get him to look back.
"I'm alright." Colin said as if he was anything but. He just stared at the eggs on his plate.
"Hey Colin," Jeff said with a smile. "Don't you think we could use these grits as cement and build us a new wall in the yard?" Jeff picked up a clump of the foul smelling, even fouler tasting glop of stuff and watched as it plopped back down on his plate.
Colin looked at him with hollow eyes and didn't answer. Instead he stood up, took his tray, and headed over to the counter. Ryan watched him go, his mouth set in a grim line. He wanted to give Colin his space, but this was just too much. He had not spoken more that a few sentences in the past week, all leading up to the same results. He would always find a way to go and be by himself. Ryan knew it wasn't good for him. He intended to settle this. He owed it to someone.
Colin shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his prison uniform. He trudged his way down the hall heading toward the library. It was his only solace. He sat down on the worn bench in front of the window that looked out over the prison yard below. He gazed out, but really didn't see anything. He stared at the trees; their leaves had turned and were beginning to fall again. Autumn was fast approaching. He watched prisoners as they made their way about the yard, doing the same things over and over. "What am I doing here?" he said aloud. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed as several more strands made their way onto his fingers. He had been losing quite a bit lately.
The weeks drug on. The routine was the same. Every day Colin seemed to more and more slip away. There was nothing Ryan could do to snap him out of his depression. He would sit with him at all meals. He would sit with him in the library at times. He would sit with him in the yard. They would sit on the bleachers and just watch the other prisoners. He would try to get Colin to play games, trying to coax him into a new one that he and Jeff invented called Change Letter. Colin tried his best to play along, but he got frustrated more than anything and Ryan knew that wasn't the right way to cheer him up.
Ryan would try and talk to Colin about his feelings. That was when Colin really clammed up. He didn't care to discuss anything with Ryan concerning what had happened. He would get a far away look in his eye every time Ryan mentioned Greg or how he felt about what happened. He would usually get frustrated with Ryan and leave, leaving Ryan to angrily stare after him. He wanted answers. He wanted Colin to get mad, get anything but this empty shell he had become.
Colin was assigned to chapel duties during the fall season. His job was to tend the prison grave yard and keep the area neat and tidy. He didn't mind the work, because he had the solitude and had a little more freedom to roam around the area. He raked leaves daily and swept the chapel steps and side walk. He was alone with his thoughts most of the days, and most of his thoughts were unpleasant.
Around September, Ryan asked Brad if he could be transferred to chapel duties so that he could keep a better eye on Colin. Brad had sympathized with Colin and his plight and was discussing it with Ryan one day as to what they should do. Ryan still didn't trust Brad in a lot of ways, but he would talk to him concerning their mutual friend. Brad worked it out so that Ryan could work in the chapel yard with Colin on alternating days. There wasn't much work to be done with one person let alone two. The chapel graveyard was for convicts who did not have family and had no other prearranged plans for what to do with their bodies when they passed. There were not many graves there, but enough to warrant a whole cemetery.
At first, Colin didn't act like he minded Ryan's company. He was just there. Ryan tried to engage him in conversation. He would try and make Colin laugh as usual. Every chance he got, he would try and find a way to touch Colin. On his arm. On his back. Ryan didn't like the fact that Colin was becoming devoid of human contact. Ryan cared a lot about Colin. He had grown to appreciate the man in the year he had gotten to know him. He hated to see Colin this way. When they all shared happier times, Ryan loved how Colin could make him laugh over the silliest of things. He had a very dry sense of humor. How he wished he could make Colin smile again. What would it take?
Later when it looked like Ryan was not going to let up and leave him alone, Colin avoided him altogether. When Ryan would come into the graveyard, Colin would go to the other side and busy himself with raking leaves and picking up debris. Ryan got the hint, but it was beginning to hurt. He still kept an eye on Colin.
In the far corner of the yard, underneath a shade tree, was a newly marked grave. Everyday Colin would stop by that grave and stare at it. He would touch the tombstone gingerly and brush off any of the leaves that had fallen on it. Some days he would talk to it and tell whoever maybe listening all the troubles in his heart.
Prison gates won't open up for me
On these hands and knees I'm crawlin
Oh I reach for you
Well I'm terrified of these four walls
These iron bars can't hold my soul in
All I need is you
Come please, I'm callin'
And oh I scream for you
Hurry I'm fallin, I'm fallin
On this particular day, Ryan had been standing in the shadows of the church listening to Colin as he spoke to the grave. He watched as his friend fell to his knees and rested his hands on the tombstone. He had just about had enough of the way Colin had let himself go. He needed to let Colin know that he cared about him and what he was doing to himself. How could he bring hope to a hopeless situation? He was in the same boat as Colin, but whereas Colin had given up, Ryan never would. He approached Colin silently listening to his friend cry.
"Colin, you hafta move on from this." Ryan said cautiously putting a hand on his shoulder.
"Don't tell me what I have to do, Ryan." Colin said refusing to look up at him. He wiped his face and continued to look at the marker.
"He wouldn't have wanted you to be this way." Ryan said.
"How do you know what he would have wanted? You didn't know him. And I'd appreciate it if you left us the hell alone." Colin said coldly.
"Fine." Ryan said turning. He walked a few paces and came to a stop. "NO! I ain't going away this time. I am sick of what's happening to you Colin. I made a promise to that mug before he died and I always keep my promises. He told me to take care of you and make sure you were happy. I ain't doin my job."
"How do you know what's best for me?" Colin said with bitterness in his voice. He stood up and walked back over to the chapel. He leaned against the building and faced Ryan. "I can't live another day in this hell. I want to be out of here. Despite all of his faults, Greg was my only anchor to sanity in this place. Now he's gone, and I just want to do whatever it takes to be the same.
"There are other people who care about you, Colin." Ryan said with feeling. He looked nervously at Colin and his implication of doing the unthinkable. "You just can't brush them off and brush me, I mean them, away. If I had given up a long time ago, I wouldn't be standin here today. I would have let them coppers rub me out years ago. I know there's something more for me in this life. I ain't givin up and neither should you. I ain't gonna give up on you, Colin" Ryan put his hand back on Colin's shoulder and trailed it down his long arm, affectionately. He took a step closer to Colin. Colin studied Ryan's hand for a moment before looking back into his eyes. It looked as if Ryan was trying to come to terms with something he had been fighting for a while. Colin read his look and said with a tremble in his voice:
Show me what it's like
To be the last one standing
And teach me wrong from right
And I'll show you what I can be
Say it for me
Say it to me
And I'll leave this life behind me
Say it if it's worth saving me.
Ryan ran a hand through his hair. This was it. How did he feel? He looked at the man in front of him. At his waxen, pale features. His soft brown, pleading eyes, that had oh so many tell-tale signs of not wanting to be let down again, but fearing he would be. He knew what he should do, but hesitated. He wanted to be strong for Colin, but he didn't know if he could make this deeper connection. He turned away in frustration and pounded his fist on the side of the wall. He didn't know if he could say it.
Colin looked at him resigned. He laid a hand on Ryan's back and patted it. "It's ok."
"It's NOT ok." Ryan said deciding now or never. He grabbed Colin by the shoulders and pushed him up against the wall. He came within inches of Colin's lips and paused, drawn in by the seductive pout, staring at their softness. "I love you, Col."
"Ryan." Colin whispered, not able to find his voice. He brushed his forehead against Ryan's feeling the coolness of it, and the silken locks that had fallen across his brow. "Are you sure you want this. Don't play with me."
"I'm sure." Ryan said a hairbreadth away from Colin's lips. His words ghosted over Colin's mouth and Colin closed his eyes to the sensation. "I would never play about something like this." Ryan said brushing his nose alongside Colin's. He closed his eyes.
"Save me." Colin said as Ryan brought his lips to Colin's. It was a sweet and tender kiss. A tear shown in Colin's eye as he carded his hands through Ryan's hair. Ryan let out a soft moan, savoring his first kiss, his first realization. A light breezed picked up around them blowing leaves past them as they stood in the shadows of the building, learning and exploring.
Days took on new meaning to both Colin and Ryan. It was as if a light went on inside of Colin. Ryan couldn't help but laugh at how Colin smiled all the time. He could still see the sadness lingering behind his eyes at times, but whenever Ryan came into his presence, he glowed. Ryan hadn't been in love in a long time, so it was re-learning experience for him, besides the fact that it was with another man. Ryan quickly got over his uneasiness because Colin had made him feel like singing. And he did! He couldn't wait to spend every moment of his time with his new love. They still met at the library together. They still met at break time, but now, Colin would always pull Ryan off behind the bleachers to show him new and exciting ways to have fun and brand new games to play. Colin looked years younger in the span of weeks. He had a spring in his step and a quirky kind of smile that he never used on anyone else but Ryan. Ryan didn't even think he was this lively when he was around Greg. He asked him about it one day as they were stealing kisses behind the chapel.
"I loved Greg, its true. I still do." Colin said lacing his fingers with Ryan's. But I don't think I was ever "in love" with him. It was a love of necessity, and then a love of a tragic raw emotion. I don't think I would ever want to love him the way I do you." Colin smiled and planted another light kiss on Ryan's upturned smile. "You make me happy. You make me smile. And you are the most frustrating thing, I've ever experienced in my life."
Ryan laughed and poked him in the ribs. "Geeze, you wanna go easy on me? I'm new at all of this."
"I know, you big bird." Colin said as he tweaked Ryan's nose.
Colin was indeed happier than he had felt in years. Ryan was a savior to him. He didn't understand why he never saw it sooner. Ryan had spent every moment with him since his arrival to the penitentiary in some form or another. He always looked to Colin for approval and he was always there. Once the little light went on inside of Colin, he kicked himself once again for being such a fool. Ryan cared. Maybe now he could feel.
Chapter 16
"Hey there." Ryan said softly in the ear in front of him.
The body to whom the ear was attached trembled with anticipation. "Yes?" It questioned as he made his way down the line.
"You come here often?"
Colin chuckled at probably one of the worst pick up lines that he's heard ever, regardless of what year it was.
"Hmmm, that all depends on who's asking." He said evenly.
"Did I tell you that your ass looks good in those jeans?" Ryan said stepping things up a notch.
Colin kept moving down the line. Stopping every few paces for a convict behind the serving area to plop a spoonful of whatever the hell they were serving that day onto his tray. He tried to pay little attention to the pokes from behind. He paused when Ryan's hand moved from his lower back to rest upon the ass in question.
"Ryan." Colin gasped.
Ryan was being very inconspicuous, but could not help playing a little game to get the otherwise overly reserved Colin Mochrie hot under the collar. He cut his place in line and moved ahead of Colin his head held high, leaving the older man pleasantly distracted with his thoughts.
Colin went to their table, where Ryan was already there saving his seat. Sometimes they sat across from one another; other times they sat pressed closely together, whispering quiet thoughts to the other, not paying attention to anyone around them. It was as if Ryan had gotten trapped, locked away in Colin's little world and he loved it there.
Today, Ryan patted the seat beside him and Colin slid easily into it, his shoulder bumping up against Ryan's in their special greeting. Ryan looked down at the food on Colin's tray deciding on what he would snatch up for the day, if anything. Colin didn't mind him picking food, here and there, although sometimes he had to fight for it. Ryan ate like a bird, and birds, as you know, tended to eat quite a bit.
Every so often, Colin would run his finger alongside Ryan's letting the other man know he was there, and comforting himself at the same time. He loved the feel of Ryan's skin and how the light shown in his eyes every time Ryan smiled back at him. Today there was a certain tension in the air. They could feel it between them. All one of them would have to do was say the word. They had yet to find an opportunity for completion and Ryan wasn't sure he was ready to cross over into that territory. He liked things as pleasantly frustrating as they were at the moment. He knew when the time would be right and Colin was patiently waiting on him. But getting there is half the fun, and since they had all the time in the world at present, they liked to make each other as hot as possible, seeing which one would break first.
Colin continued to trace his fingertips over the back of Ryan's hand marveling at the gooseflesh that rose up on contact. A small sigh escaped Ryan's lips as he lost interest in whatever was on Colin's tray. He studied the hypnotic tracing, the swirling rising up and up, growing bolder. "What are you doing?" He said barely above a whisper.
"I'm just finishing what you started." Colin said evenly. He moved his thumb along the trail his fingers recently traveled bringing more sensations to the touch. Ryan moaned impatiently under his breath. He could hold out, but not for much longer. Colin smiled at his opportunity. He always loved to win at this game.
He leaned into Ryan and said into his ear, tickling the fine hairs there with his breath. "Library. Now." He nibbled Ryan's earlobe so quickly that not only did Ryan have no time to process the feeling; no one in the whole cafeteria witnessed the scene as well. Colin stood and deposited his tray as usual. He didn't glance back just kept walking out the door. Ryan smiled a predatory smile and followed.
In the last row of books in the tiny prison library, Ryan found his lover, pretending to seriously study a book he had found. He kept his head bent low and didn't look up as Ryan approached him. Colin knew he was there and saw him in his peripheral vision, and he had to fight hard to keep the dimple that often found its way into his cheek from showing itself. He looked up just as Ryan approached, giving him his best innocent, "how did you know I was here?" look before Ryan tossed the book aside and pinned him up against the shelf. Ryan looked at Colin hungrily and rightly so. He didn't, after all, have much of his breakfast. Colin licked his lips and half lidded his eyes. It was all he had time to do. Ryan greedily attacked his mouth, kissing him, licking him, tasting him. Their moans traveled softly throughout the library. They knew it would be bad if they were caught, but there were so few places that one could find some private time. You took what you could get in the stir.
Colin brought his hands to Ryan's hair losing them in the soft curls, digging deep. He loved the feel of Ryan's hair, silky soft, and Ryan loved the feel of his hands in them. Ryan had his hands at either side of Colin trying to get as close as he could into Colin's skin. He flung books off of the shelf as he tried desperately to hold onto Colin. He was pushing so hard, he almost toppled the shelf over completely. "Calm down, Ry." Col said between kisses. He was breathing very hard but knew how to bring Ryan down when he got overexcited. Colin framed Ryan's head with his hands and peppered kisses along his upper lip and nose. He brushed kisses along his cheekbones and smoothed out the hair that had fallen into his eyes. Ryan looked down at Colin, his breathing coming in shallow ragged gasps. He stared lustfully at Colin. "How do you do this to me?" He questioned with a slight hitch in his voice. He bit Colin's lower lip. That not satisfying him he sucked it in, licking at it with his tongue until he heard what he was waiting for. Colin's breaking point was near.
Ryan continued to bite and nip his way down Colin's chin and neck. Colin leaned his head back as far is it would go. Ryan pressed himself further into Colin's body holding him in place between himself and the bookcase. He grabbed one of Colin's legs and hoisted it up around his hip, causing a real moan to escape from both of them. The pressure of two torsos crushed together was delightfully unbearable. Ryan was so close, but he knew he could not do this here. It was too risky. Nonetheless, Colin's hands as they traveled up and down his back had a way of convincing him otherwise.
"Ryan." Colin breathed.
"Yeah...Col...." Ryan said between alternating licks and kisses.
"I have another meeting with the parole board today." Colin said as he brought his head back down trailing light kisses along Ryan's face. Ryan ceased his grinding against Colin's thigh and brought his lips to Colin's forehead which had now been lowered. Colin was staring at the carpet. He didn't mean to throw a bucket of ice water on what was happening, but it was troubling him.
"Oh?" Ryan said.
"Yeah. It's that time of year again. Rejection time." Colin said as he toed the carpet. He still couldn't meet Ryan's eyes.
"Well, maybe I don't want ya to leave." Ryan said wrapping his arms around Colin, bringing him closer and lifting his chin with his fingers. He looked into Colin's eyes. "Do you want to leave now?"
"Ryan, you can't ask me that seriously." Colin said as he searched Ryan's face. "You know I've been waiting years for this and I try with every opportunity I get. I don't know how I feel about it now."
"Well...geeze." Ryan said as if he couldn't believe his ears. "We just found each other Colin. How are you gonna say that to me?"
"Don't make me answer this now." Colin said torn. He dropped his arms from around Ryan's waist.
Ryan looked back at him. Fear shown in his eyes for the first time. "I think you mean to take this seriously, Col. You'd leave me now if you had the opportunity. And ya know what? I don't think I'd wish ya the best at this point."
"Ry," Colin said reaching out to him. "That's not fair. I've been here so long. I want the chance. I’ve always wanted the chance. I thought at least you'd be the only person who'd understand."
"Hey, yeah, sure, whatever Col. Ya know, good luck to you in that." Ryan said with absolutely no feeling in his voice. "Hey, I just remembered something. I gotta go. I'll catcha later on ok?" Ryan didn't even wait for a response. He turned and hurried away, leaving a completely bewildered friend behind.
Colin's face fell. Tears welled in his eyes as he fought to keep them back. He had to do this. Why wouldn't anyone understand?
Same room. Same table. Same four chairs with the same four faces staring back at him. Same facts read with the same admonishing tones. Same pleas of forgiveness spoken with the same fervor and earnest. Same feeling of hopelessness as the same stamp of denial pressed itself in the same tattered folder. Another year, another regret remembered. Officer Sherwood placed a sympathetic hand on a weary shoulder, as the same guard led him away. A same rueful smile tucked the same file in the same file cabinet as he did every year.
Ryan knew he was going to have to face Colin again some time soon. But right now, he was feeling more than slightly hurt. He knew he should have been very supportive of the fact that Colin had his opportunity. His chance for freedom. He just didn’t think that Colin would feel the same passion as he had in the past. He wanted Colin to stay with him. He needed Colin here now more than ever. He was a fighter before, but now his fight had purpose. He wanted to get out too, but he wanted it to be with Colin. There was no waiting on the other side for him. He wanted it together or not at all. He couldn’t understand why Colin didn’t feel the same way. Maybe he was being a bit selfish after all his friend had been through. But Ryan wanted more of an opportunity to make it better. And if Colin got out, well, maybe he would forget all that they had established here. Maybe he would forget Ryan completely. He reluctantly rose from his bunk as he heard the alarm for recreation time. It had been two days since their moments in the library and Ryan had avoided Colin like the plague. He couldn’t bring himself to talk to the man, even though after day one, he knew he was behaving like an ass.
Officer Chip Esten was having a shitty day. And when he had a shitty day, everyone he knew and didn’t know, would pay. It was always someone else’s fault. They never saw things in life the way he did. Many opportunities to reach out and take hold of, many ways to move up on the ladder. Sure he used whatever tactics it took, but that was part of the fun. He didn’t mind bullying people if it got him what he needed. And let’s face it; the people in this hole were nothing but scum anyway. He knew his shit smelled better than every single one of these bastards in here and he didn’t hesitate to let them know about it either.
He strolled through the penitentiary yard, with a fierce look in his eye. He was privy to some valuable information that Warden Carey had shared with him a month earlier and he was dying to use it to his advantage to bring more misery to a certain inmate he had had it in for since the incident occurred. What even made it doubly sweet was that he also had information that he knew would make this convict completely lose his mind. That would provide for plenty of extra entertainment that would decidedly brighten his day.
He saw his intended victim sitting by himself on one of the stadium bleachers. He was hunched over trying to block out the wind and chill that had picked up during the day. It was late November, and uncharacteristically cold for the climate. He didn’t see the large giant of a man that had caused him to lose his winning smile by chipping his tooth. The dentist told him there was no way of replacing the chip and that would forever piss him off. He had avoided the man since, but he seemed to be around the other little sissy so much he figured he had either became the man’s bodyguard or was fucking him on the sly. Officer Esten swallowed his look of disgust at the thought.
Smiling impishly, he approached Colin and stood before the man. He waited patiently as Colin brought his eyes up and looked into the face of pure gleeful malignance. He put his boot on the bench before him and studied the passive face that showed no emotion other than a sort of resigned acceptance that for whatever reason Chip stood before him, it would not be a good one.
Ryan had been walking with his head down making his way past various other prisoners. He was going to try and approach Colin today and see if he would be willing to talk to him. There were some things he needed sorting out. He knew he needed to have a serious talk with Colin about the direction their relationship was heading. He didn’t mean to sound so much like a dame, but Colin meant that much to him.
Ryan was about 500 paces away from the bleachers he knew Colin normally sat at. He was having a hard time bringing his eyes up to take in the familiar form that always made his heart race when he was around him. He could feel the expectancy prickle his skin and he smiled inwardly. He must be hung up over this man. Why else would he be acting like some gawky teenager on his first date? He looked up just in time to see Colin leap up from the bleachers as if he were superman and tackle who appeared to Ryan from this distance to be Officer Esten.
Everything happened in a blur. Ryan’s feet felt like they were trapped in cement over shoes and he was being sent up the river. He could see the dust being kicked up, he could see the other prisoners running, he just couldn’t move. He opened his mouth to scream wordlessly the only word that entered his mind. "COLIN!"
Chapter 17
Colin sat on the worn out bench that overlooked the yard. There were lots of convicts milling around in the sunshine trying their best to keep themselves warm. Exhaled breath was prevalent in the air as was the smell of cigarette smoke and sweat. He wrapped his arms around him, trying to keep the warmth in and thought about the events of the last few days.
He knew Ryan was upset with him. He saw him only briefly in the past two days and whenever he did, Ryan turned and hurried off the other way. Colin was too weary to try and figure the man out. He didn’t want to go through anymore of his own personal brand of heartache. He only hoped that Ryan would understand that what he did, he did for a good reason. He hoped that after a few days, Ryan would think things over and try and work things out with him. He knew his reasons for wanting to leave this place. He had been here 13 years too long. Yes, he could admit his fault. Yes, he could admit his guilt. But being in the position he was now, he could admit that he wasn't the one entirely to blame. Truth be told, and he would never have said it in court, Richard had done the deed, Richard had sworn him to silence and Richard was the reason he sat here. He was just now coming to terms with the fact that Richard may have been wrong.
He thought over his life up to present. It had been mostly wallowing in the misery that Richard knew what was best for both of them. That if Richard would endure for their crime, then so would he until he was released. Now Richard was dead, not because of some botched accident where he was innocent, but because Richard had initiated an attempted rape on a fellow inmate. The inmate, as far as Colin was now concerned, had every right to defend himself.
He marveled now in the fact that Richard had been able to convince Colin to do so many things in their brief romance. How could he have been so blind all of these years not to see what had been in front of his face all along? Did it take knowing Ryan to bring out the truth in Colin?
Ryan.
The word paused both on the edge of his brain and the tip of his tongue. Colin thanked the moon and the stars above that Ryan had come into his life. He didn't see in the beginning what someone had incredible insight to foresee that Ryan would be the savior from this path of despair that he was on. He looked up to the sky and watched as a bird sailed by on an up current and thanked a man whom he rarely thought of as anything but a delightful annoyance once again. A calm gentle serenity overtook him and he breathed a contented sigh.
He wanted Ryan to be proud of him more than anything. He had always admired Ryan's fortitude and his resilience to bounce back from whatever this place and life had thrown at him. He wished he was as brave as he knew Ryan to be, wished he could see optimistically the way Ryan did. And that's why he tried to be as brave as he could in the face of his own parole and release. He wanted this for himself. It was his goal. It was his destiny. He had to prove that he was indeed innocent and that he could make a difference in this world.
Rejection. Failure once again reared its head as he sat there. But this time where there was no hope before, a light shown brightly because he knew there would be someone still waiting in here for him to love. And what would time spent with Ryan prove even more than time spent without him? He had fallen in love. Now if only he could convince Ryan.
He looked up once again smiling at the prospects of how he would show Ryan that their new found romance was worth something, and how he would happily help it grow. The smile faded from his face as he stared up into the eyes of Officer Chip Esten.
How long had he been standing there staring at him? Colin gave Chip a resigned look and studied the man. Chip was standing there leering at him and it could only mean one thing. It was not going to be pretty. Colin had neither the will nor the want to accommodate Chip in whatever scheme he had come up with to make his life miserable today. He had already done enough damage to Colin in the past.
Colin had often, just as Greg had been, the brunt of Chip's malicious endeavors. He knew Chip did not take homosexuality lightly. Colin did his best not to aggravate his animosity, but Greg on the other hand gave as often as he got. In the beginning, Colin would admonish Greg for fighting Chip so hard. All it would accomplish would be more time in the hole for Greg. Chip would win. He always would. With Colin, he knew best how to win in his own way. Nothing pissed Chip off more than to have Colin stare passively in his face and not give into the threats, the taunts, and the games. Eventually Chip had given up. Colin gave himself extra credit for having won at least one battle while doing his time here. He would never forget the look in Chip's eyes the day Brad had held Colin back from wanting to kill him. Yes, he wanted to kill the smug little bastard. He saw something in Chip's eyes that day that told him he had lost, momentarily. Chip would never have that satisfaction again.
"Well, Mochrie, beautiful day, isn’t it? Chip said, his boot resting squarely in the space between the middle of Colin’s thighs on the bench.
"It was." Colin said not looking away from his eyes.
Chip grinned widely at Colin and a silent consent to a staring contest began. Colin, the master at passive aggressive, wore down Chip’s resolve and his agitation won out. He took a step back and paced in front of Colin.
Colin would not let himself relax. He could not afford to. He stared through Chip as if he wasn’t there; all the while his mind was focused on the man in front of him.
"Mochrie, you know I’ve tolerated your little fairy ass here for quite some time now." Chip said continuing to pace. "Every day I see you and think about who you are and what you do, and it makes me want to throw up. Just the logistics are mind boggling, man!"
"I’m glad I stay on your mind, I’m flattered." Colin said flatly. He watched as Chip bounced around on one foot to another, fluttering around like an annoying gnat.
Chip stopped abruptly and turned slowly to face Colin an evil gleam sparked in his eyes. He grabbed Colin’s shirt collar and pulled Colin closer to his face, his lips bare millimeters from his own. "Not a good day to fuck with me, Mochrie."
"When is it ever?" Colin said, softly. The two men’s breath whispered over each others and Colin forced his to stay even. He didn’t want his fear to show, but it was a struggle. They continued their staring contest but with more intensity. There was pure evil lurking behind Chip’s eyes. Colin stood statue still. He would not even raise a hand. Other convicts in the yard had paused in their activities and had begun to turn their attentions to the stand-off.
Chip shoved Colin back on the bleachers, hard. "You know something Mochrie? You disappoint me. At least your little fuck buddy put up a decent fight. You just sit there. You never fight me back! Are you that big of a sissy girl not to even throw a punch? I’ve been looking forward to seeing what you’ve got!" Chip’s neck vein started to bulge as he now began shouting in Colin’s face.
Colin glared back at Chip. A tiny spark of anger began to grow deep inside of him. His fists began to tighten, his knuckles whitening, nails pressed into his palms.
"Hey Mochrie?" Chip said standing in front of Colin now, lowering his voice as if he had a secret to share. He knew his would get a rise out of the man in front of him. Just once, Just once, he wanted Colin to challenge him. It was all he needed to brighten his otherwise shit-filled life. He didn’t know why he needed it so much, this power over a weak little shirt lifter like Mochrie, but he knew he wouldn’t find his "peace" unless he pushed every single button the man owned. "Let me ask you a question. How does it feel to be denied your precious parole every single fucking year? Do you ever wonder why they just let you sit and rot in this hell? What you did that was so wrong that you have to spend the rest of your pathetic, useless life here? I know you’ve thought about it. God, Mochrie if you only knew what I know. Well today is your lucky day my friend, I’m about to let you in on a nice little secret." Chip paused overdramatically. Colin looked back at him the rage eating at the fabric of his heart. A fuzzy white haze was beginning to grow around the edges of his brain.
"Do you know how much tax payer dollars are sent to this fucking shit hole every year? Quite a bit if you’ve seen the car Warden Carey drives up in here every day. And you know how we are able to generate so much of it? Not because we turn scumbags like you loose to society every day, it’s because we keep you in here!! Damn, Mochrie, you know you would have been released years ago, being the little goodie two shoes you’ve been. And hell they’ve reviewed your case so many times; even they know you needed another trial that wasn’t rigged in favor of the victim’s family. They already knew it was your boy that did it anyway. We kept pushing it off and pushing it off year after year and so you’ll sit here as a permanent resident of this fine establishment for the rest of your poor excuse of a life. Thanks for paying my liquor tabs man!"
Chip in all his smugness, put his hands on his hips, and smirked so hard it went from one side of his face to the other. He threw his challenge down; knowing for certain that Colin would absolutely lose his mind and he would finally win.
Something inside Colin’s brain snapped. If you were standing close enough, you could have heard it. Everything processed itself so fast it was like years overlapping in the span of seconds. Colin saw himself years younger, scared, frightened, far too intelligent to be caged like an animal, spending countless days, nights, weeks, years, doing mindless, meaningless, useless tasks. Sitting in filth, eating stuff not fit for dogs, fearing for his life every night, knowing someone would be there to do him in. Putting up with Greg’s on again off again bouts of sanity, when he could have been free, could have been making something out of himself, never knowing what he was capable of. He didn’t want to think right about now, what he would be losing by not finding Ryan, but even Ryan would know that this was just not fucking believable. No human being should have to endure this.
"And Greg, Chip?" Colin said calmly in a sudden silence that had claimed the entire yard. "Did he have to die?"
"Oh he was something, that Proops." Chip said just warming up. "You should have heard him screaming, the fucking coward. He nearly pissed his pants as they strapped him in that chair. That was the fucking bee’s knees man!!" Chip laughed like a braying jack ass. He came close to Colin again resting his foot on the bleacher in front of him. He slapped his knee and leaned in on it. "Funniest shit about the whole thing man, Warden Carey told me that the fucker’s stay of execution came two minutes before we juiced him. Don’t that beat all? Do you know how much money the state gives us to execute somebody? Whoo boy…right out the pockets of the good people of the state of Alabama."
Before the word Alabama was uttered, Colin flew off the bench without warning. He literally flew. He tackled Chip to the ground and knocked the wind straight from Chip’s lungs. Colin raised his fist high and swung it with abandon. There was no time for Chip to react. It caught him square in the jaw and he felt another tooth break free. Another hand came down and broke his nose. Chip had no time to react as blow after blow rained down upon him. He couldn’t even bring his arms up to defend himself. He saw cold, clear, hatred and retribution shining through Colin’s darkened eyes. Convicts who had seemed to be frozen in time suddenly moved with great speed rushing to the clouds of dust and dirt being kicked up. Chip finally getting air back into his lungs barely, lifted a knee up squarely into Colin’s groin. Colin screamed in pain and rolled off of Chip. He saw black dots dancing in front of his eyes. Somewhere in the distance he heard his name being called. He didn’t even register the sound of which voice it belonged to, all he saw was red and all he heard was the blood rushing in his ears.
Chapter 18
"COLIN!"....the sound reverberated in the air....bouncing off the currents and colliding back with the frozen body whose feet had refused to comply. Ryan was in shock as he saw his friend go down; the cloud of dust rising, and the bodies closing in. A pair of arms grabbed hold of his and began to tug.
"Come on, Ryan, MOVE!" The voice belonged to Jeff. He had come running quickly up behind Ryan and began dragging him along to the crowd of people. It was going to be difficult to try and squeeze past them all. They seemed to have come from all over the yard. The guards were steadly trying to make their way in through the outskirts but so far with out luck. Ryan had begun pushing past prisoners knocking them over like they were playing cards.
Chip staggered to his feet. His face was covered in blood and he grinned showing a bloody smile. He spat at the downed form in front of him, once again.
"Now that's what I'm talkin' about!" Chip shouted. His southern, nassally twang, more pronounced. He gestured with his hands, taunting Colin. "Come on, GET UP!!! Is that ALL you got Mochrie?"
Colin struggled to a kneeling position. It hurt bad enough to see several Chips dancing in front of him as well as a few stars, but he was not ready to go down without a fight. He had had just about enough of this sorry little prick and everything that he stood for. Feelings of anger and rage and injustice overwhelmed him. He wanted revenge. He deserved revenge. He suffered with this battle long enough. If it was a fight Chip wanted, a fight he would get.
Colin stood up and rolled his neck muscles from side to side stretching them out. He planted his feet firmly on the ground and looked at Chip levelly. He cracked his knuckles and dusted off his pants. All the while, Chip danced around him like an annoying yapping lap dog. He was in the standard boxing pose taking quick jabs at Colin and faking him out. The prisoners who had gathered around them were yelling and shouting for Colin to fight. They had given the two enough space, but kept tightly packed allowing no one else to break through.
"Mochrie...I'm gonna kick your sorry little ass all over this yard." Chip screamed lurching toward Colin. Colin side stepped him easily, just walking away at the last second and Chip almost ran head first into a wall of prisoners. Knowing that he wasn't a favorite amongst any of the inmates, Chip teetered in front of them, almost falling into their clutches. Colin watched as the prisoners grabbed Chip up and threw him back into the circle. They wanted Colin to get first blood. This was a fight to the death. Chip skittered to a halt again and turned and rushed Colin. He didn't have the patience Colin did and fought only with brute force and lack of brain cells. It could prove dangerous and even deadly in most situations, but he was dealing with an intellect and Colin saw opportunity at every turn.
Ryan had just pushed his way past several layers of prisoners and could barely make out the two forms circling each other in the middle of the cleared out area. He had to get to Colin. He didn't know what Colin was capable of, but he certainly knew what Chip could do and he needed to get to Colin before it was too late. He would not have his best friend, wind up shattered in the dust. He had to get through. Jeff was pushing his way past on the other side. He was getting more resistance than Ryan was.
Chip rushed Colin again. With a charge and almost a battle cry he ran at Colin, whom at the very last second stuck his foot out and neatly tripped Chip and his nose slid into first as well as the rest of him. The crowd cheered their approval but Colin paid them no mind. He was totally focused on the man in front of him. It was not enough. He went over to Chip who was beginning to push himself up off of the ground, blood and dirt now mixed together on his face making it a very pleasant picture...He grabbed his nose, howling in pain, and with a most insane smile looked at Colin and crunched his nose back into place. The sound was grating, but Chip was too far gone to care. Colin made his first mistake by leaning over to grab him up. Chip reached up and grabbed Colin's shirt yanking him down with Chip and he slammed Colin's head hard against the ground. Chip straddled Colin and began slapping him left and right. The sound of the slaps could be heard at the outer edges of the crowd and beyond. Colin, his face feeling like it was on fire, gave himself a mental shake and used his strength to roll Chip off of him so that he was now on top. He didn't stay there long as Chip flipped him off of him and came at him relentless. Colin scrambled away and stood back up gaining his bearings.
Chip rushed him again, tackling Colin and bringing him down to the ground. Colin flipped him over and pinned Chip momentarily. They rolled all over the ground one gaining the upper hand and losing it in the same instance. Colin grabbed a handful of Chip's hair and shoved his face into the dirt. Chip's groans were swallowed up by the mouthfuls of dirt he was taking in. In one burst of energy he rolled backwards onto Colin and rolled off of him. Colin rose and rushed back to the middle of the circle. Somehow they had managed to get to the outskirts and he had suffered several kicks to the ribs from the mob of inmates as well as Chip. He hunched over and waited.
Chip stood up and approached Colin. He looked a real mess; blood pouring from his mouth and nose. Dirt caked everywhere drying with the blood. His hair matted with the stuff. "You won't get away from me today, Mochrie, you hear me you sorry son of a bitch? I want you dead, just like your fucking lover." Colin braced himself against the words and the evil bastard in front of him. He let Chip get inches in front of his face and he stared down at him. Chip glared at him menacingly. "I want you dead." He spat at Colin.
"Take your best shot, Chip."
Chip looked at him, looked into Colin's eyes and read their depths. In his current state of mind, Chip could see nothing there but what was shinning back at him. His own pretty face mangled by this fucker who had no respect for authority. He was going to teach this coward a lesson, once and for all. What Colin saw was a crazed intensity staring back at him with absolutely no humanity shining through. This was an animal, pure and simple. Chip raised his fist high and swung it at Colin's face. The force of the impact caused Colin's head to snap back. The yard had grown strangely quiet again, anticipating. The rest of Colin's body stayed perfectly still. He brought his head back down and looked Chip in the eye once more. Nothing showed on Colin's face. His eyes were cold, dark and passive. Chip raised his other fist and swung, connecting it with the other side of Colin's face. The same reaction. A tiny trail of blood dripped from Colin's nose. Chip looked at him in disbelief. He was using the remainder of his strength which was way more than he bargained for. He punched again. Nothing. He hit him once more. Still Colin's face came back and stared at him. What was the matter with this weak little gay man? Why wasn't he going down? He reared back his fist for one final punch, his knuckles bloodied from Colin's cut lip, and bloody nose.
As Chip's fist came towards Colin's face, Colin shot his hand up at the very last second, and grabbed Chip's wrist locking it in place. Colin stepped closer to Chip, blood splattered on his clothes, on his face, everywhere. He smiled a bloody grin. With a deathly calm voice, barely above a whisper, he said "My turn."
Ryan finally broke free of the remaining few prisoner's in his way he slid to a halt just as he saw Chip being lifted several inches off the ground like someone lifting a feather or a rag doll. With one hand Colin raised him up and with the other sent him skyrocketing with a punch that shot him several feet away. Chip barely had time to lift his head as Colin trudged toward him grabbed him up by the shirt collar and slammed him down hard on the ground. Right, left, right, left the punches flew. Colin tore at Chip's shirt ripping it from his body. He could no longer see a person anymore just fists and flesh, and blood. There was a ringing in his ear and the distant noise of the crowd cheering and yelling and screaming and sirens going off and guards rushing in and inmates beginning to throw punches and a suffocating pressure on his neck.
Chip had some how managed to wrap his hands tightly around Colin's throat and was squeezing tightly. He was fighting a losing battle, because his face as well as the rest of him was being obliterated. Colin was fighting with a blind rage. It was all Chip could do but to hold on. He had gone insane a long time back and had begun screaming. "MORE MORE...THAT'S IT!! FUCKING KILL ME!!!! YOU BASTARD....THIS IS WHO YOU ARE YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT!!" And the blows kept coming. They were the only two on the ground. Everyone else was fighting around them stomping on them from time to time, tripping over them, but Colin and Chip were still locked in a battle of their own making.
Ryan was trying his best to still get over to Colin but was now being pushed away by the crowds. He had to fight off a few of the prisoners himself. He paused here and there to make a few well placed punches and kept struggling towards the two bodies on the ground.
"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU, YOU SON OF A BITCH." Colin screamed down at Chip, still throwing punches. His voice was raspy, and he in turn now grabbed hold of Chip's throat and began to squeeze. It was another battle of wills to see who would break first. Chip was losing consciousness and Colin was not far behind. Chip had a death grip on him and was not letting go. After another moment, Chip was finally starting to black out. He had more damage to him after all. Colin was shaking his neck like it was a twig about ready to snap in half.
Suddenly, two strong hands grabbed his upper arms and jerked him away, off of Chip's body. Colin tried to wrench himself from the person's grasp and force his way back on Chip. The arms wouldn't let go and with the last bit of strength and effort he had left, he spun around crazed and dazed and swung at the person who had dared get in the way. His solid punch was a direct hit right across Ryan's jaw.
Chapter 19
As if in one of those old movies he used to watch as a child, where the action seemed to slow down and speed up at the same time, Colin saw his fist, agonizingly slow make contact with Ryan's jaw. He saw Ryan's head ricochet back from the punch and saw him go down. He was unable to stop anything from happening and then all at once he was down on the ground beside Ryan grabbing him up by the shirt collar and holding him close to his own battered body.
"Ryan...Ryan!! I'm Sorry!! I'm so sorry! I couldn't stop it...Please Please Ryan are you ok?" Colin frantically half whispered, half whimpered into his hair. He shook a dazed Ryan out of his stupor and wiped bloody palm prints over his cheeks and forehead. Colin marveled at how much blood he was losing but that didn't matter.
"Speak to me!"
Ryan fluttered his eyes open and it was as if time had ceased. All the fighting around them didn't matter. Ryan looked up into Colin's worried, disheveled face. His lips swollen, his nose bleeding, his hair matted, a black eye forming, caused tears to form in Ryan's own. Colin was absently rubbing the back of Ryan's head, carding his fingers through his hair, and starring apprehensively into Ryan's shimmering green depths. A small smile played around the edges of Ryan's mouth as he intensely stared back at Colin expressing whatever he could for the moment.
"Quite a right hook ya got there..." He said with a laugh.
Colin let out a shuddering sigh and pulled Ryan closer to him. Ryan reached up and wrapped his arms around Colin and brought his forehead down to touch his own. Colin winced a little and Ryan, realizing his error opened his mouth to apologize.
"Shhh its ok." Colin said before Ryan could speak.
"Col, I'm sorry...I'm sorry I was an ass. It's not important to me that you stay here. You need to get out of this place."
"You don't know the half of it Ryan. Ryan, oh my god, if you only knew!!!"
Nothing more could be said because bodies were starting to invade their personal space, tripping over them, kicking them, falling on top of them. Ryan struggle to rise and Colin tried his best to help and right themselves. "Later." he said barely getting a word out before a convict collided with him and knocked him to the ground.
"Colin!" Ryan said as he crawled quickly over to his friend trying to grab him and get him out of the fray. He punched a few prisoners in the face, picked a few more up, and threw them out of his way, grabbed Colin and yanked him protectively close to his side. Colin looked at him gratefully and they both tried to remove themselves from the brawl.
Suddenly and out of nowhere, Jeff and Brad came running up, pushing convicts left and right searching for Colin and Ryan.
"Brad! BRAD! I found them over here!" Jeff said his usually quiet, calm tones rising to a panicked crescendo. He had the beginnings of a black eye and he looked a bit roughed up, but other wise unharmed.
Brad rushed up behind him, using his stick to push off another prisoner who had gotten too close. "Come on, we gotta get you guys the hell outta here."
Ryan and Colin both paused for a moment and looked at Brad as if he had tentacles sprouting from his face. "What?" They both said in unison.
"You heard me, GET GOING!" Brad ordered. The sirens blared on and the screams and shouts and sounds of people fighting had not hampered the uttering of those two blessed words.
Ryan lifted Colin to his feet and Colin screamed in agony. "I think something's broken." He said in a pained voice. Ryan looked at Colin, understanding, and despite the afflictions that arose some times in his back, hoisted his friend over his shoulder and rushed with Brad and Jeff to the far end of the yard. They tried their best not to arouse suspicions or attention; most seemed too busy fighting to care. The guards they had to keep an eye out for were the ones in the towers.
Chip had barely regained consciousness as he felt the hands and feet of those around him, trampling, punching, kicking and tearing him apart mercilessly. He screamed with whatever remaining strength he had left that he would see that all of the prisoners would rot in hell. Several of the prisoners around him heard his cries and that was the end of Officer Esten. As Chip looked up into the eyes of twenty or so prisoners, the last thing he saw was the descending hands as they closed in on him. "NO, NO, NO, NONONOONNNNOOOOO....." were his last and final words.
Colin, Ryan, Jeff and Brad heard the tortured cries of Chip and shuddered inwardly. Brad shook his head and removed a set of keys from his belt. They had made their way to the side of the prison compound where Brad knew of a service entrance for food and supplies and other prison personnel. Colin had become weakened by the loss of blood and was beginning to pass out on Ryan's shoulder.
"Stay with me buddy." Ryan said urgently into Colin's back. He shook him, trying to rouse him before he passed out. "I can't do this alone."
"Ry...Ryan." Colin said groggily. He tried to shake his head and clear the cobwebs from his brain. He felt like he could sleep for days. The sounds of fighting and sirens were beginning to fade slowly in the distance as they approached the gate. Ryan propped him up carefully against a wall as Brad frantically tried to get the lock open that led to the outside.
Ryan watched Brad carefully as he slid the key into the lock. Brad smiled his good natured boyish grin and finally took a deep breath as the gate swung open. He looked back levelly into Ryan's eyes and said, "Voila." Ryan looked thoughtfully at Brad and at that moment nodded and came to terms with what he had been battling with for a long while.
Brad looked back a little unnerved at the intense looks he was receiving. "What do I have something on my face?" He said chuckling and poked Ryan playfully in the ribs. "Go on now, and don't let me catch you back this way again, young man."
Ryan laid a big, gentle hand on Brad's shoulder and smiled. "I really owe ya one, Sherwood, you're a real stand up guy." He brought Brad close to him and crushed him in a tight hug. "I never met a copper who treated any of us mugs with any kinda decency. You're tops in my book." He pulled Brad back and kissed him on the forehead, lingering for a moment, before pulling away completely. Brad looked back at him, perplexed but happy. Finally Ryan saw him for who he really was.
Jeff kept casting fearful glances behind him, hoping that no one had caught on to their disappearance. No one seemed to be following them at the moment.
"Come with us." Colin said to him softly. He looked at the young man in front of him with soulful eyes. Jeff approached the older man and smoothed down his disheveled hair tenderly. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket he dabbed Colin's lip with it, and several of the other cuts on his face. He smiled sweetly at the man, showing the best of his rugged good looks and brushed a thumb across Colin's chin.
"Thanks, but no thanks, pardner." He replied calmly in his soft, western drawl. "I have about a year left in the pokey and I can't afford to jeopardize it by breakin' out. I'm gonna stay and make things right."
He went over to Ryan and looked at him, saying nothing just as he often did. But Ryan, knowing him for so long, knew that his look said a thousand words. He grabbed Jeff and held him close for a moment. "You were the best cell mate a guy could have, not to mention a real pal."
Jeff looked back with a tear in his eye. "I'll miss ya big guy." Jeff slipped a folded sheet of worn paper into Ryan's hand and gave it a squeeze.
Brad looked up and out in the distance noticing that the crowds were beginning to disperse the guards seeming to finally get the upper hand. "Better get a move on ladies." He said. He held open the gate and Ryan grabbed Colin up again, one arm securely around his shoulder, supporting him against his side. Colin could walk a little, after resting some, but he still needed Ryan's body beside him to help him along. Brad pulled out a wad of bills from his pocket and shoved them into Ryan's. "You'll be needing this." He said. "It's not much, but it will help."
Again Ryan looked at him with gratitude and respect. Colin and Ryan both looked back as they pushed their way through the gate. They nodded to Brad and Jeff. Colin smiled up at Ryan as he took his first step as a "free man" off prison grounds. Ryan smiled back, love showing in his eyes as he planted a kiss of encouragement on the top of Colin's head. Keeping low they walk/ran through the large meadow, overgrown with tall grass, to the edge of the woods surrounding the prison complex.
Brad shook his head slowly and turned to Jeff. "Come on you bastard, he said jokingly, we don't need the rest of you out." Jeff smiled widely and clapped Officer Sherwood on the back, taking one final look at the disappearing pair.
Chapter 20
....A tattered and folded piece of paper in Ryan's pocket reads....
Well, they are gone, and here must I remain,
This lime-tree bower my prison ! I have lost
Beauties and feelings, such as would have been
Most sweet to my remembrance even when age
Had dimm'd mine eyes to blindness ! They, meanwhile,
Friends, whom I never more may meet again,
On springy heath, along the hill-top edge,
Wander in gladness, and wind down, perchance,
To that still roaring dell, of which I told ;
The roaring dell, o'erwooded, narrow, deep,
And only speckled by the mid-day sun ;
Where its slim trunk the ash from rock to rock
Flings arching like a bridge ;--that branchless ash,
Unsunn'd and damp, whose few poor yellow leaves
Ne'er tremble in the gale, yet tremble still,
Fann'd by the water-fall ! and there my friends
Behold the dark green file of long lank weeds,
That all at once (a most fantastic sight !)
Still nod and drip beneath the dripping edge
Of the blue clay-stone.
Now, my friends emerge
Beneath the wide wide Heaven--and view again
The many-steepled tract magnificent
Of hilly fields and meadows, and the sea,
With some fair bark, perhaps, whose sails light up
The slip of smooth clear blue betwixt two Isles
Of purple shadow ! Yes ! they wander on
In gladness all ; but thou, methinks, most glad,
My gentle-hearted friends ! for thou hast pined
And hunger'd after Nature, many a year,
In the great City pent, winning thy way
With sad yet patient soul, through evil and pain
And strange calamity ! Ah ! slowly sink
Behind the western ridge, thou glorious Sun !
Shine in the slant beams of the sinking orb,
Ye purple heath-flowers ! richlier burn, ye clouds !
Live in the yellow light, ye distant groves !
And kindle, thou blue Ocean ! So my friend
Struck with deep joy may stand, as I have stood,
Silent with swimming sense ; yea, gazing round
On the wide landscape, gaze till all doth seem
Less gross than bodily ; and of such hues
As veil the Almighty Spirit, when yet he makes
Spirits perceive his presence.
My gentle-hearted friends ! when the last rook
Beat its straight path across the dusky air
Homewards, I blest it ! deeming its black wing
(Now a dim speck, now vanishing in light)
Had cross'd the mighty Orb's dilated glory,
While thou stood'st gazing ; or, when all was still,
Flew creeking o'er thy head, and had a charm
For thee, my gentle-hearted friends, to whom
No sound is dissonant which tells of Life.
On the other side, a worn pair of shoes hit the pavement of the long stretch of highway. Two steps behind another pair of shoes shuffled hesitantly along trying their best to stay in motion.
Ryan glared up into the uncharacteristically hot blazing winter sun. He wiped the sweat from his brow and looked behind him. He sadly shook his head at his traveling companion. He looked down one end of the road and to the other. Not a car in sight. It was still early morning. But he figured this lonely road rarely saw a sign of traffic. What would they do if they saw someone anyway? Motorists had to know that they were not far from the State Pen, and who would want to pick up two worse for wear individuals with blatantly obvious uniforms screaming at them. Ryan was dressed only in his white undershirt, his long sleeved, blue denim now being used to stop the blood flowing from a particularly deep cut in Colin's head. It was stained a crimson red, and Ryan shook his head and sighed. Colin looked back at him, tired, hungry and wearied. He stopped short behind Ryan and rested his head on his shoulder. He could walk so nothing there was broken. But his ribs ached something terrible and he knew he needed a doctor soon. But that wasn't his only concern. He looked again to the man in front of him. So much, so much he wished he could do, but he didn't know what. He didn't know how.
They had spent the previous evening pushing their way through the dense woods trying desperately to find their way out. They had kept looking behind their shoulders listening for the sounds of dogs and men, the fear driving them forward into the night. They had neither eaten, nor stopped to rest for several hours. As evening approached the men looked toward the sky hoping not to see the search lights circling above them. For the time being everything appeared calm. It would only be a matter of time. That they knew for sure. Colin needed to rest. He had lost a lot of blood, and was complaining softly about his side. Ryan did his best to encourage him, keeping him going, pushing him to go just a little further. He had no idea where they were, but he knew they had to get as far away as possible.
Ryan found a small stream and decided it would be best to stop there for the night. He attended to Colin's wounds the best he could cleaning the smaller cuts and bandaging the deep head wound, with his shirt. Colin was exhausted and let the man lift his own shirt to examine his chest to see if there were indeed any broken bones. His chest was covered in purple bruises and cuts. When Ryan touched a tentative fingertip to one of his ribs, Colin tried to bite back his anguished cry. Ryan tisked at him and carefully removed his hand. His rib appeared to be the only thing that may have been broken. He said that his legs ached painfully but he was still able to walk. Ryan was completely fine, save a slightly swollen lip, which still felt tender when he ran his tongue over it. He helped Colin to drink the flowing water. Colin needed to keep his strength up if he were to make it the next day. He lay down with Colin against a big oak tree that was near the stream and gingerly pulled the man close to him.
Colin carefully positioned himself on Ryan's chest and looked up at Ryan who was smiling down at him. He tucked his head under Ryan's chin sighing and snuggling deep. Ryan was bony but warm, and Colin laid his hand on Ryan's chest feeling the smoothness of his skin, underneath his t-shirt, trailing his hand down to his abdomen feeling the muscles quiver under his touch. Ryan moaned softly and brushed his nose into Colin's downy hair. He absently circled his finger in the material of Colin's shirt, soothing the tired man beneath him. Colin marveled once again at the deep bullet wounds he found marking Ryan's otherwise unmarred skin. He looked back at Ryan wistfully wishing he had been there to save him from the moments when he narrowly escaped death. Colin traced his fingertips back up to Ryan's nipple delightfully curious to see it harden instantaneously before him. Ryan gripped Colin's shirt and whimpered. Colin smiled inwardly and thumbed it once more wanting to ease the ache he created. He touched it feather soft and listened to the sighs he was evoking from the man above. Ryan fell asleep to the gentle ministrations of Colin's lingering fingertips and even breathing matching his own. His eyes drifted shut to the sounds of Colin's once labored breathing, now settling.
Ryan awoke with a start. His rapid heartbeat settling as the tendrils of the last of his dissipating nightmare faded. He had to take a moment to remember where he was and why he was there. He looked down and saw the slumbering form in his arms and smiled. He pulled Colin closer to him and resituated himself more comfortably. Colin's face, innocent and child-like when he slept, caused a surge of emotion to fill Ryan's heart. He smoothed a finger over Colin's brow. "You've had so little experience with life." He mused. "I hope to change that." 'For the both of us.' he said to himself. He felt he had truly found his happiness and it was nestled in his arms. Colin shifted in his sleep and nibbled his lower lip. Ryan kissed his forehead, waking his sleeping friend, who opened his bleary sleep filled eyes and rubbed his palm in one trying to clear the sleep from his brain. He yawned and started, just realizing that he wasn't in his cell and he tried to jump up and fight whoever was holding him.
"Shhh...Colin, Colin. It's only me." Ryan said keeping his hands on Colin's upper arms settling him, abating his fears with quiet words. Colin's panic filled face suddenly calmed again. He let the memories of the past day flow over him feeling the pain in his head as it pounded in time with the beat of his heart that was trying to return to a normal rhythm. He rubbed his temple careful not to disturb the wrapped shirt around his wound. He didn't feel rested. He felt miserable. But he was free, he realized once again. And he was with Ryan. That thought alone made everything that happened worthwhile.
"Morning." Colin said wincing as he stretched. He felt as if he'd been run over by a truck. Chip had gotten a few good licks in their battle. Colin, never a fighting man, was amazed at how well he had handled himself. He quietly looked up at Ryan who had been studying him, concerned.
"Are you feeling ok?" Ryan said as he studied his friend. He ran a hand through Colin's wisps. Colin leaned into the gentle touch.
"Mmm...I'll live." was the reply. Colin came in closer. "You do realize we are free." He said more to himself than to Ryan.
"Yes," Ryan said with a wide grin. "nothin’ like livin’ the rest of your life on the lamb though."
"I couldn't have found myself with a better escapee." Colin said his lips inches away from Ryan's. He tentatively brought his mouth close to Ryan's breathing the same air as he. Ryan closed his eyes. His head began to swim. It had been too long since he had kissed Colin. He missed his touch. He wanted to make up for the way he had left him, stranded and alone in the library. He needed to feel Colin's warmth.
"Kiss me." Ryan said, seconds before Colin brought his lips to his own. Colin mewled at the contact, pulling Ryan closer to his chest instantly. Oh he felt so good and tasted so nice, like coming home. Ryan didn't want to hurt Colin further, but found it increasingly difficult to keep his hands off of him. He put his large hands carefully around Colin's bandaged head and brought his mouth closer, seeking the sweetness within. It brought tears to both men's eyes as it signified a strengthening of their once weakened bond.
"I need you." Colin said, hands everywhere needing to feel and touch and hold. He ran his hands over Ryan's back removing his shirt and pulling him closer, but not close enough for him to have pressure on his bruised ribs. It was pleasure and pain all at the same time and it made him want to swoon.
Colin reached hesitantly for the button to Ryan's jeans. He wanted to feel Ryan, once. He was so overwhelmed with passion and the thought of touching him outweighed all others. Ryan whimpered against his mouth and moved away slightly. "Not yet." He said pulling away for a brief moment. He kissed Colin down the side of his neck mouthing his apologies into his skin. Colin lolled his neck, closing his eyes to the touch. Ryan was driving him wild. He put his hand on Ryan's jeans feeling his hardness coming through. He moaned. He felt the same straining in his own pants. He tried once again to alleviate it by trying to unclasp the button.
"NO!" Ryan said pulling reluctantly away. He turned his back to Colin and left Colin sitting dazed and panting in the opposite direction. The loss of contact and silence was palpable.
"Why, Ryan?" Colin said after a moment, looking at Ryan's bullet riddled back. "I thought we could at least try. We have the freedom now, no more restrictions."
"I CAN'T Col." Ryan said with bitter regret. "I just can't." Ryan pushed himself up and went over to the stream. He dunked his head bringing it up. The water dampening and cooling any of his earlier heated moments. "We better get moving."
Colin looked back at him, confused. He allowed Ryan to lift him up and steady him once again. That was the last he had spoken to him.
Now as they stood on the edge of the road. He again looked to Ryan, wondering what caused the man so much fear, to be touched by someone who he HAD to know by now, loved him deeply enough to die for him, to risk everything for a chance at freedom. A freedom with him.
"Which way ya think the nearest town is?" Ryan said still undecided.
"Well," Colin said, trying to get his brain to function under the circumstances, "Birmingham is probably the closest, and they prob have a medical facility there. It is east of the penitentiary." After studying the height of the sun he determined which was east by the way it was steadily climbing in the sky. He pointed in the direction they should take, and Ryan shrugged and started walking.
The hours crawled by. Each man was desperate to keep pushing along, staying low incase any black and whites happen to come up the road looking for two escaped cons. Colin had fallen several paces behind Ryan. He needed to stop, to rest. His aches and pains were screaming to him now. Ryan kept pressing on. He was lost in his thoughts. He kept telling himself in one part of his brain. 'Just a little further. Just a little more.'
Occasionally he would look behind him to see how far Colin was back. He couldn't go back there just now. He didn't know how to face the emotions that were battling on inside him, and then try to deal with the situation he had caused between them. Oh how he wanted to just go back there and love the man, who had been through so much, who needed him so much. He needed to reassure him that, it wasn't Colin's fault. That Ryan, just could not, the memories were still to fresh, even a decade later. Colin was the first person who'd he'd even let get remotely close. And now he'd pushed him away once again.
It was approaching dusk, on their second day out. They had seen several squad cars pass by, patrolling the area. Each time one flew down the highway, Ryan would run back and pull Colin down with him, hiding him in the deep brush along the shoulder of the road. After a few heart pounding moments, each would carefully stick his head up to investigate, hoping not to be looking down the barrel of a rifle. To the relief of both men, they saw the lights of an approaching town twinkling in the distance. It was a beacon calling them both. They shuffled their way, battered, broken down, decrepit toward the lights of the city.
When they entered Colin immediately sagged to his knees. He could go not a step further. Ryan came back to him and hoisted him once again on his own shoulders. Colin made a small sigh of protest, but allowed Ryan to carry him. He found an old motel on the outskirts and shuffled his way to the door. He didn't know what time it was, but he prayed that there would be someone there to give him a room for the night. He left Colin sitting upright on the side of the building. He didn't need to create any extra attention. Colin slumped over already fast asleep.
Ryan brushed the dirt and grime the best he could from his clothes and ran a finger through his hair, combing it. He would use force if necessary, but he tried charm first, hoping that whoever was behind the counter would take pity and give him a room for the night.
The elderly man studied him suspiciously as Ryan tried to explain that his car broke down about 3 miles back and he needed a place to stay for the night. It was dim in the office and the old man's eyesight was not as it used to be thankfully. He hesitated, but when Ryan pulled out a few of the small bills that Brad had given him, the old man nodded in agreement. He had money, so who could argue with that.
He gave Ryan a key and issued him to one of the cabins toward the back, another thing Ryan was grateful for. Ryan put the key in the lock and watched as the old man, turned and went back to the office. He made sure that the man was safely inside, before he went back over to the side of the office and nudged Colin with his boot. Colin did not move. Ryan stooped down and peered into his face. In the dim light of twilight, he could still make out that he was breathing, barely. Ryan lifted Colin's eyelid. His deep brown iris was rolled up into his head. Ryan shook him a little.
"Colin, buddy. Come on. You have to stand up now." Ryan was beginning to panic. He removed his hand and Colin slumped completely to the ground. "No, no....not now." Ryan said desperately. He lifted his friends head and shoulders once again and stood him up. With the remaining ounces of his strength, Ryan hoisted him up once again, and dropped him. He was too heavy. He put his arms under Colin's pits and drug him, grunting and cursing the short distance back to the room. He lifted him as best as he could onto the sunken mattress that had seen better days. The room with its peeling, floral wall paper and antiquated furniture loomed over the pair, wanting to add their story to its book of memories. Ryan paced around the room unsure of what to do next.
Chapter 21
Karen Maruyama quietly approached the door to the last cabin in the small run down complex. She had heard noises from within earlier and had seen the two figures enter the night before. She brought with her a first aid kit and some food. They looked so desperate and worn to her, she was sure there was something more to what met the eye than they were sharing. She was the maid service for the motel, and although it may have looked a little rough on the outside, she always made sure things were in the best conditions she could possibly make them on the inside. The little old man who was her boss, didn’t give her much to go on and these were indeed trying times, no one had two dimes to rub together let alone think about quality in the comfort. In the small town of Woodstock, Alabama, you get what you could. If anybody was anybody, they’d be in the big city of Birmingham, but during the depression it was the little cities that suffered. Karen thought of the two men as part of the ever-depressing social-economical state of the day, in which the hotel often catered to.
It was mid-morning and the sun was steadily climbing as Karen hesitantly tapped on the cabin door. There was a loud curse from inside the room and something clattered to the ground. The door swung open and an arm reached out to grab her hand, mid-knock before she had a chance to defend or protest. A hand clamped over her mouth before she could scream. She was pulled into the darkened curtain drawn room, the door slamming behind her.
"What you want doll? Ryan said coming close to her face. "You know you really shouldn’t be snoopin’ around where your nose don’t belong." Ryan’s tired eyes studied the trembling form in front of him.
"I’m sorry, sir." Karen said timidly. "I’m just here…I brought this." She said extending her parcel of food and supplies. She glanced over at the form on the bed. "He doesn’t look very good." She said pointing to Colin. He was still spread out over the mattress, and save for a slight rise and fall of his chest, he looked at death’s door.
Ryan looked over at Colin and back at Karen in desperation. "Can you help him?" He said running a worried, trembling hand through his hair. He went over to Colin and felt his pulse again. It was faint. Karen went over to the prone form and noticed the waxen pallor of his skin. She went to the dingy bathroom and took a couple of fresh towels from the rack. She dampened one with warm water and went to attend to her "patient." Ryan eyed her warily but then sniffed at the contents of the package she had brought with her. His mouth watered at the notion of food.
"Help yourself." Karen said as she undressed Colin from head to toe taking note of the damage on his body. Ryan looked at Colin shyly. He had never seen him totally naked. Colin snuffled in his stupor and rubbed his face into the worn pillow. Karen gave his body a clinical once over and covered it with a sheet. Ryan greedily tore into the packet, finding stuffed sandwiches and a couple of apples and a few peppermint candies. He gratefully looked at the woman, whom he had no earthly idea would be so kind to the likes of him and his companion and began to wolf down the food.
"Slow down, mister, or you’ll be no better off than him." Karen said indicating Colin. "Is he ok?" Ryan said through a mouthful of ham and cheese.
"Yes, he’ll be fine, he just needs rest. I’ve put a fresh bandage on his head wound and given him some water to drink. He’s still pretty out of it. Where are you guys heading?" Karen asked innocently enough.
"Birmingham." Ryan answered shortly. He narrowed his eyes at the diminutive woman.
"You’re not much farther from there. Karen said, with a sigh. "Where’d ya’ll come from?"
Ryan didn’t answer for a moment. He looked at Karen and decided to remain brief. He was thankful that his prison issued blue shirt was badly stained enough to cover the numbers on the front. "Wetumpka."
If Karen let loose the fact that she knew of where and what Wetumpka was infamous for, she didn’t betray it in her calm and careful demeanor. She looked at Ryan shrewdly and set about attending to his injuries. The most Ryan had was a painful sunburn to which she applied some aloe mixture. "Why are you doing this?" Ryan asked her.
"Well, it isn’t often we get strangers in these parts, especially not ones coming all the way from…Wetumpka. You looked a little worse for wear when I saw you last night from my room in the back. And then I saw you dragging him off like a sack of potatoes, and I knew he wouldn’t last much longer without attention."
Ryan nodded and winced as the cool aloe touched his face and leaned into the feel of it as it soothed his skin. "Thanks…for this." He said indicating what she had done.
"No problem." Karen replied as she took one last look around the room, and at the man slumped on the bed. She opened the door and stood at the threshold. "Don’t worry. You can lose yourself in a big place like Birmingham. Your secret’s safe with me." She turned and closed the door behind her.
Ryan stood and peered out the window watching as Karen walked back to the main office. His heart pounded in his chest, wondering if he could trust her or not. He was too tired to care at the moment, the weariness and worry finally claiming him. They’d be on the road again soon, but now he needed to sleep. He barely made it to the bed, before crashing down on it beside Colin. The last thing he heard was a muffled sigh before slipping into unconsciousness.
Ryan walked along the darkened streets of lower Manhattan. His ears remained alerted to any sound that was made as he headed toward his destination. He was always on guard. In his line of work you couldn’t be too careful. He had just moved up in line on Morgan’s gang. He had gone from driving the transport trucks, to guarding one of Morgan’s lieutenants. It was a dangerous job indeed. He didn’t care for the fact that he had to bust heads more times than he could count, but he had yet to pull his gun on someone. He preferred to handle things the old fashioned way.
He was on his way home from a dinner gala held by Morgan for a few of his new associates. They had just settled a deal to smuggle more alcohol from Canada across the border and into their territory. This would be a bigger deal than the booze runs in Chicago. Morgan’s rival gang was becoming stronger than ever out there and Morgan had to stay ahead of the game. By doing this, his men would need more protection. Each of his "next in line’s" needed someone they could trust with their lives guarding them at all times, and Morgan saw something special in the tall gangly kid he had taken on sometime back. He had given him the nic-name Legs Flamingo, to which Ryan still honored. He smiled as he walked down the street, remembering the day his boss handed him his new assignment. It meant something, in the eyes of the mob, to have someone’s life put in your hands.
The streets seemed too quiet that evening, Ryan remembered distastefully. He heard the sounds of his heels clicking on the pavement and heard the whistle of the wind in the trees. He heard a skittering behind him and he whirled, only to see a cat running away from an overturned garbage can. The street lights cast pale yellow orbs on sections of the sidewalk. Ryan tugged down on his fedora and continued to walk, picking up his pace. He heard what he thought was a foot-fall and a cough. Looking again, he saw nothing.
He was about a block away from his home when he heard it again. This time more rustling from behind. Ryan’s back stiffened. He knew for sure now that he was being followed. This was the time where your mind raced ahead of itself to come up with a plan to act cool, to stay nonchalant and to determine if this is death calling or just a not so friendly reminder. Ryan eased his hand into his inner coat pocket and released the button on his holster. The unmistakable sound of a gun cocking was heard behind him and he knew that time was up. He turned to face not one man standing behind him but five.
"Say fellas, nice night for a stroll." Ryan said casually not turning his back on the men in front of him.
One of the men grunted and stepped forward. He held a toothpick between his teeth and a revolver in his hand. "Youze Legs?" He said roughly. His pockmarked face had clearly seen better days, Ryan mused. Ryan knew better than to answer the question to his identity right away.
"I said, is youze Legs?" The mug repeated edging closer, his buddies not far behind. Ryan stared hard at the ‘leader’ refusing to answer and kept an eye on the men who were beginning to circle him.
"Ain’t gonna open yer yap, I see." The guy said flicking his toothpick out and coming close to Ryan but still standing a foot shorter than Ryan. "This here’s an informal meeting between us and youze." The guy said motioning his gun to the other guys to approach him from behind.
"What if I ain’t willing to participate." Ryan said backing up against a wall of a building. He didn’t want to have his back toward any of these guys, or anyone sneaking up on him for that matter.
"The way I see’s it, you ain’t got much of a say in the matter." The man said putting the gun up to Ryan’s chin. "Seein’ as Bugs didn’t have much say in it either when you messed up his face."
Ryan’s mind raced to the night in which the bastard was referring to. Bugs was part of Capone’s group. They had sent some men out to have another so-called meeting with some of Morgan’s top guys. Ryan was there to keep order and when order got out of hand, so did he. Unfortunately, Capone’s gang didn’t fare well that evening. "That bastard had it comin’ to him." Ryan said sneering defiantly at the barrel in his face. "And you mean to tell me you’re gonna take the chicken shit way out by rubbin’ me out here in the middle of the night, with that thing? Where’s your guts, asshole?"
"Nah, it ain’t goin down like that." The guy said smiling mischievously. "Like I said, this here’s just an informal gathering, a social call, if you will. Capone he don’t want you dead yet, see. But he does want you to take a message to your boss from him." The other men started advancing on Ryan once again.
Ryan couldn’t think of anything he could possibly do to avoid what happened next. He supposed in a way death would be better than what he was dealt with that night. At first the guys roughed him up by raining blows on his chest and stomach. He doubled over in pain and took every blow, landing punches when he could. Two of the guys grabbed hold of his arms holding him still as another continued to use him as his punching bag…Ryan struggled and fought hard. Curses issued from his mouth as they continued to mess up his face, breaking his nose and busting his lips. The leader of the gang stood off to the side letting his men get their work out. All the noise should have woken someone or alerted the police by now, Ryan thought, but then he regretfully remembered where he was. No one ratted anyone else out down here and this sort of thing happened all the time.
"You fucking bastards, LET ME GO!" Ryan said kicking with his powerful legs and making contact a time or two, earning him more agony. He didn’t see the leader coming up beside him once again. Ryan was gasping for breath and hanging from the arms of the two that were holding him up. He put the barrel of the pistol under Ryan’s chin again and lifted it. "You get the message?" He said coldly.
"Fuck you." Ryan spat blood at him.
"As you wish." The bull said as he proceeded to unzip his pants. Ryan’s eyes gaped open as he saw the man reach inside.
"NO, OH NO!" He cried out as he began to struggle more. The man calmly pulled out his hardened cock. "See’n someone get the shit beat out of him does get me extra excited." He said with a sly smirk. The two guys that were using their fists as meat tenderizers on Ryan now grabbed either side of his pants and yanked down hard. Ryan struggled and almost broke free. He kicked the head guy in the nuts and down he went. This earned him a several more blows across the face and he heard one of his legs snap as one of the bigger guys brought himself down on it.
Ryan screamed out in pain and went down to his knees. "Hey Joey, you want me to 86’em now?" The big guy said over to his boss who was still trying to recover.
"No…" Joey said through gritted teeth. "Capone don’t want that, just fuck him up and leave him."
"My pleasure boss." The big guy said pulling out his thick cock that stank of someone who hadn’t washed in weeks. Without warning he shoved it in Ryan’s face and nearly choked him as it rammed into his throat. Ryan gagged. "Fucking son of a bitch." He said around the dick in his mouth. He tried to move but the pain from his leg caused him to cry out again. He bit down then hard. The big guy with the nasty dick screamed out and slammed Ryan’s head against the brick, nearly knocking him unconscious.
"Get that bastard outta here." Joey said after regaining his footing. The last thing Ryan remembered was being hauled down a dark alley and being forced face first onto a pile of wooden crates. ‘Never turn your back on them.’ He thought again as he felt the first intrusion into his tight unwilling flesh. He screamed over and over.
Ryan shot up in bed. He let out a piercing scream that nearly shattered the glass in the dirty hotel room. Remembering where he was, he brought the palms of his hands to his eyes and willed the tears to go away. He would not cry. Colin hearing Ryan’s screams instantly bolted up and fluttered helplessly on the small mattress. He didn’t know where he was, he didn’t remember how he got there and he certainly didn’t recall how he was now in the nude. He looked over at Ryan and saw him sitting there shaking and trembling.
"Ryan…what…where…how?" Was all he could think to say.
Chapter 22
Colin had been enveloped in blackness, darkness surrounding him and he was fighting hard, trying hard to re-surface to come back to reality. He had no dreams, only the vague memories of escaping, of being a free man, of pain, of fear of relief. He resisted the siren sweet call of death, pulling at him lulling him away before he had a chance to live one day, to taste the bittersweet memories of a freedom he had so foolishly squandered in a past he never wanted to return to.
The sound of Ryan’s scream was enough to shake him from his unconscious state. The unfamiliar surroundings caused a major panic attack to settle into his heart. Blurrily blinking, he didn’t see the bars, didn’t feel the familiar mattress springs of his worn-out cot poking him in the back and for a brief moment didn’t reach out his hand to grasp an accustomed hand of an old friend long gone.
He shot up and fluttered his arms around trying to ward off whatever may have decided to attack him in his defenseless state. There was enough light in the room to see the foreign furniture, the open non-confining space and the agitated body beside him. The sunlight was doing its best to seep in around the corners of the blinds, but it was dark enough to give Colin pause for a moment. ‘Who was this?’ ‘Why am I here with him naked in this bed?’ Then memories of the last days flooded his brain instantly, almost overwhelming him. They pounded their way into his already throbbing head.
"Ryan…what…where…how?" Was all he could think to say.
Ryan brought his hands down from his face, after vigorously trying to scrub the images from his mind once again. He looked over at the shaking form beside him on the bed. He looked into the eyes of confusion. His hair sleep mussed and lips trembling, his pale furred chest rising and falling quickly, Colin looked helplessly to Ryan for some kind of answers.
Ryan placed a warm, comforting hand on Colin’s bare shoulder and simply said. "Welcome back." He smiled at Colin a reassuring smile, putting off his own fear for the moment. It had after all, just been another dream. He was much more concerned for Colin’s well being.
Colin looked back at Ryan and shook his head, disbelieving. He put a palm to his forehead and gingerly fingered the wrapping of his wound. Ryan’s hand remained on his shoulder, the heat of his skin searing him, and warming him. Ryan looked so pained and lost at the moment. This was far from the man of self-confidence and courage he had come to know and fall in love with. Colin looked into Ryan’s eyes for a long time, before Ryan pulled away, breaking the connection. Ryan brought his knees up to his chest and rested his elbows on them, hands in his hair, lost in thought, unsure of what to do next.
Colin touched Ryan’s shoulder tentatively, and with that slight brush of his fingertips turning the man to him, was enough for Ryan to break and grab Colin forcefully holding him close to his body. He held on for dear life trying to block out the pain, block out the fear and trying to soak up every inch of calm and quiet strength he could get from the man in his arms. Colin gasped at the sudden rush of emotions for one hesitating second before giving as well as he was getting. He held Ryan pressing his face into the hollow of his neck stroking the nape, his fingers curling through his hair.
They sat there rocking one another, crying and laughing. Happy to be here, happy to be free, unhappy at what the cost of freedom was, wondering if they would ever truly be free. Ryan’s hands roamed the smooth planes of Colin’s back. He reveled in the feel of the soft, silken skin. He didn’t want to let go. He brushed his nose against Colin’s neck and breathed him in. He was so relieved that Colin had pulled through he gave little thought to the man’s comfort as he pulled him even closer. Colin resituated himself on the bed to pull Ryan closer to him and the sheet slipped from his lap.
Ryan had completely forgotten that Colin had been left naked after Karen’s departure. He stopped breathing, his hands ceasing their movements along Colin’s back. He let his eyes travel down past Colin’s navel, to the curve of his bare hip brushing against the denim of Ryan’s jeans. His forehead was resting on Colin’s shoulder affording him a nice view of what Colin’s hip barely shielded.
Colin’s hands trembled on Ryan’s shoulders. He had had his eyes closed just feeling, just being in the sensations of Ryan’s comfort, Ryan’s touch, that he lost all thoughts of what or how his body might betray him. He hadn’t even felt Ryan’s lips on his skin, before he knew he was responding in a way that with past experiences he knew Ryan might not be comfortable with. He was hard with need and desire. He opened his eyes and looked down at the top of Ryan’s head, fear again gripping his heart when Ryan refused to move.
Ryan exhaled, his warm breath sending heady sensations throughout Colin’s body. Colin continued to let him look, but did not move. Ryan’s hands were on fire. Hot and perspiring against Colin’s back, clearly unsure of what to do next. One hot hand trailed down his back slowly, hesitantly, coming to rest on Colin’s exposed hip. Colin crooked an index finger under Ryan’s chin and brought him up to look into his eyes.
"We don’t have to do this." He said his lips inches away from Ryan’s. Ryan looked at him spellbound. His green eyes half –lidded looking into Colin’s deep brown depths.
"I don’t want to be afraid anymore." Ryan said looking down, studying Colin’s full, pouting lips wanting to trace a finger over them, needing to feel them once again. "I’m tired of bein’ scared and I’m tired of allowing what happened to me get in the way of what will happen to us." He rubbed his nose alongside Colin’s and Colin’s head swam again, dizzy from his touch.
"Ryan…" He breathed.
"You’re somethin’ special to me. You always have been since that first day I saw you, squinting up at me in the sunlight. I knew that we had a connection then just as sure as I know it now. I don’t want to give that up or lose it, Col. I’m so glad that I’m here with you now. Just please, don’t let me fall."
Colin closed his eyes to the words and sighed deeply. All of his life he catered to the needs of others. To Richard, and even to Greg, he had been the follower. He had done what they said was best for him. He had lived how they wanted him to. No one had ever put their life in his hands. He was over come with a deep and strong love that he felt achingly in his heart. He looked in Ryan’s eyes once more for confirmation, and seeing nothing but the same love shining through, smiled, a true genuine, full of love smile, and gave his heart completely.
"Kiss me." He whispered desperately to Ryan not wanting to waste another second without his touch.
Ryan returned Colin’s smile with as much warmth, and pressed his lips to Colin’s, his head reeling with the sweet taste of his lips on his own. He brought his hands back up around Colin’s back and urged him deeper into his kiss.
"Ryan…" Colin said louder against Ryan’s mouth. He brought his hands up to Ryan’s head running his fingers through the silken locks, pulling him closer needing inside.
"Colin…you taste so…" Ryan said a loss for words. He kissed his way down Colin’s chin and neck needing to taste every inch, needing to feel. He touched Colin’s face and laughed against his mouth. Ryan was happy. He was finally home.
Colin reached down and tugged Ryan’s shirt lifting it over his head needing to feel Ryan’s skin on his own. He was desperate for it. Ryan allowed him to take it off momentarily disconnecting themselves. They felt the loss instantly. Barely tugging the shirt from his head, Ryan hurriedly reattached himself to Colin’s clavicle working his way down his bruised chest. He paid special attention to the angry purple and red marks kissing them gently and reverently. A well fought battle, that was to be respected, Ryan gingerly touched a spot here and there slowing down his movements and driving Colin desperate with want.
"Ryan…don’t stop, please." Colin begged, kissing the top of his head, his forehead and running his hands down Ryan’s bare shoulder. At these words, Ryan melted further and continued his hand exploration further south. He eased Colin back onto the mattress and traveled his hand down Colin’s side to his hip where it strayed once again. Colin moaned.
Ryan was brushing his jeans deliciously alongside Colin’s hip, but Colin was anxious to feel more. It was an exquisite torture and Colin was beyond the need to wait any longer. "Ryan I need to feel you now!" He cried, turning to the side and rubbing himself against Ryan’s jeans. He whimpered and tugged at Ryan’s pants.
Ryan hesitated once more, battling with his mind then and there that he could and would do this with no regrets. He loved this man, wanton and urgent beneath him. Colin lay open and pure before him. He wanted to have him all without looking back. He needed a new story and what better one to write than with the man you love?
Ryan nodded once and quickly undid his pants and brought the zipper down. Colin bit his lower lip, holding back his desire, wanting Ryan to take it at his own pace. He just didn’t know how much longer he could hold back. Ryan tugged down his pants and underwear, his erection springing forth causing a combined gasp when it bumped Colin against his leg. They both laughed at how intense the situation was becoming. Ryan wrapped his arms around Colin and looked at him with adoration. Their bodies were close together and they just spent a few moments basking in the warmth and security.
"God, I love you." Ryan said looking down at Colin who was looking up at him. Colin trailed his fingers down Ryan’s smooth chest causing him to suck in a breath.
"Show me." Colin said with meaning, bringing his hand to Ryan’s hip and pulling it across his own. Ryan’s cock was so hard, but swelled harder as it rubbed up against the waiting firm flesh of Colin’s. Colin threw his head back at the touch and thrust against Ryan almost involuntary. Ryan’s nails dug into the skin of Colin’s shoulders as he moaned out his name. "Colllllin…"
They made love for hours, that day. Kissing and touching and tasting and feeling and kneading and teasing and giving each other everything they had been denied, they were denying themselves. Colin took expert, patient care with Ryan, waiting and encouraging, allowing Ryan to explore his feelings his sensations his desires. They had moments where lights were blinding, flashing behind their eyes in extreme ecstasy, and moments where they just simply focused on the beauty of kissing and the wonder of being in love. Moments so intense they cried together, and moments so passionate they could do nothing but hold on for dear life. Ryan professed his love to Colin a million ways that day and Colin returned each and every one of them with his own professions.
After another dizzying spiral come down, the pair found themselves wrapped snuggly together in each others arms, with the heady pull of sleep tugging at their tired muscles and bodies. Ryan sighed and brushed his nose in the hair along Colin’s temple. He had pulled Colin tightly against him and Colin thought he could get used to this, just nicely. He had eaten and regained his strength and they had even thankfully decided on a shower, with Colin showing Ryan all of the guilty pleasures that could be attained with slippery, wet skin on skin. Water cascading over them both, Colin proved an excellent student as well as teacher.
Colin lightly feathered his fingertips over Ryan’s nipple and watched as it peaked and smoothed under his hand. He was thinking. "Where do we go from here?" He said softly into the darkness. Night had fallen once again, and neither really knew what to do next.
Ryan studied the top of Colin’s balding head and sighed. Colin’s ministrations were starting his body tingling again, and he knew it would only be a matter of a short while before he would claim his body once again for his own. He didn’t think he’d ever get enough of it. But Colin was right. ‘Where do they go now?’ "Well," Ryan said his lips mouthing the words on Colin’s scalp. "That’s really up to us, isn’t it?" Colin looked up at him and smiled serenely. A happy warmth settled over him, as he snuggled into slumber. "We’ve got a new day, a new life and a new chapter in a new book. Let’s write a happy ending to this one and let tomorrow take care of itself."
Colin closed his eyes and drifted into sleep. A small smile played across his lips. He may have been Ryan’s Redemption, but Ryan had saved him in more ways than he would ever know. And for that, Colin could see the pages of a whole new book before him.