International

The Man In Black

Dad? A child shrieked in horror. There were rhythmic footsteps from the stairway leading into the loft where she had been sitting, reading a book.

Dad? There was no response as the steps grew closer.

Knowing what her father had always told her about intruders, she was forced to crawl beneath her bed and wait for someone to help.

She kept her eyes on the doorway, nervously watching, hoping, and even praying that the person wouldn’t see her in the yellow lamp light that peered beneath the bed. She wondered why she had been so stupid as to not turn the light off.

She never got a clear view of the man that had broken in, but she saw the remains of the dog, the same one her father had gotten for her on her sixth birthday. The dog was hurled against the carpet, shattering bones throughout its already frail body. The fur of the animal was soaked in fresh splatters of blood, and it looked as if large chunks of flesh and fat had been literally torn from the sides of the animal, leaving haphazard strips of exposed bone surrounding smaller pieces of still attached fur. The only part of the man she could focus on was a pair of big black boots.

Once she heard the footsteps slowly march down the steps and she had waited for what seemed like hours, she finally felt like she could move past the dead dog’s body.

Chapter 1: Andrew Jackson State Prison

His fist smacked into my jaw, sending gushes of blood out from my lips. I lunged at the man, only for him to shove me back into the blisteringly warm concrete.

***

The man played the tape again; this time stopping and asking questions like: What kind of drugs were you on?

I sat back in the chair, stretched my arms, and then sighed at him in response.

Sir, I cannot tell you enough that there were no drugs. I promise I didn’t do anything!

Then explain what you did. I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me there were no drugs.

Explain how you found no drugs on me, I lazily countered back.

Mr. Radford, just because we didn’t find anything on you, doesn’t mean you didn’t dump it.

It doesn’t matter what you think I did. I don’t really understand why you’re so insistent on proving I was on drugs; I wasn’t!

I’m sorry, but that is the way it looks. All the evidence skips around from person to person, but the description matches you, the defense lawyer said. The man seemed like he was barely interested in talking to me, like he knew what I had done and there were a thousand more interesting things he could be doing.

Need I remind you, you stumbled around and disturbed the hell out of locals. I don’t care if you don’t remember; in all honesty, I know- no, we know you still committed the crime! Everything points to you, dozens of witnesses are saying you did it.

Apparently, I had gone camping by myself in the Rockies, while my girlfriend had decided to stay at our small house and take care of our child. I had left the campgrounds, gone on a wild rampage and broken into multiple buildings. I had broken into houses, killed several dogs, and stolen some property. I was sentenced to sixty years in prison, even though I had never committed the crime. The police had shown up to my workplace one day, and then taken me to one of many Police Stations scattered around L.A.. They ignored that no one remembered me going camping, and they ignored my completely clean record. I was eventually found guilty in front of a judge and jury, then sentenced to sixty full years in prison with parole.

The year was 1971. I had lived and grown up in the city of Los Angeles. I was only 25 years old, and had worked as a construction worker until I had been arrested. Before my imprisonment, I was never that unique of a person. I had a child at age 24, with my girlfriend, Lydia Fletcher. Lydia was truly gorgeous, but besides the fact she had a beautiful body, she was a genius; much smarter than I was. She was a writer, deep thinker, and above all she was far ahead of her time. For some reason, she always wanted to travel somewhere, despite our relatively small income. Unlike me, she didn’t live just to put food on the table, but she lived life as if it were an adventure. We were almost complete opposites, but even still, I had fallen in love with this woman.

Our child was a little older than 6 months old, and her name was Autumn Ruth. Her eyes were blue, just like her mother’s.

I guess that’s how my story began: a random series of events that landed me into a prison. There I was, sitting in a prison with serial killers, rapists, thieves, and tons of people who were nothing like me, people who had done much worse, yet my life was withering away before me. I had left my family alone and they would suffer with no steady source of income. I was torn from my regular life, then immediately thrown into the chaotic routine of life in prison. I expected to live out my days there until I was an old man, and my unfortunate fate seemed certain, until something strange happened.

I remember walking out into the courtyard that day; it was my twentieth day of being there. I hadn’t made many friends because naturally I wasn’t extremely talkative. I could’ve been made uncomfortable easy, especially around people I didn’t know or didn’t have anything in common with, and I could’ve been called a stiff in many cases.

I walked out into the courtyard, and it felt like the past 19 times I had repeated the same boring routine. Each time had been seemingly normal, besides the occasional inmate giving me a hostile look. I got up every morning, had breakfast in the mess hall, two hours later we had lunch, then at about 1:30, the inmates were allowed to escape for some sunlight for a good hour and thirty minutes. Every day, we would stumble around like newborns seeing daylight for the first time: that day in particular was an especially sunny day. Either way, regardless of where they came from or what they looked like, everyone was exactly the same when they let us go outside. We savoured those precious moments of daylight.

Everyone looked the same to me, besides their faces and hair. Every single person wore jumpsuits with numbers on the back; below the numbers were the words "Andrew Jackson State Prison."  All the prison jumpsuits were identical except for a select few that had light green jumpsuits that signaled they were trustees; however, it was still rather difficult to identify people. In a strange way, equality existed. Yes, there were racists and the likes, but there wasn’t much opportunity for any long lasting feuds to make progress within the walls.

This was why it felt odd when a group of three men began to eye me. The first male had a thick bushy mustache that was rounded on the edges. His hair was slicked back with what I assumed was oil or some kind of gel. The second man stood next to him, holding a deck of playing cards in his hands. He had on a blue cap that matched his uniform. This man’s face and head were shaved, which made him a clone of nearly every other inmate in the entire prison. The last was probably the biggest man I have ever seen in my entire life; he had a bald head, biceps that looked impossibly huge, hands that looked like they could crush my skull if he so much as tapped me with his pinky, and to top it off, he was almost a foot and a half taller than me. He was truly a giant of a man. They all occasionally glanced at me as I walked around slowly on the edges of the courtyard.

I occasionally caught a glimpse of the three men staring at me, but I kept on about my hour of freedom. Towards the end of the hour, I suddenly felt a rough hand slam against my back, then shove me forward.

I shouted and waved my hands around in a lousy attempt to defend myself. After regaining my wits, I saw that the biggest of the three men had snuck up behind me and shoved me.

The one with the porno stache chuckled at my reaction. He was the first to open his mouth and snarl at me.

Hey, fresh meat here! he called out, and a few people looked up at us. It didn’t sound good; I prayed it meant that I was new; maybe it was some kind of welcoming.

You gonna talk to me? he badgered at me. I looked back at him in the eyes with a cold stare.

Looks like new blood here is a bit of a queer, he-he. What’s your name, queer? he kept on, while his cronies remained silent.

Name’s Warner, I got a girl, better than you could get, I said. The words stung my mouth as I spat them out. I was not in any position to insult them. The porno mustache guy didn’t laugh again; instead, he shot me an angry look.

Your girl spends too much time sucking me off and not enough time talking to you, that why you a queer?

I felt fury rushing through my veins.

I think you were drinking too much, then you mistook the dumb ass with that stupid hat- I said, pointing to the guy with the hat, for her. I knew that my comebacks were lame, but I wasn’t going to win any fights by being silent.

The bigger guy came closer and shoved his finger into my chest.

You ain’t gonna last too long here, huh fagner? His voice was incredibly deep. I normally would have laughed at how stupid the insult was, but I didn’t like being made fun of like that.

The guy with the hat chimed in, Hell, I dunno, I think he could last longer than his whore-girlfriend did with us, he said with a smile and a wink. Their humor was typical for prisoners, stupid, contradictory, homophobic, sexual, and above all, annoying.

Maybe he’ll do what she did for us. C’mon Fagner, give me a little rub down, he decided to add. I decided I had enough of it, then out of haste, I walked close to the man with the hat and punched him in the face as hard as I could. Blood quickly splattered out of his nose. He stumbled back, holding his nose in pain. I had stunned him, but my success would mean nothing but failure in a few seconds. I could hear several prisoners cheering from behind us and beginning to form a circle to watch the unfolding fight. The big guy raised his right arm up, then slammed the side of my head with his oversized fist. I sauntered back; an incredible pain ripped through my head, primarily in my nose. If only I had just kept my mouth shut. I was stunned at how hard he could punch; my face hurt like hell. It felt like it was burning all over.

The big guy shoved me down onto the warm concrete ground of the prison. He raised his fist back and knelt down for another punch, when he quickly was torn from where he was standing and then pulled away from me by one of the prison guards.

He screamed something back at the prison, then there was a loud whistle that broke the circle of prisoners. The fight was over and we all were in trouble. Several more guards ran around me, screaming at people to move. Others blew whistles while they tended to the two other members of the gang. All of the other prisoners were quickly guided towards the doors leading inside. It was the first prison fight I had seen, at least with my own eyes. Unfortunately, I was in it, and had started it. The majority of the guards went back inside to guide the prisoners back to their cells, while the guard who had pulled the big guy off of me stood at my feet.  I was lying on the ground, still wincing from the pain in my knuckles and face.

You know, I am supposed to beat the shit out of you right now, right?

Seems customary, I replied.

He chuckled.

I’m gonna cut you some slack. I saw what happened, you just defended yourself. Go up to the infirmary; nobody will care that you rest for a night in there. I’ll leave the doctor a note tonight. When he gets back tomorrow, he’ll see it and you’ll be fine. Why was he letting me go without doing anything, was there something waiting for me in the infirmary? He was being nice to me; no one in court had done that. Most people saw me as a young, irresponsible, asshole father who liked drugs too much.

Why?

Why, what, son? he asked.

Why are you letting me go?

I like you. You’re funny, the hell if I know. I don’t really think what just happened was completely your fault, and same with the court case, but the law is the law, I’m afraid, he explained.

Finally! Someone finally understood, I was one lucky sonofabitch. I sighed with relief. Maybe things would turn out right for me.

Now quit staring and get out of here! I won’t do this next time, he said, then pointed at the prison with a stiff arm.

Hurry up, maggot! he roared, trying to put on a show for the other guards watching. I walked through the doors, then made my way to the infirmary.

Chapter 2. The Watering Hole

I walked up to the infirmary as fast as I could. Two prison guards escorted me, batons in their hands. My face ached where I had been punched. I held my hand to my nose; a lot of the men scurrying back to the cells looked at me like I was a sissy. Maybe the guard wasn’t trying to help me, he actually was just going to make me look like an easy target to the other prisoners, then he could beat me up the next time a fight was started. An incredible worry overtook my mind, and sweat began to pour down from my face. It was going to be a long sixty years. I had no idea how I would make it. I could almost picture myself as an old man, still getting beaten up daily. That was how I would die, I knew it.

It was getting late in the day, the sun was going to set in the next few hours. All I knew was that at least I could put my troubles away for a few hours and just sleep my problems off. Sleep was starting to sound pretty appealing to me.

I walked into the infirmary. It seemed mainly empty, besides two guards talking. They both looked out the window and into to the cloudless sky. The afternoon sun lit up their faces. They were too caught up in their conversation to even notice me when I walked in. I heard one of them as I walked past them, -tell them to meet me at the watering hole. What did that mean?

You’re telling me you guys come off in here? one replied nervously.

Every week, no one ever checks, the other said. What were they doing, beating up prisoners?

The room had several dozen medical beds lining the walls. These beds were on the right and left sides of the room, leaving the center of the room completely bare. Above the beds were large windows that let sunlight fill the room. They were too high above the ground to see anything but the clear blue sky, which seemed so endless and wonderful, despite my situation. At the other end of the room there were several medical curtains stretching the width of the room. I slowly made my way through the curtains, to see several more beds lined up against the wall, then a door with a sign above it that read, Laundry.

I assumed the curtains were there to block out the sunlight; that way, more exhausted patients could sleep easier. A guy with glasses was lying on one of the beds. He had casts on both of his legs. They looked tight and uncomfortable. He looked up and made a pained face.

You look new here, what happened?

Got the shit beat out of me, I said.

That’ll happen, he said with a chuckle, My name's Sully, I’m the only friend you got in here, that over there’s Donnie, he said, pointing to a bald man with a thin and wiry beard that traveled down his chest. The man named Donnie looked up at me; he also looked fairly battered.

He don’t talk much.

I climbed into a bed, then closed my eyes; sleep took me at a surprisingly quick rate.

Hey, new guy! Want to know how I knew you were new? I heard Sully call over to me. The red light of sunset shined over the medical curtains. Hey, new guy! He called again. I felt like he would be annoying; that geeky kid at school no one liked. His voice sounded a lot like it.

Hey, new guy! I didn’t really care, so I pretended I was still asleep.

Hey, new- he was interrupted by a scream from Donnie.

Shut up, Sully! Then Donny chucked his pillow over at Sully’s bed with a roar. I began to understand why Sully was in the infirmary. Needless to say, Sully didn’t ask me how he knew I was new again. I fell back asleep to the sound of prison guards walking into the room.

When I awoke, I found that a candle had been lit on the other side of the curtains, and it was dark outside. The laughter continued, followed by jumbled conversation. I heard some liquid pouring into a glass.

Pass it over! a rough voice called with a laugh. They had to be prison guards, and they were drunk. That was what they meant by calling it the watering hole. Nobody would ever stop them; the prisoners were too scared, and all the guards were taking part in this. It was the perfect idea for them. Sully was passed out on his bed. He sure was a heavy sleeper, as the noise that guards were making didn’t even bother him.

Suddenly, a cold hand slapped itself over my mouth. Someone quietly hushed me, then yanked me off the bed and onto the tiled floor. I thought it was one of the guards wanting to fool around with me; I feared one just happened to be gay.

I looked down and saw Donnie on the ground, trying to keep me from screaming. It didn’t help that he was the one holding me down. The guards were all drunk and weren’t paying attention. Maybe I was somewhat homophobic, or just scared of rape.

Calm, he whispered, Wanna make a break for it through the chute?

The what? I asked, still trying to wake up.

The laundry chute! It runs down to the first floor, he replied eagerly. I was only twenty days into my sentence and already I had a chance to escape. The thoughts of escape had seldom even crossed my mind.

I nodded, then he slowly climbed away from me. He ducked and cautiously slithered to the open door, making sure not to even make the faintest of sounds. He motioned at me to follow him through the door.

Keep quiet. You can never be too quiet. You learn that in life. Take my advice when you get out. I nodded and kept walking. There were no machines, just about twenty laundry bins stacked in the room next to an open laundry chute. It was massive, and it resembled a big slide leading about fifteen feet down to the laundry room.

Slowly, but surely, he whispered, Been in this hell hole for two years! I’m getting the hell out!

He put his legs over the edge, then slid down the chute. It all felt so surreal; this had to be a dream, because I mean, no one escapes from prison that easy, right?

You coming or what? he growled up at me. He had a point, as we had to move before someone heard us. I shoved my legs over the edge, which in turn quickly rushed me down the metal chute and landed me on a huge pile of laundry.

Surprisingly, the landing was comfortable. We were in a large room with dozens of laundry machines, even more dryers, and two gigantic piles of clothes. One pile was clean, while the other was dirty. I had unfortunately landed on the dirty pile. Beside the dirty pile was a very large stack of steel laundry bins that matched the ones at the top. A door was on the left side of the pile, standing several feet away from where I was. Above some of the machines were small windows. A look at Donnie told me that this was our escape route. Donnie picked up one bin, then held it in the air.

You first, man. Shit I don’t even know your name-

Warner, I interjected, then I climbed on top of one of laundry machines and waited. Had he not heard me when I was talking to Sully? Then again, it was hard to not shut Sully and anything to do with him out.

Right, be ready to run, he said bravely. With that, he picked up the laundry bin, then chucked it as hard as he could at the window. The glass shattered on impact, and the bin soared through the newly opened space and landed on the ground outside. As soon as the glass shattered and joined the bin on the other side of the wall, a massive siren erupted through the prison with an ear piercing volume. Seconds later, I heard the sound of prison guards screaming. It was game time; we would either escape, or we would die trying. I dove out the window and onto the grass, where I was forced to take in my surroundings and sprint as fast as I could.

There was a stretch of grassy farmland outside of the prison. Several cows were lying on the ground, sleeping in the grass. After about two hundred feet of this, there was a fence, and then the land curved upwards, forming a large slope that made up a hill. I could make out cars moving at the top, which meant there had to be a road. A thick treeline was on the other side of the road, and behind me loomed the massive state prison. A couple hundred feet was all it was going to take for freedom.

Bright spotlights suddenly turned on from the behind me, illuminating the entire field. The sirens blazed, guards yelled, and I could hear packs of dogs barking and yelping at the excitement. I quickly started to sprint. I was used to running, as I ran every morning before I went to my job, which I biked to, only because the city of Los Angeles was two miles away from where I lived. I could say I was in pretty good shape.

Within about forty seconds I reached the fence post and climbed over it. I cannot say the same for Donnie, who had been in prison for much longer than I had. His health had gradually deteriorated, which put him about halfway there, and he already looked to be panting hard. I didn’t think he would make it. A quick glance behind me told me that there were dozens of guards sprinting through the field, and all of them seemed to be focused on Donnie.

A few guards blew whistles, the sirens from the prison echoed across the field, and all the sleeping cows began to stand up and slowly scatter away from the chaos.

I began climbing up the hill and looked back at Donnie, who had a cop on his trail. Out of nowhere, a guard ran from his left and tackled him to the ground. It was brutal: his head smacked into the grass, and the guard jammed a handgun in front of Donnie’s head. He cried out a shriek of pain, sadness, and pure embarrassment. He screamed in anguish as more guards ran past him and after me. I winced at this, but I was forced to keep moving. My friend wasn’t going to escape with me, and stopping wouldn’t help either of us.

I got onto the two laned road and turned to run down it, just as police sirens began to zoom in from the distance. They must have been sending the entire police force after me! I was so worried. How would I get away from them? What would happen if they caught me? I kept running, until I was panting and soaked with sweat.

Luckily, by then, the police sirens were scattered behind me, but I wasn’t taking any chances; I ran off of the road and into the trees. I moved about twenty feet away from the road, just praying I would have enough time to hide behind a tree or something. I kept the road in sight, then I laid with my stomach against the ground in an attempt to hide myself in the dark.

Within ten seconds of me lying down, several police cars loudly zoomed down the road. My heart was beating like an earthquake in my chest; it felt like my entire body was throbbing. Soon the sirens faded, my heart began to settle down, and the sun began to rise in the distance. When I could no longer hear sirens, I got up and started to run through the woods.

We owned a small house off the side of the road about thirty minutes of walking from the prison. My job, and Lydia’s writing, while unreliable, paid for a very small house, with only one bed and one bathroom. It was enough for us, and it only cost about 12,500 dollars; in today’s money, that would obviously be a lot more. We fed ourselves and our child pretty easily. I got a job as a construction worker at age 18, then I worked and lived in my parents’ house for three years. I eventually moved out, met my girlfriend, and then I bought a house. Since then, we had spent most of our money fixing up the house and making renovations. I never had the money to get