|main menu | youngsters categories | authors | new stories | search | links | settings | author tools|
|Cellmates (standard:adventure, 3682 words)|
|Author: bonetone1957||Added: Apr 22 2003||Views/Reads: 2265/1391||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|A rookie inmate makes a deal to survive in the penitentiary|
CELLMATES Even at two in the morning the cellblock in a maximum security penitentiary was never completely devoid of noise. The main lights were extinguished, the televisions and radios shut off, and the order for silence about the cellblock has been blared over the intercom. But it was never completely silent. You could still hear the graveyard shift guard with his radio turned down low as he paced up and down the row, the toilets flushing, tormented men crying out in their sleep, jacking off, coughing, sneezing, farting, sobbing. Then there was the occasional cry of pain and anguish as an inmate decided to take himself out by slashing his wrists with a homemade shank but then couldn't handle the pain of what he had just done to himself or the fear of what was yet to come. Some nights, like tonight, you heard an inmate, almost always a fish, scream out “Mommy.” For some reason when a fish, fresh from the street, got turned out for the first time, he often called out for his “Mommy.” Thad Jensen had heard grown men scream that out probably close to a hundred times since he had been locked down for his fifteen years. Fifteen years today since it was past midnight already. Today was the day. He be getting his walking papers in about a dozen hours. No parole guidelines for him to follow, he had done his whole bit. From an early age the locals always said that he was a bully. A bad kid. A no good punk destined to go nowhere but jail or the cemetery. The locals had been right. He was just seventeen years old the night he committed the crime that got him sent up. Already drunk one Friday night on the old man‘s vodka, he had walked into a convenience store and tried to waltz out with a twelve pack of beer. The clerk, a pensioner in his sixties, had chased Thad into the parking lot, where Thad who was big for his age, had broken the clerk's nose and jaw with a series of brutal punches. After a witness called in the crime, a high speed chase ensued which ended with Thad face down on the pavement and his hands cuffed behind him, his parent's car totaled against a telephone pole. He was tried as an adult and was given a sentence of fifteen years but would be eligible for parole in four if he behaved while serving his sentence. He had no reaction to the sentence. He showed no remorse. And he sure as shit didn't behave while serving his sentence. Because of his age he was sent to the St. Cloud Reformatory where he learned that since he was white he was now a minority . He was quickly recruited by an Aryan prison gang, and because of his size, which would become greatly enhanced by hours spent on the weight pile, he became a valuable enforcer. Young naïve Thad bought the wannabe Nazi's bullshit rhetoric hook, line, and sinker, and soon he was sporting a swastika on his chest and carrying around a bootleg copy of Mein Kampf, even though he didn't understand a fucking word of it. It didn't take him long before he began to build a thick jacket with the prison administration. He was written up numerous times for assault, possession of narcotics and weapons, disrespect to officers, and dozens of other infractions. The day he reached his twenty first birthday, rather than being released on parole, he was shackled and transferred to the penitentiary at Stillwater where he was greeted with open arms by his fellow comrades. Stillwater Penitentiary was the turf of the white prison gangs. Thad was finally at home. And that's where twelve years later Thad Jensen found himself. On his final night in the joint he laid in his bunk and mentally reviewed his personal resume. He had survived dozens of prison gang wars and uprisings. He had been stabbed. He had been shot (barely grazed but still shot) by a tower guard during a riot. He had been gassed and maced. He had spent months in the hole without letting the assholes break him. He was a high ranking lieutenant with the Aryans. And now he had fulfilled the terms of his sentence without the benefit of parole. He would walk out the gates a free man. He was also thirty-three years old, had no home to go to, no family to speak of since they had all disowned him over the years, had the education of a mentally challenged fifth grader, and no idea what life outside these walls held for him. His counselor had managed to find him a room at a shelter upon his release along with a job at a aluminum can recycling plant. The job started at minimum wage. Thad heard his cellmate stir in the bunk underneath him. “Sounds like someone is getting it tonight.” “Yea, it's Tuesday. Fresh meat always gets brought in on Tuesdays.” “I didn't. They brought me in on a weekend.” replied his cellmate. “Well, you're a whole different fucking matter all together. You're one of those high profile cases.” His cellmate was indeed high profile and more. He possessed what inmates called a “freak” jacket. Timothy Logan had been a twenty-six year old mortuary sciences student who had been picked up for raping and killing a sixteen year old girl who was on her way home from a high school basketball game. What the police found when they tossed his apartment brought him semi-national attention. Timothy had Click here to read the rest of this story (209 more lines)
Authors appreciate feedback!
Please write to the authors to tell them what you liked or didn't like about the story!
bonetone1957 has 1 active stories on this site.
Profile for bonetone1957, incl. all stories