“Yeah, it’ll be good to see the wife and kids.”
Shipley glanced around the tiny cubical. “Well, I better go. As I said, we leave within the hour.”
Gunnarson reached out with the only hand he had left and gently took hold of Commander Shipley’s arm. “God's speed. It’s up to you folks on the Douglas now. You have a lot of people to save.”
“I promise you,” Shipley said, her eyes glimmering with tears, “we’ll move that thing, one way or another.”
~~~
One week later
Hector, Madrid and Tacoma had been loitering uncomfortably close to Todd’s bunk for some time. Todd had been pretending to read a book, trying his best to ignore them.
“Aguas,” Hector said, just within Todd’s earshot. “Juan said there’s going to be bust tonight.”
“What should we do?” Madrid asked quietly.
“Juan said, if we get busted he could get us our kits back but we have to use a catcher.”
“Hey, Billie is listening,” Tacoma said, glancing at Todd.
Madrid turned to face Todd. “Bounce Guero!”
Todd wasn’t sure what was being said but he sensed the conversation had just shifted to him.
“Wait a minute,” Hector said.
Todd glanced up and noticed Hector was staring at him.
Hector looked back at Madrid. ”¿Quién es ese vato?”
“No sé,” Madrid said, looking at Todd.
”¿Qué debemos hacer con él?”
“No importa.”
“¿Qué hizo?”
“¿alomejor es un molester del niño,” Tacoma said.
Madrid grinned menacingly at Todd. “Nodie piensa que él es un secuestrador,”
“¿Él secuestró al niño?”
“No, su esposa.”
“¿Qué?”
“No seas menso,” Hector bellowed. “Eso es lo que escucheí!”
“Hey Guero, you a cho Mo?” Hector said, leaning over Todd’s bunk. “Madrid here thinks you are a cho mo. Are you?”
Todd didn’t answer.
“Hey Guero, do you even know what a cho mo is?”
“The Guero don’t even know what a cho mo is,” Madrid echoed, laughing.
Hector leaned down. “cho mo means child molester, Guero. Madrid here says you are a child molester. Are you?”
Again, Todd didn’t answer.
“I guess you don’t got nothin’ to say, huh?”
Truth was, Todd had been trying to avoid Hector since the day he had been transferred into the Correctional Work Center. But avoiding someone locked in the same cubical was all but impossible.
Hector was not overly tall, but he was muscular. Twenty years of hand-fashioned tattoos decorated his dark skin. Todd knew he was captain of a small Hispanic prison gang known as the Northern Mexicans, though no one ever openly spoke of it. Now, Hector was looming over Todd’s bunk like a huge bird of prey. He wore a doo-rag; a blue cloth tightly wrapped over his forehead and tied in an intricate knot at the back of his shaved head.
“Maybe he’s shy,” Tacoma said, flashing a wide grin dominated by a single gold tooth.
Madrid rounded the foot of Todd’s bed. “Maybe he doesn’t like us.”
Todd looked up, trying not to appear terrified. “Uh…it’s just that I…read a lot…I guess.”
“Oh, he reads a lot,” Tacoma said. He had moved up to lean menacingly against a bed across the way from Todd’s bunk.
Hector pulled the book out of Todd’s hands. “Oh, you won’t like this book. I read this book and I don’t think you’re gonna’ like it.” He threw the book at Tacoma.
Tacoma ripped the last twenty pages out of the book and tossed them in the trash can. “No,” he said, “that’s a bad book. You shouldn’t be reading it.”
“Ok,” Todd said, “what do you dudes want?”
Madrid moved closer and sat on Todd’s bunk. “What do we dudes want? What do we want? We want you to be our friend.”
“Yeah,” Tacoma said, “we want you to be our friend.”
“Ok, I’m your friend.”
Hector grinned. “Good, that’s good”.
Madrid sat down on the bed sandwiching Todd between him and Hector.
Hector threw his bulky arm over Todd’s shoulders. “We have a new friend.”
“Oh, you know what though?” Tacoma said, still leaning against the bunk. “How do we know that he is really our friend?”
“Oh yeah, that’s true.” Hector said, looking very serious. “He knows that we are his friends, because we saved him from wasting time reading a bad book, but how do we know that he is our friend?”
Tacoma rubbed his chin. “Yeah, since we did him a favor, when we kept him from wasting time reading a bad book, he needs to do us a favor or else how will we know that he’s really our friend?”
“Yeah, that’s true,” Hector said, thoughtfully.
Madrid’s eyes widened. “Hey, I know what. Let’s let him hold our kits.”
“Good idea,” Hector said. “He can hold the Clavos.”
The three men began piling paraphernalia and small bags filled with multi-colored powder on Todd’s bunk.
“Don’t be smokin’ my bones!” Madrid yelled, throwing an illegal pack of Marlboro cigarettes down.
“Hey,” Todd said, “what--”
Hector stopped what he was doing and stared at Todd. “You want to be our friend don’t you?”
“Well…Yeah…” Todd said, “but--”
“Good,” Hector said. “Take care of our hooch or be ready to catch a square, punk!”
Todd wasn’t sure what that meant but he didn’t like the sound of it.
The three men laughed and banged their fists together.
“Don’t be blazin’ on our kits!” Madrid blared over his shoulder as they slowly moved away.
Todd lay on his bunk for a time, trying to process what had just happened. He realized he had to hide the drugs. Surrounding convicts snickered as he struggled to corral the drugs into the center of his blanket. He looked around for a convenient place to stash them. There was no place to put anything. The only personal items he was allowed were the clothes on his back. Finally, he settled for an open corner under his bunk. He pushed the pile out of sight and lay back on his bed.
“That’s a good place!” one prisoner cackled. “They’ll never find them there!”
Laughter rose from some of the bunks.
“Hey Ding,” another convict hollered from across the room, “time to be plexin’!”
The cell rocked with laughter.
“Ding goin’ do six weeks in the go-slow,” another prisoner hollered, as still more people laughed.
Todd couldn’t imagine what language these people were speaking, but he could clearly see that he was the evening’s entertainment.
All that remained was for the lions to enter the arena.
~~~
“Not since February 7th, 1964, when the Beatles landed at JFK International Airport, has anyone seen anything quite like this,” the stoic news announcer droned. “The historic return of the space Trawler Edmonton attracted unprecedented crowds this morning, here at the Kennedy Space Center in Florida.”
The camera panned the tumultuous crowd of screaming spectators, pressed tightly against a ten foot chain link barrier. Tiny American flags fluttered over their heads as the Trawler glided in for a perfect landing.
The picture quickly changed to a tight close-up of payload commander Elisabeth Jiang’s face. She was being helped from the Trawler by two white-suited medical assistants. They moved her to a waiting wheelchair. She and her shipmates had spent a month in space. It would take some time for them to re-acclimate to earth’s gravity.
Next off was payload specialist Robert Bouchard, who managed to walk to his waiting wheelchair unassisted. Lieutenant Commander Arno Bosley followed. At the end of the line of departing astronauts, Trawler commander John Lee Gunnarson was carried off in a gurney to the thunderous a
pplause of the screaming crowd.
Barney switched off the streaming video on his iPad just as he and Mallory pulled into the underground parking garage.
“I'm getting' sick of all this astronaut business. I wish they'd just move the damn thing and—" He stopped talking and glanced around. "What are we doing here?”
“He wants us to—”
“I know what he wants!” Barney hollered at Mallory. “I mean why did we have to be the ones to come to this God-forsaken little Podunk town! Why didn’t Brother Michael send Pete and his broad?”
“He wants us to—”
“I know what he wants! Shut up and drive! And another thing, why did Brother Michael tell me to let you do the talking? I’m the one with the street smarts!”
Mallory pulled the rental car into a convenient parking stall. The two stepped out and walked into the first national bank.
“You’re supposed to wait here in the lobby for me, muffin,” Mallory said, looking up at Barney.
“I heard him. I was there too remember?”
“I know, but Brother Michael wanted me to be sure you—”
“Just go do what you have to do!” Barney said. “I’ll sit here and read magazines all day long! The important thing is that Brother Michael is happy.”
Mallory smiled and rolled her eyes. “I’ll be back soon, muffin. This shouldn’t take long.”
She turned and walked into the lobby area of the bank. Just before she turned into the hall, she glanced back at Barney. He was still sitting in his seat. She turned again and made her way to a loan officer sitting at her desk. “Would it be possible for me to see the bank manager?”
“Certainly,” the loan officer said. She stood and accompanied Mallory towards a large office located just to the right of the teller booths. He’ll be right with you…Ms.?”
“Mallory Lefler.”
After a short pause, a lanky, middle-aged man appeared at the door sporting a tailored grey suit and navy blue tie. He moved to sit down, caught himself, stood, and pushed his hand towards Mallory. “Nelson- Curtis Nelson and you are Ms. Lefler….Am I correct?”
“Yes, Mr. Nelson. I’m happy to meet you.”
The bank manager sat down heavily in his seat. “How can we help you, Ms. Lefler?”
“I represent the firm of Jeckle and Hydsman—”
“Is this some sort of a joke?” the bank manager said, looking up from his desk.
“I’m sorry, sir, I don’t understand—”
“Jeckle and Hydsman?”
“Yes, sir, I represent—”
“The company you represent is named Jeckle and Hydsman?”
“Uh…yes. Sir, is there a problem?”
“No, no never mind….The name, it’s a little odd, don’t you think? You know, like the guy who turns into a monster…Jeckle and—”
Mallory stared at the bank manager, puzzled.
“Forget it,” the manager said, obviously irritated. “What is it, some sort of law firm?”
“No, sir, an investment group; real estate mostly, based out of London England. I’ll get right to the point, Mr. Nelson. My company is prepared to buy out all of your outstanding and ongoing real estate loans at 5 percent of their present value.”
“Excuse me?” Nelson said snickering. “Is that supposed to be some sort of an offer?”
“My firm is anticipating a significant change in the local market within the next year. We aren’t expecting a response right away.”
“I see,” Nelson said grinning. “I’m afraid there would have to be a very large change in the market for us to be interested in your offer…Armageddon maybe… but we do appreciate you coming in. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some real business to attend to.” Nelson stood curtly and thrust out his hand.
Mallory reached into her case and pulled out a business card. “Give us a call when you’re ready,” she said. “We are prepared to do business at any time and under any circumstance.”
“Yes, well, I’ll certainly keep you in mind.” He put his hand on her back and gently nudged her out the door.
“Remember,” she said turning, “under any circumstances.”
The bank manager winked. “Gotcha.”
She turned back and made her way to Barney, still sitting in the lobby.
“Back already?” he said.
“Yes, muffin, I told you it wouldn’t take long.”
“Yeah, yeah, let’s get out of here! Where we going next?”
Mallory checked her schedule. “Let’s see, next, we go to the…Miramar bank and trust.”
~~~
Todd was still asleep when his feet reflexively hit the floor. The lights were on, and people were screaming. “Get out of bed, convicts! Get up! Get up, you maggots!” Todd squinted against the bright lights. Lieutenant King was moving through the rows, banging a baton against the metal bunk frames as he went. Convicts grumbled as they slowly took up position in front of their bunks. Todd was finally coming around just as Lieutenant King moved by.
“This is an inspection!” he barked. “All convicts will stand at attention at the foot of their bunks! Do not interfere with the officers! Do not interfere with the dog!”
The cell fell silent for a short time. A German shepherd appeared, dragging an officer behind him. He ran, frantically pushing his nose into the bunks and belongings of the inmates. Behind the dog, guards riffled through the convicts’ possessions, throwing them on the floor as they went. The dog searched until it reached the end of the cell, where Todd had been housed. The dog leapt forward, towing the officer behind. He pushed his nose under Todd’s bunk, sat down and began barking.
“We got something Lieutenant.” the officer hollered.
Convicts began snickering as King methodically made his way towards Todd’s bunk. By the time he arrived, eight other officers had joined him. “Let’s take a look-see,” King said. He was staring at Todd and ominously slapping the palm of his hand with his baton.
One of the officers fell to his knees, pushed his way under the bunk and came up laughing. “You’re not gonna’ believe this,” he said, going back under. He returned with a handful of small bags and paraphernalia. The officers broke into laughter.
Lieutenant King managed to keep a straight face as he moved closer to Todd. “We have a bad, bad man here,” he said.
The convicts joined in the laughter.
“Hector!” King yelled, as the laughter lulled, “get over here!”
Again, the cell rocked with laughter.
Hector slowly stirred in front of his bunk. “What!”
“Get over here,” King bellowed.
“Why?”
“You got two seconds to get over here or you’re gonna’ get a tune up, big time!”
“Oh, man!” Hector moaned as he slowly swaggered towards Todd’s bunk. “What you wan’ ?”
“You dropped your dope under this kid’s bed.”
“What?”
“You don’t think we know whose kits these are by now?”
“I never seen this stuff before,” Hector whined.
King turned towards Todd. “We know this isn’t your dope kid. When did Hector give it to you?”
“Hey homey,” Hector wailed, “this ain’t my llello. Don’t be trying to say this is my llello!”
Todd didn’t respond.
“It’s ok, kid,” King said, moving close to Todd. “Hector used you as a mark. We know that. These guys want you to get busted because they have people on the inside. They’re betting they’ll have their kits back before the week is out.”
“Why you always movin’ on me, man?” Hector howled.
Todd still didn’t respond.
King stared at Todd. “But you understand, if you don’t speak up, you’re going down for the dope.”
“This guero is a psycho!" Hector yelled, "If he says this junk is my llello, he’s loco man!”
Still, Todd didn’t respond.
“So you’re saying these drugs are
yours, is that it?” King asked.
“Oh man!” Hector yowled, “he’s a liar—”
“Shut up Hector, you idiot!” King yelled. He stood close to Todd and asked him one more time. “Are these your drugs?”
Todd didn’t answer.
King shrugged and produced a can of mace. Two officers took hold of his arms as King methodically sprayed the Mace into Todd’s face. He took great care, making sure Todd’s eyes and mouth were thoroughly covered. He continued spraying the mace in Todd’s face for a full minute until he collapsed into a gasping, retching heap on the floor.
King finally stopped spraying the mace and the officers yanked Todd up from the floor. Moments later he was being dragged, still retching, down a long corridor. He tried opening his eyes. He wanted desperately to rub them, but the officers had him firmly by the arms. He couldn’t take a breath without coughing, but the feeling of suffocation was finally starting to abate. They came to a stop. Todd could hear the sounds of a metallic lock clanging open. He was tossed into a tiny cell. The door slammed, and he was left alone in total darkness.
~~~
“No, not that door.” The young doctor turned to look at the nurse. “You can’t go in there.” she said.
“I’m supposed to be making rounds on this floor—”
“You’re new here, aren’t you?” the nurse said, impatiently. “You can’t go in there unless you have written permission from the hospital administrator.” She looked the doctor up and down. “That’ll be Dr. Rossetti if you don’t already know.”
“But, I’m the attending physician on this floor.”
“As of when?”
“As of this morning.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
The young doctor glared at the two hundred fifty pound nurse. She shifted uncomfortably where she stood. Her eyes involuntarily diverted from the doctor’s gaze.
The doctor stared at her ominously, then slowly smiled. “Wait here with the key,” he said, turning to make his way down the hall towards the elevator. He stepped on and pushed the first floor button. The elevator door closed, cutting off the big nurse’s curious gaze.
On the first floor the doctor turned to the left and quickly made his way to the administrator’s office. He stepped in and approached the administrator’s secretary. “I’m Dr. Oliver. I need to speak with Dr. Rossetti."
“I’m sorry,” the secretary said. “Dr. Rossetti is busy—”
“Tell him Dr. Oliver is here. He’ll make room for me.”