One Life Too Many
Set before Miguel got sent to the hole and Beecher had his little accident.
Augustus: What makes a person crazy? I mean in a world as fucked up as this one, how can you even tell who's sane and who isn't? Is it enough to hear voices in your head? Or to believe that the government put radio signals in your teeth so they could communicate with you where ever you went? Or do you have to go postal on somebody, first? Mailmen had the right idea. Take out the world, before it tries to take out you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The gates of Emerald City open and an intense, but sullen young man with long brown hair, and handsome features walks through. His beard and mustache are short and neatly trimmed, carefully framing his mouth. He's lanky, but well-muscled, long-sleeved t-shirt and almost colorless pants cling to, and excentuate, every masculine curve. His hazel eyes are fixed forward, seeing nothing and everything all at once. On first glance they look listless, dead, but a closer look reveals flecks of vitality, an animal cunning...and a pain so deep, it isn't easily concealed. Followed by Hill who carries his things for him on his lap, he walks slowly through Em City, seeming to be not quite aware of where he was. All the inmates stare at him, checking out the new guy, wondering if he's prag material.
"Look at that," Alvarez points out with a contemptuous grin, as he deals another hand of cards, "Another pretty motherfucker."
"Not so pretty," one of the latinos says, "Lookit that scar. That should remind you of something, huh, Alvarez?"
Miguel looks more closely at the man. He has a long, thin scar running down his right cheek, much like Alvarez', only his was more prominent, more insistent that it be noticed.
"Holy shit, look at that." Alvarez, breathed.
"It's a sign, Miguel," his friend says, "You guys are soul mates."
"Shut the fuck up," he says, but he isn't angry. He intends to get to know this guy and find out who or what put the scar on his face.
"You're over here, man," Hill says, "With me."
"Okay."
The man follows him into his pod, where Augustus hands him his things and points to the top bunk. "That one's yours, for obvious reasons."
The man only nodded.
"Not much of a talker are you?"
He shrugged. "Just not in the mood right now, I guess. Under the circumstances..."
"Yeah, I hear you. So...what are you in for?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Augustus: "Prisoner # 95G078, Thomas Todd Manning,
"Todd, stood in a room full of frightened-looking people with several sticks of dynamite stuck to his chest. His clothes were disheveled and he was sweating profusely, making his long brown hair hang at his shoulders in lank strings. His right arm had a bandage wrapped around it, on the meaty part below the shoulder, and blood was starting to seep through. In one of his hands he held the detonator for the bomb. In the other, was the knife used to slice his arm, by one of the captives, his cousin, Kevin Buchanan.
"convicted, October 23, 1998, 14 counts of kidnapping,
The people in the room were staring nervously at him, wondering when he was going to crack, and if they would survive this hellacious night. They all watched him with fear, but most of them mingled it with contempt. It's always Todd. He's crazy. They always knew he was capable of anything, including murder. Sure, he committed rape, of course he would blow them all to pieces too. Why not?
Only two people, his sister Viki, and his wife, Tea, mixed their fear with concern. For him.
"terrorism and attempted murder,
Todd paced the floor like a caged animal. It was hot and he couldn't take much more of this whole situation. He would make them speak. Someone committed the crime they were trying to pin on him and he chose that way to find out who it was. Let them fear for their lives. Let them think he was going to send them all to hell. Then the person would confess. The one who killed Georgie Phillips and tried to frame him for it would speak up. But they wouldn't. All they were doing was lying to him. He stood in front of the fireplace, feeling like he would explode.
"I'm losing my patience!" he screamed.
"sentence 350 years, up for parole in 190.
He told Tea a secret, that the dynamite was fake. He trusted her. She would keep his secret. Kevin Buchanan, as if he hadn't done enough damage, emerged from the cellar where Todd locked him up for safe keeping. He had a gun. Where did that come from? He hated Todd. He was more than willing to shoot him in cold blood. To protect his family, he would say. For revenge, Todd knew was the truth.
"No!" Tea screamed. "The dynamite is fake!"
Todd stared at her, then let out a laugh ripe with resignation. "Chicks," he sighed.
The jig was up. It was all over. He was going to prison. Hey, maybe he would get time off for good behavior.
Augustus (laughing): "Yeah right."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Todd starts to put his things away and straightens out his bunk. Hill watches him silently, trying to figure out what was going on in his podmate's head. There's something about him, the look in his eyes, the way he cocks his head maybe, that was a little bit off. That doesn't stop him from liking the brooding young man, though. He does, almost immediately.
"So, 350 years, huh? How the fuck did you get a sentence like that? That's the longest damn stretch I ever heard of."
Todd shrugged. "The D.A. doesn't like me. I'm the one who pointed out that his precious little girl, Rachel, is the one who murdered Georgie Phillips. You know, when they read the verdict, he laughed. He said the jury wouldn't believe my "act". Hmph, I never thought that son-of-a-bitch would be right about anything."
"Can you appeal?"
He nodded. "My lawyers are working on it. They say I have a good chance."
"It's still unbelievable. The charges seem pretty trumped up to me. I mean, was it your first offense?"
Todd laughed sardonically. "First offense? Hill, I could kill you by dropping my rap sheet on your head."
"Yeah? What else did you do?"
Todd's eyes grew stormy. He shook his head. "I don't want to talk about that right now, all right?"
"Okay," Hill changes the subject, "So, how come you're an other?"
"An other? What do you mean?"
"Everybody here is in a group like the gangsters or the Italians or the Aryans. Others are the ones who don't fit into any of those groups." He shrugged, "McManus's stupid idea."
"Oh. Well, you just answered your own question. I don't fit in with the other groups. I don't fit in anywhere." His eyes grew dark and solemn, then brightened. "I don't play well with the other children," he said in a prissy, schoolmarm voice, making Augustus laugh suddenly. "Of course, I always did think I was in a class by myself."
Hill grinned, "Yeah, you're right about that."
Todd smiled, a gesture that lit up his whole face as if it were illuminated from within. Even Hill was awed.
"Hey Manning, I was beginning to think you broke your smiling muscles."
"Nah. They were just sleeping. They probably will be most of the time." He looked around. "Well, I will give McManus points for originality. This place is really...different."
"You can say that again. Hey, it's almost time for dinner. You hungry?"
"I guess so."
"Let's go eat then. I'm sure in honor of our new arrival, the slop won't be quite as repulsive today."
The ghost of Todd's former smile returned briefly, and he shrugged. "Whatever."
Set before Miguel got sent to the hole and Beecher had his little accident.
Augustus: What makes a person crazy? I mean in a world as fucked up as this one, how can you even tell who's sane and who isn't? Is it enough to hear voices in your head? Or to believe that the government put radio signals in your teeth so they could communicate with you where ever you went? Or do you have to go postal on somebody, first? Mailmen had the right idea. Take out the world, before it tries to take out you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The gates of Emerald City open and an intense, but sullen young man with long brown hair, and handsome features walks through. His beard and mustache are short and neatly trimmed, carefully framing his mouth. He's lanky, but well-muscled, long-sleeved t-shirt and almost colorless pants cling to, and excentuate, every masculine curve. His hazel eyes are fixed forward, seeing nothing and everything all at once. On first glance they look listless, dead, but a closer look reveals flecks of vitality, an animal cunning...and a pain so deep, it isn't easily concealed. Followed by Hill who carries his things for him on his lap, he walks slowly through Em City, seeming to be not quite aware of where he was. All the inmates stare at him, checking out the new guy, wondering if he's prag material.
"Look at that," Alvarez points out with a contemptuous grin, as he deals another hand of cards, "Another pretty motherfucker."
"Not so pretty," one of the latinos says, "Lookit that scar. That should remind you of something, huh, Alvarez?"
Miguel looks more closely at the man. He has a long, thin scar running down his right cheek, much like Alvarez', only his was more prominent, more insistent that it be noticed.
"Holy shit, look at that." Alvarez, breathed.
"It's a sign, Miguel," his friend says, "You guys are soul mates."
"Shut the fuck up," he says, but he isn't angry. He intends to get to know this guy and find out who or what put the scar on his face.
"You're over here, man," Hill says, "With me."
"Okay."
The man follows him into his pod, where Augustus hands him his things and points to the top bunk. "That one's yours, for obvious reasons."
The man only nodded.
"Not much of a talker are you?"
He shrugged. "Just not in the mood right now, I guess. Under the circumstances..."
"Yeah, I hear you. So...what are you in for?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Augustus: "Prisoner # 95G078, Thomas Todd Manning,
"Todd, stood in a room full of frightened-looking people with several sticks of dynamite stuck to his chest. His clothes were disheveled and he was sweating profusely, making his long brown hair hang at his shoulders in lank strings. His right arm had a bandage wrapped around it, on the meaty part below the shoulder, and blood was starting to seep through. In one of his hands he held the detonator for the bomb. In the other, was the knife used to slice his arm, by one of the captives, his cousin, Kevin Buchanan.
"convicted, October 23, 1998, 14 counts of kidnapping,
The people in the room were staring nervously at him, wondering when he was going to crack, and if they would survive this hellacious night. They all watched him with fear, but most of them mingled it with contempt. It's always Todd. He's crazy. They always knew he was capable of anything, including murder. Sure, he committed rape, of course he would blow them all to pieces too. Why not?
Only two people, his sister Viki, and his wife, Tea, mixed their fear with concern. For him.
"terrorism and attempted murder,
Todd paced the floor like a caged animal. It was hot and he couldn't take much more of this whole situation. He would make them speak. Someone committed the crime they were trying to pin on him and he chose that way to find out who it was. Let them fear for their lives. Let them think he was going to send them all to hell. Then the person would confess. The one who killed Georgie Phillips and tried to frame him for it would speak up. But they wouldn't. All they were doing was lying to him. He stood in front of the fireplace, feeling like he would explode.
"I'm losing my patience!" he screamed.
"sentence 350 years, up for parole in 190.
He told Tea a secret, that the dynamite was fake. He trusted her. She would keep his secret. Kevin Buchanan, as if he hadn't done enough damage, emerged from the cellar where Todd locked him up for safe keeping. He had a gun. Where did that come from? He hated Todd. He was more than willing to shoot him in cold blood. To protect his family, he would say. For revenge, Todd knew was the truth.
"No!" Tea screamed. "The dynamite is fake!"
Todd stared at her, then let out a laugh ripe with resignation. "Chicks," he sighed.
The jig was up. It was all over. He was going to prison. Hey, maybe he would get time off for good behavior.
Augustus (laughing): "Yeah right."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Todd starts to put his things away and straightens out his bunk. Hill watches him silently, trying to figure out what was going on in his podmate's head. There's something about him, the look in his eyes, the way he cocks his head maybe, that was a little bit off. That doesn't stop him from liking the brooding young man, though. He does, almost immediately.
"So, 350 years, huh? How the fuck did you get a sentence like that? That's the longest damn stretch I ever heard of."
Todd shrugged. "The D.A. doesn't like me. I'm the one who pointed out that his precious little girl, Rachel, is the one who murdered Georgie Phillips. You know, when they read the verdict, he laughed. He said the jury wouldn't believe my "act". Hmph, I never thought that son-of-a-bitch would be right about anything."
"Can you appeal?"
He nodded. "My lawyers are working on it. They say I have a good chance."
"It's still unbelievable. The charges seem pretty trumped up to me. I mean, was it your first offense?"
Todd laughed sardonically. "First offense? Hill, I could kill you by dropping my rap sheet on your head."
"Yeah? What else did you do?"
Todd's eyes grew stormy. He shook his head. "I don't want to talk about that right now, all right?"
"Okay," Hill changes the subject, "So, how come you're an other?"
"An other? What do you mean?"
"Everybody here is in a group like the gangsters or the Italians or the Aryans. Others are the ones who don't fit into any of those groups." He shrugged, "McManus's stupid idea."
"Oh. Well, you just answered your own question. I don't fit in with the other groups. I don't fit in anywhere." His eyes grew dark and solemn, then brightened. "I don't play well with the other children," he said in a prissy, schoolmarm voice, making Augustus laugh suddenly. "Of course, I always did think I was in a class by myself."
Hill grinned, "Yeah, you're right about that."
Todd smiled, a gesture that lit up his whole face as if it were illuminated from within. Even Hill was awed.
"Hey Manning, I was beginning to think you broke your smiling muscles."
"Nah. They were just sleeping. They probably will be most of the time." He looked around. "Well, I will give McManus points for originality. This place is really...different."
"You can say that again. Hey, it's almost time for dinner. You hungry?"
"I guess so."
"Let's go eat then. I'm sure in honor of our new arrival, the slop won't be quite as repulsive today."
The ghost of Todd's former smile returned briefly, and he shrugged. "Whatever."