Green mile 10: Discipline

The next morning, Paul was at the front desk near the entrance of the mile, filing some important paperwork regarding his fellow workers, and inmates. He was relieved. It had been a couple of weeks since the questionnaire, but nothing out of the ordinary was occurring; at least not at E block. But it wasn't his concern; his main concern was E block, and making sure that he was keeping the peace every single day. Paul searched through the many papers on the desk, and came to Alex's profile. He flipped through the booklet in his hands. Tonight was the night. Alex was to die at eleven P.M. The paperwork wasn't the hardest part of the job, it was mainly saying goodbye. What people in society didn't know was the humane side of the monsters. They did wrong in their lives, and they were paying for the crimes they committed, but they were still human, and they still bore feelings. It was hard, and nobody but the guards on E block understood. Paul leaned back in the chair and sighed. They were short one guard and the floaters didn't know how to run a perfect execution; well, not under Paul's expectations. They needed more guards on E block, if such an event would occur again. He would let Hal know.

But in the meantime, Paul would have to get the boys to rehearse Alex's execution. Maybe two or three times at most. Paul claimed the head of the execution this time around; Brutal was instructed to take the lead of Freddie's execution. Paul didn't know what to do with Alex during rehearsal. He had no immediate family, and he took part in little to no leisure activity to keep him entertained. I'm sure he would think of something.

Then there were last rights. The majority of convicts stated that they wanted a hearty meal in which they couldn't give. It would be interesting to hear Freddie's requests. It was probably for all of the guards to go die in a hole. It's unpleasant, but it's nothing that Paul's never heard before. Paul listened to the quiet morning in the mile. Dean and Jack Van Hay were enjoying a quick cup of coffee in the office. The prisoners, Freddie was sound asleep. According to Brutal, who had taken Paul's night shift, Freddie was obnoxious and constantly badgering his poor neighbor, whose mind was no match for Freddie's. Brutal threatened to teach Freddie a lesson or two, which in turn, didn't always work. They had to do something about that prisoner. After last night, it was obvious that Freddie was shredding anybody who stepped into his path. The strange convict needed serious discipline; Paul was going to make sure of it.

"Psst," a quiet voice hissed.

Paul's ears perked, he lifted his head from the paper, and gazed down the mile, seeing a hand reaching from the cell bars. It was Alex. "Boss, I need to tell you something."

Paul glanced from side to side before rising to his feet. He took his time following the green linoleum. "Yes Alex, what would you like?"

"I need to talk," Alex was lying on the ground, staring at Paul's feet. "There's someone trying to kill me."

Paul shook his head. "Oh come on dumb boy, no one is trying to kill you. Well, aside from tonight."

"Olson," Alex whispered, catching Paul's attention.

"Olson?"

"That's his name," Alex stared at his own feet which were like jelly. "He's an interesting man. I saw him when you and Mr. Terwilliger left."

Paul raised both of his eyebrows, "Alex, who's Olson?"

Alex gazed upon Paul, his eyes dull like an old penny. "I told you, he's the man trying to kill me."

Paul sighed, "Alex, stop playing games."

Alex couldn't believe his ears. "What, you don't believe me? He, he, he came into my cell last night. He threatened me."

Paul found himself in an awkward position. He turned towards Freddie's cell. Freddie was now wide awake, leaning against the prison bars; his arms crossed.

"What did you do to him?" Paul questioned with authority.

Freddie shrugged, "I gave him a simple idea and he took that idea to heart."

"How long has he been like this?"

Freddie raised an eyebrow, "A little too long. I didn't mean for it to happen. All I said to him was to keep quiet, or my old buddy Olson would drop by and kill him. He's a dumb shit, he believed me. I didn't remind him much, maybe once or twice. But he truly is afraid of Olson."

"What's the backstory," Paul said, intrigued.

Freddie smacked his lips. "Olson was my partner in crime. He was a hit man, a gambler, a drug lord. He's the guy who entertained me every day of my life. But, eventually the juice ran out, and I had no choice but to do it, I was bored. So I shot him with a rifle, a big one too. I'm surprised I was able to bail the city without getting caught by the authorities, but little old Alex doesn't believe that the poor man is dead. He's convinced himself that this man was going to kill him if he uttered a single word to any of you guards, he still is. It was a little joke! I didn't think he'd take it seriously."

Paul stomped his foot against the ground, "Shut up Freddie! You've hurt enough people already. I want you to stay quiet for the rest of the night until the execution is carried out. Your little game could hurt Alex; and we need him alive for tonight, unlike Winnie."

"You –"

Paul smirked, "Oh yes, I know you handed Winnie the key. I'm not dumb. And I'm the boss here. You need a little discipline, and I assure you that we need to find you some better entertainment. Tell me, are you fond of art?"

"Art in what form?" asked Freddie.

Paul smirked. He wandered over to the radio by the desk, and tuned into a station. The radio was new, and they only acquired one channel. It played country music and soap operas; but mainly soap operas. "It's art at its finest."

"Well Jack, thanks for lending some charcoal and paper for our young lad. I'm sure he will keep busy for the rest of the night, isn't that right Freddie?" Freddie gawked at the three guards loitering around his cell. Jack, Dean and Paul all held mugs of coffee in their hands, taunting the prisoner.

Dean spoke, "He's very quiet. How did you get him to shut up?"

Paul started, "Well, this man needs a little discipline. As you all know he's a brilliant mind."

Jack Van Hay nodded, "Strapped him down?"

Paul chuckled, "Nothing like strapping him down and listening to a little soap opera on our radio." The three guards laughed together.

Freddie was drawing at a small desk inside his cell. He hated art, any art, but he had no choice. He was handcuffed to the table, and if he participated in the activities that he was instructed, food and a hot bath would come his way. His first punishment for toying with Dean, Harry's and Winnie's minds was tying him to a chair, and playing soap operas on the radio. When enough was endured, Paul gave him a new form of entertainment, drawing. Paul continued, "And Freddie is going to keep quiet for the rest of the night, right Freddie, or we are going to have to endure more soap operas. And we all know how much you love them."

Freddie scowled as he continued to entertain himself, "Whatever."

Paul cocked his head to the side, "Whatever what?"

"Sir," Freddie answered. "This is humiliating, sir."

The guards were pleased. Dean entered the conversation, "Freddie, you can also play cards with us anytime you like. Just let us know."

"Freddie you have to understand that your mind is like a car; it keeps running. In order to keep it idle we need to calm it. Now, this is my last warning. You can talk to us, but if there is any indication that you are becoming a hazard to my block, serious measures will occur. I need the prisoners calm here along with my staff. I can't have an episode like last night happening again. It would be an awful mess to clean up; and this time I would make sure you'd do it, understood?"

Freddie took a deep breath, "Yes sir."

"Continue," Paul concluded. After his last statement, Paul led Dean and Jack to the desk. "When Brutal arrives, Dean, let him know what's going on. Also, you are on watch for now. I need Alex calm; I can't have anyone hurting themselves. Oh, and Dean, if he's not behaving, don't hesitate to strap him. Record his behaviour as well. Our radio is quite new, and needs a little tuning."

Dean crossed his arms and smiled, "My pleasure."

"Jack and I will be in the execution room," Paul stated before leaving the mile; Jack Van Hay followed. Paul started, "Jack, do you think you'll be able to help us strap Alex tonight? Since Harry won't be with us, I've got to switch everyone around."

Jack nodded, "Sure Paul, whatever you need me to do." He took a sip of his coffee. "What're you thinking?"

Paul sighed, "I'll get Dean to do Harry's job; you will take Dean's place, and then once he's strapped tight, go to the switch room."

"Yes, sir," he concluded.

When Brutal arrived at the mile, it was somewhat chaotic. Paul and Dean were practically sitting on the convict, Freddie, who laid face first into the floor. They were tying the straight jacket around Freddie, and Brutal could only wonder what on earth took place on the Green Mile. Anything could happen there. As Brutus continued down the mile, Paul looked up and smiled. Afterwards, Paul buckled the straps as Freddie struggled.

"Settle down Freddie," he started. "You were being uncourteous and foul mouthed on my block. Best we bring some discipline."

"Is that what happened?" Brutal chuckled.

Freddie continued to struggle, but Dean was quick to restrain him. "Not at first, you see we have this plan…Paul?"

"Brutal, listen well. The same goes for you Freddie!"

"What have I ever done to you?!" Freddie exclaimed.

"Like I said before and I don't know if you were listening, but we've got to keep you quiet and occupied. If we suspect any suspicious behaviour, see you do wrong, being foul mouthed, or throwing a temper tantrum because things aren't going your way, then desperate times will call for desperate measures. And because of your cursing and sudden violent outburst, we are restraining you. I'm not tolerating bad behaviour like yours."

Brutus glanced at his toes, laughing nervously.

Paul became confused, "What's that look for?"

Paul and Dean lifted the prisoner from the floor, and led him to the restraint room. Much to their surprise, once Paul opened the door, several chairs and empty desks greeted them. Freddie laughed, "Ha, you can't put me in there now, huh?"

Dean shoved the convict forward. "Shut up, or best we put you in there with the rest of the company."

Paul turned to Brutal, "So that's where all our stuff went?"

Brutal shrugged his shoulders, "It was quiet round the mile! I didn't think we were needing it."

Freddie struggled, but Paul and Dean had a firm grip. "Well, you still aren't getting off the hook. Now, decide, what would you rather do? Strap and listen to the radio, or a little game of torture from Brutal here?"

Brutal thought to himself: Since when did this involve me?

Freddie was small in physique and knew that he was signing his own death warrant if he picked the latter. "The radio," Freddie answered.

Paul stretched out an arm, "Brutal, tape."

And so they taped his mouth shut; he was unable to scream, no longer able to talk. Poor Freddie was in a strait jacket, tied to his chair, unable to move, with nothing but the radio in front of his cell. It was enormous, and on a cart. There was only one channel at the time, and all there was, was the good ol' country music and soap operas. It was a new form of entertainment, but not Freddie's kind of entertainment. He hated distractions; he enjoyed the peace and quiet. All three guards stood in the front of Freddie's cell glowering down upon him. Paul said:

"Oh, this is for the company."

Brutal added his two cents, "And this should keep you quiet for the rest of the night."

Freddie struggled once again, attempting to escape, but it was no use. He cursed below the tape. Paul shook his head and turned his back along with Brutus. Brutal whispered into his ear:

"Paul," he started. "Strapping him down won't be enough, you know that. This is not punishment exactly."

"No," Paul agreed. "It's not. We could beat him to a pulp, but…he is weak physically. In my beliefs, I would rather fight a man who has the same physicality as me. He's strong in the mind though, and so am I. I'd rather fight that way."

Brutal couldn't help, but nod his head in agreement. Paul was right, and full of wisdom. What would the world be without him? "What if it gets worse? He can drive an innocent man to his death. If you are going to fight him mentally you've got to get into his mind. You've got to drive him mad; it's the only way. Occupying him won't be enough, and soon, he will be restless until one of us finally pulls the trigger. It was too close of a call last night, and I wouldn't know what to do if such a thing happened to you. Eventually, he'll have to learn the hard way; show him in that certain situations, brawn can win the battle. It's like war almost."

"Brutal, I admire your opinions and I take them into consideration, but if he doesn't struggle, there is no need to continue our little game of torture. My decision stands, and we keep him occupied until further notice. But right now, we just need to focus on Alex."

Chapter eleven is next...