Disclaimer: Again, I do not own this. Belongs to Stephen King and so on and so forth.
Author's Note: Thanks to the people who have read this!
Two.
I woke up in time to shower and dress in the uniform that Uncle Paul had brought by the night before. Just a white blouse, name tag, and navy dress pants. I had always been accustomed to skirts and dresses, so the pants all on their own were an experience themselves. I went downstairs of our two story, yet plain farmhouse to have a quick breakfast and found Paul down there, munching on some plain toast. Mom and Dad were having coffee and bid me farewell when Paul and I finished breakfast and went along our way to work.
In Paul's truck, he gave me a rundown of what to expect out on E Block. "We have two prisoners right now. Arlen Bitterbuck, who doesn't say much of anything. He'll be executed pretty soon and you'll have to type up the report for us. And the other one is Eduard Delacroix who is French, but can understand us well enough. We call him Del, and his date of execution isn't set yet. And we're supposed to be getting a new inmate today. I don't know anything about him, though."
"Okay. Easy to keep up with so far. What about the other guards? What are they like?" I always found it easy to get along with males rather than females. I was somewhat of a tomboy growing up so I supposed that had something to do with it. I didn't think I would have problems with my coworkers as opposed to other women.
"Oh, they're good old boys. There's Dean Stanton. About three years older than you, maybe more. He's been there almost eight months. He's married with two little girls. Then there's Harry Terwiliger, and he's an older fella. Nice enough, but a bit of a worrier. There's Brutal Howell. His name is Brutus, but we call him Brutal as a joke because he's this big man but he'd never hurt a fly. And then there's this little pest named Percy Wetmore. You'll learn soon enough to avoid him if you can. He is a thorn in everyone's side. He's hateful, he's mean, and he knows 'big people,' so he says. Well, he is the governor's nephew." He casted me a weary sideways glance. "Just keep your distance, Ellie. He's not a very nice young man."
Ellie was the pet name he had given me when I was a little girl and it just stuck. I didn't have a nickname for him; I just called him Paul without the 'Uncle' title. He drove on in silence, and I could tell that something was bothering him. I remember when I visited his house a while back and Aunt Jan telling me that something was wrong with Paul's waterworks and he wouldn't go see the doctor. But we kept it at that. I was just like Paul when it came to my body. If something was wrong with me, I wouldn't tell a soul and I wouldn't go to the doctor. I was just better off not knowing.
I was a firm believer in the phrase, "Ignorance is bliss."
Paul pulled into a parking lot behind a tall and grey building out by a fence where on the other side were prisoners. We got out of the truck, Paul carrying both our lunch pails. The prisoners came up to the fence and taunted Paul,
"Who's the new lady, Boss?"
"Yeah, Boss Edgecomb, you gonna throw her our way?"
Others chattered in agreement.
Paul threw them a venomous look and said in his quiet but deadly voice I'd only heard him use once before on my dad when they got into a heated argument, "You hold ya'll tongues or else ya'll be walkin the mile earlier than ya expected."
We walked a bit further until he had to unlock a heavy metal door and let me enter inside before him. Paul Edgecomb always let the ladies walk in front of him like a true gentleman. He always told me, "If a boy don't never let you walk in front of you, then you don't need to walk down the aisle with him."
The door shut and I braved myself up to look into the faces of the men standing side by side ahead of me. I guessed that was the proper way they greeted new members to E Block. There were only two men: a young man and a man close to Paul's age.
"Eleanor, this is Dean Stanton and Brutus Howell." Paul introduced me as I shook the men's hands.
"Nice to meet your acquaintance, ma'am," the young Dean said and bowed his head slightly.
"You, too, Mr. Stanton."
"Nice to meet you, Miss Eleanor," Brutus shook my hand gently—Paul was right about him—and continued, "Paul's told us a lot about you."
"Thank you, Mr. Howell."
He shook his head at the way I used his name so formally, "Make it Brutal, or Brutus at least. We like to be on a first name basis here."
"Well, call me Ellie. Uncle Paul does."
Dean nodded in approval, "And I don't wanna hear no more of that Mr. Stanton stuff. Makes me sound like a old man," he chuckled.
We all gave a brief laugh at that until Paul brought us back to work.
"Okay, well the new prisoner should be here soon."
Brutal pulled a golden pocket watch from his coat when Paul made the announcement.
Paul continued, "Ellie, I want you at the desk, Brute and Dean, you all take your positions." And then he went to the middle of the room and stood in a professional way.
Dean stood by the door and looked out every so often to check and see if the new prisoner was here. Brutal stood in front of the desk, and I sat in a somewhat comfortable chair.
"So is the guy being driven here, then?" I asked.
Brutal answered, "Yeah. Just like those other two." He nodded his head back to the cells. The prisoners were currently lying in bed. I assumed they were still asleep. I know I'd still be asleep if I didn't have a job. It was still a bit before eight in the morning.
"I see the car," Dean said after a while. Brutal went over beside the young man and looked out.
"Oh," Brute said softly. "You gotta see this guy. He's enormous."
"Can't be bigger than you," Paul joked. We all gave a light laugh. Brutal chuckled in good humor.
Then we heard distant yelling. I just thought it was the prisoners beyond the gate, but then again, I hadn't heard them earlier. Then I could hear more clearly what was being yelled,
"Dead man walking! We got a dead man walking here!"
"Jesus, please us! What the hell is that idiot yellin'?!" Paul demanded, a pained expression on his face.
Then the door was opened and a massive colored fellow was brought in, escorted by two men filed in. An older man walked in the back, and a younger man walked in the front, holding the chain on the prisoner's handcuffs and was still yelling his mantra,
"We got a dead man walking, here!"
"Percy!" Paul said sternly and the young man stopped shouting. Walked the colored man to his cell. Then Paul was in the cell and said to the same young man, "Percy why don't you go to the infirmary?"
"Uh uh. I wanna stay here,"
"Why don't you go?" Paul coaxed him.
"No, they got all the men they need."
"Percy, I don't care where you go, just get the hell off my block!"
Percy scoffed. "All right." Turned on his heel. Heard a prisoner chuckle at him, and hit the man with his bat. Broke the man's fingers by the sound of it.
"Percy, move your ass!" Brute yelled, earning his nickname at that moment.
Percy Wetmore turned to stare at the other men to give them what I assumed was a menacing look, then turned to the direction he had been walking in and saw me for the first time. I almost wanted to introduce myself, but heeded Paul's warning about the young man. Percy locked eyes with me and stared me down the whole time he made his way down my end of the Mile. His eyes were cold and full of unbridled hatred. His gaze sent a macabre chill down my spine.
He stopped in front of the desk briefly. The other guards were busy with the new prisoner. Was Percy crazy enough to hurt me, too? I felt the unfamiliar feeling of fear grip my stomach and I braced myself for what was coming.
He looked me up and down briefly, his look softening almost, and nodded his head. Shot the others a hateful glance that nobody saw, and left.
My heart thudded in my chest. I had never been so scared in all my life. I was in shock of what I had just witnessed. All I could do was watch the guards deal with the new prisoner. All I could hear were Del's cries of pain from a broken hand. And all I could think of was Percy Wetmore's scary, sadistic ways and wanted to run home, screaming in terror.