Chapter 13: New Directions
Approximately a week and a half had passed since Alex's execution, and every guard on E block seemed to have brushed the incident off of their shoulders. They focused on other things now; such as family, friends, other prisoners and new ones to come. E block was expecting one in another month or so, but for once in their life, one convict was relieving. They didn't have to always focus on three at a time; it was tiresome after a while.
And so the majority of the guards were off for the day; a lone floater was left inside the Green Mile, covering for the regulars. The guards were out and away, far from the prison, enjoying the luxury of their own homes, whilst the lone guard was trapped inside his own version of "hell". He did not enjoy C block, so why would he enjoy E block? The smell was god awful, like any prison, and the prisoners he encountered pissed him off, and seemed to piss him off real good; and he had no idea why? Just the thought of the convicts sparked his rage.
The one and only convict left in the mile was Freddie. He sat alone in his cell, twiddling his thumbs as the minutes passed by. For once, he wasn't tied to a chair, wasn't forced to entertain himself with their mere toys, and it was by sheer luck that the floater did not enjoy soap operas in the least. Freddie hated prison; it made him regret a lot of things in his life, but the crime. Why was he punished for the crime that was committed when it was by every individual's free will that they ended their life? That was the million dollar question that Freddie would never be able to answer; and never would. He was sick of prison, he was sick of being in a cage; he needed to get out, or he would go insane. He had to think of something, something fast.
Freddie peered out from the bars of his cell, and glanced to his right, looking at the floater nibbling on some crackers at the main desk. He was playing cards with himself; oh how Freddie wished that he could have a deck of cards within his hands.
"Hey floater," Freddie shouted in a nasty tone of voice.
The guard looked up, and saw an outstretched arm peeking from the cell. "What do ya want?"
Freddie sleekly smiled. "Are you having fun playing cards with yourself? It looks like 'clock' to me."
"Sure is," the guard said as he continued his game.
"Can I play a game?"
The guard stopped, and dropped his cards, "You know I can't let you out, if that's what you want."
"No, no, no…" Freddie stuttered. "Bring a chair and a desk here! Maybe we can play a little game of cribbage through the bars."
"No," the guard answered.
"Please sir, I'm bored and I need a source of entertainment," Freddie pleaded. "Oh, please sir! There's no one to talk to, nothing to do here, except stare at a fucking wall! Please sir, I beg you!"
Having enough of Freddie's antics, the man quickly rose from the desk, piling his cards into a neat deck. He made sure that they were perfectly in place before grasping the chair behind him, and bringing it towards Freddie's cell. It didn't take long for a small stool to come into play as the table for the two. The game was something small. As the guard shuffled the many cards, he said:
"I'll go first."
Freddie responded, "You must like power."
"Oh?" the guard said curiously.
"You sure give in easily to people who beg. You'd be the perfect specimen for the medieval era; a king perhaps; one that kills. Are you a killer, sir?"
The guard took Freddie's words as an insult rather than a compliment; and it was. Unfortunately, no one warned the C block guard about Freddie, and how he should stay away from the prisoner; to the guard, he didn't know any better.
Brutal was out in the small city, away from his small acreage a little ways from town. He came to the city to run a quick errand; a doctor's appointment to be exact. He wasn't feeling himself lately, and thought that a walk-in visit would do him good; and it did, for they found the source of the ailment. There was an infection on his leg, that wasn't being treated properly. Brutus thought that he was doing just fine, until his days felt endless, and he felt as if he was going to throw up every passing second. After the visit, he paid for the medication that the doctor ordered for him to take. Brutus left the pharmacy with a small paper bag in hand, carrying the pills. There was one for his flu-like symptoms, and one to rid of the infection and inflammation on his leg.
Brutus carried on down the street, looking for his car. After several minutes, he found it at the corner – and to his luck – with a ticket attached to the window. He pulled the ticket from the glass, and took a long look at it, "Just what I need." It was as if medicine wasn't expensive enough.
Brutal turned without looking, and a petite body slammed into his chest. The figure bounced back slightly, the body hitting the side of his car. Brutus managed to grasp the individual before it fell towards the ground. When all was well, Brutus gazed upon a young woman, wearing a yellow coat, accompanied with a flowered skirt. She wore a sun hat, although it was pouring rain. She was beautiful.
"Hello, missy" Brutus smiled.
The young woman pulled away, embarrassed at the situation unfolding. "Excuse me sir, I would like to chat, but I am terribly late."
"Late for what," Brutal chuckled.
"Sir, I don't know you; why would I tell you such a thing?"
Brutus wished he could explain it all to her, but he would come off sounding like a perverted man with nothing better to do than 'woo' young women. She was beautiful, what else could he say? "Are you alright?"
"I'm late!" the young woman stated again, she brushed past Brutus, not bothering to look back.
He did have to agree with the young lady though; he did sound like a creeper. But yet again, that is what mysteriously happens to an individual who is under the spell of love at first sight.
Dean was sitting on the couch at Paul's house, watching the clock tick by the second. He watched each hand closely, day dreaming of what the world has come to, and what it will bring for the future. It was some deep shit, but what else could he do to pass the time? He was at Paul's place for a nice chat, but that soon ended with the arrival of a mysterious guest, of whom Paul requested complete privacy. Dean wanted to leave, but knowing Paul, Dean would get a ten minute lecture the next day at work. After fifteen long minutes, Dean could hear footsteps atop the stairs. They were the footsteps of the mysterious guest along with Paul. They chatted about nonsense for a little bit longer, before Paul wished the man good luck with his journeys. Paul turned to Dean.
"You're still here?" he chuckled. "I'm surprised that you didn't leave when you had the chance."
"Paul, if I did, I wouldn't hear the end of it for the next week. You would never trust me again. Who was that by the way?"
Paul wrapped an arm around the young man's shoulder and brought him into the kitchen, "A friend."
Dean wasn't going to get much more of an answer from Paul.
"Anyway," Paul started. "How are you feeling?"
"W…what do you mean?" Dean questioned.
Paul shrugged. "Just wondered, you seem flustered and all before. Is your rage still getting the better of you?"
"Are you my psychiatrist?" Dean snarled.
Paul raised his hands in surrender, "Hey, don't shoot me. I'm thinking of paying a visit to Harry tonight, would you like to join? I'm sure having two companions over would be more settling than just one."
"Is that why you asked me to be here?"
"No," Paul answered. "You know we don't discuss work once we are out of the mile, but this is an exception."
There was a long pause, "Okay?"
Paul leaned against the kitchen cupboard. "Something is not settling right with that prisoner of ours. I'm thinking of refusing to let any other prisoners inside E block, until Freddie is dead. Now, Brutus took me aside, and told me exactly what happened between them; what they discussed; the details of Freddie's journey."
"And," Dean urged Paul to continue.
"It's disgusting, vile, and horrific."
"So," Dean started as he gazed upon the wooden floor. "What does it have to do with me?"
Paul stood up straight, and wandered throughout the house. Dean followed, "I want to terminate Freddie early. These antics have gone long enough, and what happened to Harry crossed the line. Obviously, he is toying with everybody's minds and I am quite sick of it. I've studied this man every night, and have found his motive with every one of us inside the mile. He wishes to cause havoc amongst us friends and co-workers. You were the first. He was meaning to create rage and anger among you in order to turn you against me within the mile. It's a good thing we stopped that as quick as possible. He used Harry's weakness at the moment as a means to kill himself. With me, he's trying to turn you all against me, because I have a strong will, and don't take any shit from criminals like him. On top of that, I've punished the poor man, so there's an obvious vendetta targeted towards me."
"And what of Brutal?"
"Oh, he's not done with him yet. I have a feeling that he wants Brutal to become a monster. Each day he taunts the big guy. It's as if he's asking for a death sentence before his time."
"So why is he doing it?" Dean asked. "Is there a theory?"
Paul didn't hesitate to answer, "Because we are his new source of entertainment, and pain is his joy. There's nothing he would rather do than make us all suffer. That man is sick, and brilliant. And if we don't end him quick, he may escape unnoticed and then the town is in chaos within the next day. You are here with me as a witness. I want Freddie dead within the next week!"
Their game of cards lasted for another two hours, and within that two hours, not one person had stopped by to check on the lone guard. Freddie intentionally lost several times, in order for the guard to think highly of himself, and more importantly, to waste some extra time.
"Shit, you win again," Freddie said, raising his hands in the air.
"Something tells me that you aren't even trying," the guard replied.
Freddie shifted his eyes towards the guard's belt, of which the many magic keys were hanging. They were easy to grasp, easy to pick without anyone noticing. However, the guard was too far to reach. Freddie's extra cards suddenly slipped from his hands, landing onto the green flooring in the mile, outside his cell like a fallen leaf. They were in reach, but Freddie refused to pick up the cards. With a grumble, the guard knelt forward, picking up the many cards one by one. After doing so, he slowly looked up into Freddie's eyes, glowering upon him with pure evil and…satisfaction.
Without warning, Freddie grasped the guard's collar and pulled him forward; the floater's head hitting the cell bars with a mighty force; causing his nose to bleed. Before the guard could react, or cry for help, Freddie quickly pulled a needle from behind, and stabbed it into the side of the man's neck. The guard gasped for air, and silently cried in pain, as he was injected with an unknown fluid. When the horrible deed was done, the guard collapsed, and moved no more. With all his might, Freddie pulled the guard's motionless body forward from within the cell, and brought him close to the bars. Once he was in the right position, Freddie snatched the keys and tried each one in the keyhole, before finally hitting the jack pot. And like magic, the door opened. He attempted to be as quiet as possible, but there was no use in that tactic when it came to the steel door. Someone could have easily heard the quarrel, if not the door, so it was now a race against time. According to Freddie, it was easier to escape prison during the evening hours, rather than during the night. Nightlife was quiet; and full of security and snipers; the evening was filled with guards punching in and out of their shifts for the day. He would blend in while the gates were wide open. Freddie hooked the keys between his teeth, and grasped the limp guard's ankles. He dragged the man down the stretch, and into the isolated office. Once inside, Freddie quickly closed the door. He dropped the guard, who was now lying flat onto his back. Freddie checked the man's pulse and heartbeat; there was none. Great, everything was going according to plan.
He then proceeded to dress down the man, shaking every part of the uniform from his body. It took a little more than fifteen minutes, but none the less, he was fully dressed in the black prison guard uniform of Cold Mountain, cap and all, and was ready to make an attempted escape throughout the prison. Freddie rid of the wrinkles in the clothing, before dragging the former guard's lifeless body into a nearby closet. When all was said and done, Freddie snatched the cap, and placed it upon his head. He gazed into the mirror…
…He looked exactly like them.
Paul and Dean were once again, inside the living room, debating over a cup of coffee. They talked about the idea that Paul considered to be put into action as soon as possible. Afterwards, talk about work was beginning to become tiresome; so they chatted about the present.
"So the two little ones are in school?"
"Yes," Dean replied to Paul's question. "Yes, they are. They grow up fast."
"And so they shall," Paul concluded, as he heard the telephone ring throughout the house. "Excuse me."
Paul made his way towards the kitchen. He turned the corner, and found the telephone. When it was in reach, Paul gladly picked it up and spoke, "Edgecomb residence."
"Paul." It was the voice of Hal.
"Hal," Paul whispered. "What do you need?"
"Something has happened inside the prison; E block in particular. We need you here as soon as possible!"
Chapter 14 is next...