AN: New Chapter! I write mainly horror, so this chapter was to my liking.

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Freddie vs. the Guards:

Brutus sauntered along the halls of the Green Mile with a checklist, and a pen in hand. He proceeded to do a nightly inspection of each prisoner within their cells. From what Brutus could see, the prisoners were sound in their sleep. They were odd prisoners, a good odd, for they caused no trouble during the day or the night. Unlike the others, these prisoners were humble and quiet. Maybe it was the thought of their death that caused them to be that way. Although quiet, Brutus still took the time out of his busy life to talk to the inmates, and get to know their true selves better.

Brutus coughed hysterically. Once he finished his routine cell check, he slowly made his way back to the front desk. Though months had passed, Brutus was still sick, and he refused to see a doctor after his medicine prescription was finished. Brutus felt a pounding throb against his leg. He lifted his pant leg, and saw a scar. The wound was healed, and was rid of infection, but a scar still remained.

Brutus hurried towards the desk. He snatched some cold pills from a medical kit underneath the desk. He opened the bottle, and slipped two white pills into his mouth; he swallowed the pills dry.

Suddenly, there was a ruckus.

Boom…boom…boom.

Brutus listened, hearing small footsteps, running, in the distance. It was weird, considering that Brutus was the only guard working on E block that night. The footsteps were small, and were loud at times, and quiet at other times. As the haunted footsteps continued, Brutus turned his body towards the corridor, past the office, and followed them. He turned right, peering through the office window, and found nothing but darkness. He continued to the execution room. The footsteps stopped as he drew near.

Brutus peered inside, and again, found nothing. Only Ol' Sparky was in the room, with a small light illuminating its features above it. Brutus entered, and wandered, but still there was nothing present. Suddenly, the footsteps started again. Behind him. He quickly turned around, yet nobody was there. The footsteps continued down the hall, becoming quieter with each passing second. Then they grew loud once more; now behind, above, and from side to side of Brutus' body, and then those footsteps faded momentarily.

Brutus exited the execution room, and stormed the halls. He made his way towards the storage room. He opened the door, and turned on the lights, but there were only cleaning supplies resting inside. The footsteps started again. It sounded as if they were now in the mile. Brutus raised an eyebrow. A shiver then ran down his spine. The situation was becoming unnerving.

The phone rang. BRRRRIIIINNGGGGG…BRRRRIIINNGGGGG…

Brutus took a deep breath as he made his way back into the mile. Once he entered, he grasped the phone vibrating at the desk. He raised the telephone to his mouth and ear.

He said in a monotone voice, "E block."

At first, there was a muffling sound, but then a familiar voice emerged. "Brutal, it's Paul!" Paul seemed anxious.

"Paul, it's two in the fucking morning. What's going on? Did you forget something?" Brutus said with his back facing the prisoners.

"Brutal," Paul said, "Freddie broke into my home, and attacked Jan"-

"Jesus," Brutus whispered. "Is she alright?"

Paul assured, "She's fine."

Then all of a sudden, Brutus felt queasy. It hit him in a flash. His stomach churned, and he felt as if the world was constantly going sideways. Brutus breathed heavily; he wiped beads of sweat from his forehead. Brutus thought that he was going to vomit.

Brutus continued to talk, "I…I…I…is he…coming here?"

"Yes!" Paul screamed, "Yes, but we are on our way now! Just hold on until we get there! For now, watch your back!"

Click!

Brutus hung up, and placed the phone back onto the desk. A thought then came to mind. Brutus took a step back, and then stopped. Tap! There was an extra footstep, one that was not his. Brutus turned around to face-

WAM!

Brutus fell onto the desk after receiving a right hook to the jaw. He was stunned after the hit. Brutus felt something wet on his lips. He wiped them, and observed blood on his fingers. Brutus looked up, and noticed a familiar face above him. It was Freddie.

Freddie was dressed like him, in a guard's uniform, but dressed to perfection. He stood erect in front of Brutus. He clenched his fists together, and bore a menacing grin.

Brutus grunted as he kicked his legs forward, striking Freddie in the shins. The young man winced. Brutus prepared to strike again, but Freddie was quick to lunge forward, preparing for another punch. Brutus dodged the attack. Freddie turned around, and took another swing at the large man, this time hitting him, and sending him towards the ground. Brutus was on his knees; he spat blood. Freddie walked over, kicking Brutus in the groin, causing him to collapse. Brutus was a tough man, but his illness soon got the better of him. Brutus attempted to get up, but Freddie forced him back into the dirt with another punch. Again, Brutus rose to his knees, but another punch from Freddie sent him back onto the floor.

Freddie heaved. He watched Brutus struggle to rise from the ground once again. Although Freddie was tired, he could not let the man regain his strength, so he kicked him in the stomach. Brutus continued to spit blood, and his nose was broken. His mouth was agape, and he was drooling. He stared upwards into the cells, and observed the convicts. They all had their fingers wrapped around the bars, their heads dug in between, all watching helplessly.

Brutus looked at one prisoner in particular. The convict was mouthing words, as if he was rooting for Brutus to get up and fight. Brutus would if he could, but dizziness washed over Brutus once more. He lay on the ground, his body searing with pain. He cried.

Freddie said, "You aren't so tough." He wiped his nose with his sleeve. "Mind you, you are ill." Freddie hopped to Brutus' side, and straddled his legs on either side of Brutus' body. Freddie winced as he reached into his medical kit that was strapped to his hip. His shoulder still bled from Paul's bullet from earlier in the morning. Freddie pulled a needle, and a vial of clear solution from the kit. Freddie continued to talk to Brutus as he prepared for a lethal injection.

"You know Brutus. I enjoyed our time together. You are a very interesting man. I got to know the real you."

Angry, Brutus attempted to rise to his feet, but fell on his own.

Freddie continued, "Brutus, I'm that small kid that you once knew years ago. I was picked on all the time for being too small, and too weak to function. Just like that kid from years ago. He and I are alike in some ways, and different in others. But he's not here anymore. So I vouch for him." Freddie sleekly smiled, "I'm here for his revenge, and my revenge."

Brutus' eyes widened. He was quick to act. Brutus managed to get to his knees before Freddie grasped the man's hair. He shook him a bit, and pushed him forwards, back into the ground. Freddie held the needle to the level of his eyes. Freddie said in anger, "You, your friends, and the entire world were against me! You were all laughing at me! Well, who's laughing now?"

Freddie lowered himself to Brutus' level, grasping the poor man's wrists tightly. He readied Brutus for injection. Brutus panicked, and attempted to pull away, but it was no use.

Freddie concluded, "Hush, you're sick! Let the doctor give you some medicine."-

"HEY, FREDDIE!" A voice cried.

Freddie snapped his head upwards, and found three men surrounding his body with revolvers. They all wore their prison guard uniforms. Paul and Dean faced the man's front, while Harry stalked Freddie from behind.

Surrendering his actions, Freddie lowered the needle, and rose to his feet. He held his arms firmly against his waist.

Paul started, "You made a big mistake coming here. It's a death wish as far as I'm concerned."

Freddie chuckled, "Well, I had no choice but to come here! I don't know where everybody lives." Freddie took one step forward, but Paul was quick to stop the man in his tracks.

"If you move without consent, you will be shot dead!"

"Yeah," Dean added, "Don't move you son of a bitch!"

Freddie sighed, "Fine, you got me."

"Now," said Paul, "You are going to listen to my instructions very carefully. That's if you want to live."

"What will it matter?" Freddie said, "I'll still be dead in the end."

Paul ignored Freddie's comment, "Freddie, you are going to back up slowly. Harry's got a gun against your back, so I suggest heeding every word that slips from our mouths.

"Alright," Freddie said. "I'm guessing that I'm being led into that empty cell over there? I must have etched my name into the bars.

"Yes," Paul said, "Go into that cell. That's an order."

Freddie shrugged, "Yes, boss."

Paul, Dean and Harry continued to hold their guns steady. "Back away slowly."

Freddie acknowledged Paul's words. As Freddie moved backwards, Harry did so too, guiding the convict with the barrel of his gun. Freddie peered over his shoulder, glancing at Harry. Paul yelled.

"Freddie! Eyes on me!"

Freddie nodded, and continued to move backwards, not losing eye contact with Paul. After minutes of minor movements, the group finally reached the empty cell. Freddie glanced over his shoulder once again, and watched Harry fiddle with several keys; his gun was no longer against Freddie's back. Freddie inched towards Harry, but no one seemed to notice his tiny movements. Freddie continued his actions, with his eyes still fixated on Paul.

Soon Harry found the proper key, and placed it inside the keyhole. He unlocked the cell door. The older guard opened the heavy door with both hands. Freddie peered over his shoulder once more.

Paul said, "Get inside. I said get inside!"

Freddie nodded. He took one more step backwards. Suddenly, he made contact with Harry's side. Freddie clenched the needle beside his waist tight.-

Faster than the speed of light, Freddie whipped his body around, facing Harry, and raised the syringe. He grasped Harry's clothing, and pulled him forwards; then shoving the needle into the side of Harry's neck. He quickly drained the deadly solvent into the older guard. As the needle drained the fluid, Freddie leaned inwards, and whispered into the man's ear.

"If I'm going down, I've got to take someone with me."

Once empty, Freddie pulled the needle from the guard's neck, and released the poisoned man. Harry staggered forwards, and gasped for air. Paul and Dean did not hesitate to fire their weapons. Dean fired his shot into Freddie's already wounded shoulder.

Harry placed a hand on his chest, and the other against his neck. He continued to breathe rapidly. With one leap, Harry forced his body against the rails of the cell, isolating himself from Freddie.

Freddie clutched his shoulder; blood was pouring from the wound. Quick as a flash, Dean fired four shots into Freddie's chest, and Paul fired two into Freddie's head. Freddie collapsed within a millisecond. He fell face first.

There was a brief moment of silence before Paul and Dean aided their comrades. Brutus was first.

Paul grasped Brutus' cheeks, and turned his head towards him. Paul noticed a swollen black eye, and a split lip. Brutus was shaking. He was as white as a ghost.

Paul said to Dean. "Phone the infirmary. Get doctors here right away. Tell them that we have two injured men. Hell, it's a good thing we have them on standby."

Then, Paul heard gurgling noises behind him. He looked behind, discovering Harry's body, crumpled on the laminate flooring. Paul could see from a distance, Harry's chest moving up and down quicker than normal. It looked as if he was struggling to breathe.

Frantic, Paul hurried over to his friend's side. Paul's eyes were as wide as saucers as he examined Harry's situation. Paul stared at Harry's body. He was shaking-too-as he gasped for air. Paul's eyes trailed Harry's face. His eyes were bulging from their sockets as he stared at the ceiling, and he was foaming at the mouth; blood trickled down his chin soon afterwards.

Paul grasped both sides of Harry's face. He was scared. "Harry? Harry?!" Paul placed a hand on Harry's chest, now slowing down considerably. He turned to Dean. "DAMN IT DEAN! We've got to get Harry to a doctor right now! If he doesn't die from the poison, he sure is damn going to die from heart failure!"

The poisoned man gasped for air again. He coughed, and more blood poured from his mouth.

Brutus, still lying on the ground, watched the commotion with horror in his eyes. Brutus shivered. He too was scared. He had never been so scared in his entire life. He watched Paul continue to yell at Dean. They tried to move Harry, but he choked on his own blood and saliva.

It felt like an eternity, but help was quick to arrive. The many doctors quickly rushed to Harry's side, pushing Paul and Dean away from their dear friend. The doctors searched through their medicines, and pulled their needles from their velvet pouches like Freddie's. Paul guessed that their medicines would hopefully counter the drug used on Harry.

Paul and Dean let the professionals work. All they could do at this point was pray. They directed their attention back onto Brutus, who was still lying flat on his stomach, drowning in a pool of his own spit. The two men aided Brutal, helping him rise to his knees; they dragged him towards the nearest wall. Brutus sat against the brick wall with Dean and Paul on either side doing the same. Brutus seemed like he was in a different world, but he was still aware of the events that surrounded him.

Dean said in anger, tears welling up in his eyes. "That man better be dead!"

Paul nodded, "He is."

Brutus said in a weary tone, "Freddie should have taken me."

Paul's ears perked, "What?"

Brutus repeated, "I said that Freddie should have killed me instead of Harry."

Paul couldn't believe what he was hearing. "NO! Harry is not dead! Do not assume that he is dead!"

"Paul!" Brutus exclaimed. "Look at him! He's a dead man. Like you said before, if the poison doesn't kill him, then a heart attack will."-

WHACK!

Brutus lightly touched his cheek; which had instantly turned red. Paul had smacked his best friend across the cheek. Brutus was caught by surprise. "Paul," he said.

Paul yelled, "Don't! You dare say that, that man suffering on the ground is going to die! He's been on the mile for over 30 years! Longer than any of us! He's family! And he's not supposed to die here! Brutus you are scared. I KNOW you are scared…well so am I! SO SMARTEN UP!"

Brutus wiped his forehead.

Paul said, "All of you are my family. No one was supposed to get hurt tonight."

Then a doctor wandered over, and examined Brutus. Paul rose to his feet, and sauntered towards Freddie's motionless body. Freddie was spread on his stomach. He was staring into the distance, with massive amounts of blood pouring from every inch of his body; he stained the lime with his blood and presence. Freddie's brains oozed.

Paul knelt to Freddie's level. Fredrick was dead. He died a coward. Paul smacked his lips together, and wiped a lone tear that strolled along his cheek. He spat at the man.

"Damn you," he said, "I hope you go to fucking hell. Guys like you are destined to go there. I sometimes second guess myself when it comes to the doings of the prisoners, but I did not second guess you. No one, but you should have gotten hurt tonight. You were a ticking time bomb. You were humble at first, but then you turned deadly; in the cell and out of the cell. You toyed with us, along with hundreds of others before. Thanks to you, the Green Mile will never be the same. Goodbye Fredrick."

Goodbye forever.

Chapter 22 is next...

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