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Devil's Head Penn

Hunting for the sense of right and wrong.

By HHPublished 3 years ago 6 min read
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Devil's Head Penn
Photo by Tim Hüfner on Unsplash

The thick smell of body odor and urine overpowered the hot crowded transport bus to Laforge Prison. The only source of moving air was from a tiny fan in the front of the bus but it pointed at the driver. John looked at the windows hopefully, but then quickly realized they were all locked. He leaned on the back gate and wiped his sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. Behind the gate were four prisoners in straight jackets with Hannibal Lector like masks. He made eye contact with one, the prisoner licked the sweat from his lip and stared back. John straightened up and looked forward. The other prisoners handcuffed to the bus seats and were staring out the window. They knew this was the last trip they would ever make.

The whole thing was a mistake, an error in judgement on his part. He remembered the woman’s face, sobbing in front of the other officer’s. All they knew was her side of the story, and a grainy security footage of him and her going into a room and three minutes later they came out with him fixing his pants. He tried to explain but no one would listen. They already accused him of a crime he did not commit. It wasn’t until later when she tried to do something similar with another officer who was smarter than him and left the door open, luckily there was a witness this time. John was glad to have his record clean again and the whole thing put behind him. He was also glad to have his job back, he tried to find work during his temporary suspension but there were thirty other applicants ahead of him for every position. This recession made the crime rate rise, which led to a mass shifting of prisoners. This lot were all murders, set for death row going to one of the worst prisons in the southern states. John couldn’t help but feel sympathy for some of the prisoners. How many others were accused with unfavorable evidence that were actually innocent like him? Just like when he received his transfer papers there was nothing anyone could do about it now.

A guard upfront named Franzetti was animatily talking to the driver who looked annoyed by the unwelcome conversation.

“I’m telling you man, she had tits as big as bowling balls!” He jeered. John could only hear parts of what the other guard was saying. He wondered if any of it was true.

The driver wasn’t giving Franzetti the attention his story deserved, he spotted John listening and he started making his way to the back of the bus. They were on a gravel road now which made the bus lurch side to side with every bump. As he was walking down the narrow hall a prisoner’s head was bumped to the side just as he was walking by.

“Woah! You tryin’ to get friendly with me?” He stepped back and looked surprised. The prisoner looked up at him then spat on Franzetti’s polished black boot. The butt of his rifle slammed on the prisoner’s head, blood was trickling down the prisoner’s face. He wiped his shoe on the prisoner's pants and continued on towards the back of the bus again. John was staring at him wide eyed. Franzetti took out a flask and offered it to him. John shook his head and straightened up again gripping onto his rifle.

“You just transferred right?” He took another swig before putting the flask in his breast pocket. John nodded. Franzetti gave him a look up and down sizing him up. John noticed part of his ear was gone. He wanted to ask him about it, but Franzetti started to tell John of his wondrous woman he met on his leave.

As they approached, Devil’s Head prison John could see armed guards on high towers watching the bus being unloaded. The sun beamed down and John squinted looking up at the weathered stone building with the other prisoners. He saw a face peer out of one of the windows watching them being herded inside. Another guard locked the gate behind him, then he showed his badge to the camera allowing another gate to open. The prisoner’s spilled into the open room. John followed Franzetti’s lead and pushed them into a line.

It was quiet, not like how he was used to. There wasn’t any hooting or hollering letting the others know of fresh meat, no hands were reaching out towards the newcomers. Just sunken eyes that followed them as they marched towards the common area. The sound of the final door being locked echoed in his ears.

There were guards circled around on the upper balcony with their guns pointed down at them. Like fish in a barrel, John thought. The warden came out and the guards moved aside to let him in between. He lit up a cigar, and blew it out twice before he spoke.

“Welcome to your new home.” He walked down the side of the balcony and leaned on the rail flicking some ashes down. He looked like he was counting silently. He shook his head and spoke again. “I like to keep this place clean. If there is any trouble you just let my officer’s know and we will handle it.” The guards shifted and looked at each other. He flicked his cigar again then turned and pulled a guard aside to talk to him. Franzetti was pushing the newcomers down a hall, John fell to the back of the line to follow a hand gripped his shoulder. A officer with a birthmark on his cheek pointed up to the balcony. “He wants to speak with you.” He took John’s place pushing the last prisoner in line to hurry up.

The Warden’s chair was faced towards the window behind the metal desk. His name plate was screwed down onto it, Superintendent B. Glaslow. The cigar was burning slowly in a glass ashtray. The Warden’s chair spun around facing him, he had a folder in his hands.

“C.O. John Bayer, graduated from Mississippi state, not married...” He put the file down on the table, grabbed his cigar and crossed his legs. “Says here you were caught cavorting with an inmate.” He took a puff of his cigar.

John cleared his throat “That was overturned Sir. I-”

The Warden held his hand up to stop him. “I know, I know it’s easy to get mixed up with these criminals. But I won’t allow it. If you show any sign of weakness they will over take you in a second my boy’. You understand that right?” John straightened up.

“They are like animals. Never forget that. Hell, just last week one of my officer’s got his ear was ripped clean off his head.” He leaned forward and gave a hard look at John’s face. “We are a team here and I need to know if you are going to play ball. This place isn’t like your city prison. You can see that right?”

John nodded.

“We will see.” He stood up and grabbed his coat from the rack. “I will be back on Monday. The boys will let me know if you can be trusted.” John ruffled his brow in confusion and nodded again.

He found Franzetti down the hall but he was busy assigning cells to the inmates. He did not see any of the prisoners who were restrained on the bus and he wondered if there was a special cell block for them. The guard with the birthmark on his face whispered something in Franzetti’s ear. He smiled and pulled out his radio.

“Hope you boys are ready! We’ve got the green light!” There were loud conversations outside the hall with the guards and they seemed excited about something. Franzetti smacked John on the back excitedly and led him back down the hall. “Do you like to hunt?”

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HH

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