Chaingang

by Rex Miller

  Chaingang

  Rex Miller

  Mystery/Thriller

  e-reads

  www.e-reads.com

  Copyright ©1992 by Rex Miller

  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

  Other Works by Rex Miller

  Chaingang*

  Iceman

  Slice

  Stone Shadow*

  Profane Men

  Frenzy

  Slob*

  Butcher*

  *also available in e-reads editions

  Ten percent of this book

  is dedicated to

  Richard Curtis Associates, Inc.

  Contents

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  37

  1

  MARION, ILLINOIS

  MARION FEDERAL PENITENTIARY

  WARNING!

  To all personnel/Effective immediately/TFN: The following rules shall be rigidly adhered to regarding the maintenance of the occupant of Cell 10, MAX D SEG VIOLET Unit: NO PERSONAL SHALL ENTER THIS CELL FOR ANY REASON AT ANY TIME UNLESS ACCOMPANIED BY ONE OF THE FOLLOWING SUPERVISORS:

  1. Dr. Norman

  2. Captain Lawler

  3. Correctional Officer McCullough

  4. Correctional Officer Brock

  5. Lieutenant Lopez

  6. Myself

  ANY VIOLATION OF THIS POLICY SHALL RESULT IN THE IMMEDIATE TERMINATION OF ALL PERSONNEL INVOLVED IN SAID VIOLATION.

  Warden Carol A. Dickett

  CELL TEN, MAX D SEG VIOLATION UNIT

  GENERAL PROCEDURES

  1. DAILY FEEDING

  a. Cell occupant shall be given food and water three times per day. (SEE D SEG MAINLINE SCHED.)

  b. Food is placed on formed feeding tray. Liquid is poured in cup.

  c. Open inbound side of feeding port.

  d. Place tray with cup in port.

  e. Close inbound side of feeding port.

  f. Press talk on intercom unit and announce, “MAINLINE."

  g. Cell occupant should then approach outbound side of feeding port. IF OCCUPANT DOES NOT APPROACH, NOTIFY WARDEN DICKETT, DR. NORMAN, OR CAPTAIN LAWYER IMMEDIATELY. When cell occupant is observed approaching feeding port, proceed with next step.

  h. Open outbound side of feeding port. Cell occupant should then remove tray with cup. IF OCCUPANT DOES NOT REMOVE TRAY WITH CUP, NOTIFY ONE OF ABOVE-NAME INDIVIDUALS AFTER CLOSING OUTBAND SIDE OF FEEDING PORT.

  i. After occupant removes tray with cup, close outbound side of feeding port.

  j. Observe occupant during meal period.

  k. When occupant has finished meal, occupant should approach outbound side of feeding port with empty tray and cup. ANY USUAL OCCURRENCE OR VARIATION OF ACTION BY OCCUPANT SHOULD BE REPORTED IMMEDIATELY. When cell occupant Is observed approaching feeding port with empty tray and cup, open outbound side of feeding port. IF OCCUPANT DOES NOT PLACE TRAY WITH CUP IN PORT AND IMMEDIATELY MOVE AWAY FROM FEEDING PORT, ACTIVATE ALARM AND NOTIFY ONE OF THE ABOVE-NAMED INDIVIDUALS.

  1. After occupant has placed tray with cup in feeding port and moved away from feeding port, close outbound side of feeding port. AFTER DETERMINING VISUALLY THAT OUTBOUND SIDE OF PORT HAS FULLY CLOSED AND ENGAGED, AND THAT ONLY THE EMPTY TRAY AND CUP ARE INSIDE PORT, YOU MAY PROCEED WITH NEXT STEP.

  m. Open inbound side of feeding port.

  n. Remove tray with cup from port.

  o. Close inbound side of feeding port, and after visually determining that inbound side of port has fully closed and engaged in auto-lock position, daily feeding may be considered accomplished.

  2. DAILY TOILET PRIVILEGE

  a. Cell occupant shall be allowed to utilize toilet two times per day. (SEE D SEG SCHED.) Activate five-minute timer.

  b. Press talk on intercom unit and announce, “stool."

  c. Cell occupant should then approach toilet commode and assume seated position, clothing positioned for utilizing toilet.

  d. After cell occupant is seated on toilet commode, open inbound side of feeding port.

  e. Place twenty pieces of toilet tissue in feeding port. (USE ROLLS MARKED “MAX/VIOLENT UNIT” ONLY.)

  f. Close inbound side of feeding port.

  g. Observe cell occupant during toilet period.

  h. If occupant finishes toilet and approaches feeding port, open outbound side of feeding port. Cell occupant should then remove toilet tissue. IF OCCUPANT DOES NOT REMOVE TOILET TISSUE, NOTIFY ONE OF ABOVE-NAMED INDIVIDUALS IMMEDIATELY.

  i. If occupant does not finish toilet before timer goes off, press talk on intercom unit and announce, “STOOL PERIOD OVER.” Occupant should approach outbound side of feeding port. IF OCCUPANT DOES NOT APPROACH FEEDING PORT IMMEDIATELY, NOTIFY ABOVE-NAMED INDIVIDUALS.

  j. When occupant has removed toilet tissue, close outbound side of feeding port.

  k. Cell occupant should then return to toilet commode for completion of utilizing toilet.

  l. Continue to observe cell occupant to determine visually that all pieces of toilet tissue have been placed in toilet commode, and that commode is flushed in normal manner.

  m. After wiping self, cell occupant should assume standing position, clothing positioned for observation.

  n. Press TALK on intercom unit and announce, “STOOL CHECK."

  o. Cell occupant should bend over in position enabling observer to make visual determination that no toilet tissue or other objects have been placed in occupant's rectum.

  p. IF OCCUPANT DOES NOT COMPLY WITH “STOOL CHECK” TO SATISFACTION OF OBSERVER, NOTIFY ONE OF THE ABOVE-NAMED INDIVIDUALS.

  q. Following accomplishment of visual determination that no tissue or other objects have been placed in occupant's rectum, daily toilet privilege may be considered complete.

  3. WEEKLY HYGIENE PERIOD

  a. Cell occupant shall be allowed to brush teeth, floss, gargle, shave, and take warm-water shower one time each week. (SEE VIOLET UNIT HYGIENE PROCEDURES.)

  * * * *

  “Well, ladies and gentlemen,” the man in the white coat said, “the twenty-four-page memorandum you've been provided gives you an idea of the special care and attention to detail that goes into the performing of your duties with relation to Cell Ten. We call it the Cell Ten Bible. It is imperative that you learn every word, forward and backward, and never deviate from a single procedure. Your life and the lives of your fellow officers will depend on it.” His voice was well modulated, but sounded loud in the small enclosure.

  “Only six persons are Cell Ten-cleared to act in the capacity of advisory personnel: Warden Dickett, Captain Lawler, Lieutenant Lopez, Officers Brock and McCullough, and myself.” The doctor wore a Formica name tag next to his ID. Dr. Norman was something of a legend in what was referred to in-house as “the program."

  “You ladies and gentlemen will never enter
Cell Ten for any reason without one of us being present. You will never transport, attend to, or otherwise involve yourself with the occupant of this cell for any reason, such as weekly hygiene, exercise, or medical matters, without observing the strictures set forth in the Violent Unit Hygiene Procedures section, which means a minimum of two supervisory personnel must be present.

  “Entering the cell—one supervisor at all times present. Transporting, exercising, or otherwise directly attending to the occupant—a minimum of two supervisors required. Get clear on that. Never deviate from it. Remember—when you are in the immediate presence of the occupant of this cell, you are potentially in extreme danger. Even when all shackles, cuffs, restraints, and lock boxes are in place. The occupant of Cell Ten is...” The doctor paused, took a deep breath, and said in an almost reverent tone, “...probably the most dangerous individual living. You must never underestimate the risk you are in when you have any direct contact with said occupant, however protected you may be.

  “You have been chosen because you have special aptitudes for working around violent persons. You are probably no stranger to D Seg, Disciplinary Segregation. And you've doubtless heard rumors about who occupies Cell Ten. Put all of it out of your mind—everything you've heard. Nothing—no wild rumor, no piece of grapevine gossip—has prepared you for contact with such an individual as this.

  “As you know from the documents you've signed and the agreements you've made, you have entered into a contract with your government. That contract forbids you to ever discuss any of the events you will see or hear in your duties—and you will want to tell someone about this. You must not. You must keep your own counsel.

  “As officers involved in the Cell Ten Unit, you will begin to learn jargon, a unique vocabulary. The person who occupies Cell Ten is never an inmate, a prisoner, a convict, a con, a fish, or anything but ‘occupant.’ In your reports it is never ‘and then he said,’ or ‘we fed the man in the cell.’ It is ‘and then the occupant said,’ or ‘we fed occupant.’ Get used to that euphemism. We never identify occupant, refer to occupant's name, nor—when addressing commands—do we employ any slang name, nickname, or proper name of any kind.

  “We never threaten occupant or speak harshly to occupant in any manner. One issues a direct command, when necessary. Should occupant not comply, one withholds appropriate privileges: food, for example, for a daily feeding infraction such as refusal to return tray and cup. Or withholding of toilet tissue, or even weekly hygienic ablution—or, in severe instances, we have the spectrum of physical acts of recourse ranging from drugs to sleep deprivation.

  “Are there any questions so far? I'm sure you must have many. Yes?"

  “I was reading the hygiene period regulations. I can understand how he—uh, how occupant can never be allowed to retain anything like a toothbrush or shaving gear. But wouldn't it be easier if he had a small plastic bowl and a soft washrag and soap so the occupant could keep himself cleaner and—"

  “You must get used to the nomenclature, Officer. ‘Wouldn't it be easier if occupant had a bowl and a soft washrag and soap so occupant could keep cleaner.’ No ‘he’ or ‘himself’ please."

  “Sorry."

  “It takes time. And one hears such questions frequently. Let me give you a rather bizarre illustration to answer your question. Here is a rare survivor of a brush with Cell Ten.” He passed a photograph of a guard with a black patch over one eye. “He liked to call occupant by name and take other familiarities while in the cell and during transport. Occupant managed to hide a tiny piece off a bar of soap. We keep it as a kind of training artifact.” The doctor produced a small vial and held it up.

  “Would anyone like to speculate what this is?"

  “It looks like a fleshette made for a .22 handgun,” one of the officers said.

  “Excellent. It's a dart for a blowgun. The body of the dart is soap that occupant managed to anneal in some fashion, then carefully reshape, harden, and sharpen to the tiny, needlelike dart you see. Interestingly, the feathery material happens to be rodent hair. The machinelike precision of the craftsmanship is quite typical.

  “We never found the blowgun itself. Some speculated that it was part of a drinking straw and that occupant swallowed it after shooting the correctional officer. The dart struck the man in the left eye. It had been dipped in feces. The eye became infected, and as you can see—or rather, as you can't see—he lost it.” The doctor almost had a note of pride as he explained the way the incident had occurred.

  “Occupant's many skills include a martial art of considerable obscurity, one fighting technique of which involves the control of an acute and focused halitosis. It is my belief that one of the occupant's methods of passing time during incarceration is to practice control of vital signs—respiration, heartbeat rate, and so on—and that this martial skill is honed even while wearing a facial restraint. I further contend that one of the ancillary benefits of this odd discipline is increased facility at expectoration. The dart was—in my opinion—expectorated.” There were a couple of nervous giggles in the room, immediately stilled by his look.

  “The halitosis technique is called ‘breath of death.’ Bizarre, to be sure. Once you become better acquainted with the occupant of Cell Ten, I can assure you that you'll find nothing whatsoever humorous about the possibility of occupant spitting a feces-poisoned dart into your eye—from some eight feet away, I should add—or forcing a column of foul exhaled air into your face when you least expect it, blinding you perhaps for just the half second it takes to head-butt you to death, or sever one of your carotids with his teeth.” He looked into each face for a moment. He was certain he had their attention.

  “And now we come to the reason why we've chosen the Cell Ten Observation Room for this initial meeting,” He glanced at the thick gray curtain behind him.

  “Let me tell you a story."

  The room itself was unthreatening in appearance: brown steel door and steel-rimmed observation port, over which a heavy security curtain had been drawn. Dr. Norman stood in front of the curtain, facing the small room. The men and women stood uncomfortably close, and there was some of the awkwardness one feels in a crowded elevator as one waits for ones floor. Norman, whose disciplines were in the mental sciences, chose his settings with the greatest care.

  “An infant, a male Caucasian baby, was found in the garbage dump outside Kansas City, Kansas. The baby, filthy, on the threshold of death, was rushed to a nearby emergency ward. The infant miraculously survived. It was placed into a local orphanage maintained by the state. It suffered neglect, however, and the child was one of several children surviving when the orphanage was investigated and subsequently closed down. The word ‘surviving’ is one we encounter repeatedly in this story.

  “The baby boy became a textbook victim of the foster care system. There was a pattern of accidents, some reported and some not. Injuries. Abuse and neglect. Once again the boy was abandoned. Once again the boy survived.

  “He was ‘adopted,’ if that is the correct word, by a woman who was in charge of several foster children. Later it was learned that she was a former prostitute with a history of alcoholism and child abuse, and it was while in her brutal hands that the little boy suffered his most traumatic exposure to various forms of sadism.

  “Both the child's foster mother and the man who called himself the boy's stepfather kept their charges tied up much of the time. But this child had ways that apparently infuriated them. They kept him in a metal box with a few air holes in it, in a stifling, dark closet, and chained under their homemade bed. He was forced to remain motionless for long periods, usually in total darkness, and to lie in his own urine and fecal matter. When he made a sound he was savagely beaten.

  “The man, a known sexual degenerate, began abusing the boy, who was forced to eat and drink from a dog dish, which was also kept under the bed.” The atmosphere in the room had grown extremely oppressive. The correctional guards had become more apprehensive as the doctor spoke, and some
of them could imagine body odor smells in the small observation room. Coughs sounded loud as gunshots. There was more movement as the men and women grew tired of standing, and the brown steel and beige concrete, compliments of that uninspired interior decorator—the federal prison system—was becoming increasingly threatening.

  “A little dog was also tied there with the child, and the animal became the boy's only friend. As with the boy, whose name was Daniel, the dog was beaten and kicked when it made noise, and so both of these poor creatures learned to be obedient together. The punishment that was meant as humiliation, presumably, was a godsend. The child and the dog helped one another survive.” The doctor had little need of notes. The occupant of Cell Ten had been his pet project for a long time, and he knew the man's history as he knew his own.

  “One day when the child and his companion had been locked in the dark punishment closet, the boy could hear a fight—not unusual in this home. The man, whom the boy thought of as “The Snakeman” because of tattoos that he had, was giving the woman one of her frequent beatings.

  “The man threatened to throw the dog out the window of the apartment house they were living in, and perhaps the boy as well. He said he was getting rid of the dog and the boy, and the boy heard him and believed him.

  “The child snuck down into the basement of the building, where he had once seen acid stored, found the bottle—which proved to be hydrochloric acid—and poured it into the eyes of the man while he slept.

  “The child is now nine years old, and once again he is institutionalized. He becomes the target for more abuse in the reform school—a natural victim, one might say. There are older boys, one bully in particular, who continue to make his life a nightmare.