by Susanne Beck
A squeak of rubber on tile caused me to whirl around and my heart rose up into my throat as I saw Mouse and her two cronies standing just outside my cell, evil leers on their faces. Mouse and one of the women stepped inside, leaving the third to stand outside my cell and guard the hall.
I looked them both over carefully, slightly relieved to see their hands empty. My eyes darted around my cell in search for a weapon, but, of course, there was none to be found. Squaring my shoulders as best I could, I took in a deep breath and faced them, locking gazes with Mouse.
"Told ya we would getcha, fishie. Your little . . .friend . . .Corinne doesn’t come out of that cave of hers, ya know. That’s why we call her the Bat." Mouse cocked her head, her grin widening. "Maybe that’s what we should call you, huh? You know a lot about bats, doncha."
"What do you want."
Mouse’s eyes widened in mock surprise. "Want? What do I want?" Turning, she poked her partner in the ribs. "Hey, Shorty, she wants to know what we want."
Shorty, who fit her name perfectly, simply laughed, displaying a mouth missing a few teeth.
Mouse took a threatening step toward me, her large hands fisted and held at waist level. "Well, blondie, I guess what I want is my pound of flesh. Ya see, you broke the rules the other morning. And when you break the rules, ya gotta pay the price." Shaking her broad shoulders, Mouse tried to look sorrowful, but failed miserably, the evil glint in her green eyes giving her away. "Wish it could be different, what with you being such a cute little fish and all, but . . . ."
Before I even had the chance to steel myself, Mouse launched a hard fist into my gut, forcing the breath from my lungs in a horrible wheeze. The tuna fish sandwich and tea threatened to make a less than graceful return to the outside world and I swallowed hard against the bile rising in my throat as my eyes quickly blinked back tears of pain.
As I doubled over, my arms crossed over my belly, another fist blasted into my nose, causing me to see stars. Blood flew as my head snapped back, the pain agonizing in my head. My knees rebelled the abuse, turning to water on me, but my fall to the ground was halted by Shorty, who caught me under the armpits while kneeing me in the kidney.
I must have screamed, though I don’t really remember. All I can clearly recall is being pushed forward into yet another rock hard fist which glanced off my right cheekbone.
This time, I was allowed to fall, and fall I did, in an ungainly heap on the ground, using my arms to protect my head as best I could. The two fell into me with kicks and punches, none of which I really remember.
The next sound I can clearly remember is another fist on flesh, but this time, the flesh wasn’t mine. Next came the noise of a softly cleared throat and with that, my captors backed off, straightening and breathing heavily from their depraved exercises.
My eyes were swollen almost shut and my vision trebled with tears, but I managed to pry them open enough to see a shortish woman wish long dark hair and a very muscular build. She had a grin on her face and her massive forearm was clamped hard over the throat of the third member of my beating party. "Hello, Mouse. How’s tricks?"
Mouse rubbed the back of her hand against her nose. It came away bloody, but it was my blood that marred her freckled skin. "This ain’t none of your business," she said, but her voice sounded scared.
"Course it is," the dark woman remarked in a conversational tone. "You were beating up on a friend of Corinne’s, and you know that’s against the rules, Mouse."
"Fuck the rules! We seen her first! That makes this fish ours!"
The woman nodded, easing up some on the third woman’s throat when gasping was heard. "She would have been yours, Mouse, if you’d have been just a little faster. Fact is, though, she found the library, and that makes her safe from you and your gang." Releasing her grip on the third woman’s throat, she twisted the woman’s arm around her back and pulled, forcing her up onto her toes. "Tell ya what, Mousie. I’ll give this to you as a freebie. You got your pound of flesh, we’ll call it even, ok? I won’t even break your friend’s arm here, alright?"
The third woman gasped again against the increased pressure on her arm. "C’mon, Mouse. Let’s just call it quits, ok? Please?"
After a long moment, Mouse nodded, wiping her nose again and stepping out of my cell, giving the dark woman a wide berth. "Fine. But you ain’t heard the last of us for this." Mouse turned to me, her eyes hard and glittering. "You either, fish. You won’t know how, or when, but we’ll be back." Grabbing her two compatriots, Mouse ran off.
Grinning darkly and wiping her hands off on the fabric of her scrubs, the woman walked into the cell, helping me to stand back up on my feet. Trying hard not to sob, I doubled over again, clutching my belly as spasms of pain shot through me. My nose was laying a bloody trail on the tiled floor and my head and kidneys were aching like rotted teeth.
My rescuer pulled the cover off my bunk and tore a strip from the threadbare sheet beneath. Dousing it in cold water from the sink, she tilted my head back and pressed the cool cloth against my nose. Then she grabbed my hand and put it over the cloth. "Keep your head back and the pressure on. The bleeding should stop in a few minutes."
"Sounds like you’ve been through this before," I groaned.
"A few times, yeah." She gave my battered body a cursory once over before placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Listen, I don’t think you’re busted up too bad. Much as I’d like to stick around and make sure, I just can’t. It wouldn’t do you any good. You need to build up your own rep in this place and that means that you have to take your licks like the rest of us. My friends and I will try to make sure things don’t go too badly for you, but you need to learn to stand up for yourself, alright?" Her tone was gentle, her eyes kind. "We can’t do that for you, and until you do, things like this will be an everyday occurrence."
Her words made perfect sense and I nodded, wincing in pain.
The woman smiled. "Great. I knew you were a scrapper. Listen, as soon as you get that bleeding stopped, come down to dinner, alright? I know you can’t be too hungry, but it’ll do Mouse and her groupies a lot of good to see you’re not so easily scared off. I’ll be down there and I’ll point out a safe table for you to sit at, ok?"
I nodded again. "Thank you for helping me."
Smiling rakishly, the dark woman sketched a bow. "My pleasure."
As she turned to leave, I called out. "Wait! Please! What’s your name?"
The rakish grin came again. "They call me Pony."
Though I didn’t know it then, I had just met my first Amazon.
In the months and years to come, I would learn a great deal about this mythical gang. It was something of a secret society, comprised of the best of the best and carrying out the sacred duty of inmate protection. The Amazons were around to make sure the other gangs didn’t get too much control over the prison population, endangering both inmates and guards. If a certain gang leader needed to be knocked down a few pegs without an all out riot starting, the Amazons took the job. If a new fish like myself happened to luck into befriending a friend of the Amazons, we were protected, to some extent.
What made the Amazons so respected, and feared, is that they didn’t try to control the other gangs or inmates. But they made sure everyone followed the rules. Much like my new friend Corinne, they were dangerous and ruthless, but they could also be kind and considerate, lending help to those in need. One thing was known about them as sure as the sun rises in the east. You didn’t cross the Amazons.
Anyway, the next morning, I came into the library sporting two impressive shiners and a new attitude about my incarceration in the Bog. Corinne looked at me with a knowing grin and sent me, post haste, outside to begin my lessons in self defense.
The exercise yard is a study in segregation. It is bordered on all four sides by a fourteen foot high fence topped off by razor wire which loops in great silver-spiked coils along the boundaries. Guard towers, their mirrored windows reflecting the activity in the yard with benign
introspection, stand sentinel over each of the four corners.
Within the fence lay the outdoor facilities for the inmate population. A softball diamond with a weedy outfield takes up almost half of the grounds. Closer to the main building, a basketball court, complete with cracked concrete and high backboards sporting rusting hoops without nets, comes next. Hard by the prison proper lies the large cement square which comprises the free weight area. Weight benches, their vinyl padding cracked and stained by the elements, sit, rarely empty of human companionship. Huge stacks of iron weights, collars, plates and bars, their shining finish long since flaked away, lay waiting for an eager hand to lift, push or press. A large, cinder-filled heavy bag hangs down on a thick chain from an overhang on the main building, its off white canvas long stained by hundreds of angry fists.
The whites usually hold court in the softball field, while the blacks use the basketball court as their gathering arena. The Hispanics and Asians grab up what little room is left over for their own devices. The free weight area is the one place in all the prison, inside and out, where all the groups come together, if not in peace, then at least with a sense of mutual understanding. It’s considered a serious breech of prison etiquette to show aggression in an area where weapons are free for the taking and displayed so prominently. And, of course, the Amazons hold dominion over the area, making sure the tenuous peace is held and doling out punishments to those stupid enough to break the rules.
During the weekdays, each cell block is let out into the yard for one hour to exercise, talk, make deals or do whatever else women kept together by forced circumstances are wont to do. My cell block is designated with the letter "E" and so, for the past five years, the time between eleven and noon has always been associated with the outdoors.
I can still remember the first time I went outside, the smell of snow in the winter air, the dull pain in my belly and back from the beating I’d taken the night before, and the insistent throbbing of my nose to the beat of my heart with every step I took.
It seemed as if everyone in the entire yard, prisoner and guard alike, was staring at me and laughing. In truth, probably no one paid me that much attention, but as I stood, frozen like a deer in a hunter’s sight, the relative safety of the warm brick of the main prison at my back, it seemed as if the whole world was having fun at my expense.
I could hear the sound of rubber meeting concrete as it mixed with the sounds of yelling coming from the basketball court. The solid ‘crack’ of a well hit ball filtered through my senses and I looked up, my eyes following the graceful arc of a softball, jealous of its freedom to soar while I stood, hurting, land-bound, and locked up. The closer sounds of grunting came to me as sweat stained women pitted their strength against unyielding metal, and the noises of steel on steel added to the cacophony of sounds flitting through my throbbing head.
Taking several deep breaths and trying to shore up the tattered remains of my spirit, I finally pushed myself away from the safety of the building behind me, walking with no clear destination in mind. My feet unconsciously led me toward the center of the free weight area and when I looked up, I spied, with a profound sense of relief, my rescuer of the evening before. She stood behind a low, horizontal bench, laughing and shouting encouragement as her friend strained and struggled to press what looked to me to be an impossible amount of weight over her chest. A taller woman, thin and sporting a mass of golden curls falling in ringlets around her head, got an evil glint in her eye and reached down to tickle the exposed, muscular belly of the reclining woman. With a shout, the weight lifter pressed the bar the remaining distance, set it on the hooks above her head, and shot to her feet, grabbing the blonde in a headlock. Grinning wildly, Pony separated the two laughing combatants, earning play slaps to her own muscled body.
My feet stopped of their own volition and as I stared at the scene before me, one of joyful camaraderie, it hit me, for the first time, exactly where I was and what I had given up. Tears of self pity blurred my vision as I stared at the three laughing friends, my soul jealous for the friendly touch of another human being or even a smile free of cool appraisal or cold calculation.
Before my ill-fated marriage, I’d never been without friends. Outgoing and gregarious, there wasn’t a person I met who I couldn’t come to enjoy as, at the very least, an acquaintance. I had always surrounded myself with people and, to be honest about it, enjoyed being the center of attention.
Now I was a bit of plankton floating around in a vast ocean and surrounded by ravenous sharks. It probably showed in my rainbow hued face because Pony chose that moment to look up from her tussle, pinning me with a glance, then smiling slightly and beckoning me over. It’s hard to describe the feeling of utter relief that coursed through me at that simple gesture, but my feet resumed their pace with a step much less plodding than earlier and I even managed a return smile of my own.
"Hey, kid," Pony grunted when I came closer. "Wow. Nice face."
"Yeah. The freshly pummeled look is all the rage these days."
Poor though it was, it was the first joke I’d managed to crack in months, and I felt much better for it. The others laughed at my attempt, then grew serious as I turned back to Pony. "I . . .um . . . want to thank you . . .again . . .for your help yesterday." I could feel a blush rising as I studied the ground at my feet, feeling awkwardly adolescent for some reason. Taking another deep breath, I forced my eyes back upward to take in the faintly amused, but caring, gaze of my benefactor. "And I . . .um . . .remember what you said to me last night. I want to learn how to protect myself."
A friendly grin split Pony’s face. "Yeah? That’s great! Though now probably isn’t the best time to learn."
"But why not?"
Pony gestured toward my aching body. "Gotta wait till you heal up a little first."
"What if I can’t afford to wait? What if they’re just waiting around to finish the job?" That thought caused last night to be a sleepless one.
"Don’t worry about that. They’ll stay away. For a little while at least."
"How can you be so sure?"
Pony’s smile turned smug. "I have my ways."
I gulped. "Yeah," I returned weakly, "I guess you do."
"Anyway, let me introduce you to my friends. This," she said, motioning toward the dark haired weight-lifter, "is Sonny. And the blonde here is Critter."
I nodded solemnly at them both, trying hard not to laugh at the name the blonde woman had been given. She must have noticed the look in my eye, because her friendly smile turned to a scowl and she gave a mock punch to my shoulder. Playful or not, that hurt and I rubbed yet another sore place on my body, resolving to watch even my thoughts from now on. "Man," I mumbled half under my breath, "critters are tough."
"You got that right, kiddo." The sting of the words was softened by the reemergence of Critter’s smile which turned her face from somber to beautiful. I was drawn to it, as I was to the feeling of vague familiarity that came over me suddenly, seeing that smile.
I was just about to ask if we had met before when I noticed that the area around me had gone completely silent. Even the late autumn birds had stopped their chatter from the trees on the other side of the fence. My three new friends suddenly turned away from me, their bodies stiffening in an attitude of respect.
From between their closely pressed bodies, I could see a woman striding, almost regally, toward us. She appeared to be only slightly taller than myself (and I should tell you, if I haven’t already, that I’m a bit vertically-challenged), with long hair so dark it was almost black and dark, intense eyes. Her beautiful face was almost expressionless, yet she seemed to exude power and confidence in equal measures. I found myself actively trying not to bow as she stopped before my little group, her effect on me was that strong.
As if reading my thoughts, Critter did bow, sort of, inclining her head in a show of respect. "Good afternoon, Montana."
"Good afternoon, Critter. Ladies." Looking past them, the woman set her eyes on me. I
could almost feel her gaze crawling busily inside my skull, rooting out all my secrets and cataloguing them for future use. "And you are?"
She must have taken my voice with her, because, for the life of me, I couldn’t answer, so trapped was I in the dark of her eyes.
Seeing my predicament, Pony once again came to my rescue, introducing me to the imposing woman. Montana smiled and nodded, finally releasing me from her stare. "You’re the one Pony rescued from the Mousketeers then?"
Swallowing frantically and clearing my throat, I finally managed to find my voice. "Yes, Ma’am. That’d be me."
Montana smiled at me then, though it was no more than the slight uplifting of one corner of her full lips, accompanied by a raised eyebrow. "Much as I’d love to hear more of the story behind that, I’m afraid I need these three for something. If you’ll excuse us?"
Normally, I would have felt a sting at being dismissed so easily, but something in the woman’s eyes made the request almost an honor to receive, and so I nodded and turned from the group. My retreat was halted by a gentle hand on my arm and when I looked back up, Pony was smiling down at me. "Give your body a couple of days to rest up. You should be good to go by this weekend. Meet us down here on Saturday around noon and we’ll start on your training, alright?"
I could feel my smile threatening to engulf my whole face. "I’ll be there! Thank you!"
That rakish grin popped back out on Pony’s handsome face. "Not a problem. See you around, kid."
"Bye, Pony."
My walk back into the stale confines of my prison home felt as if I were striding on air.
The next six months of my incarceration managed to pass more smoothly than I ever could have hoped. Between the friendship of Corinne and the long range protection and training from the Amazons (though it would be a few more months before I knew that this gang actually existed. Yes, I told you I was naïve.) I felt, if not happy, at least the beginnings of an acceptance for my particular lot in life.