“I’m beginning to realize that. But, just like the people who pay to visit you and to harm you, I wanted revenge. I wanted to punish anyone and everyone who ever committed a violent crime. And to be completely honest, I hoped that this place would act like a giant net and someday snare the animal that killed my wife. When that day came, I’d look him in the eyes and say, See what your actions have caused? I’d ask him how it felt to hurt, to hurt like he’s never hurt before.”
Does he know? Is he just fucking with me now? Does he actually have zero intentions of helping me? What if his offer is nothing more than another way to torture me?
The governor attempts a laugh. “You know, when it’s all said and done, you’re right. This place, it doesn’t help. I still hurt. Every day I miss her, whether the Zoo exists or not.”
“All this, Governor? All this just because you wanted whoever took your wife to suffer? What about everyone else who is tortured in here? What about those of us who never even heard of you or your wife?”
“Hey, don’t get all preachy on me, Samuel. Everyone in here is in here for a reason. You have to commit a horrible crime, someone has to die a terrible death, for you to end up here. So, don’t try to tell me this place isn’t fair. I just wish I could look the guy in the eyes, the guy who shattered my world, and say, ‘Now we’re even, you son of a bitch.’”
It’s definitely time to change the subject. “Back to getting me out of here. Who is it that you’ve contacted?”
“Yeah, enough of me feeling sorry for myself. I spent years doing that. There’s someone who has the authority to set you free, my friend. But you’re going to have to hang tight. It’s going to take a couple of days, okay?”
He sounds genuine, like he’s speaking from the heart. He doesn’t know. My spirit soars. “I can make it through a few more days as long as I have hope of leaving this place. And I promise you, I’ll never, ever come back.”
“I believe you, Samuel.” The governor rises from his chair and says, “Well, I better get moving. As soon as I know something, you’ll know it.”
“Hey, I have one last question before you go.”
“What’s that?”
“Experimenting on human beings…isn’t that going a little too far?”
The governor considers for a moment. “News travels fast around here. We instituted that phase less than three weeks ago.”
“RS Twenty-Nine looked like shit.”
“RS Twenty-Nine, let me think…oh, you mean Aaron. Yeah, he’s a mess, isn’t he?”
“He was probably one of the last people I will ever see with any detail.”
“Not probably. He was. Doc said your eyes are permanently damaged.”
“Thanks for that uplifting thought.”
“Samuel, be assured I did some serious soul searching when the pharmaceutical companies approached me. But they convinced me and the Zoo directors of the benefits that would come from it. Imagine drugs that could cure cancer, AIDS, all the horrible diseases that afflict us. The sacrifices made by a select few could benefit millions of people.”
“How do you choose who becomes a lab rat and who doesn’t?”
“Not lab rats. Valuable individuals. Once they volunteer for valuable research, they themselves become valuable.”
“How do you choose them?” I persist.
“A complete blood workup is run. Age, sex, genetics, and willingness to participate all weigh in. In Aaron’s case, the research called for an adult Caucasian male between the ages of thirty and fifty. He was approached and given the opportunity to sign up. He could’ve said no.”
“You should have seen him. He’s going to die.”
“Samuel, he’s going to die either way. We all are, right? At least this way something comes from his death. Medicine will be advanced because of Aaron’s sacrifice.”
“Are there others?”
“This is all pretty new. I think we only have a handful of research subjects. As we develop the program, we will increase the number of volunteers and their unselfish acts will open up a whole new level of possibility. Science will leapfrog disease. And make no mistake about it, Samuel, the drug companies are very grateful. They compensate the families extremely well.”
“Drug companies get to buy lives?”
“Only lives which would otherwise have no value.”
“So now you’re deciding whose life has value, and whose doesn’t?”
“You guys decided that yourselves,” the governor says, “when you decided to kill.”
Like The Phoenix
In the Confinement Center, my world was eternally white, the white nightmare I couldn’t escape. Now my world is nothing but haze. I can’t decide which is worse.
I have no idea how long it has been since the governor’s visit. But however long it has been, however long it will be until his next visit, I once again have hope. I guess it’s only fitting that the man who created my hell now holds the key release me from it. I can do prison. Conversation with other human beings, which would mean I exist—and not just for others to bury their pain under mine.
I suppose if someone really thought about it, really overanalyzed the whole situation, they could come to the conclusion that it was actually my actions that created this hell. But no, that doesn’t really work, because there was no way I could’ve known that the woman standing in the middle of the road was the wife of a man who could, and would, accomplish so much. And it wasn’t like I tried to hit her. Jesus, just my luck…I had to hit the one woman on the planet with a husband like Governor Jon McIntyre.
Enough dwelling on this. It’s time to think about getting the hell out of here. It’s time to think about the rest of my life.
The pain from my little eye assault has diminished to mild discomfort. In here, mild discomfort is a good thing. Mild discomfort means you haven’t had an L2 for a while. It means your body is healing.
In less than three months I have lost a portion of my tongue, much of my left hand, my eyesight, and parts of my ears. I don’t have enough body parts to last nine more months. I am still plagued by the phantom pain of my missing fingers, but it comes and goes. I can live with that. What pains me the most is the realization that I have sacrificed so much. I lost my home, my wife—actually, that’s not much of a loss—my freedom and, until now, my desire to live.
I pray that my next visitor is the governor’s “special” person.
I wonder who it could be. At first I think perhaps it’s Sheila. But then I realize that whoever the person is, he or she must have quite a bit of authority. It can’t be my sister. She wouldn’t have any pull.
It’s almost unbelievable to think that my life—which I had almost given up on—now harbors such hope. Hey, I can finally make my movie. It’ll be about the Criminal Zoo. Now I have a story to tell.
I’m sure there are lots of people in prison who can type for me. I can tell my story, they’ll type it up, and I’ll put their name in the credits. Everyone will want to see what it’s like in this fucking hell. I’ll give them all the gory details. They’ll love it. A blockbuster for sure.
And who knows…if I can get out of here, maybe I can get out of anywhere. Including whatever prison I end up in. Suddenly, I can’t wait to write about my experiences. A line of scripture pops into my head: “After the suffering of his soul, he will see the light of life, and be satisfied.” Satisfied would be good. But rich would be even better.
I have been given a second chance and I will not mess it up. Regardless of the good or evil I was a part of before this place, I have been reborn. Like the phoenix, I will climb from the flames of confusion and deceit, shedding death and beginning life anew. I am ready to spread my wings. It’s time for me to get out of here. I have a story to tell.
A Big Deal
The doctor examines my eyes and says they’re as good as they’re going to get.
Time to head back to the enclosure. For the first time ever, I am ready to go back. As I am led from the Repair Shack, he says, “See you next time, One-Zero-One-Three.”
No, he won’t. He will not see me next time. The governor is getting me out of here. The asshole doctor won’t ever see me again because I am about to be long gone.
A keeper—I think it’s a keeper—leads me through the blur and back to my enclosure, soon to be nothing but a horrible memory. My spirit soars as I wonder who’s going to buy my movie. Universal Pictures? Warner Brothers? Paramount? I’m not sure just yet, but I know it’s going to be a big deal. How could they not want my story? The whole world will stand in line to see what happens in the Zoo.
Life’s Little Joke
My heart beats rapidly, matched by my breathing. I close my right hand into a fist, open it, close it again. I pace my enclosure relentlessly. I’ve got a good feel for where everything is so I move around without trouble. My mysterious visitor will come. My freedom will be granted. My new life will begin—life with purpose, promise, and money.
Governor McIntyre’s Criminal Zoo tried to destroy me. But I rose above it, beat it, and now it’s going to make me famous. And in my fame, I will be immortal. Jimi Hendrix. John Wayne. JFK. Elvis. All people whose image and spirit will live forever in the minds of the masses. And now we can add one more name to that list: Samuel Bradbury.
I lie on my bed, seeing only blurred haze. Several loud clicks grab my attention. It is the all-too-familiar sound of the door locks disengaging. My heart races. Is this the visitor who will finally set me free? Is the next phase of my life, the most incredible yet, about to begin?
“CZ One-Zero-One-Three, move to the chair.” The voice of my keeper.
I scramble from the bed and climb into the confinement chair. Excitement courses through my veins. I can feel it. This is not a regular L2 visit. I can feel it in my heart. This is it—the visit.
I listen as the keeper enters the room, his footsteps coming toward me through the haze. “I have the Zap-stick aimed directly at your head. If you make one wrong move, I will scramble your brains. Got it?”
“Yeah, I got it.” I place my forearms on top of the armrest straps. He locks them down. He moves to my ankles, restraining them. He places the leather skullcap on my head. I lean my head back and he snaps it to the chair.
“Who’s coming in?”
A firm hand takes hold of my left arm and tugs. It’s secure. Then my right arm. Again, secure. Both legs are tested. The results are the same. I am excited, but suddenly fear is as much a factor. “Who is it?”
“The exhibit is secure,” the keeper says.
More footsteps enter the room. Two blurry figures move toward me. Stand over me.
“Who’s there?” I ask. Suddenly I’m hating the haze. I want to see.
“Hello, Samuel.”
I exhale loudly. Thank God. “Hello, Governor. I was getting worried. I thought that maybe…well, you know. Anyway, you can let me out of the restraints. I’m not going to hurt anybody.”
“Keeper, would you bring in the chairs?” the governor asks.
The largest blur moves away. The keeper. I hear footsteps moving toward the door. A moment later, the sound of chairs being dragged across the floor fills the enclosure. The sound gets closer as the chairs are placed in front of me, close to me.
“I know Zoo regulations have to be followed and all, Governor, but you can let me go. You of all people know I’ve changed. I’m not violent anymore.”
More movement toward the door. The next sound adds to my confusion—jingling keys, followed by a motorized hum. Someone has just inserted a key into the switch that slides the hard plastic cover across the viewing wall. This only occurs when an exhibit is closed due to the inmate being in the Repair Shack.
“Hey, what’s going on?”
“Samuel, as I told you before, there is someone who has the special ability to help you. And that person is here now. Standing beside me. Please, sit down,” the governor instructs his guest. My guest.
“Who’s with you?” Goddamn it I wish I could see.
The chairs creak as they take on weight. And then there is only silence.
“Hello, Samuel.”
A woman’s voice.
“Who are you?” I ask.
“Samuel,” the governor says, “you need to brace yourself.”
“For what?” I stare hard at the two figures, trying to make out any details at all. None materialize.
“It’s your mother,” he replies.
“My mother?”
“Samuel, it’s me.”
My thoughts freeze like a Minnesota lake in January.
“I know this must be quite a shock, Samuel, but I had to come. Governor McIntyre said I was the only who could help.”
No, this isn’t right. Not right at all. It can’t be her. Not now. Not here. Not after three decades of silence.
“Please, Samuel, say something.”
The sound of this woman’s voice stabs into my heart like icicles.
“Samuel,” the governor begins, “remember when I told you I had access to your files?”
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t just look at your crimes. I looked at everything, starting with your birth. I know your story. Your mother left you as a child. I know how traumatic that must have been.”
“What is this? What’s going on?” I try to understand the direction of this visit.
“I tracked her down,” the governor says.
“No, Governor, that’s impossible. This woman isn’t my mom. My mom’s dead, because that’s the only reason she would never have come back.”
“Yes, Samuel, it’s really your mom. I found her.”
“Samuel,” the woman begins, “I would’ve come to see you, but I didn’t even know you were here.”
I turn to the blur accompanying her voice. “No, you wouldn’t have. You abandoned me.” The harshness of life’s little joke is crushing. “How could you leave your children with him?”
There is a long pause. I wait for the answer.
“Samuel, I was afraid for my life. Your father beat me. Raped me. I had to leave. But before I did, he told me if ever thought about leaving him, he would find me and kill me. And if you and Sheila were with me, he’d kill your kids, too.”
“My life is your fault.”
“Please don’t say that,” the woman responds.
“You didn’t leave me a note.”
“You were too young for a note.”
Anger three decades in the making flashes through me. But I remain calm. If there was ever a time for calm, it’s right now. “Governor, you said my visitor could get me out of here. What can she do?”
There is a brief pause. “Samuel, there are things about this place that you do not know. Your mom’s visit is one of them.”
“What does that mean? Enough of the games.”
“Your mom’s visit, Samuel, it’s called a Level three visit.”
“A Level three visit? What the fuck’s a Level three visit?”
The woman begins to cry. I recognize the sound from my childhood. She cried a lot. Yeah, it’s really her.
“Governor McIntyre told me that I was your last chance, your last hope,” my mother begins. “He told me the horrible things that happen in here. Oh God, Samuel, I can’t even imagine what it must be like.”
“I don’t care what you can imagine or what you can’t. All I care about is how you can get me out of here. Governor, let’s get this thing moving.”
“Indeed we shall, Samuel. Indeed we shall. Come with me, Ms. Bradbury, and we’ll get the paperwork going.”
Chairs creak. I hear the sound of footsteps moving toward the door. The locks disengage.
“Governor, I’m not sure what this whole thing is about,”
I say, calmly, collected. “It has a strange feel to it. But it better be exactly what you promised. It better be about getting me out of here. No more talk, right?”
“No more talk, Samuel. Time to get you out.”
The Truth
The governor and my mom left forever ago. My keeper released me from the confinement chair and told me to “hang tight.” No problem. I’ll just sit here and wonder whether I’m about to once again feel sunshine on my face, hear birds singing, and have someone say, “Good morning, Samuel,” or endure an eternity of torturous hell as CZ1013. But hey, either way I’ll be sure to hang tight while I’m doing it.
Through the blur, I pace back and forth. Fuck me, how long does it take to do paperwork? And then a troublesome thought hits me. What if she does it to me again? She already abandoned me once.
I continue to pace.
The locks disengage. My heart leaps into my throat.
“CZ One-Zero-One-Three,” my keeper says. “Move to the chair.”
I jump into the seat. After I am secured, the blurs of my guests return. Chairs are brought in, locks are engaged, and seats are taken. I hear crying. Why is she crying? I turn to her hazy silhouette. “Why are you crying? What the fuck is going on?”
“Samuel,” the governor begins, “once in a while, a very special visit occurs in here.”
“Yeah, we’ve covered that already, Governor. I have a Level three visit. It’s very special, got it. So how does it get me the fuck out of here?”
“The paperwork’s done. Your mom signed off on everything.”
“Way to go, Mom,” I say without emotion. “Let’s get to it.”
“It’s not discussed with the exhibits of the Zoo,” the governor begins, “nor are the details of the visit ever released to the media. But when an inmate has proven to be remorseful—truly sorry for his actions, as you have—and all indicators show the inmate would not be able to survive the full twelve months in the Zoo, early freedom can be granted.”
Criminal Zoo Page 25