Rest in Peace

by Darrell Maloney

  That way the girls could get showered and cleaned up and knock the dust off their bodies before Sami found Brad and demanded to know what Mark meant.

  Mark, of course, would forego his own shower for awhile so he could beat her to Brad.

  If they didn’t find what they were looking for by five p.m., they decided, they’d call it quits and come back the next day.

  At five to five Hannah leaned into one of the plastic tubs and lifted a Monopoly game to see the very distinctive Daisy logo beneath it.

  “Ah!” she squealed.

  Mark went running, thinking she’d hurt herself.

  Then he saw her pull out the two BB guns and he squealed too.

  The .22 rifles were right beneath them.

  The ammunition eluded them, but they’d surely find it the next day in the next tub.

  Their labor had finally paid off.

  At dinner that night the girls were a mix of emotions.

  Hannah and Mark had already presented Markie with one of the BB guns and one of the .22s and told him his training would start after breakfast the next morning.

  Markie was ecstatic.

  Sami and Sarah were happy too, for they’d watched Markie grow up over the years and his “aunties” were filled with joy for him.

  At the same time all three women were a bit paranoid and wondering about Mark’s claim.

  The men, smug but not showing it, were all relishing in their revenge.

  And Sami was ecstatic for another reason as well.

  While walking back to the main part of the mine from the trailers, she’d felt the baby kick for the very first time.

  It was the second big topic of conversation at the dinner table besides Markie’s upcoming birthday.

  “What are you gonna name him?” Markie wanted to know.

  Sami asked, “How come you think it’s gonna be a boy?”

  “Because I don’t want my first cousin to be a yucky old girl. I want to be able to do fun stuff with him. Not play with dolls and junk.”

  Sami stole a glance at Mark and commented, “You’ve got a male chauvinist piglet in training, there, dad.”

  “I know. I’m so proud. He’s a chip off the old block.”

  She turned back to Markie and said, “I don’t know. We haven’t really discussed it. Do you have any suggestions?”

  “How about Mark, after me?”

  “I don’t know, honey. I think that would be too confusing. Between you and your dad we’ve got two Marks already.”

  “How about Frank, after Grandpa Frank?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. Do you have any girl names, in case we have a ‘yucky old girl’?”

  “I don’t know. Anything will work, I guess.”

  He suddenly looked glum.

  “I’ll tell you what, Markie. I can’t make you any promises, you understand, but I’ll try my best to have a boy. As long as you don’t get mad at me if I can’t manage it. Okay?”

  “Okay. Deal.”

  -52-

  While Sami was dealing with Markie, Frank and Josie were having a heart-to-heart with a man-boy about the same emotional age.

  Crazy Eddie was Josie’s ex-husband. He was a man of thirty two who’d done too many drugs in his twenties.

  He’d made enemies when he was in prison; people who wanted him dead.

  But murdering someone in prison is harder than one thinks.

  One must fashion a weapon. And since prison officials are constantly on the lookout for such foolishness, material which can be used to fashion shanks is terribly hard to find.

  Therefore most shanks are crude at best and far from capable of inflicting mortal injuries.

  Most shanks are merely razor blades attached to some type of crude handle.

  They can cut, but most wounds are shallow. It takes a lucky strike to hit an artery or even a vein, and most fights are broken up quickly. Wounded inmates are immediately taken to an infirmary, where more or less qualified medical professionals care for them.

  Death by shanking is pretty rare.

  There are other ways to commit murder in prison, though they are just as ineffective.

  Beatings severe enough to cause death happen occasionally, but fists are almost never the tools used.

  Usually inmates collect spare batteries from their friends or allies, drop three or four of them into the toe of a heavy sock, and swing the sock at their victim’s head and face.

  To cause mortal injuries, though, the sock has to be heavy enough and swung with extreme force.

  And again, prison guards watch for inmates who collect an excessive number of batteries and confiscate them.

  The best method of killing someone in prison is by knocking him out and strangling him.

  In this case, the “knockout” part is essential, for in a crowded pod without many places to hide any shout or commotion will draw immediate attention from guards.

  A knock-out punch in a dark corner will keep the victim quiet while the killer puts his lights out forever.

  But dark corners are hard to find in a modern-day prison.

  It seems lights and cameras are everywhere these days.

  Well, not quite.

  Most prisons these days make extensive use of cameras, yes. But there are some exceptions.

  Some states value privacy over safety, and prohibit cameras from being placed in prisoners’ cells and in showers.

  The thinking is that they’ve taken everything else away from their inmates. The least they can do is provide them a bit of privacy while they’re sleeping or washing their bodies.

  Inmates frequently take advantage of that policy, as they do for every policy which provides them any type of freedom.

  In such prisons the two most common places for assaults and murders to take place is…

  You guessed it. Cells and showers.

  “Crazy Eddie” used to be called just “Eddie,” for he was as sane as everybody else.

  Then he went to Singer State Correctional Facility in south Texas, lovingly called “Sing Sing South” by its inmates.

  Eddie was there serving a four year sentence for stealing copper from a construction site.

  He’d hoped to sell it for money to feed his drug habit.

  But scrap metal dealers in the area had been asked to watch out for the stolen copper and to notify authorities when it showed up.

  In those days Eddie talked non-stop. He was one of those people who seldom had anything worthwhile to say, yet insisted on sharing his views anyway.

  For that reason he annoyed a lot of people.

  And he made a lot of enemies.

  It’s easy to get drugs in prison.

  As long as an inmate has somebody on the outside who places money into his account or “book.”

  Prison has its own banking system.

  A family on the outside places money into an inmate’s account.

  He uses the money from his account to purchase “commissary,” or snacks and drinks.

  Those snacks and drinks are traded for drugs which are smuggled into the prison. Usually in places you don’t want to know about.

  When Eddie went to Sing Sing South he was still married to Josie. She was working as a paramedic and making fairly good wages.

  She was a homebody who liked to read and watch TV a lot, and seldom went out drinking and partying with her friends.

  She had simple tastes and wasn’t the type to blow a whole paycheck on fancy purses, clothes or shoes.

  Therefore it was easy for her to find money each month to put on Eddie’s book, so he could buy his Twinkies, ramen noodles and juice boxes.

  She didn’t know until later that he was also purchasing synthetic marijuana.

  Despite its moniker, synthetic marijuana contains no cannabis at all.

  It was ground up spices which resembled marijuana, hence its name: synthetic marijuana or “spice.”

  But its hallucinogenic properties came from chemicals sprayed on it when it was manufact
ured.

  Sometimes some very dangerous chemicals.

  One of Eddie’s fellow inmates had had enough of his incessant talking.

  He decided to “off” Eddie by intercepting a shipment of spice headed Eddie’s way and treating it again.

  This time with ammonia he obtained from the prison kitchen’s mop closet.

  Eddie didn’t die. But he was never the same again.

  -53-

  Frank had already made peace with Eddie; they’d talked several days before and came to an uneasy truce.

  Frank would forgive him, and in turn Eddie would never play “Sir Knight,” swinging a sword in Frank’s direction or anyone else’s again.

  Now, as Frank and Josie were in her tent contemplating their future, Eddie walked up outside.

  “Knock knock,” he said.

  “Just a minute, Eddie,” Josie responded.

  She whispered to Frank.

  “Do you mind if I invite him in? I want to tell him about us and let him start processing it, so we can see if there’s gonna be a problem with him.”

  “Sure. I don’t care.”

  “You might want to get dressed.”

  “Oh, yeah. Okay.”

  The two had made love not long before.

  Very gently, for Frank was still healing from his wound.

  He’d been so mesmerized watching Josie get dressed afterwards he’d neglected doing so himself.

  He pulled up his jeans and was looking for a shirt when Josie lifted the tent flap to let Eddie in.

  Without so much as a “hello,” Eddie dove right into full conversation mode.

  “So, I made up a new game, and I need somebody to play with me. It’s called, ‘Climb up on the racks and jump back down,’ on account of what you have to do is climb up on the racks and then jump back down.

  “The way you win is you have to climb up higher than anybody else and then jump down.

  “Except you can’t break anything like a leg or a ankle or a head or anything. On account of if you break anything you get disqualified and you don’t win.

  “How about it, you guys? You wanna play with me?”

  Josie waited until he paused to catch his breath, then interjected, “Good morning, Eddie.”

  “Good morning, Josie. So, you wanna play?”

  Frank said, “Good morning, Eddie.”

  “Hi Frank. You wanna play too? I’ll let you go first.”

  “No thank you, Eddie. I’m afraid jumping might make my wound start bleeding again.”

  “Oh. Yeah. Okay.”

  He turned back to Josie and she said, “I don’t think so, Eddie. I’m afraid I’d probably break something.”

  He looked a bit disappointed, but not deterred.

  There were other people around he could ask.

  He turned and started to walk away without as much as a goodbye.

  That was how Eddie was when he was on a mission.

  In this case his mission was to find a playmate for an exceedingly reckless game.

  And in his quest to do so there was no time for small talk.

  Josie stopped him dead in his tracks.

  “Eddie, don’t leave yet.”

  “But I gotta find somebody to play my new game. It’s no fun playin’ by myself. Then I can’t beat nobody.”

  “I know, Eddie. This will just take a minute.”

  He obediently stood at a modified parade rest position, his feet shoulder-width apart and his hands cupped in front of him.

  “You understand that you and I aren’t married anymore, right?”

  “Oh, shucks, Josie. I already know that on account of you showed me some papers. Don’t you remember?”

  “Well yes. Yes, I do remember now, Eddie. Thanks for reminding me.”

  Eddie looked at Frank and said, almost as an aside, “She’s silly. She forgets things.”

  Josie ignored him and went on.

  “And you understand that since we’re not married anymore that I can fall in love with somebody else, right?”

  He looked a tiny bit… sad.

  “Well shucks, Josie. You told me you will love me forever and ever. On account of we were married before and you said we had a good time way back then.”

  “Yes, Eddie. I will always have a special kind of love in my heart for you, and a lot of great memories of the days when we were young and things were better between us.

  “But what I need to hear from you is that you won’t be upset if I give my love to Frank now.

  “Would you be okay with that?”

  Eddie asked his own question.

  “Will he still be my friend if I say yes?”

  “Of course he will.”

  “Okay. Then yes. Can I go now?”

  “Not quite yet, Eddie. I have one more thing to ask of you.”

  “Okay.”

  “This thing with Frank and me… it’s going to create problems with some of the others who might not like or trust Frank so much.”

  “Then why do you want to fall in love with him? I don’t understand.”

  “Falling in love isn’t always something you can help.

  “Sometimes it just happens on its own, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  “And that’s the way it happened with Mister Frank?”

  “Yes. Exactly.”

  “Okay.”

  “Anyway, Frank and I need some time to figure the whole thing out and the best way to tell the others.

  “Can you keep it a secret for now?”

  “You mean not tell anybody that you and Frank are married now?”

  “No. We’re not married.”

  “Okay.”

  “We don’t want you to tell anybody that we’ve fallen in love.”

  “Okay. Can I go now?”

  “Yes, Eddie. Why are you in such a hurry to go?”

  He gave her an exasperated look. A kind of a “you never listen to anything I say” look.

  He said, “I need to find somebody to play my new game.”

  He walked out of the tent and disappeared.

  Exactly six minutes later Josie and Frank heard another voice.

  That of her brother Jacob.

  “Hello in the tent.”

  “Come in, Jacob.”

  “Josie, what’s going on?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Eddie’s going around telling everybody you and Frank have fallen in love and want to be married.”

  -54-

  “But how come I can’t shoot the .22 first? BB guns are for little kids.”

  “Because, Markie, you have to learn how to handle a weapon safely before you can use one that’s dangerous.”

  “Mom says the BB gun isn’t that dangerous. She says it can’t kill anybody ‘cause the BB is round and moves too slow.

  “What your mom meant was that any gun can be dangerous. Even a BB gun.

  “But it’s a matter of degree. Some guns are more dangerous than others. A BB gun won’t kill you, but you can take somebody’s eye out if it’s not handled correctly.”

  “What she meant was, we’re going to use the BB gun to give you your basic skills. You’ll probably make some mistakes at first. And if you’re going to slip up and wave a loaded weapon around or aim it at somebody you don’t plan to shoot, I’d much rather it be a BB gun than a rifle.

  “Okay?”

  “I guess.”

  Then, “What do you mean by the basics?”

  “How to handle the gun. How to take care of it. How to clean it and protect it from damage. How to aim it safely. What to do if it jams or misfires. All that stuff is stuff you need to learn before you get to fire it.”

  “Wow. I thought I could just pick it up and shoot it, like you do.”

  “It may look that way, son. But I’ve been shooting a rifle for most of my life. If I make it look easy it’s only because I know what I’m doing.

  “As for disassembling and cleaning the weapons, that’s something Bryan and
I do after hours, long after you guys have gone to bed.

  “Someday you’ll grab a weapon and go, and somebody might think you’re not being careful either.

  “But if they watch the way you handle it, making sure it’s safe, making sure the muzzle is aimed skyward or at soft ground, making sure the muzzle never touches the ground and that it’s always clean and serviceable…

  “If they watch all that, they’ll know that you remembered everything I’m going to teach you.”

  Markie conceded.

  He gave up thinking he was going to be able to fire his new .22 on this particular day.

  And probably not the next day either.

  He knew he’d never be able to carry his gun as he and his friends ran around the mine playing G. I. Joe or cowboys and Indians.

  Most of all he knew he’d entered a new stage in his life.

  A stage one step closer to manhood.

  A stage where his father would teach him things that a man needed to know.

  And would trust him to learn and follow his instructions to the letter.

  He knew he’d have to earn the right to fire his new weapons.

  He couldn’t pay attention lackadaisically.

  The lessons he was to learn would be some of the most important lessons of his life.

  Because if he screwed this up someone could be killed.

  “Okay,” he finally told his father with some resolve.

  “I won’t let you down.”

  For the first lesson Mark left the .22 at home. The pair went to the back of Bay 24, just the two of them.

  Mark explained the air rifle to his young son.

  He explained the various parts of the rifle and each part’s function.

  He explained how the tiny BBs were expelled by compressed air, and therefore resulted in practically no recoil.

  He was careful to point out that wouldn’t be the case when he graduated to the .22 rifle.

  He explained that the BB gun required very little maintenance.

  “Daisy air rifles have been made in the United States for generations,” he said. “They’re top quality and tough. And since they don’t fire powdered projectiles they require very little cleaning or maintenance.”

  Once again he was very careful to point out that wouldn’t be the case when he graduated to the .22 rifle.