Prison Breaking (Chapter 1)
Sometimes, when he was lucky, Mike had dreams about sitting in the park on a sunny day. He could hear the shouts and cheers of little children playing their games. People were walking their dogs, or jogging on by and no one gave a second glance to the doting grandfather watching his ten-year-old granddaughter swing. Sometimes Kaylee would throw her head back and smile at him.
“Look Pop-pop! See how high I can go?”
“I see. You be careful not to fly away, Baby.”
“That’s silly, Pop-pop, I don’t have wings.”
Mike would just smile, outwitted by his wise granddaughter.
Then a loud buzzer would go off, and the park would dissipate. Staring up at wires and a gray mattress, Mike would remember that he was lying on the bottom cot of a tiny cell in the Fox River Penitentiary. In his displeasure at the fading of his dream, Mike snarled and pulled himself up. He was not a doting grandfather any more, he was the boss of his cell-block and every guy within it would shrink if he so much as glanced in their general direction.
After roll call, he went through the motions of the day, brushing teeth, getting dressed in the navy blue prison suit. His cellmate, Dennis Markowski, the former owner of the laundromat, watched him quietly, waiting for his turn at the sink. Breakfast was all the food that could be eaten by hand, fruit and on a good day egg and sausage biscuits. Mike sat at the last table on the right in the cafeteria with his carefully selected crew. To his right sat Gustavo Fringe, former Kingpin of the Southwest, and to his left sat Dennis. Six more of Mike and Gus’s guys crowded the table, all busted for off-shore bank accounts, including Chris Mara and Duane Chow.
“T-bag is on the move,” Chris said lowly.
Mike glanced up at the lanky form of Theodore Bagwell, trailed by his Aryan thugs and his customary prison-bitch hanging on to the inside of his pocket. The so-called rival gave Mike a smug smirk as he walked by. Of course he wasn’t challenging Mike. The Aryans didn’t have the numbers or the muscle to break Mike’s reign. Instead the Aryans migrated over to the table of the Blacks. Mike watched with some mild interest. Now C-Note, leader of the majority of the black population in the cellblock, was a pretty stand-up guy: former military, family-man. Mike respected him for a lot of reasons and had even proposed a merging of groups, but he wasn’t surprised when C-Note turned down the offer. There was an unspoken truce between their groups. But, T-Bag and C-Note, those two were nothing but trouble for everyone when they crashed and Mike had to brace himself to get in the way.
Mike watched as C-Note a short thick guy with mildly dark skin and a beard, tensed up. But, T-Bag wasn’t heading towards them either. The Aryan crew stopped at a sort of middle table where guys too indecisive to side with a major gang sat in peace.
“Oh,” Dennis said. “Must be a new guy.”
“Yeah, recruiting,” Chris agreed.
Mike lost interest. New guys were no concern of his. He had a solid group of guys, most were trained to fight, and those who weren’t had learned by now. He liked to know what was going on, but that was as far as his curiosity went. Well…until Mike heard a familiar voice…one that almost stopped his heart…
“Sorry, the whole supremacy thing just doesn’t sit well with me.”
Mike stood up, which made quite a few heads turn. T-bag’s thugs were blocking his view.
“What, you a college-boy or something?” T-bag replied and his painfully southern drawl. “You ain’t tucked safe in your liberal home no more, boy. Out here you can be real. This is how the real world works.”
“Look, I appreciate the offer and all, but trust me, I’d be like, useless.”
Mike circled his table and walked over. T-bag was hissing something in the new guy’s ear and all Mike could see was the back of his head.
“Jesse?” Mike called.
The new guy’s head turned and he looked at Mike with wide blue eyes and a smile beneath a pencil-thin blond mustache.
“Hey Mike! What’s up?”
T-bag snarled in disgust.
“You know him?”
“Back off,” Mike growled, walking up to T-bag.
“What? Is he your son or something? Because, good lord, the fun I’d have with-“
T-bag was suddenly having trouble breathing due to Mike’s hand around his pencil-neck. All the Aryan gang members looked ready to spring and yet they hadn’t moved. There was a spark of fear in their eyes and they were damn right to be afraid.
“You’re not gonna touch him,” Mike said in a lethal voice. “Not now. Not ever.”
T-bag gave a strained grin, and choked out an “alright”. Once Mike set him down he smirked and whispered seductively, “Sorry…didn’t realize he was spoken for.”
T-bag looked Jesse up and down, licked his lips and sauntered off with his crew.
Mike immediately turned to Jesse, grabbing his shoulders as if the Kid might just be a mirage.
“Kid, what in the Hell are you doing here?”
“I tried to rob a bank.”
Mike gave him a look that said he was clearly questioning Jesse’s sanity.
“I’ll explain somewhere more private.”
Chapter 2
“Look Pop-pop! See how high I can go?”
“I see. You be careful not to fly away, Baby.”
“That’s silly, Pop-pop, I don’t have wings.”
Mike would just smile, outwitted by his wise granddaughter.
Then a loud buzzer would go off, and the park would dissipate. Staring up at wires and a gray mattress, Mike would remember that he was lying on the bottom cot of a tiny cell in the Fox River Penitentiary. In his displeasure at the fading of his dream, Mike snarled and pulled himself up. He was not a doting grandfather any more, he was the boss of his cell-block and every guy within it would shrink if he so much as glanced in their general direction.
After roll call, he went through the motions of the day, brushing teeth, getting dressed in the navy blue prison suit. His cellmate, Dennis Markowski, the former owner of the laundromat, watched him quietly, waiting for his turn at the sink. Breakfast was all the food that could be eaten by hand, fruit and on a good day egg and sausage biscuits. Mike sat at the last table on the right in the cafeteria with his carefully selected crew. To his right sat Gustavo Fringe, former Kingpin of the Southwest, and to his left sat Dennis. Six more of Mike and Gus’s guys crowded the table, all busted for off-shore bank accounts, including Chris Mara and Duane Chow.
“T-bag is on the move,” Chris said lowly.
Mike glanced up at the lanky form of Theodore Bagwell, trailed by his Aryan thugs and his customary prison-bitch hanging on to the inside of his pocket. The so-called rival gave Mike a smug smirk as he walked by. Of course he wasn’t challenging Mike. The Aryans didn’t have the numbers or the muscle to break Mike’s reign. Instead the Aryans migrated over to the table of the Blacks. Mike watched with some mild interest. Now C-Note, leader of the majority of the black population in the cellblock, was a pretty stand-up guy: former military, family-man. Mike respected him for a lot of reasons and had even proposed a merging of groups, but he wasn’t surprised when C-Note turned down the offer. There was an unspoken truce between their groups. But, T-Bag and C-Note, those two were nothing but trouble for everyone when they crashed and Mike had to brace himself to get in the way.
Mike watched as C-Note a short thick guy with mildly dark skin and a beard, tensed up. But, T-Bag wasn’t heading towards them either. The Aryan crew stopped at a sort of middle table where guys too indecisive to side with a major gang sat in peace.
“Oh,” Dennis said. “Must be a new guy.”
“Yeah, recruiting,” Chris agreed.
Mike lost interest. New guys were no concern of his. He had a solid group of guys, most were trained to fight, and those who weren’t had learned by now. He liked to know what was going on, but that was as far as his curiosity went. Well…until Mike heard a familiar voice…one that almost stopped his heart…
“Sorry, the whole supremacy thing just doesn’t sit well with me.”
Mike stood up, which made quite a few heads turn. T-bag’s thugs were blocking his view.
“What, you a college-boy or something?” T-bag replied and his painfully southern drawl. “You ain’t tucked safe in your liberal home no more, boy. Out here you can be real. This is how the real world works.”
“Look, I appreciate the offer and all, but trust me, I’d be like, useless.”
Mike circled his table and walked over. T-bag was hissing something in the new guy’s ear and all Mike could see was the back of his head.
“Jesse?” Mike called.
The new guy’s head turned and he looked at Mike with wide blue eyes and a smile beneath a pencil-thin blond mustache.
“Hey Mike! What’s up?”
T-bag snarled in disgust.
“You know him?”
“Back off,” Mike growled, walking up to T-bag.
“What? Is he your son or something? Because, good lord, the fun I’d have with-“
T-bag was suddenly having trouble breathing due to Mike’s hand around his pencil-neck. All the Aryan gang members looked ready to spring and yet they hadn’t moved. There was a spark of fear in their eyes and they were damn right to be afraid.
“You’re not gonna touch him,” Mike said in a lethal voice. “Not now. Not ever.”
T-bag gave a strained grin, and choked out an “alright”. Once Mike set him down he smirked and whispered seductively, “Sorry…didn’t realize he was spoken for.”
T-bag looked Jesse up and down, licked his lips and sauntered off with his crew.
Mike immediately turned to Jesse, grabbing his shoulders as if the Kid might just be a mirage.
“Kid, what in the Hell are you doing here?”
“I tried to rob a bank.”
Mike gave him a look that said he was clearly questioning Jesse’s sanity.
“I’ll explain somewhere more private.”
Chapter 2