It wasn't a particularly hot day, but I was still covered in sweat. Head-to-toe. Just drenched. I could practically smell the fear wafting off me. My hands gripped my steering wheel so hard my knuckles were perfectly white. I hadn't felt like this in a long time: it was a weird mixture of fear and anxiety and excitement. It didn't feel good at all. The entire ride out I felt nauseous. My stomach cramped up and refused to unclench. I would get too hot and turn on the A/C. The moment a blast of air hit me I immediately went frozen. Flip the A/C off and the car heated up to 1000°.
I wasn't sure I would be able to stand up and get out of my car. My legs felt unsteady. I was sure the moment I tried I would fall on my face. That assumed I worked up the courage to even open the door. I'd been sitting in the car ten minutes already. I didn't know how much longer I could wait before I chickened out and left. I wasn't feeling too great about my courage levels. It was almost sickening how cowardly I was. I already drove out all this way. Would I turn tail and run? Just like that?
The prison was an imposing gray monolith in the middle of the desert surrounded by multiple concrete fences and miles of razor wire. There were guard towers every ten feet, each with at least three guards, all armed with high-powered rifles. This level of security was to be expected. The Iron Kitchen was the main prison for incarcerating powered criminals. Unlike what everyone expected, and with good reason considering what happened at Happy Hills Mental Institution, the prison was fully secure. There had only been a very small number of confirmed escapes but most were caught shortly after. Not one of them was a spectacular storming of the place by free confederates liberating their friends by smashing down the walls. All of them were guys who snuck out in the laundry, bribed guards to look the other way or, in one case, a guy simply walking away during a work detail. Shawshank prison had a worse record of escapes than the Iron Kitchen.
I gripped my door handle and willed my arm to push it open. I lurched out of the car, using the door to steady myself. I knew the guards were watching, but I hoped they didn't notice me too much. I probably looked drunk. Looking around, it didn't seem like I would be the only one.
The parking lot was full of visitors for the other prisoners. It was a mostly female group, all the wives and girlfriends. Almost all of them had at least one child by their side. They were dressed up, trying to look as nice as possible. Some, though, you could tell were heavy drug users: way too skinny, looking around too much, facial scabs. One blonde woman saw me and smiled. All her teeth were rotted gray from meth use.
I hadn't expected the crowd but I didn't know what I expected, really. I didn't know if they would let me in to see Beth or not. No charges were ever pursued against me so I didn't have an official record. Still, there had to be a flag in their system for my name when I checked in. Would that be the end? Would I be escorted out? There was so much about this that I didn't know. It was frustrating. I should've done some research. I could've gone on some forums to figure out protocol for visiting someone in prison.
Instead I lined up for a pat down and metal detector scan between a Latina woman with a screaming baby in her arms and a muscular white supremacist with SS lightning bolts tattooed on his throat. I had no clue what to expect. Luckily there was no static anywhere. While it was crowded and noisy, it was all subdued. Nobody wanted to cause any problems because that would mean loss of visitation rights and possible fear of incarceration in the place they only intended on visiting. The presence of armed guards played a factor.
I kept wiping my palms on the front of my slacks, but they wouldn't stay dry. It felt like I was waiting for my prom date to get ready and I was outside her door, about to knock and meet her stern parents.
The line moved forward slowly. As I got closer to the metal detector I noticed a few guards looking my way. I tried to push it out of my head. They had to be eyeballing the skinhead behind me. I was the least threatening person in line. Most of the kids running around screaming looked like feral creatures ready to bite anyone who got too close to them.
Still, the guards focused in on me. They looked down at something on their desk then back at me. I'd grabbed their interest for some reason. Leaving now would be suspicious. All the way back to my car I'd be afraid of a guard's hand gripping my shoulder, telling me to come with them. I would feel like an ass if I got out of line only to see the guards take the skinhead out after all. I'd have to move to the back, starting all over again while my anxiety climbed.
I decided to stick it out. The stress was giving me a headache. The guards stopped being subtle at all. They stared right at me. No doubt about it. I tried to act casual. I didn't look at them. I looked around, saw nothing but fences and squealing children. When I glanced forward again I saw a guard staring daggers right back at me.
I settled at looking at my feet. I shuffled forward whenever the woman in front of me did. I sneaked peeks while the guards continued to stare. This went on all the way until I was at the front of the line. I was about to empty my pockets for the metal detector when a guard approached me.
"Sir, I need you to come with me."
"Did I do something wrong?" I asked. I was sure I had done something. Everyone else knew the protocol, the subtlety of the prison. I didn't and broke some unspoken rule.
"Please come with me, sir."
Everyone in line stared at me as I was led off. The guard marched me to a door and ushered me through it. The room was bare except for a metal table bolted to the floor and two chairs. Opposite me was another door. Other than that it was nothing but gray concrete brick. Before I could ask any questions the door slammed shut behind me and locked with a clunk. I spun around and pounded on it.
"Hey! HEY! What did I do!? Let me out!"
The door remained shut. I pounded on it until my hands hurt. I couldn't understand why I'd been locked up. No breach of etiquette could be this bad. When would I be released? They had to come back to me, if for no other reason than to explain why they put me here. They couldn't keep me here forever.
The room wasn't as empty as I first thought. There was a camera mounted in a corner behind a cage with a red light blinking at intervals indicating that it was on. I waved my arms trying to get the attention of whomever was watching. It was ludicrous to assume they would do anything. They were on the side of the people who locked me up in the first place.
I still had my phone. The guard didn't take any of my belongings. I had zero bars, I assumed because the walls were too thick for a signal to get through. My phone was useless for anything but a clock. Who would I call anyway? "Help, police, I've been locked up at a prison!" Blood Shadow or Dana wouldn't be much help since they wouldn’t come anywhere near here. They'd already left Beth behind bars for over a year and my rescue would definitely come after hers. Wade would just want to know why the fuck I was at the prison in the first place.
I thought someone would be in shortly to explain to me what was happening. Nope. They left me in there for nearly two hours. I felt every minute of it because I checked my phone just as often.
At first I tried to sit at the table and be patient. The chair was way too uncomfortable. They wanted whoever was in this room to want to get out of it as soon as possible. I settled on pacing around the room. I jammed my hands in my pockets and ambled around the table slowly. Every time I made a pass by the camera I looked up at it and its stupid blinking red light. With each blink my anger surged. Someone was watching me, someone was laughing at me. If it wasn't behind a protective cage I would've reached up and torn it from the wall. That would've gotten their attention. I wouldn't be alone after that.
They'd probably fine me for destroying prison property. That was okay with me if it meant someone would come into the room and tell me what exactly was going on.
I lost count of how many times I circled the table by the time the other door opened. I expected to see a brown-shirted prison guard. Instead it was a man in cowboy boots, a ten gallon hat and a red flannel shirt.
Wyatt.
He smirked as he swaggered into the room. He nodded to the guard holding open the door who nodded back and closed it. This time the clunk noise of the lock was more ominous.
Wyatt walked over to the table and kicked a chair out. He sat down and kicked his feet up onto the table. He looked down at his fingers, picking a bit of dirt out from under his thumbnail.
"Aren't you gonna' have a seat?" he motioned to the chair opposite him.
"I'd rather stand."
"Been watching you. Looks like you've been standing a lot."
"Not a whole lot to do here otherwise."
"Just sit down," he said.
"No."
"Sit in the GODDAMN CHAIR!"
I sat down. I didn't like it, but resisting him only prolonged this. I'd already been here too long. I wanted to know what he wanted and when I was getting out. I only sat, I didn't scoot the chair any closer to the table. My plan was to avoid being within his reach. To get to me he would have to come across the table. That would give me a few seconds to get out of the way and run...nowhere. I was in enemy territory and he knew it.
"Good. Now we can talk like civilized men," he said.
"I've always been civil when we've spoken. You're the one who resorted to violence."
"Heh. Yeah. I guess I did. I kind a’ lost my head there for a bit. Kind a' paid the price for it, what with that fella' shooting me. My shoulder hasn't been the same since. Gets real tight when it's about ta' get cold. I've become one a' those old men who can tell when bad weather is coming." He rotated his arm slowly, grimacing when his arm reached the top of the arc, "I reckon you got some similar complaints."
"No, I'm fine. I get my weather from the internet."
Wyatt narrowed his eyes at me, "I suppose you went ta' one a' those illegal doctors the villains use. You know the shit they do ta' you is outlawed, right? You could be arrested for doing that."
"Prove that I went to one. For all anyone knows I had an excellent doctor and recovered well. I still have the scars."
"We can find a way."
"Then do it." Now I remembered why I hated talking to him: he was the only person who could get me angry. Sarah and Kylie annoyed me, frightened me at times, but I was never pissed at them. Neither of them got me shot. Sarah raped me, so maybe I should've been madder at her.
Wyatt scratched his chin, "Nah. I'm not gonna' be petty. We each took our licks. No reason ta' open new wounds. So what brings you here?"
"You know why I'm here."
"Figured you go in and see my wife while she was in jail? You know, they're not gonna' let you have a conjugal. If that's what you were hoping for then you are shit outta' luck."
"Because I'm seeing you instead of her I take it that I'm not going to see her anyway."
He jerked his feet off the table and planted them square on the floor. He made no move to get out of his chair, but he was definitely done relaxing. He still had all the power, but was mad I wasn't pissing myself in fear at his presence.
"Damn right you're not gonna' see her. Truth be told I am surprised it took you this long ta' work up the nerve ta' try. Got a lot more pussy in you than I figured."
I balled my fists up so tight my fingers hurt. I wasn't going to hit him. I swore to myself, if nothing else, I wasn't going to let him win. He wasn't going to spur me to stupid acts of violence that I would lose. All he wanted was an excuse to hit me. I wouldn't give him one.
"I'm not scared." Even I didn't believe it when I said it. I was just happy I didn't stutter.
He looked me up and down, like the first time when he strolled into the bank. It was a cool, slow appraisal which made me feel naked under his gaze. With that look he could see all my weaknesses. I pressed my fists into my thighs to stop shaking. He saw that.
His smirk returned.
"Nah. You ain't scared."
I kept my mouth shut. Wasn't going to give him any more ammunition. Turned out I didn't need to. He had plenty.
"I've been keeping my eye on this place waiting for you to show up. Cost me a fair amount of money ta' pay off the guards ta' let me know when they spotted you. I'd just about given up waiting. Turned out ta' be a good investment on my part. Incidentally that's why you had ta' wait so long. I had ta' drive out here once someone got me on the phone. I'd apologize, but fuck you. If you'd been out here yesterday then this would've gone a lot faster."
"You were here yesterday?" I asked.
"Of course. I come out every couple of days ta' see the wife. Been doing that ever since Lizzie got herself arrested. We spend hours chatting. In a way, this is the best thing ta' happen ta' our marriage. It forced us ta' sit and talk. Which is something neither of us did when we were younger and going through our troubles. It's been a real good time."
"I'm sure she's been thrilled to deal with you all that time."
"Don't kid yourself. She's much happier now. She's had time ta' think about what she's done. It was just a stupid phase she was going through."
"I wasn't a stupid phase."
"Sure you were. You were the tail-end of her wilding days. She went out, saw the world, met some bad boys. Didn't you ever wonder why she dated all those tough guys and then ended up with a wimp like you? She was ramping down ta' settling back inta' a normal life. You were a nice guy, bit of a wuss, but still dangerous because you weren't afraid of all the villains she introduced you ta'. Once she dumped you she would've come back ta' Texas with me."
"You're such a shitty liar."
"I'm only telling you what she told me. It was bad luck that landed her here. Thankfully someone in this room, me, has a good lawyer who is fixing ta' get her charges dropped ta' manslaughter. It'll still be a few years before she's able ta' get out, but it's better than nothing. So who do you think she wants ta' be with? The man who visited her all this time and is working ta' get her out of prison? Legally? Or her scrawny 'boyfriend' who left her ta' rot while he banged some slut from his office?"
My face flushed hot red, "How do you know about that?"
"Been keeping my eye on you, too. When I get a chance. Didn't want you ta' get any fancy ideas. Seems like you spent most of your time moping. And banging other women. Lizzie wasn't too pleased ta' hear you'd been stepping out on her. After all she did for you and you can't keep your pecker in your pants."
"That's not...it's more...let me talk to Beth!"
He laughed at me, "Not a fucking chance. I want you ta' stay the hell away from my wife. You're never gonna' speak ta' her again. In fact, this is as close as you'll ever be ta' her for the rest of your life. Next time you won't even make it outta' that parking lot. The guards'll have a field day with you, escorting you out by force if they have to. By God I hope you make them use force."
I pressed the tip of my tongue to one of my canine teeth so hard it was almost bleeding. It was all I could do to keep from screaming. I couldn't form words by that point. If I tried it would just come out as an inarticulate shout of rage.
I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to do. I felt completely powerless.
I didn't believe him. I couldn't. I didn't want to. It couldn't be true. She hated Wyatt. There was no way she suddenly discovered her feelings for him she had buried deep, deep down. We'd had too strong of a connection for her to cast me away. I remembered that night up on the hill when she told me all about him. Whether he meant to or not, he had hurt her. The tears she cried were real. Never in my life had I done something to hurt her like that.
Sleeping with Kylie was...a complete accident. A sin I'd never be able to fully atone for. I could only make it wash away if she forgave me. It was a stupid mistake I could explain. If Wyatt actually did tell her what I had done then he was the true asshole. He was using me as a weapon to hurt Beth. I was sure that when he had told her he was doe-eyed and sympathetic. Inside he had to have been smiling.
"God, I wish you would just hit me," Wyatt said.
"What?" I croaked. It was the most I could do. My throat was bone dry.
"You been standing there staring at me with your fists clenched, but you ain't gonna' throw a punch. I wish you would. Give me an excuse ta' unleash on you. I'd give you another whipping and maybe you'd learn some respect. Keep you outta' another man's business."
"Maybe you'd better make the first move if you want it so bad."
He smiled again. That big, stupid, toothy grin. It was like a matador waving a red flag at a bull. At that moment I did want to take a swing at him, I wanted to feel those straight white teeth smash against my fists, to feel his blood dribble down my knuckles.
Except it was the power fantasy of a man who knew he would lose in a fight. I would only be able to get the first shot in and maybe not even that. Wyatt would take me apart piece-by-piece. Right then I wished I'd taken Blood Shadow up on his offer of a gun. At least I should've taken some martial arts classes.
Wyatt wagged his finger at me, "Doesn't work like that. I bet you'd love for me ta' hit you. Get in trouble with the prison, maybe lose my visiting privileges. I know how your weasel mind works."
"Open the door. Let me out."
"Nah, don't think I'll be doing that."
"What?"
"I'm really enjoying myself. I may not be able ta' put the hurt on you like I really, really want ta', but this is almost as fun. Maybe better since I won't have to ice my knuckles later."
"Jesus Christ!"
"Something about you I just don't like. Ever since I met you you've always gave me this shitty, superior attitude, like you were better'n me. Drove me crazy talking ta' you. Acting all smug that you were fucking my wife and treating me like a lost puppy. I've done more good for this world than you will ever accomplish, but you treat me like garbage."
"That's because you're an asshole! That's why Beth hates you and why she ran away!"
Wyatt pounded his hand on the table. I felt the force of it through the concrete at my feet.
"It's that right there! That sort of attitude! Beth keeps telling me what a nice guy you are, but really you're the asshole. Took me a long time ta' get her ta' see that. I read those letters you sent her. What a bunch a' whiny bullshit. Damned near made me sick."
"You had no right to read those."
"But I did! What are you gonna' do about it? Whine at me?" He grinned at me again.
That was it. I was going to hit him. I was just about ready when the far door unlocked and opened again. Two guards stepped into the room. Wyatt stood up from the table, angry at the interruption.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, "Thought I told y'all ta' wait until I wanted ta' be let out."
"Sorry, White Hat. The warden did a surprise inspection today and saw you on surveillance alone with a civilian. He told us to stop it."
"You sons-of-bitches. I paid good money for this."
"Sorry, man, but he cuts our real paychecks. We have to escort this man off the premises and the warden wants to talk to you."
The guard held the door open and stepped to the side. Wyatt looked at him then to me. He tipped his hat farewell.
"This was a nice chat. Nice knowing you. Have a good life."
He sauntered out of the room with one of the guards following him. The other guard went to the outside door and unlocked it. He held it open and motioned me to walk through. I didn't want to go through. Walking out that door meant retreat, it meant failure. I'd come this far, gotten my hopes up, now they were being dashed. I wasn't going to see Beth, possibly ever again. Whether Wyatt was lying about Beth wanting nothing to do with me was immaterial so long as he had some sort of power at the prison. He may not have been able to supersede the warden, but the guards obviously still had his back. I didn't have any power. I didn't have the money to create that power.
All I could do was follow the guard's directions.
The sun was blinding after two hours in the room. While it had been cool when I went in, now the desert was bright and hot. I hadn't realized how cold I'd gotten. I wanted to stop and adjust. The guard wouldn't let me and he clamped his hand over my bicep and marched me to the exit.
The line of visitors was still there, this one populated by different people who looked a lot like the first group. There was even another massive skinhead, though this one had foregone the neck tattoos in favor of a ring of swastikas around his skull like a crown. They hadn't seen me taken into the room, they were only seeing me escorted out, dragged blindly across the pavement. If I stumbled I was sure the guard would be able to hold me up one-handed. I guessed they had to be strong to work at a prison mostly populated by super-villains.
A few guys in line laughed, some of the women cat-called. If anyone was sympathetic I didn't hear it. They all assumed I'd broken the rules and lost my privileges, that it was my own fault for getting the boot. We made it to the last gate and the guard finally let go. There was a little push with his release that propelled me out into the parking lot. The message was clear: don't come back.
I walked to my car feeling like all eyes were still on me. My ears burned and I'm sure my face was beet red. My eyes stung. I held back my tears as much as I could, but after the first one slipped through it was like a dam burst. Hot tears dripped down my face into my beard. I breathed deep trying to keep my nose from clogging. I resisted the temptation to sprint to my car. That would draw more unwanted attention to me. As it was the only people who saw me breaking down were a few women walking towards the gate. They didn't move to comfort me, but, thankfully, didn't mock me either. They'd probably seen worse.
I crawled into my car and stabbed the key into the ignition. Despite not being able to really see I shifted the car into drive and exited the parking lot. I made it a quarter of a mile away from the prison before I was forced to pull over because I was crying to hard.
