Dana's Dilemma

“Okay, ladies, time for recess. You know the drill!” The inmates quickly lined up at their cell doors, some mumbling under their breath and others silently following orders. They knew the punishment for moving too slow. The guards stared at each prisoner as if daring them to make a mistake. Each prisoner stared straight ahead except Harry Drago, AKA Dragon Man. He looked at the guards and sneered, adding an extra touch of love with the second finger of his right hand held up high. Dragon Man had been born Harry Drago forty-nine years ago. In his teen years he had turned to a life of crime and quickly had become one of the toughest criminals to catch. Drago’s gang of eight was ruthless. He himself had killed only three people, but terrorized hundreds. He had led and organized his gang to rob countless stores and banks during his illustrious career. His gang had killed at least twenty-two others, but they had mostly been other small time criminals or other gang members. In a perverse way the justice system appreciated his sense of justice. Drago had finally been caught and sentenced to life without parole four years ago. It was something to be proud of that he was in their prison. His reign of terror had covered three states. None of the other prisoners would dare do what Drago got away with. The head guard snorted at Drago and ignored him. The last guard that had punished Drago ended up dead from a car bomb. No evidence had ever been found to prove that Harry or any of his gang had anything to do with it, but the police were crediting him with the crime none the less. The guards, as well as the other prisoners, believed the talk and Harry’s legend grew as the gossip circulated around the prison. When the guard was satisfied that all the men were ready, he nodded to the guard in the booth and a buzzer sounded. The cell doors slowly slid open clanking loudly into place. All five prisoners darted into the hall, quickly forming a straight line then waited again. Six fully armed guards tromped in and surrounded the prisoners, one in front, one in back and two along each side. It was almost overkill for only five prisoners, but these five were considered highly dangerous. They marched down a long hall to the side door. They continued to march, eyes facing forward, in place while they waited to be scanned before the door opened to the fenced yard for their daily outdoor exercise. The escort guards watched as the prisoners entered the secure yard then disappeared back inside, their duty done. Once outside each man quickly found his favorite spot. The tower guards watched them as they slowly settled in. Blaine Sevans sat on one of the benches nearest the entry gate and started reading a well worn letter like he did every day. He was the youngest of the bunch and the only black prisoner in their wing. He had been there one year with forty nine more to go. He had gotten one letter his first week and guarded it like a precious jewel, reading it over and over. No one else ever got to see it. Blaine had always claimed that he was innocent and his story never varied - that it was not his gun and that he had not shot the police officer. Blaine was the least violent of the inmates, but the judge had given him a harsh sentence because a police officer had been involved. John Andrews was a big guy, six feet four inches and enjoyed hurting people just for fun. Over his four year crime spree he had murdered sixteen people. He always left a smiley face sticky note on each victim. He had been there only three weeks and would be leaving next week when there would be an opening on death row for him. Everyone kept their distance from him. Even Drago seemed a little leery of him. Vaughn Allan specialized in robbing banks. Eight people died in the process of his stealing three and a half million dollars from seven banks. He was elusive and vanished until his next job. Unfortunately for him, he accidently killed an off-duty police officer during his last robbery so the man hunt was doubled. That one mistake had finally cost him his freedom. As it turns out he robbed as a man, but lived as a dowdy old wealthy widow woman. He was only five foot nine inches tall so it was easy to look shorter when he walked hunched over a cane. Brian Sands was the oldest at fifty-three and had served the longest, thirty years. He had been head honcho until Drago moved in and there was obvious enmity between them. Drago’s reputation gave him power that Brian did not like. The guards relaxed as the prisoners looked like they were behaving. “Think it’ll rain today?” Sam asked his fellow guard as he turned from the window to light a cigarette. Hayes, the other guard, glanced up from his report into the pale blue cloudless sky and answered gruffly, “Ya think? Those are some mean storm clouds up there.” “Well, you don’t have to be so nasty about it.” “I know you’re still fairly new, but you’ve got to remember to keep your eye on the prisoners all the time. You’ve spent three minutes getting cigarettes out of your jacket pocket, lighting up and staring up at the sky.” “They’re not doing nothing.” Hayes slapped his pen down on the paper and rolled his eyes upward as he shook his head, muttering under his breath, “Lord, give me patience.” He took a deep breath and patiently responded, emphasizing each word, “But you never know.” Defensively Sam retorted, “I thought the guys in the rifle towers watched them and there’s Jose and Mike over in the other guard room.” “The rifle towers watch outward, not just the yard. There’s five mean prisoners in there that need every eye on them. Like I said, you never know what they might do. I have to take a few minutes to do that report. While I’m busy with it you, “Hayes jabbed his thick pointer finger into Sam’s chest for emphasis, “are supposed to watch the prisoners.” Petulantly, Sam sat in his desk chair, swung to the side of his desk and put his feet up on it. He grabbed a can of soda and sullenly stared out the long window. That gave him an unobstructed view of the yard from top to bottom and side to side. The outside thermometer registered one hundred and three degrees. There was no shade. He almost felt sorry for the prisoners sweltering in the heat. Hayes asked, “Will you watch while I finish this report? I have to get it done in the next hour.” “Yeh,” Sam agreed without turning his head. He watched the prisoners sit around. It was too hot to do anything. He may not have been here long, but he had already nicknamed most of them. Even Vaughn, the Jogger, stood or did only gentle stretching exercises along the fence today. Drago, called Dragon Man by everyone because of the dragon tattoo on his left forearm, had a letter which he folded and put back into his pocket after reading it. Sam had been at the prison only four months, but that was the first time he had seen Drago with a letter. Unusual, but not alarming. Brian Sands was Grandpa with his premature gray hair and slight pot belly. He looked like an innocent, sweet old man. He had beaten his first wife and she divorced him. He beat and killed his second wife then two days later he killed his sister-in law. All because he thought his wife was cheating on him with someone her sister introduced her to. During the trial he found out the man that he had overheard them talking about was a character on a soap opera. Brian was talking with Big John. Nothing unusual or alarming there either. Those two normally got along. Blaine was the Letterman and always sat alone. He kept his distance from everyone else. He was anti gay and liked to slice the throat of anyone he thought was gay. He killed twenty-two men, five of which were not homosexuals. The other guys made sure he knew they were all straight, but, just the same, they avoided him as much as possible. Sam figured Blaine had to have that letter memorized by now. He had never gotten a new one. Sam sipped his soda, enjoying the air conditioned comfort of the guard