Cellmates (standard:adventure, 3682 words)
Author: bonetone1957	Added: Apr 22 2003	Views/Reads: 3576/2351	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A rookie inmate makes a deal to survive in the penitentiary

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

been interning at a Minneapolis funeral home where he worked the night 
shift. All by his lonesome. Turns out he liked it like that. When the 
police shook down his apartment after they picked him up for the  
murder, they found hundreds of nude photos of both dead females and 
males which had been taken at the funeral home. They also found several 
videos of him engaged in sexual intercourse with female stiffs. 
Timothy's attorney tried the insanity defense. It didn't work, and 
after a sensational trial which was seemingly covered non-stop by the 
media, was found guilty late on a Friday afternoon. The county jail 
felt that they could not provide the security that Timothy required for 
his safety from his fellow inmates, so rather than waiting out the 
weekend he was transferred the following morning to the penitentiary. 
In a bit of payback for all of his years of being a pain in the ass to 
them, the warden thought it might be a hoot to put a child raping 
murderer diagnosed with necrophilia, right into Thad's cell, who had 
only six months left to serve. Thad was pissed behind belief at this 
show of total disrespect but he kept his mouth shut. He was just too 
goddamn short to bitch about it. His first night inside, Timothy who 
was small of stature, had been cornered in the shower and turned out by 
a couple of black gangsters from St. Paul. He didn't call out for his 
Mommy. He just took it. And he took it for weeks until he finally broke 
down and asked Thad for protection. For a price of course, Thad could 
offer him protection against rival gangs and lone predators, but 
Timothy would still be required to take care of the members of Thad's 
gang if they so desired. The fee was a weekly deposit from Timothy's 
family into Thad's inmate account. But when Thad walked through those 
gates in a couple of hours, Timothy would be on his own. Their deal 
would be null and void. “I've got a proposition for you, Thad.” “And 
what the fuck can you offer me now? You know I don't mess with 
jailhouse sissies. You think with a couple of hours left that I‘d want 
what you could give me? Shit! First thing I‘m gonna do when I get on 
the street is get me a good looking whore and nail her right through 
the mattress.” “No, not that. Here's the deal. If you can make a 
protection deal with your brothers for me. That is if they can 
guarantee my safety after your gone. I'll turn you on to a score 
that'll easily bankroll your first year on the street.” His interest 
piqued, Thad sat up in his bunk. “What kind of score?” Timothy got out 
of his bunk and took a seat on their communal toilet. “You make the 
deal to keep me safe and I don't mean just safe from the other inmates, 
I mean no more getting punked by your brothers either. You get me two 
weeks of total protection to prove to me that you're word is good and 
I'll mail you directions to the easiest score you could imagine. I'll 
even give you name of the fence so the whole deal will be cool for 
you.” The graveyard shift guard, a rookie, stopped in front of their 
cell. “Shut the hell up in there and hit the sack or I'll write both of 
your asses up.” Thad shot the finger to the guard who stood and glared 
at him for several moments but then moved on. Timothy got up and walked 
to the front of the cell to make sure the guard hadn't stopped to 
listen in on their conversation. He had already moved on down to the 
end of the cellblock. “What to do you have to lose? I'm still locked up 
here and if I fuck you over I know what's going to happen. So what do 
you say?” “You‘re sure as hell gonna have to give me more information 
than that before I cut a deal to save your ass.” “Just before I got 
busted I had to work on a old broad who died of a heart attack. Came 
from a rich family. Stinking fucking rich. For her funeral the family 
had her laid out wearing two gigantic diamond rings and a matching 
diamond necklace. Must be worth a fortune. Here's the kicker. They 
buried them with her! They didn't give a shit about ‘em. The funeral 
director tried to convince them to take them before we closed her box 
but they were adamant about burying the old bitch with them. So we did. 
I was planning on digging her up myself but I got arrested before I 
could.” “And just what the hell does that have to do with me?” “You 
guarantee my safety and I'll mail you the name of the cemetery, the old 
broad's name, and the number of her plot. All you have to do is dig up 
the old bitch and snatch the jewels. The fence will give you no 
problem, either. I've known the guy for years. I‘d imagine you‘ll clear 
at least 15K.” He had already made his decision. He had nothing to lose 
but he tried to make it seem like he was in turmoil while he thought it 
over. “All right. You got a deal. But I'll tell you one thing. If this 
is some kind of a set up or I dig that stiff up and there's nothing in 
that box but a bunch of bones. You'll regret the fucking day you ever 
walked into my cell!” “It's no set up. It's guaranteed. But how can I 
be sure that you won't back out on the deal once you get the diamonds?” 
Thad glared down at him. “Because I'm giving you my fucking word! How's 
that? My word's been good on the yard in this prison for twelve goddamn 
years so it‘s good enough for your worthless ass.” “All right then. 
We've got a deal.” Timothy slid back on to his bunk. Thad was so geared 
up he didn't sleep a minute for the rest of the night. At breakfast he 
would clear the deal with his crew. It was to be hands off Timothy. But 
once he had the diamonds and had sold them, he'd be in contact. Then 
they could do to Timothy whatever their hearts desired. By noon he had 
cleared out processing and was given a lift in a prison van down to the 
shelter. He started his new job the following morning. It was shit but 
he kept his mouth shut. He just had to gut it out for two weeks. With 
his meager prison savings he bought a city map, crowbar, flashlight, a 
cheap knockoff Buck knife, and a shovel. He wrapped the items in a 
plastic garbage bag and hid them in a crawlspace behind the shelter. 
The time passed slowly. Life was torture for Thad on the outside. 
Inside he was a big man. A player. A convict. A man of respect. Outside 
he was just another minimum wage worker with a record. And the world 
was different. Confusing with it's cash machines, Internet, cable 
television, computers, and SUVs. He spent his nights in his shitty 
little room drinking rotgut beer. And even though he was free from the 
constraints of parole, the second day at his new job he was given a 
quick visit by a couple of smart ass detectives from the Organized 
Crime/Gang unit. Just to let him know they'd be keeping an eye out for 
him. The envelope arrived sixteen days after Thad had been released. 
Inside was the name of the cemetery, a map and grid number for the 
grave, and the name and address for the fence. So far Timothy was a man 
of his word. Too bad for him that Thad wasn't. That night he climbed 
out the window of his room, grabbed his tools, hotwired a old Chevy 
owned by another ex-con at the shelter, and drove carefully to the 
cemetery. His driver's license had expired while in prison and his 
driving skills were a  rusty as hell but he arrived at the cemetery 
without any problems. The gates were secured with a wrap around chain 
and an old padlock which was broken off easily with a few swings from 
the crowbar. He drove the Chevy in, closed the gates behind him, and 
wrapped the chain back around it. Since he couldn't read for shit it 
took about an hour to figure out the grid used to locate the grave. 
Then he wandered in circles for almost another hour before he finally 
stumbled on to it. The gravestone was fancy and looked expensive so 
that was a good sign. He stuck his shovel into the soil. It slid in 
like butter and he found the digging to be relatively easy. It had been 
a wet spring and the dirt came up in huge wet clumps. After several 
hours of digging his shovel hit the vault. That's were he ran into 
problems. The sealant glue on the vault must have been industrial 
strength and by the time he had broken the seal to the vault with the 
crowbar and muscled it open (Thank God for prison weight programs, the 
lid was heavy as a son of a bitch) it was almost dawn. He was exhausted 
and covered head to toe in mud. Thad stuck the end of the crowbar into 
the lid of the casket. It popped open with a crack. He turned his 
flashlight on and scanned over the body inside. The old girl inside was 
still in good shape. She almost looked alive. Timothy had done a good 
job. Thad had been expecting a skeleton or at least a rotting corpse 
with a funky stench but she was neither. Just a little musty. But 
Timothy, that child raping pervert, hadn't been lying. The old lady was 
sporting two huge rocks on her fingers and a equally enormous one 
around her scrawny, chick neck. Thad giggled like a little kid as he 
pulled them off the body and climbed out the grave . Time was running 
out. Thad had no idea when the grounds keeping crew would show up for 
work. So suddenly revived by the adrenaline pumping through him, he 
sprinted to the car, threw the diamonds inside, grabbed a change of 
clothes and a towel, and ran over to the groundskeeper's tool shed. He 
quickly stripped down and hosed himself off. The water was freezing and 
the temperature was probably somewhere in the forties and it took all 
Thad had in him not to scream out. He toweled off the best he could and 
threw on the fresh set of clothes. When he pulled out of the graveyard 
and on to the main road the morning commute traffic was light. He was 
almost home free! It was still early morning, and the fence, who ran a 
pawnshop, wouldn't be open until eight, so Thad parked the car in a 
alley down from the shop, put the diamonds in his jacket pocket, and 
walked over a couple of blocks to get some coffee and a couple of 
burgers at a White Castle. Promptly at eight o‘clock, Thad walked into 
the shop. The geezer behind the counter was beyond ancient. Had to have 
been closed to ninety if he was a day. This was going to be a fucking 
breeze, thought Thad. He peered up at Thad through thick, pop bottle 
lenses. “Can I help you?” “Yea, Timothy sent me.” “Ah yes. You are Thad 
then. Timothy's friend. Timothy called me from prison. Said that you 
would have some diamonds to sell. Timothy and I did a lot of business 
together. He knows I am always in the market for diamonds. Let me lock 
the door so we can conduct our business safely.” The old man flicked a 
switch on the counter. Thad jumped uneasily as a automatic bolt slammed 
home on the front door. It was the same sound made by an electronic 
prison gate. “Ah, poor Timmy. Who would have thought a boy with such a 
bright future would be doing the horrible things he did. But... Anyway, 
let us see what you have.” The old man's eyes bulged and he gave an 
audible gasp when Thad placed the diamonds on to the counter. He had to 
hold back a grin. Obviously, the old fart liked what he saw. “Whe..? 
Where? Where did you get these?” The old man had picked up the necklace 
and was examining it closely.  His shirtsleeve had pulled down and Thad 
noticed blurred blue numbers tattooed on his wrist. “Does it matter? Do 
you want them or not? I don't have time to fuck around all day.” The 
old man reached under the counter, pulled up a strong box, set it on 
the counter and reached inside. But it wasn't a fistful of hard cold 
cash that he pulled out. Fuck no! The crazy old bastard had a German 
Luger in his shaking hands and he was aiming it right at Thad. “What 
the hell is this? Have you lost your fucking mind?” Thad could not 
comprehend this unprecedented turn of events. Here he was, the meanest 
motherfucker that had walked the yard of the toughest goddamn prison in 
the state for the last fifteen years, and then this dried up turd has 
the balls to pull a piece on him for no good fucking reason! Did he 
think he was going to rip him off? After all his hard work? He better 
think fucking again! Thad  reached his hand around to his back pocket,  
pulled out his Buck knife and snapped it open with a flick of his 
wrist. “Now you listen to me you old basta...” The shot hit Thad high 
on the shoulder and knocked him straight down to the floor. It felt 
like a horse had kicked him. He rolled over to his hands and knees and 
tried to get up but the pain was  incredible. His breathing was ragged 
and a reddish, foamy froth was running out of his mouth and pooling on 
the floor underneath him. The old man had shuffled around the counter 
and was coming towards him. Thad saw his knife about five feet away and 
started to crawl towards it. “Your rob my daughter's grave and come in 
here and try to sell me her jewels, you piece of shit! The same 
diamonds my wife smuggled out of Germany when she was fleeing the 
fucking Nazis!” Thad knew he wouldn't be able to get to his knife. He 
stopped crawling and tried to look over his good shoulder at the old 
man. His daughter? What the hell was he...? “What? Oh shit! Oh fuck! 
Man, it wasn't me! It wasn't my idea! It was that goddamn Tim! He set 
me up on the score! It was T..” *** Even at two in the morning the 
cellblock in a maximum security penitentiary was never completely 
devoid of noise. The main lights were extinguished, the televisions and 
radios shut off, and the order for silence about the cellblock has been 
blared over the intercom. But it was never completely silent. You could 
still hear the graveyard shift guard with his radio turned down low as 
he paced up and down the row, toilets flushing, tormented men crying 
out in their sleep, jacking off, coughing, sneezing, farting, and 
sobbing. But laughter was something you rarely heard late at night in 
prison. But tonight was much different. One inmate was laughing. 
Laughing uncontrollably. Laughing hysterically. Laughing to the point 
where the tears rolled down his face and the rookie graveyard shift 
guard had to call the goon squad to haul his crazy ass down to 
segregation before they had a goddamn riot on their hands. Since he had 
been locked up it had always been the inmate's habit to read his mail 
late at night when it was more quiet. So tonight Timothy Logan sat on 
his bunk and read the Minneapolis Star Tribune news clipping that his 
mother had sent him. It was about an ex-convict who was shot and killed 
while pathetically trying to rob a respected local pawnshop owner with 
a knife. And he laughed and he laughed and he laughed. 


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