The Story Behind the Bars

         “C.O.! I was innocent, I swear! I was framed.”

         “Yeah, yeah. Tell that to the judge, slick,” Lawrence Slovengo replied coolly to the struggling prisoner as he led him to his cell. Too many times he had heard the same story, and frankly he was getting tired of it. When he had first arrived at the jail to work as a correctional officer, he had thought it would be fun. All action and adventure like he’d seen in the movies, taking on thugs and saving the world.  But quickly he’d learned prison life was nothing of the sort. It was a melancholy experience, with boys who had turned to men behind bars just because of a series of bad decisions they had made long ago. Some of the men locked up had been in prison for more than fifty years, and were too old to walk up and down the stairs to get to lunch or participate in community service. It was a pitiful job to come to every day, but being Lawrence, he had tried to make the best of the situation. Over time, he’d come to appreciate his prisoners, and treat them as close to friends as he could possibly do. Sometimes they’d play checkers between opposite sides of the bars, or just talk about life in general. Behind every one of these men’s harrowed faces there was a story, a tragedy, a lesson learned that Lawrence could not even begin to imagine until they opened their mouths. But all this wisdom had to be taken with a grain of salt.          

         Being confined to their cells, these men were anxious to do anything for attention and would make up outrageous tales, just to get attention from the C.O.s. When he was first beginning,  one inmate named Jock, a tall intimidating man with a large scar running down his face told him this long story of how he’d been set up in this whole conspiracy and he’d believed him. Shocked at such an injustice, Lawrence had gone to his superior officers, Jon Bruscowitz, and repeated the whole story to him, who only looked at Lawrence with a wry smile, and a stern lecture.          

         “Larry…”          

         “It’s Lawrence, sir.”

         “Sure, sure…well, listen here young Larry.”          

         Lawrence opened his mouth to protest but then thought better of it and shut his mouth.

         “Larry, here in prison there are a couple of rules that one has to learn. First, these prisoners are here for a reason and have been found undoubtedly guilty by the American court system. Second, these prisoners are going to spend all of their God-given time in here trying to convince you that they are in fact, not undoubtedly guilty. And third, no matter what conniving, contracted stories these men come up with to convince you of their innocence, each and every one of them is a liar.” 

         “But…Jock…and his story…”          

         “Larry, do you even know what crime Jock actually committed?”

         “Well, he’s convicted for first degree murder, but he said…”          

         "He said, he said! Do you have no sense, boy?! That man has been convicted for opening fire on fifteen seniors at a nursing home with intentions of robbery!  All but two of those poor souls survived, and those two who did are in a pretty sorry shape.”

         He stopped and looked Lawrence in the eye.

         “If you don’t believe me, just go online to the prison database. The evidence is overwhelming. They have surveillance on him and more than twenty witnesses who testified in that trial. I know you’re new here, son, but you need to learn. Never take anything these boys tell you seriously. You aren’t in Girl Scout camp anymore, Larry, and that is a lesson you need to learn.”          

         Later that night, Lawrence had, in fact looked up Jock’s file and found that everything he had been told by Jon was true. He could feel his stomach sink. He couldn’t believe he’d been strung along so easily, and his gullibility ashamed him.  After that, Lawrence made an extra effort to avoid walking past Jock’s cell, and started being more cautious in who he talked to. Of course, he still had to interact with his prisoner’s, it was his job as their correctional officer, but he always remembered to keep a professional distance so he wouldn’t grow too  attached to these men. After all, these guys were the Al Capones of the day, and he needed to remember that.          

         So when this new prisoner went off on his whole story of getting the wrong guy, and such, Lawrence just zoned him out and walked away.

         The following week, as Lawrence was walking into work and clipping his keys onto his belt, he heard a commotion by the block of cells where he had locked in the new prisoner. Knowing that nothing good ever came out of that much chaos in a prison, he sprinted down to the cell, only to find the new prisoner getting pummeled to pieces by his cell mate, Tony.

         “Hey, hey! Break it up!” he shouted, rushing to unlock the cell as another officer ran in to restrain Tony and carry him off.          

         “I’ll get you, you little….” But Tony’s protest was drowned out by the booing of the other inmates. Tony was a squatty, unattractive man, and none of the other men cared for him.          

         Gingerly, Lawrence bent over to check the prisoner’s pulse. Carefully he turned his head and gasped in astonishment, not just because of the damage that had been done to his face, but because he was shocked at how young this man actually was. Feeling a light pulse, Lawrence frantically picked up his walkie-talkie and called for a medic to come up and help him transfer the young man.  Help soon arrived, and together, they lifted the deceptively heavy weight of the man and took him to the jail infirmary.

         There they were greeted by Dr. Manson, a tall man with a beak-like nose, who looked down at the man with a sad look in his eyes.

         “What happened to this one?” he asked.

         "Fight with his cell mate,” the medic grunted. “Boy’s new here.”

         “I can tell,” Dr. Mason said looking intently at the man’s face.          

         “Son?” he asked, gently probing the inmate’s arm. “Can you tell me your name?”

         “Austin….Burke..,” the young man wheezed out as best as he could through swollen lips.

         “Okay, Austin,” Dr. Mason replied, “we’re going to stitch you up, and then we’re going to give you some pills so you can sleep through the pain. Is that okay?”

         Slowly Austin attempted to nod.

         “Okay, then son, let’s start working on you.”

         And with that, Lawrence only had a small second to give Austin a reassuring smile before he was carried away. For a fraction of a second, the man returned the gesture, and then he passed out in pain.

         After a couple of weeks, Austin was soon able to return to his cell, this time in a cell by himself, but he was a changed man. Before Austin would jabber away, trying to get Lawrence’s attention, trying to tell him stories, but now he seemed more….well broken, was the only way to explain it. However, after the incident, a sort of unspoken bond had formed between Lawrence and Austin and both would listen to each other, and try to understand how things had worked out for them the way they were.          

         “You know,” Lawrence told Austin one day, “this really wasn’t my idea of a dream job. As a kid I always wanted to be a photographer.”          

         “Well, what’s stopping you, C.O.? You’re not the one behind bars.”          

         Which was true, figuratively speaking.

         “Naah,” he’d replied. “After I decided to drop out of college, my family kinda cut me loose. Now I really have no money, or no prospects for the future except, well guarding people like you.”

         “No offense,” he added quickly.

         “None taken.”          

         “So why are you here?” Lawrence asked curiously.

         “Well, it’s a long story….”

         “Well, you and I are going to be stuck here for a long time,” Lawrence replied.

         “Good point….”

         Austin then proceeded to tell him how at a young age his father was shot and killed by gang violence. Suddenly the man of the house at only the age of fifteen, he had taken it upon himself to care for both his mother and his little sister, Cassie.  He juggled several jobs to try and support his family, but it was never enough. With no other options he soon took to stealing food to survive, and eventually was forced to join the very gang that killed his father so that his family could be protected and have financial help. By this time he was eighteen years old, and his sister Cassie was fifteen. In the years following their father’s death, she had grown to be a strong and beautiful woman, and one of the gang leaders had become taken with her. Soon he began to harass Cassie as she would walk home from school, and Austin began to worry for her safety.  Backed into a corner, the family had no other choice but to abandon their home and flee. But soon they were met by the gang. In an amazing display of courage, Austin told his sister and mother to run to safety while he stood them down for as long as he could. He managed to hold them off for long enough for his family to get away, but soon the police came to break up the fight and he was arrested and thrown in jail on trumped up charges.          

         “I don’t even know where, my family is now, C.O.,” he had told Lawrence, tears in his eyes.  “I just need to know that they’re safe.”

         In the days that followed, Austin would go for regular checkups with Dr. Mason to see how his wounds were healing, and if he was okay. Oftentimes, he would complain about head pain, but Dr. Mason assured him that it was merely a side effect of a concussion he had also suffered while fighting. As a precautionary measure, Austin received a cat scan, but came back with fine results.  But still, he suffered great migraines that not even medicine could alleviate. But something else was wrong. Austin’s memory was beginning to slip. Sometimes he would stop in the middle of a conversation and appear lost; as though he wasn’t sure what he was talking about or who he was talking to. Something was aloof, and Lawrence was determined to get to the bottom of it.  As Austin’s acting C.O., one night after locking up, Lawrence took it upon himself to visit Dr. Manson in the infirmary to discuss Austin’s condition, but as he was about to knock on the doctor’s door, he heard frantic whispering. Instinct told him this was a conversation he was not to be listening to, and went to turn around, but something stopped him.

         “….this has to stop. I don’t care how it’s done, but you need to get rid of all the evidence. People are beginning to become suspicious and I don’t want any social service workers coming around in here and poking their noses through our business.”

         “You stay out of this…it’s none of your concern. The project is almost over. I just need to track the subject a little longer to see how long it lasts.”

         Subject? Project? What were these men talking about?

         “No. This needs to stop now. That little yellow-belly corrections officer has formed too close of an attachment to the subject, it’s only a matter of time before we get caught.”

         “Please, it’s not like the subject is anybody special. Nobody ever comes to see him on visiting day; I think we’re safe here. 

         Lawrence’s thoughts began to race. He didn’t know much, but he did have enough common sense to know two things that were alarmingly clear. One: the subject was a person and in great danger. Two: whoever was behind this needed to be stopped and reported to the authorities.  By reflex his hand flew to his walkie-talkie.

         “Bruscowitz, I’m here at the hospital infirmary. We have a situation here.”

         Suddenly, the whispering stopped. Lawrence’s pulse began to rush.  Had they heard him? 

His walkie- talkie crackled.

         “Okay, Slovengo. I’m on it.”

         Feeling relieved, Lawrence pushed the button to reply, but before he could, the office door opened and he was knocked out cold.

         When he awoke it took him a moment to figure out where he was. Then he realized. He was in the infirmary. But not as an officer anymore. As a patient. He looked around to find himself chained to a gurney. And soon the events that had occurred came rushing back to him.

         “Help!” he screamed, “Help!” 

         Suddenly he heard heavy footsteps walking toward him. From experience he could tell two people were approaching him. He looked up and for a moment he felt ecstatic relief.

         “Bruscowitz! Manson! Thank goodness you’re…” but then he looked into their eyes and realized he’d made a terrible mistake.

         “Hello, there Larry,” Bruscowitz said with a crooked smile.  “Are you comfy?”

         “You! What have you…?”

         “SILENCE!” Dr. Manson roared. “You’ve already learned too much already, but have no fear; pretty soon you’ll forget what we’ve said. In fact, pretty soon, you won’t remember anything.

You see, from the moment I saw you I knew you’d be trouble. I just didn’t know you’d be so stupid to think you could actually take me on.”

         “You are the biggest sham of a doctor that I have ever seen in my life, and when I get out of here, I’m reporting you to the authorities!” Lawrence snapped angrily, shaking his chains.

         “But there’s one little flaw in your plan there Larry,” snarled Bruscowitz mockingly. “I am the authorities. And whatever I say goes. I suppose that since in a couple of days your brain will be nothing but a glob of mush I can tell you what’s going on, but only because it will make your suffering all the more miserable, and ten times as painful.”

         He and Manson shared a conspirative smirk, and Manson continued with the story.

         “You see, Slovengo, while I may be a doctor, my first love is science. I love to experiment.  Particularly, experiment on humans. But, due to stupid safety precautions set by the FDA, I have had to find loopholes in the system. And then, when I arrived here I hit the jackpot. What better place to safely experiment on humans than a building full of test subjects that people wouldn’t bat an eye if something happens to them? Nobody wants these criminals in society; some even are open in their desire to want them dead. Why they’re not even worthy to be classified as humans, they’re so uncivilized.”

         “I have to say Manson; I’ve seen my fair share of convicts in this jail much more clean cut than you.”

         “But yet you do not disagree with my statement. And that is why it is such a brilliant idea. The test subjects that come through here are almost always at the peak of their fitness and have no other assets to contribute to society so every now and then; I’ll undertake a little project. Would you like to see my latest?”

         Lawrence merely remained silent and glared at his captor.

         “It is of no concern to me if you do not reply, behold! Memoria deleo, a newly discovered brain parasite, which translated to English means “memory eraser.”

          The doctor displayed a jar of sinister looking worms and wiggled it in Lawrence’s face.

         "When you’re friend first came in with all of those wounds, I knew it would be the perfect opportunity to test these little suckers out. At such a young age, he was the perfect subject.”

         “Austin!”

         “Yes, you’re little friend, Austin. Before he was stitched up, I took the liberty to add just a couple little friends into his wounds and then sewed them in there. I knew it would only be a matter of time until they migrated to his brain, but I had no idea the deterioration period would be so rapid. In a few shorts days, possibly even hours, the man won’t be able to tell up from down.”

         “No!” Lawrence yelled. “I won’t let you get away with this; I will fight you until…”

         He was cut off.

         “Oh, I’m afraid you’re a little too late in that department, Larry.” Bruscowitz cut in tauntingly. “While you were out we gave you a little present.”

         With that he reached over and brushed back Lawrence’s hair to reveal a freshly stitched incision on his upper forehead. Lawrence gasped.

         “What have you done to me!?”

         “Well you see there Slovengo, in the science world, your friend is what we call the control, and you, sir are the experiment. Since these little buggers are applied directly to your brain, I’d say you’d have about 48 hours of sane thought left, so cherish every moment. “

         “No!’ he screamed. “This can’t be happening! Where are you taking me?!” 

         As they were having this discussion, both men had begun wheeling him down a staff hall that was rarely ever used.

         Please, please, please, he silently pleaded.

         Let somebody catch these guys before it’s too late! It’s not just my life at stake it’s Austin’s too!

         But luck would not be on Lawrence’s side. The gurney jolted to a harsh stop, right in front of solitary confinement.  Lawrence looked down, and realized he was no longer wearing his officer’s uniform; he was now in the jumpsuit that all the inmates wore. He would die as nothing but a common prisoner who merely couldn’t last after going insane in solitary confinement.  He knew nobody would go looking for him. He hadn’t talked to his family in years. He had acquaintances but none that cared enough about him to seek him out. His only true friend was behind bars right now suffering the same fate as him. 

         Bruscowitz unlocked his handcuffs, and Lawrence tried in a last ditch attempt to make a run for it, but it was no good. Bruscowitz was bigger and stronger than him. And with one giant shove, he locked Lawrence into the holding cell.

         “Have a nice trip, Larry!” he called out as he and Manson, walked away.

         A nice trip indeed, he thought bitterly, as those five words echoed through his last sane thoughts.