Stalking Evil Part II

Prologue
         Jackson Massachusetts.  February 9, 1964

         
    Charlie Dodd sat in the very last row of the transport bus that was in route to the Pine Hills State Prison from the county lock up.  Charlie was numb, blankly staring out into the white out conditions produced by the biggest blizzard to hit New England in over fifty years.  Charlie knew he was innocent of the murder charges he was convicted of.  He knew he was the wrong guy, in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Now he had a life sentence, ahead of him.  Charlie stood six foot two inches tall, and weighed in at two hundred and forty pounds.  An imposing figure to most.  He was a highly educated man who graduated from Boston College, then went on to study law at Stanford.

         In this time of trouble, Charlie thought of his dead father, Norman Dodd.  Charlie and his father butted heads for as long as Charlie could remember.  Though they had a troubled relationship, they did have a common bond.  That bond was the love of music.  Norman Dodd, was a drummer in a wedding band. They called themselves, New Horizon.  Norman had taught himself how to play when he was a child and in turn taught Charlie when he was only four years old.  Charlie thought of his father and how Charlie wished Norm was alive to witness The Beatles on the Ed Sullivan Show tonight.  It would be their first live broadcast in the states.  Sadly, Charlie nor his father would ever get the chance to see the Fab Four. 

         Karl, the guard driving the bus, turned into the prison making sure to negotiate the many potholes that lined the prison access road.

         “Jesus Mary and Joseph, you think they would have enough money in the budget to finally fix this infernal access road!” Karl muttered under his breath.  Karl was a short, fat angry man who wasn't liked by his peers.  In their eyes, he had serious rage problems and wasn't cut out to be a prison guard.  Being a good prison guard meant you needed patients, lots of it.  Karl had none.  Karl was a scab of a man who thought the world owed him the moon.  Vincent Billings, captain of the guards at Pine Hills Prison loathed him.

         Karl brought the prison bus to a stop just out side the south entrance gate, grabbed his prison issued 20 gauge pump action shot gun, swung the the bus door open and jumped out into the blizzard. Karl turned to start for the door and suddenly was shoved backwards against the bus.  Karl's legs buckled under him and he fell like a sack of potatoes into the snow.  Karl quickly got up, brushed himself off and was face to face with Vincent Billings, the head guard.  Karl knew he was in for a tongue lashing and hung his head.

         Vincent boomed, “Hey fucktard!  I run this outfit, not you!  You do whatever it is I permit you to do.  I say jump, you say how high.  Got it shit for brains?  You know the rules.  I dismiss the new fish not you!”  Karl said nothing.  He continued to hang his head looking at his feet. 

         “Okay ladies, move out in an orderly fashion.  One false move, and I will shoot you dead where you stand!” Vincent thundered loudly over the bellowing wind.

         The chain gang scurried in from the bitter cold one by one.  Captain Vincent led the trudge through the snow in the front, while Karl wiped up the rear of the line.  They made their way out of the storm and into a large room about thirty feet by thirty feet.  The room was dimly lit.  At the far end of the room, a door swung open and a man walked slowly out of the shadows and into the light.  His name was John Talbot.  He was the head man at Pine Hills Prison.  On the outside, he looked much like any other man.  He was of average build and height.  He always wore very nice three piece suits.  Maybe that was his secret.  To look like an every man.  This was all a ploy of course.  New fish would soon know his nickname.  The antichrist.

         “Everyone turn around and face the warden.” Vincent snapped.  All at once the new inmates turned and faced the warden.

         “Good evening”, the warden spoke at an almost whisper.

         “My name is Mr. Talbot and I am the warden.  I am a man of few words.  My actions, however, speak volumes.  If I can give you one small piece of advice to take with you during your stay with us it is this.  There is only one way to survive in this place, and that is to be a model prisoner.  Don't cross the line.  If you do, you wont last long here.  I can promise you that.  That is all”  The warden spoke with a sinister purpose.  He had a look about him.  A certain glare that spooked most inmates.  There was something about him that just wasn't right.  Nothing specific, just a cold darkness about the him.  The guards would tell you it was a front to keep order in a place like Pine Hills Prison.  The inmates new better.  In their collective mines it was one thing, and one thing only.  Evil. 

         “Okay fruit cakes! Right face and march on to intake.  One false move and we will kill you and the inmate next to you.”
         Charlie didn't think he was going to make it through intake.  It only took about 10 minutes, but to Charlie, it felt like an eternity.  His ass burned and his head ached something awful.  He had woken up to some head banging hangovers in his day, but this was a whopper of a head ache.  All things considered, he was okay.  He was alive.    He was lead up to tear two on C block with ten other inmates.    Every inmate walked naked for all the world to see.  The only items they carried were a set of clothes and some toiletries.  Any personal items that an inmate brought in was collected at intake.    Charlie noticed he was shaking as he walked solemnly up the steps.  He wasn't sure if it was from the storm outside or the fear of spending the rest of he life in hell.  Maybe it was both.  Charlie heard footsteps and the chink of a large set of keys come up from behind him.

         “Come on you fagots!  Lets move!  I haven't got all day.”

         Captain Vincent passed by Charlie and have him a cold stare, with his shot gun resting on his right shoulder.  As if out of nowhere, the inmate just in front of Charlie turned around and lunged forward toward the captain.  He grabbed for the shotgun and got a hand on it, but that was as far as he would ever get.  Captain Vincent spun the gun around and pumped the shot gun aimed it at the poor bastards head and pulled the trigger.  The discharge of the gun was defining.  The slug tour the inmates head clean off.  What was left of the inmates body fell to the ground with a thud. 

         “Fucking animals.”, the captain whispered to himself.  He turned and trained his eyes  down to the main floor.  His eyes locked with the warden's.  John Talbot never said a word, he just gestured toward Charlie.

         ”Oh shit!”, Charlie screamed.  Charlie turned to run, but it was too late.  He heard the shotgun go off..  His legs gave out and he lurched forward from the blast unable to move.  Charlie laid face down in a pool of his own blood just outside what would have been his home.  The bullet from the shotgun had blown out the middle of his back severing his spinal cord.  He knew it wouldn't be much longer.  He thought to himself, how could it end this way?  A moment later he gasped his last breath and everything went full dark.  Charlie was dead.