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The Silent Inmate
by
Liam Brennan
The young guard towered over the blood-drenched body in shock. Officers gathered
round to witness the horrific site that lay on their cold, cement floor in
Kingsway Penitentiary. “He went for my gun. I was lettin’ em out to the yard and
he jumped me. I didn’t know what else to do boss,” he uttered as beads of cold
sweat met with tears. I wavered at a distance as they carried the body away;
their heads low out of respect. The dead man had been a favorite among the
inmates and guards because of his solemn presence. “He used to smile two miles
wide when that weekly letter came,” said one of the guards. They consoled each
other in various ways, trying to maintain a strong presence in front of the
other inmates before leaving the block.
The young guard, the newest in the Illinois State Penal System, stepped into the
dead man’s cell and paused. I moved closer, peering over his shoulder as he
stooped down to pick up a yellow note that had fallen from the open envelope on
the bed. I sensed the apprehension in the man’s eyes as he unfolded the paper
and scanned its contents: Young Max has lost his arduous battle that consumed
him these past four years. He is in a better place. Placing the note in his
breast pocket, the guard composed himself; he couldn't let the other inmates see
through his cool exterior. He brushed against me inside the confined chamber,
the hairs on the back of his neck rising as he passed. When he had gone, I sat
down on the silent inmate’s bed and flipped through an old comic serial, “The
Last Stand of James T. Tall” that accompanied the note. The main character lived
in the woods, a lumberjack by trade, and each week he warded off the menacing
creatures that came his way. It was a simple life, something that the inmate and
I had discussed many times.
“That boy wrote him every week.” I turned to see two older guards, their faces
frail and ravaged by years, standing at the door. They looked around the empty
cell with great compassion and sorrow in their voices as they traded stories
about times the inmate had confided in them. “Talked about that kid like it was
his own” said the elder guard. “Used to sit there day and night readin’ those
damn books. Said he identified with him, the main character. I’m sure he meant
that bald little cancer boy though.” The other guard held back tears as they
flooded his eyes, “Must have been some bad news this mornin’.” The elder guard
blessed himself and they departed.
I decided it was time to move on as well, stepping past the icy, brick walls and
chain linked fences, walking toward the dense forest that isolated this place
from the reality of the outside world. The trees towered over me as I knelt to
gather wood. I’d never started a fire before but the pictures in the serials
were self-explanatory. With the smack of two stones, a spark shot up and I lay
back with a sense of pride, although it appeared too effortless to be true. At
that moment I heard it, the thumping sound of an axe blasting through tree
stumps with the greatest of ease. I turned and there he was, having already
arrived in our new world. The bullet holes were gone and he looked as I’d always
pictured him, just as James Tall looked when he conquered another scoundrel. I
stood and brushed the hair out of my eyes as he chomped through the final piece.
He wiped the sweat from his face and moved slowly towards me, with that
comforting smile creeping across his face. “Max?” he said, as I nodded my head
and returned the favor. This was the life we had been dreaming of, in a world
without restrictions.
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