H7N9- The Complete Series Page 3

  CNN was showing footage of a triage center inside Grand Central Station. The entire area was lined with Red Cross tents, army cots, and FEMA banner was tacked on the wall. Nurses wearing white hazmat suits tended to the countless number of sick people; there wasn’t an empty cot in sight. The fast-running ticker at the bottom of the screen read: ‘CDC CONFIRMS FIRST DROP IN NEW CONFIRMED H7N9 FLU CASES ALONG THE EAST COAST – CDC ASSURES THAT ALL H7N9 OUTBREAK CLUSTERS ARE CONTAINED’. The footage switched to a crowded urgent care waiting room as the ticker kept rolling: ‘CDC NOTES ALARMING SPIKE IN REGULAR SEASONAL FLU ACTIVITY NATIONWIDE – “NOT RELATED TO H7N9 OUTBREAK” GOVERNMENT CAUTIONS’.

  Teddy was tired of hearing about that damn flu; everyone was, he imagined. It was some sort of new avian flu mutation and the people on the television were calling it the ‘Harlem Flu’. The warden canceled visitation because of it despite the fact that it was isolated to a few states along the east coast that were over a thousand miles away. Apparently it was a decision handed down from the Federal Bureau of Prison’s central office in DC. Just like people did when swine flu came around in 2009, people became irrational and panicked. Despite the fact that the news repeatedly said that things were contained, the talking heads and the conspiracy whack jobs on the radio hyped everything up tenfold. The outside world was going crazy.

  USP Tucson was not immune to the chaos going outside; conspiracies had a funny way of spreading among cons. There was a growing rumor that the bureau was going to initiate a national lockdown like they did when Atlanta had that big riot in the nineties. It sounded like bullshit, but Teddy noticed that people were starting to load their cells up with commissary items like candy bars and sodas - which meant most figured there was a grain of truth to the whispers.

  Lockdowns lasted anywhere from a few days to a week, and most people despised them, but Teddy didn’t mind a little peace and quiet. Since the units couldn’t be released for mainline during a lockdown, the guards wheeled carts of food trays to the unit. Teddy figured that breakfast in bed wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Personally, he didn’t buy into the hype. It was most probably some fear mongering bullshit fueled by companies with vested pharmaceutical interests. He knew that the pharmaceutical companies liked making money and they knew nothing worked better at getting people riled up than rumors and fear. It was hard to believe that anything unusual was going on outside because things inside the prison seemed to run pretty much the same way they always had. Despite the commissary hording, cons were running their hustles behind the walls while the pharmaceutical companies ran theirs on the street.

  As he stared up at one of the television screens, the ticker at the bottom of the television changed, and read ‘BREAKING NEWS: NATIONAL GUARD CONVOY ENTERS NYC TO ASSIST LOCAL OFFICIALS IN HARLEM FLU RECOVERY OPERATIONS’. The image on the screen showed an aerial view of a long line of military trucks crossing the Queensboro Bridge into Manhattan. Traffic on the outgoing lanes was gridlocked.

  Teddy looked away from the television and spotted Stephenson waddling into his office to tend to a waiting plate of Buffalo wings.

  Stephenson slammed his office door shut and then the lights inside his office went dark as he started eating and waiting for his relief to show up.

  Teddy turned his attention away from Stephenson and stared at the secure corridor in the corner of the unit. The secure corridor was a long hallway that housed the offices of the unit counselor, the unit manager, and the case manager. It was also where the guard’s restroom was located and where a lot of them hid and napped during the graveyard shift.

  He noticed that Stephenson had left the entrance to the secure corridor unlocked - a typical Stephenson mistake, and saw that the light inside the counselor’s office was on.

  A secure corridor it was not.

  Teddy saw an opportunity. He descended down the steps quickly, brushing past two Aryans along the way.

  The two men stopped and glared at Teddy as he passed.

  The Aryan Brotherhood didn’t care for Teddy and he didn’t care much for them. They had a colorful history that Teddy didn’t care to reflect on.

  At the bottom of the steps Teddy made a beeline towards the secure corridor, swung the door open, and stepped into Johannes’ office without knocking.

  The other inmates in the unit watched in silence; the televisions had suddenly become a lot less interesting.

  “Open house hours are from one till three so get the fuck out, Sanders,” Johannes said without looking away from his computer. He was a wiry man who wore round spectacles with thick lenses and had a bad comb-over that was matted down with gel. His desk was piled high with new inmate intake folders. “And knock before you enter my goddamn office.”

  “Stephenson said you’re giving me a cellie,” Teddy said as he crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Yes and?” Johannes asked in an aggravated tone as he continued to type. “Given the onslaught of new arrivals this morning, you don’t have a choice in the matter.”

  “You know I don’t take cellies.”

  “So you’re refusing a direct order to take a cellie?” Johannes asked, still typing; it was obviously a loaded question.

  “No,” Teddy carefully stated. “I’m saying that putting someone with me is a bad idea. I’m just trying to do my time. A cellie complicates things.”

  Johannes stopped typing and looked over at Teddy. The man’s eyes looked comically big through his thick spectacles.

  “Are you telling me how to run my unit, convict?” Johannes asked in a condescending tone. “This isn’t the Holiday Inn and you don’t get a cell all to yourself, or did you forget that?”

  Teddy saw how it was going to be.

  “That may be so, but you remember what happened last time you forced someone to cell with me, right?” Teddy asked.

  “Yes,” Johannes said. “I’m sure you remember the year you spent in SHU for it and the bad rap it gave you with the white boys. You’re lucky they didn’t kill you. If there’s a God above, they still might.”

  Teddy frowned. Solitary confinement in the Special Housing Unit, or SHU as it was called, was no joke. It was always loud and the guards treated you like absolute shit. Everyone that walked by your cell ignored you. There was no natural light, just a small window on your door covered by a sliding piece of steel. The food was horrible and was served in dirty half-melted plastic trays.

  “Well,” Teddy said as he tried to collect himself, “I wouldn’t mind doing a SHU vacation again.”

  Johannes laughed.

  “We both know that you can’t afford the points so cut the bull,” Johannes said. “If you so much as cough the wrong way towards your new cellie then I’m writing you up and sending you to SHU. I’ll bump your sentencing points up and make sure you get transferred to the worst max custody facility we have. Those boys in Colorado will work you up good.” He leaned over the desk and lowered his voice to little more than a whisper. “That is… if they don’t put a shank in you first. They don’t care much for outsiders who ride solo.”

  Teddy frowned and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. He knew that Johannes had him by the balls.

  “You’re trying to push me aren’t you?” Teddy scornfully asked. “Who did you cell me with? Is he a fucking child molester? If you did you might as well save everyone the trouble and just ship me out now. I’ll kill him.”

  Johannes laughed and went back to typing.

  “I wish I could ship you away so easily,” Johannes said. “Sadly I didn’t have the luxury to look over the files they dumped on me this morning and give you the biggest piece of shit we got. We have buses coming from prisons I didn’t even know we had,” He paused and looked over at Teddy. “The most I could do was inconvenience your life as much as possible by making damn sure it was another white guy.”

  Teddy looked concerned.

  “Is he wearing ink?”

  “You know, I forgot to check on that,” Johannes said with a grin as
he tapped on the inmate’s transfer folder lying on his desk. “I’m sure you two will be fine though.”

  Even though Teddy remained stone-faced as he stared down at Johannes, it took all the restraint he could muster to keep himself from knocking those glasses off of his face.

  “That’ll be all,” Johannes said as he waved his hand dismissively.

  Teddy started to turn away, but stopped. He shook his head and looked at Johannes.

  “What’s your problem with me?” Teddy asked. “I’ve always been respectful to you and stayed out of your way. Why are you always on my case? What in the hell did I ever do to you?”

  Johannes pushed his glasses up his oily nose with his index finger and glared at Teddy.

  “You call yourself a bank robber, but as far as I’m concerned you’re a cop killer,” Johannes said. “That’s what I have against you.”

  The dead agent’s face flashed in Teddy’s mind.

  Teddy looked confused and held his hands out at his side.

  “How does that affect you? That was a mistake I made a long time ago.”

  Johannes’ gaze intensified.

  “You want me to speak plainly, Sanders?”

  “Yeah, get whatever the hell it is off of your chest,” Teddy said. “Just be honest because I’m getting tired of this petty shit.”

  “I lost my dad back in Philly thanks to someone like you and now I have to sit here and babysit you. I made it a goddamn point to keep cop killers like you out of my unit, but somehow you slipped through the cracks. I was off the day you wormed your way off of the bus. I’d rather have a unit full of child molesters. You’re all scum from the same murky pond as far as I’m concerned. Frankly, if I had it my way, you wouldn’t even be breathing. Is that honest enough for you?”

  Teddy started to say something in response, but stopped himself.

  “Now get out of my office before I write you up for being out of bounds,” Johannes said as he looked back at the computer monitor. “You disgust me.”

  Teddy turned and walked away, shaking his head.

  As he stepped back into the unit he saw another guard named Coor walking towards the office to relieve Stephenson.

  Coor had six or seven years in the bureau of prisons and was notorious for tossing cells. He was fairly tall, fit, and always carried a big D-cell flashlight on his duty belt. He was white and kept his head shaved so the Aryans thought they had found a new friend when he first arrived: a new officer they could pay to mule contraband in. After testing him a few times the word spread that he had made it very clear what race his wife was. The Aryans didn’t have much else to say to him after that.

  Coor stopped and looked over at Teddy.

  “Sanders!” Coor shouted. “What were you doing back there?”

  “My bad, boss,” Teddy said. “Door was open.”

  “You’re not supposed to be back there. You know better.”

  “Yeah, so does he,” Teddy said as he motioned towards Stephenson who was snoring loudly in the office.

  Coor shook his head, turned, and kept walking towards the officer’s station to relieve Stephenson, coughing violently as he did so.

  Teddy looked around and saw that everyone was staring up at his cell.

  He knew that his new guest had arrived.

  He sighed.

  “Let’s get this over with,” he grumbled to himself as he trudged up the iron steps.

  CHAPTER 2

  Teddy swung the iron cell door open and stared inside.

  A towering white giant stood in the center and stared back at him.

  The giant had blue eyes, a shaved head, and thick arms covered with tattoos. He had a bedroll tucked under his arm along with a small stack of personal papers. He had the look of a man who had spent years in the system.

  He gave Teddy a smarmy smile and plopped his bedroll on the empty top bunk.

  “Hey cellie,” the giant said with a slight drawl. “I’m Andy.”

  Andy quickly held out his sentencing paperwork to Teddy.

  They both knew the drill.

  “Teddy.” He took the papers and gave them the customary glance over. The guy’s gruesome list of crimes both inside and outside the system was horrendous, yet Teddy knew that guys like him wore them like a badge of honor. “I take it that this isn’t your first stint?”

  Andy laughed.

  Teddy glanced at the swastika tattoos on Andy’s forearms.

  “Well, you think? My papers read like a goddamn map of the United States,” Andy said as he puffed out his chest. “Hell, I’ve been everywhere… As far as fed time goes, I did ten in Coleman, eight in Beaumont, and now I’m doing time here.”

  Teddy handed Andy back his paperwork. He’s trouble, he thought.

  “What brought you here?” Teddy asked, admittedly a little curious.

  Andy stuffed the paperwork under his mattress.

  “They bused all of us out of USP Beaumont in the middle of the night. They didn’t say why, but it was a real last minute deal. Lots of people were getting sick so I assume it has something to do with that flu bullshit. The sick ones were bussed together out east while the rest of us were bussed west. We all got separated and I happened to end up at this shithole. The rest of my boys went to California. I don’t give a fuck though. It wouldn’t be the first time they tried giving me a little diesel therapy. How long have you been down?”

  “Ten,” Teddy said.

  “Ten out of what?”

  “Life.”

  Andy whistled in admiration.

  “Another lifer,” he said. “What did you do, brother?”

  The image of the smoking revolver, the blood spurting out of the young federal agent, and the Texas trooper collapsing to the ground as his big cowboy hat flew off his head all flashed in Teddy’s mind like a sadistic slideshow. For a second he could smell the gunpowder and the coppery stench of fresh blood all over again.

  “I’d rather not get into it,” Teddy said dismissively as the images faded away.

  Andy turned, shrugged, and started to unroll his bedroll across his mattress.

  “Whatever. I don’t care what you did as long as you aren’t a kiddie tickler or a rat.”

  “If I were either one of those you know damn well I wouldn’t be standing here talking to you,” Teddy snapped. “I just don’t feel like reflecting. I’m not proud of what I did.”

  Andy looked at him as if the notion was insane. He chuckled and focused his attention back towards his bed.

  “Brother, our crimes show our character and what we stood for. I don’t hide anything and I’m not ashamed of what I did. I caught my first fed stint when we lynched an ATF agent who was snooping around on our land,” Andy said as he made his bed. “Hell, we thought that the fucker was a trespasser. If we knew he was an undercover pig, we would’ve made sure his death was slower.”

  “So you’re affiliated?” Teddy asked even though he already knew the answer.

  “You’re goddamn right - I am,” Andy said proudly as he lifted his shirt and displayed his Nazi ink. “You’d have to be a fool not to be around here. They outnumber us, but we’re smarter and stronger. We still got to stick together just to make it.”

  Teddy simply stared at him, unimpressed. He always pegged guys like Andy for the cowards that they were.

  Andy lowered his shirt and stared at Teddy, cocking an eyebrow.

  “I don’t see any ink on you. What’s the deal?” He paused. “You’re not in the brotherhood?”

  Teddy shook his head.

  “Nope,” he said. “I’m just doing my own time these days.”

  Andy appeared somewhat befuddled by the very idea of it.

  “Well shit, brother... Who do you run with then?” Andy asked.

  “Nobody.”

  Andy gave a boisterous laugh, turned, and continued finishing up his bed whilst shaking his head.

  “That’s a dangerous way to live. A man needs friends, especially in a place like this.”


  “A man doesn’t need friends. He just needs a routine.”

  Andy scoffed and rolled his eyes.

  “If you say so,” Andy replied.

  Teddy frowned, opened his locker, retrieved a sharpened piece of fiberglass with a homemade handle from in-between his massive stack of books and slid it into his pocket. Just in case, he thought. It never hurt to have an insurance policy. He closed the locker door and stood back up.

  “They’re about to call the move. I’m going to eat,” Teddy said.

  Andy said nothing as he finished tucking the last corner of the sheet under his mattress.

  As soon as Teddy opened the cell door and stepped outside he was greeted by another bald-headed white man with a swastika tattooed across his throat. The man was well-built and had his khaki uniform shirt tailored to fit snug around his arms.

  Two other muscular men stood behind him with their hands behind their back leaning against the upper tier railing.

  The one in front blocked Teddy’s path.

  Teddy didn’t back down. He frowned and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Hello Darrel,” Teddy said as he locked eyes with him. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  Darrel Potter was a country boy from some little shithole town down in the backwoods of Missouri. He wasn’t an intellectual in any sense of the word, but had somehow gathered enough knowledge to take up the family business of cooking low-grade meth in an old farmhouse with his six brothers. When the DEA raided his compound, he was the only sibling who had survived the three-hour shootout; his brothers were lost in the ensuing fire that engulfed the lab. Hatred filled the holes that pain had left in his heart and he had transitioned from a light-hearted barroom jokester to a hate-filled monster.

  Teddy could stand neither drunks nor racists so there wasn’t any alternate reality where he could picture himself being friends with the likes of Darrel.

  “As a matter of fact, yeah,” Darrel said as he nodded towards the cell. “We want to talk about your cellie.”

  “I’m not his keeper,” Teddy said as he held a hand out towards his cell. “Go ahead. He’s one of yours anyway.”