David Putnam - The Disposables

The door opened, interrupting Mack. His words had done a number on me, sliced right through me, slashed open a gaping wound. Earlier Robby had hurt me with his words but I had somehow halfway justified it. Sure, I was angry, but I’d given him just cause. I’d crossed the line deep into criminal territory and allowed some of my own guilt to mask and accept his behavior. Mack’s description of my friend somehow illuminated a truth that had always been there since I’d known Robby, like a bubble about to burst.

The deputy assigned to the hospital came in dragging chains. Policy for a show-and-tell was chains. No arguing this point.

The deputy locked the chain around my waist, laced the cuffs through, and then handcuffed my hands in a permanent position just above my hips. Next, he shackled my legs together at the ankles with enough slack for three-quarter’s of a step. With each step, the sound and weight made me think of a chain gang.

Outside my room, all the doors were closed and the hall empty. Mack had wanted to keep the number of witnesses and involved parties to a minimum. A futile effort if the caper went south. As Robby used to say, “It is what it is.”

The deputy stayed ahead of us and called the elevator, the sound of my chains the only noise in the hall, that and my heavy breathing.

The elevator door opened. I flashed on a memory from when I used to work the jail. Back when I was a new guy, “a cherry,” I took my lunch break with a veteran who had all of six months at Men’s Central Jail. We called for the elevator. When the doors opened, we saw an inmate all by himself, no shirt just jail-blue pants, handcuffed to the hand rail, his back to the wall, his butt on the floor. Beat to a bloody pulp, his face so swollen his features all blurred into mush. The veteran jail deputy casually reached over and pushed the elevator button. “Sorry,” he said, “wrong floor.” The doors closed and the in mate went on down. I stood as the veteran deputy turned to me, said, “Maybe it’d be better if we took the stairs.” I never did find out the story of what happened that day, but I heard rumors that on occasion, deputies took the more obstreperous inmates for a “Disney ride, an E ticket,” on the elevators to conduct an “attitude adjustment.”

The doors closed. Mack and Fong stared straight ahead. The odor in the car no different from in the jail cells, a reek that permeated every inch of every jail; human sweat, mixed with spit, feces, and blood. The door opened to the basement, the odor replaced by the aroma of chicken soup. A welcome change emanating from the kitchen.

“Hey, the deal was I got to see my girl.”

Fong grabbed my waist chain and shoved. He was strong. We moved into the main isle of the kitchen. At any one time, the sheriff had twenty-five thousand, presentenced inmates in custody, a good chunk of the residents in Men’s Central Jail, MCJ. To the left were rows of large cauldrons of bubbling stew, large enough to be a fat man’s Jacuzzi. The inmates in blues all stopped what they were doing to watch as we ambled through. No unauthorized personnel were allowed in the kitchen. A general employee, a cook specialist II, slapped the back of the head of an inmate who stirred a cauldron of stew with a large oarlike boat paddle, snapping him to attention. The cook reached into the cauldron with two fingers and pulled out what looked like a large condom. When he shook it out, it was a latex glove mottled white and gray from the heat.

We moved on down the aisle as fast as the shackles allowed and came to a large opening. Fresh, cold night air hit my face. We turned a corner to a loading dock where a Violent Crime’s undercover car was backed in.

On the dock stood a female uniformed deputy and my girl.

My Marie.

My heart soared. I hobbled faster. She broke away from her keeper. She was dressed in jail blues that hid her figure. Her hair was undone and shot out in different directions. Tears streaked her face, her eyes bloodshot from crying. We met in between. I couldn’t hug her, my hands were restricted to my hips. She hugged and kissed me, her body hot, hot enough to scorch. I clung to her hips. I nuzzled her neck. Drank her in.

I said, “I’m sorry, babe. I’m so sorry. I truly don’t know how they got on to us. It must’ve been me. They must’ve followed me.”

“Hush, are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“I’m fine. How are you?”

“Bruno, it’s not as bad as you said it was, really, it’s not.”

A large ball rose up in my throat, made it difficult to talk. “You’re a bad liar. Thank you for trying.”

“The kids, Bruno. The poor kids. Alonzo. I can’t even imagine-”

“Ssh. Kiss me.”

She did long and deep.

We didn’t have much time. Any second Mack was going to call time. He had already gone out of his way. And I intended to thank him later for it. Even though he’d done it for a reason. He wanted it more difficult for me to renege on our deal. He didn’t know me and I couldn’t blame him.

“Don’t you worry,” I said when I came up for air. “I got something in the works. I’m going to get you out.”

Her shoulders started to shake. “Bruno, what did you do? What did you have to trade away? What makes you think these people will give us the slightest consideration for what we’ve done? They’ve got to be mad as hell. Especially about Wally Kim. Poor Mr. Kim.”

“You didn’t tell them anything? I mean, you invoked just like I told you, right?”

“Yes, I did just like you said. They didn’t get a thing from me. What did you do? Tell me.”

Mack said, “Come on, time’s up.”

I ignored him. “They want something only I can give them. I’m going to trade it for you and Dad.”

“No, you have a record. You’re on parole. They’ll go easier on me. Make a deal for yourself. I’m serious, Bruno. You do it or I’m going to be mad as hell. I won’t talk to you ever again.”

She made me smile. “Ssh, listen, there isn’t time. How’s Dad? Did he take it okay?”

She looked scared.

I tried to read her eyes. “What?”

She whispered. “Did they get your dad too?”

“What do you mean?”

“I never made it to the house. They zoomed up as I was walking down the street. I saw you in the car. They already had you.”

“You never got inside? Did you see the cops inside the house at all?”

“No. Do you think?”

My heart soared at the prospect. Were the cops that naïve to pick her up before she made it to where she was going? If they were so hot after the kids, they were fools for making the scoop when they did. “Robby just wanted to rub my nose in it by showing me he had you. He jumped the gun to make a point.”

“That means your dad and the-” She lowered her voice to faint whisper, “and the kids are still in the house and okay. Can that be true? Is that possible?”

“Then what are they holding you on? What’s going on?” I choked on the lump in my throat. “Dad’s okay. Dad made it out.” One of the heavy rocks lying on my chest just floated off.

Mack, behind me, tugged on the back part of my chain. “Come on, man, we been back here too long already.”

I leaned down and kissed Marie, my tongue overpowering hers. I wanted to consume all of her.

They pulled us apart, my body cooler from her absence. “I love you, Marie. Always remember I love you.”

“Please don’t say it that way.”

“Don’t you worry. You won’t be in long. I promise.”

Overcome with emotion, she couldn’t talk anymore. She wept and gulped at air. The female deputy put her in a wrist lock and tugged her along in the opposite direction. Mack gave up tugging on my chain and waited behind me until Marie was out of sight, then I let them move me to the car. I should’ve been ashamed at what I’d done to her. Instead I was furious. More furious than I ever remember being. Furious at Robby Wicks. He was the one who had done this. He was the one responsible. No matter what happened, I was going to make him pay.