Jailbird
By: Reid Laurence on 12/31/2005; 2:16 PM
"I dont know bout you...," said Wild Bill - a nickname the other convicts had thought of which stuck and seemed to suit Bill Tysons rowdy nature. But Im sick an tired a lookin at these four walls.
Dont start complainin again, answered Bills cell mate - called Penguin for the way he preached his thoughts to his fellow prisoners. Ya know it never gets ya anywhere. Besides, the Mans on his way - I can hear im comin.
Big deal, replied Wild Bill, just as disgruntled as ever. Elvis Presley his self could walk through that door for all I care. Aint ya sick an tired a the same old routine, day in an day out? Dont it make ya wanna get up an get the hell outta here? I never could understand why youre so content ta just sit there on your ass an eat that crap they dish out? Theres a whole world out there just waitin for us, an you couldnt give a damn, could ya?
Hey, said Penguin, in the same cool, calm tone he used whenever his good common sense predicted outburst or disorder in the crowd around him. You find a good way outta here, an Im with ya all the way. Until then, ya know what?
What?
I dont wanna hear no more, replied Penguin. Besides, you remember what happened ta the last poor bastard who wanted out? Even the cons wanted a piece of im for makin all that trouble for the rest of us.
Yeah, I remember the guy. He made a lotta waves didnt he. What the hell was his name anyway, I forget?
Just plain Bird I think. Thats con talk for prison time. Never knew his real name. But anyway, you keep makin waves like Bird, an theyll do the same thing ta you as they done ta him.
Whatid they do to im? asked Bill, whose curiosity had by now, gotten the better of him.
They fried im early. Whaddaya think they done? They sure didnt pat im on the back.
What difference does it make, replied Wild Bill. Were all on death row here anyway. If ya ask me, he didnt lose much.
Well, if yer askin me, answered Bills cell mate. He took a gamble an lost. If ya want my advice Bill, dont play against odds like that..., youll lose every time.
Just as Penguins words began to sink through Bills callous exterior - making him realize what might happen if he caused dissension within the prison walls - the guards showed up with lunchtime meal trays and began handing them out, one by one to the great population of hungry, waiting prisoners. But when the guard slid Bills tray into his cell, Bills reaction was only to ignore it. Even as the other prisoners around him contentedly ate, he very willfully turned away from the food, as hed done many times before. In fact, by now, Bills stomach had gotten used to being empty and the urge to eat that normally accompanies the very thought of food, had all but completely disappeared in Bill, leaving in its place only the stubborn, determined attitude that was so characteristic of Wild Bill - a prisoner of great moral conviction.
Aintcha gonna eat taday Bill? asked Penguin. Its been days. You must be starved ta death.
Mind yer own business, replied the thin but wiry Bill. Ill eat when Im good an ready.
Oh yeah? came Penguins reply. Well Im good an ready, he said, frantically digging in to the food on his tray, as if someone were going to take it away. You just starve yerself then, continued Penguin. See what I care. In the meantime, Im gettin bigger an bigger an yer just as small as ever. Besides, theres nuthin wrong with this chow, said Penguin, sucking up the last tiny morsels of food from his dish with his mouth. Youre just too damn fussy, thats all. Ya know, this aint no restaurant here. Whaddaya expect anyway?
A life, thats what I expect. Thats all anyone expects aint it? They took it away from me, an Im gonna get it back, youll see.
Fine, answered Penguin, as he finished the food from his own tray and at the same time, kept a carefully trained eye on Bills untouched meal. But dont say I didnt warn ya when ya wind-up like Bird. By the way, he continued. You aint gonna eat your lunch, are ya?
Nope, I aint gonna eat my damn lunch. Here, said Bill, about to become facetious, pushing his lunch tray within Penguins reach. Here ya go, It looks better on you. As far as your advice goes, for all the good itll do, Ill try an remember.
The next morning the prisoners awoke to a dreary, cold, rainy day but to many, the weather on the outside world meant very little. It was only something to observe every now and then through the tiny opening in each cell Bill called, a sorry-ass excuse for a window. What then could be the cause for the disquiet mood in Bills cell block? If not the weather, what then? No one knew exactly, but a sixth sense told the prisoners something was up. Something was about to happen that would alter their daily routine of waking, eating, exercising and sleeping but what it was exactly, no one could say. That is, until one of the big cell block doors opened and four big guards came rushing in... What the hell is this!? asked Penguin. A raid? I aint hidin nuthin, they got nuthin on me.
No stupid, it aint no raid. Look, answered Bill, as he watched one of the prison trucks backing up into position to a side door. There transferin us some-wheres.
Like where? Another prison?
How should I know? Well havta wait an find out.
Well, replied Penguin, doing his best to recover some of his composure. It couldnt be any worse then this place here.
I dont know about that, said Wild Bill, with even more pessimism in his voice than usual. I got a bad feelin about this. A very bad feelin.
Two by two, the prisoners were ushered into the back of the truck, but it wasnt long before the small, old prison vehicle filled to capacity, leaving Bill and his cell mate standing outside in the cold rain as it drove off into the fog. Wondering to themselves - as two remaining guards stood vigil over them - the pair stood side by side and waited as the chilled, falling rainwater cascaded down over their faces. Then, overhearing two of the guards talking to each other, the pair soon realized what the very near future held in store for them. Whaddaya wanna do with em now Hank? You gonna leave these two standin in the rain like this?
Ya want I should give em umbrellas? replied the other guard, mockingly. Besides, where theyre goin, they might as well catch pneumonia now an get it over with. Laughing at his own cruel jest, the guard slapped his friend on the back for emphasis and reached into an inside pocket of his coat for the pack of cigarettes he normally kept handy. Damn, he muttered. Im outta smokes. Can you watch these mugs for two minutes while I run in an buy a pack outta the machine? Ill be right back.
Sure Hank, answered the new and far less confident guard. Ill do it, but dont take too long, okay. Gives me the creeps standin out here watchin the poor bastards get rained on, know what I mean?
One thing ya gotta learn out here Tommy, before one more day goes by, replied the other, more experienced man as he turned to walk inside. Ya gotta learn ta detach yerself from any kinda feelins for these poor slobs. You and I both know where theyre goin, an there aint nuthin either of us can do about it, even if we wanted to. Ya read me?
Yeah sure Hank, I read you.
Good, Ill be right back. Keep an eye on em.
Even before the prison guard could make it to the door, Bill could feel the fear and dread welling up inside him, and turning to face his friend, he could tell Penguin felt the same way. Our numbers up buddy boy, said Bill, as the guard left in charge momentarily turned to look out in a different direction. Looks like judgment day arrived a little sooner then expected.
Whaddaya mean judgment day?
I mean theyre gonna snuff us out, as in k-i-l-l, replied Bill, spelling out the letters of the word to emphasize its meaning. You heard em as well as I did, didntcha?
I heard em, but I just cant believe it.
Whats not ta believe? answered Bill. Ya knew we was on death row all along didntcha?
I wanna talk ta the Governer, said Penguin.
You argue with em if ya want, muttered Wild Bill under his breath. But me, I got a plan.
What plan? replied Penguin, whos body was beginning to shake at the thought of his own execution.
I say, the next time the guard turns around, we rush im, try an toss im down. That outta buy us enough time ta run away inta the fog. Whaddaya say? Its now or never, while the other guard aint here. Are ya with me?
Yeah, said Penguin, nervously. Im with ya.
Okay then, said Wild Bill. You hit im high, Ill hit im low, on the count a three. Ready?
Ready as Ill ever be.
Alright, here we go, said Wild Bill. On my count. One..., two..., three!
Living up to his name, Bills wild, straight forward plan of action seemed to be working, as the two renegade prisoners ran into the guard, knocking him off balance and sending him to the ground. Hitting the back of his head on the hard, wet pavement as he fell, the guard temporarily lost consciousness and in the moments that followed, completely lost track of Bill and his scared, but determined friend, Penguin. Running hard now, from fear and the adrenalin that coursed through their veins, the pair had put at least a mile between them and the prison they fled. The thick, grey fog they ran into also helped to conceal them, as they ran and made their way through quiet cattle pastures, and areas of dense vegetation and forest. But the frantic pace of their escape was catching up with Penguin, who was beginning to tire from all the weight hed gained and the many extra servings hed eaten off Bills meal trays.
When can we stop? asked Penguin, huffing and puffing, too heavy and out of shape to keep pace with his much thinner companion.
When I say so, replied Bill. Unless a course, youre anxious ta get dragged back ta the Big House..., or worse.
Im just too tired ta go on Bill, I gotta stop or Ill toss up lunch.
We cant stop yet. Lets run at least till we get ta them trees, answered Bill, referring to a thin strip of forest ahead, with a clearing beyond. Running between the trees on wobbly legs with his head pointed down to the ground, Penguin missed seeing a large oak in his path and ran right into it, crying out in pain as he sailed backward, landing on the ground with a thud.
Shit, said Bill, That had ta hurt. Resting his hands on his knees as he caught his breath from their long run, Bill peered out into the clearing. Reaching out to Penguin, he offered him a helping hand to get him up off the wet ground. Cmere an look at this, he continued. Looks like another jail dont it? Damn, is the world just one big prison or what?
Thats one way a lookin at it, said Penguin, rubbing his head as he got to his feet. If youre one a those pessimistic types. But if yer askin me, its just one a those things - a coincidence or somethin.
Look at the size of it will ya, exclaimed Bill. Must be a few thousand jailbirds down there. I never seen a prison that big in my life.
So whaddaya wanna do now Bill. If we hang around here too long, we could end up back in the pen. Besides, continued Penguin. Im gettin hungry. We aint eaten in hours. Boy, I sure miss all that good grub we left behind.
Sure, answered Bill. Why dontcha just go back for dinner like we never left. Well just pick up where we left off, no problem. Im all for it. I might even get a ringside seat when they fry ya..., dope! Dontcha know if ya go back there, youll end up like Bird!
Yeah, admitted Penguin. I guess it was a bad idea. But whadda we do for food? You dont care cause you never get hungry.
Well, Im gettin there. All that runnin took a lot outta me. Why dont we head for one a those fast food joints an raid the dumpster.
Yuck, replied Penguin. That disgusting.
Got a better idea?
Whatchya got there? asked Penguin, forever interested in what others were eating, even though he was very much absorbed in the day old cheeseburger he found.
Fish, I think, replied Bill. Who cares. I dont live ta eat, buster... I eat ta live. Anyways, I got somethin more important on my mind, like stayin free. Ill tell ya right now Penguin, continued Bill, talking as he ate. I aint goin back ta the pen. If they catch me, its all over.
Whaddaya mean? said Penguin, finishing his burger, turning over boxes and old newspapers as he searched for anything else that wasnt rotten or swarming with flies.
I mean, answered Wild Bill, true to his name. Theyll have ta kill me before I go back there.
Id say that decisions already been made for us, wouldnt you? said Penguin.
Id say yer right, replied Bill. Cmon, lets get movin, he added, getting to his feet. I dont feel comfortable stayin this long in any one place. Just makes it easier for em ta track us down.
Just a minute, replied Penguin, feeling certain that hed caught a glimpse of some French fries lodged between two empty cartons of eggs.
We dont got a minute, answered Bill impatiently. You can stay if ya want, Im movin out, pronto.
Jumping from the dumpster, Penguins feet had only just touched the pavement when Bill yelled out, doing his best to get Penguins attention. There, just leaving the restaurant parking lot was a rusty old pick-up truck, sputtering its way toward the main highway with Bill running close behind it. Jumping into the back, with Penguin in hot pursuit, Bill did his best to conceal himself from the driver who was - as Wild Bill realized, when he peered in through the back window - a very old man dressed in overalls, and fortunately for Bill, couldnt hear very well. Catching up, Penguin noisily hopped into the bed of the truck, but went unnoticed, as Bill watched the driver lean to one side to adjust his hearing aid and turn up the volume on his radio. Were in luck. He cant hear worth a damn, said Bill, referring to the driver. Is this perfect or what?
Ive seen better accommodations, replied Penguin. But I suppose itll have ta do. Where do ya think hes headed?
Were headed south, aint we? On highway 65. An accordin ta my calculations - an the sign we just passed a course - we should be headed straight for the Buffalo River in beautiful northern Arkansas. Imagine that, continued Bill, leaning back on the hard metal surface of the truck bed. Me an you baskin in the sun by the river bank, all the food we can eat an nuthin ta do but take in the views an relax. All we gotta do is stay away from the tourists an well be fine.
Whaddaya mean, all the food we can eat? asked Penguin.
I thought thatd get yer attention, said Bill. Theres a shit-load a fish, aint there? An a whole bunch a other goodies I bet..., youll see.
Leftovers from the tourists? asked Penguin. Sounds good ta me.
You got it buddy boy. An the best part is, were free. We can do what we want, when we want, an nobodys gonna tell us different.
Oh man, said Penguin. I can hardly wait. When do we get there?
I dunno exactly, but do me a favor will ya.
What?
Dont call me man, I hate it.
Here we go buddy boy, said Bill, as the old truck made its way over the bridge which connected the banks of the beautiful, green, rushing river beneath. This heres our stop. Unless a course youd like ta go home with the old guy here an end up on some farm, grazing like an animal.
What are you talking about? I am not an animal, answered Penguin, angry with Bill for thinking of him in that vein. I do not graze.
Forget it, would ya. Cmon, lets move out!
Getting off the truck was about as difficult as getting on - which was not very easy - but when the old man slowed down at the opposite end of the bridge to avoid an armadillo in the road, the two companions seized the opportunity and jumped off. Unable to control their legs from the momentum of the moving truck, Penguin and Wild Bill both fell, and rolled the rest of the way down an embankment which met the side of the road where the bridge terminated. Ouch! exclaimed Penguin, rubbing his head. I think I hit my head on a rock. Lets hope we dont have ta do that again. Those last few feet really hurt like hell.
Yeah, I know whatcha mean, said Bill. Which reminds me of an old joke about keepin yer shoelaces tied cause a trips better then a fall, get it? Trip, fall, a little play with semantics there, get it?
A course I get it, its just not very pertinent, thats all.
Why? asked Bill.
Cause I aint wearin any shoes, for one thing.
Just a technicality, thats all. Hey, continued Bill, getting to his feet to have a look around. Would ya look at this place, its beautiful!
Yeah, answered Penguin. An the best part is, there aint no people around.
I hear ya. No people, but a lotta potential friends at large, thats for sure, replied Bill, drawing Penguins attention to a pair of Cardinals who were bathing themselves and drinking water from the river.
An some what aint so friendly, observed Penguin, referring to a pair of hawks that were circling overhead, watching their every move.
I see whatcha mean, said Bill. But at least out here, were free. Free from any man who thinks he can keep us in a pen, plump us up on steroids and execute us like some kinda lousy convicts. It turns my stomach just ta think about it. Well just have ta watch our step, thats all. You watch my back an Ill watch yours, just like when we was back in the pen, right? Extending a large white wing, Wild Bill reached over to his friend as a man might shake hands or pat another on the back. Right, agreed Penguin. Birds of a feather, flock together. Now wheres all the grub you were talkin about. Ya made this place sound like a non-stop banquet. Whadda we do for food?
Hmm..., said Bill, about to do one of those things that should come naturally to any red-blooded American turkey in the wild. Bending at the hip, he picked up a fat juicy beetle on its way into the forest and finished speaking as it crunched in his beak under pressure. Try the insects here - gulp! - theyre delicious.
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