Chapter 2
“What do ya think it’s made from, Shirley? My guess it’s soap, what do you think? In fact, I’ll bet its Dial soap; I’m told that brand’s soft and so easy to carve. It makes for realism but somehow you have to remove its delicious scent or it sure ain’t gonna smell like a weapon.”
The larger muscular black woman smiled widely, exposing two prominent well-worn gold teeth. She said, “No I disagree; it’s definitely made of wood—a soft pine, I’d guess, but the black shoe polish has smeared somewhat. Obviously she failed woodworking or an art class—perhaps both.”
Both women issued a robust laugh at the expense of the small prisoner standing before them.
The blonde was holding a strange looking revolver pointed directly at the center of the chest of the larger of the two prison guards. A quiet, wide-eyed razor thin woman stood just behind the blonde looking baffled, seemingly not knowing what to do in this complex situation.
The guards had closely observed the blonde’s behavior over several years and concluded, due to her size and reticent demeanor, that she would never be capable of posing a serious threat to them.
The larger woman said, “Okay, now, little lady, why don’t you just hand over that poor imitation of a revolver you’re holding and then you can march peacefully back to your cell. But if you continue with your unacceptable behavior you might get poor skinny Jane standing behind you in a host of trouble as well, and neither of us would want that to happen now, would we? If you cooperate, I might not tell my sergeant about this and maybe, just maybe, you can even avoid going into that terrible dark penalty hole for God knows what would be how long. So what do you say, dearie? Now hand me your fake gun and let’s get this nonsense over with!”
Finally the blonde spoke, “Do you really want my gun?”
“Damn it, bitch, give to me, I’m tired of shitting around with you, and in the future you will always address me as Ma’am! Do you understand me clearly, young lady?”
“Yes, Ma’am, loud and clear. And by the way it’s not shoe polish, its grease. Sorry I’m so messy.”
The “fake” revolver issued a low puff sound, its subdued noise concealed by the constant screams and loud curses emanating from the over-filled prison cells above.
The large lady crumbled quietly to the ground without releasing a word of protest or pain.
The smaller guard said, “Shirley, get up! What the hell’s the matter with you? This is no joke.”
The blonde said, “Ma’am, Shirley would love to get up for you but she’s indisposed right now because she’s fucking dead. Now, Ma’am, do as I say and you won’t have to wind up like Shirley down there.”
“Okay, okay, now, take it easy, Ma’am. What do you want me to do?”
Donna smiled, realizing that the guard was now condescendingly addressing her in the same servile way that she had been forced to address her guards for four unbearably long years.
“To help us escape, stupid; what else? Now go to the mike over there and tell them in no uncertain terms that you want out. If you give them the wrong code, you’ll join Shirley, wherever in hell she’s residing now.”
The skinny brunette tapped her leader on the shoulder.
“For Christ’s sake, Jane, now what do you want?”
“I’m still not sure how we’re gonna escape from here; you never told me that part of your plan. At least I don’t think you did.”
“Jane, you just follow right behind me and do what I do; understand?”
Jane nodded.
The blonde had no idea what the correct code was to open the steel door, but she had closely observed for years, the consistent communication that went on between the outer and inner guards as they exited and entered the passage to each other’s chamber. Outer guards often rotated in their duties; over an extended observation time, she had been able to discern the degree of commitment each put into their shift’s work activities. She knew that the two that currently manned the outer area were the least trained and regimented of the entire guard staff. She depended on that vulnerability in part to make good her escape. For the moment she and her friend were encased in a huge open area, above which were three massive floors of overcrowded cells. None of the few guards assigned to the immediate area in which she was standing were allowed to carry weapons; the threat was too high that an inmate would overpower them and take their weapons away. Instead the system relied on heavy oak clubs, voice control and the physicality of large strong women to maintain the requisite degree of vigilance and discipline.
Two experienced prison guards normally staffed the outer area. Unlike in the inner area, each of the outer guards carried a fully loaded 45-caliber revolver. When prisoners were permitted to enter the outer area, the move was always executed as quickly as possible.
Whatever the magic word was, the nervous guard communicated it to the outer guard and the heavily reinforced steel door gradually swung open.
When the two prisoners entered the outer area, one of the outer guards, seeing the blonde’s weapon shouted, “You won’t get away with this; you’re being very foolish!”
There was not an instant of indecision; the blonde shot her in the stomach immediately. Realizing that the prisoner’s threats were real and sustainable, the other guard fully cooperated in aiding the prisoners’ escape to the main parking area.
A small beat up faded red sedan was waiting next to the exit door, its tinny radio playing the chirpy tones of Dolly Parton, pleading with the evil Jolene to “Please don’t take him just because you can.”
“Damn it, hurry up, get into the back of the car,” the male driver said. “Both of you lay flat down on the floor, one on top of the other. I’ll put a blanket over you. Make sure you don’t move until we get well past the gates.”
From beneath the blanket, Jane uttered, “Donna said I was more curlier.”
“Shut the hell up, Jane, and lie perfectly still. Pretend you’re dead, for God’s sake.”
In a short time the car was headed due east on the flat Florida panhandle in the direction of freedom and delayed revenge. The blonde was smiling, internally congratulating herself on the effectiveness of her escape plan. Jane was having pleasant visions of being able to soon hold a small puppy while having a shiny gold badge pinned on her blouse.