Page | 1 Without Parole Derrick
I wish I could have seen the look on the judge’s face when my size 32, orange long johns hit him in the face, but the bailiff had already wrestled me to the floor. They’re leading me out the door when my parole officer just looks at me and rolls his eyes. I turn around and give the parole folks a double bird salute. With that, they shoo me down the hallway and back to my cell. I always knew that damn fool was nuts. They think I’m crazy. Good. The difference between me and every other idiot locked up in here is this. They want out, I want in. And trust me; I got a good reason for it too. Now give me a sec... Ah yeah. I got booked for robbing a hair salon, I think. Yeah, convenience stores and fast food joints were just too cliché. I wanted to be different, unique. Get my legacy down as the one guy who starts a new trend with robbery. Go down in history. I don’t last more than ten seconds before the PD shows. Now, I came prepared. Unfortunately, so did they. I think I downed about three of them before some guy filled my chest cavity with little pellets. Shooting cops is a pretty good way to get yourself locked away for life, so naturally, they send me to some dark corner of our nation’s mansion. Once again, not sure where, just somewhere far away. I’m locked up in a cell with some hard looking ape. He thinks he can just be the alpha male in here. So I rip out his eyes. In self defense, I swear! Regardless, they don’t stick another guy with me for a while. And when they do, well, let’s just say that it goes way better. He calls himself Nero, but let’s be honest. Who names their kid after a crappy Roman emperor?
Page | 2 Now, Nero here is my kind of guy. He got convicted for trying to steal the daughter of some mayor in Gullah. Here’s the clincher, after he kidnapped her, he gave her a plane ticket to England and told her to get lost. At least, that’s what he told me. Regardless, he’s fun to have around. He’s the kind of buddy you need in a place like this. Everyone here hates you, they can’t stand the sight of you. Want nothing more than to see you deader than dirt. Whatever, we’re all sociopaths, so we’re really in the best kind of company, I suppose. There’s this one time at lunch where some brave son of a gun decides to rush a guard standing by the entrance to the mess hall. Get this, he charges the guy with a sharpened spoon. As my brother would say, “That’s pretty damn metal.” Well, that’s how riots start. Before you know it, there’s gas everywhere and total anarchy. No one’s on any side. It’s kinda stupid, really. We could stand a chance against the guards if we just decided to focus on beating the snot out of them rather than ourselves. Doesn’t matter. Nero and me, we’re pulling the “back-to-back badasses” thing. I guess Nero wasn’t kidding when he said he knew kung fu. Of course, I’m also proficient at the fine art of smashing faces with my fists. There must have been at least thirty guys piled up around us. All feasting on humble pie. We got put in solitary for that. I feel like my dad. I’m being punished by The Man ‘cause I’m good at something. Of course, I would have gladly forked over twenty dollars to do all that again, so I guess my Aesop falls apart there. Three weeks in, there is never any fun. So naturally, the second we get out of there, we decide to give the guy who started the riot a visit. I think his name was Sid. Well, he managed to get away scott-free. We knocked him down a couple of pegs. Hell, we knocked him down half a mile. So naturally, we get sent back to solitary for another week. The darkness in there really gets to you, but not in the way you think it would. It’s not the soul crushing loneliness you always hear about. It ain’t the large furry things that you
Page | 3 swear are using you as a sleeping mat. Nah. It’s the cold. There’s no reprieve from it. Nothing to keep it out. They don’t bother to give you socks here. It’s just you and the concrete. Linoleum if you’re lucky. But I’m not lucky, it’s concrete. Wet concrete. By the time Nero and I finally get out, I don’t get cold anymore. Nero gets the blanket in our cell. Now Nero is very reluctant to give me any sort of details regarding what he used to do. At one point, he said that he was Boris Karloff’s body double. Too bad he looked nothing like Frankenstein’s monster. Yeah, I’m the kind of guy who insists on calling it that. I fought kids on the playground who always ran around calling it just Frankenstein. Of course, I’m also the kind of guy who preferred Spanish Dracula to the original. Now why am I telling you this? Because Nero was that kind of guy too. He was right up my alley. Whenever we talked, and we talked a lot, we spent about an hour or two just agreeing with each other. He also knew loads about the local lore of the area. Nero had this one story about the woods out behind his house. He said that the Indians that lived there didn’t believe in any sort of hell. Only heaven. The reason? Cause the woods they lived in was hell, if that makes sense. Of course, I didn’t have the heart to tell him that Native American spiritualism didn’t really work like that, but who cares? The story was good. He said that it was alive somehow. Like the trees were the arms of some massive creature. The water beneath the roots would seep out and slow you down. The thing about a forest is that it never needs any sort of food really. It already has what it needs. Nero said that this forest would get you lost for years. Make you crazy, just for kicks. Every night was filled with tales like that. Over time though, we started telling stories to each other about great escapes. Everything from concentration camps to Egyptian slave quarters, to the dog pound. We had a story for everything, Nero and I. Eventually, we began to wonder:
Page | 4 why can’t these stories be about us? So when he hatched the plan to get out of here, I couldn't help but say yes. Did he really expect me to say anything else? Naw, that'd be insulting. Our first plan, though, had no plan in it. It was just: A) wait 'till they let us out for our recreation period, B) Run over and hop the fence. Somewhere along the way, we forgot that the fence was made of barbed wire. Not just any kind of barbed wire, the kind that's probably older than you are by about three epochs and could give you thirteen different diseases just by looking at it. We didn't get out that time. They just locked us in solitary again. You know, I almost started to like it in there. Let's ya think. When you can't feel cold no more, can't hear anything other than yourself breathing, and can only see infinite darkness, all you can do is think. And, boy, did I come up with a plan. We waited until midnight; actually, we waited until they let us out. Once we were out of solitary, we decided that sleep wasn't all that necessary anymore. So we started on our project. Over the course of a couple of months, we collected tape, wood, and everything else we needed to get over that fence. Eventually, the time was right. We waited for recess and snuck in our ladder under our clothes. Come to think of it, I don't know how we weren't caught before we actually busted the thing out. Well, the guards saw us trying to piece together this jerry-rigged piece of garbage. I don't think I've seen people laughing so hard at my crap since high school. They don't even bother to throw us into solitary. They just lead us back to our cells, Better luck next time, buddy! That's when it hits me. Going over it is pointless. Now going under it... There's a plan! So here's what me and Nero shift our efforts to. We start kicking at the dirt under the fence. We kick this little spot of ground for months. The guards don't seem to notice. Hey, it's those two crazies
Page | 5 again. Whatever, they ain't doin' nothin'. I don't know how long it takes, but eventually we have this hole just big enough for a guy to slip through. This is where we decide to make our escape. Too bad we chicken out. We decide to do it the next day. And the next day. And the next day. It took us four weeks to actually do it. To just attempt an escape. Perhaps we should have just stayed. It was a rainy day. The guards couldn't see anything out, but that didn't stop them from letting us out. After all, this was when we all showered. The pipes in the place stopped working ages ago. I don't know where they got the water to feed us. Anyway, we're out there, and they don't see us. We pass all the guys shooting hoops in the rain. This miserable, miserable rain. They don't pay us any heed. We just keep walking. To our little hole in the ground. The usually wet dirt is now a nice, lubricant sludge. Perfect for getting out of here. Or so I thought. I'm the first one through. I should have known that this would be the trouble spot. As I slide out under the fence, I feel this jagged prick going into my spine. Part of the fence digs this gash down my back. I don't care. I just want out. I push on through; my shirt bloodied and my back bleeding. Now, Nero is a pretty big guy, Even if I was terrible at beating people to death, people probably wouldn't mess with us just because of Nero being this hulking giant. He starts to slip his way under the mud. He catches onto that little piece of jagged metal. He's a tough guy, if I can last it, so can he. He gets stuck. No problem. I grab his hand, “Here you go buddy. Let me help you out here.” I pull. I pull some more. He screams. “GET ME OUT OF THIS!” “I’m trying I’m trying!”
Page | 6 I kept pulling on him, trying to wedge him free, but nothing budges. Actually, it just made it worse. I don't know how I did it, but the fence's spear lodges itself below his rib cage. He's bleeding like a stuck pig. Screaming, but the guards don't notice. We're sitting there, struggling in the rain. He doesn't say anything, but the look in his eyes does tell me something. Don't leave me here. You can't leave me here. I know what I have to do. I gotta get a guard. I gotta tell those guys about our plan. I have to turn ourselves in. It's the only way to save him. He's bleeding to death. My friend is bleeding to death. My best friend. If I save him, I can't get out. I run. I run as far as I can go. Until I can't hear him screaming no more. It never stopped raining. Ever. The water level here never bothered to drain itself out. It was always getting higher. Bit by bit. It doesn't matter. I thought I’d never get out of there.It seemed like I’d been stuck in that place forever. This forest. This swamp. It isn't right here. Time didn’t flow right. There were never any animals out. Never any birds singing. Silent. I can only hear myself breathing. It's probably cold out too. Not that I can feel it. The only thing I can feel is the need to get out. To find civilization. To find a road, or a town, or anything. I've walked through here for what feels like years, and yet, I've found nothing. And with all the time in the world, you start thinking. The only thing that matters is my freedom. Nothing else comes close. I didn't leave Nero to die for nothing. One day, I'll get out. And it'll all be worth it. That's it. I stop walking. I can hear someone. I turn. And there's Nero. Just standing there, under a tree. “It's been a while,” I say, trying to open up with a joke. I thought Nero was as good as dead under that fence.
Page | 7 “Has it? I didn't notice,” his voice is different. He doesn’t sound like himself. “Hey man-” “Don't 'hey man' me.” He shifts his gaze to some other tree. One that was split down the middle during some electrical storm that probably raged eons ago. “What do you think of this place? Don't you think it's nice? It's like your home away from home.” “Dude, I thought you were dead! But here you are! We can get out! Together, we -” He interrupted me by spitting in my face, but when I move my hand to wipe it off there’s nothing there. “No you won’t. You'll never get out of here. Besides, what's the point? Everywhere you've ever been is a prison.” “What do you mean by that?” Nero was always like this. Always spouting crap. “You live in some dirt collar town. You live day in and day out, you can't get out. So you rob a place and shoot up some deputy. They take you away.” “It ain't like that.” Nero's no shrink, but he always liked to talk like one. “That ain't why I did that.” “You get locked up in jail. You can't get out. You kill your friend. You get out. Now you're locked up in here. What'd you think you're going to find elsewhere?” It's about this time that his voice really starts to bug me. It just isn't right. “You killed me. You left me to die. You disobey some law you didn't respect, and you got thrown in jail. Then you do something that should make you feel awful, and you still don't feel nothin'. You're pathetic.” “Don’t call me pathetic, you piece of dog crap.” Not my best comeback. We just kept walking down through the swamp. There were noises all around us, not the
Page | 8 stuff that usually comes out of a swamp. It’s almost like TV static and electrical crackling. It’s weird. There was, like, this red haze that covers everything. “It’s not every day that you get to talk to a ghost, you know.” Nero’s head started decomposing. His grin was getting bigger with each word that exited his mouth. He looks like some guy I once knew who ripped off his face during a crack binge. “Go away.” My voice is trembling. His lips were gone by this point, yet he’s still talking clear as day. Somehow, the static is growing in intensity. I can hear someone screaming in the background. Nero’s voice manages to come out clear among the audible chaos around me. “You’ll never get out of here.” He swayed his arms around as if to accentuate every little word. “The only way to get out is to come out.” I drop to my knees; the water is coming up to my waste. The static is so loud that my eardrums burst. There’s blood pouring down the sides of my head. The red haze is making everything impossible to see. I‘m clutching my head in a fetal position, gasping for breath. Some breaths bring air, some just bring murky water. “Just let it out.” It's about here when I realize what's wrong with Nero's voice. He isn't talking. I am. He's not even there. I glance around. There’s nothing here. Nothing but trees, water, and rain. I run a hand down my head. No blood either. The haze is gone and the water has receded. “Nero!” I scream out louder than I have in my entire life. “Come back!” He doesn't answer. It's still just me. I don't care anymore. I want him back. Anyone back. I'm desperate. “Nero! I'm sorry! I-I...” It’s here when the raindrops stop falling. I can hear something. Dogs barking. People shouting. I run towards the sound. I'm calling Nero's name. He has to be
Page | 9 with them. He has to be. I find myself stared down by thirty guards dressed for war. I tackled one by the knees. Begging him to take me back. He's much obliged to. Expecting something of an incident, all the other guards seemed kinda annoyed at how easy I go down. They lead me back. I could hear birds in the trees. I could feel the cold in the air again. I decide to break the silence. “Say, guard,” I start, “How long were you guys searching for me? I musta been on the run for ages!” I'll never forget what he tells me. “Very funny,” he says, but here's no humor in his voice. “Son, you were gone for thirty minutes.” I keep my head down for the rest of the way. I just keep staring at my mud encrusted shoes. Eventually though, the mud starts to look odd. Too dark. I look up, I'm back. I'm back at the fence. I'm back home. I look again to see what's wrong with the mud. Nero's still under the fence. He stopped bleeding a while ago. The blood has stained the mud to an even darker brown. Apparently, the guards never noticed. They mouth words of surprise. I just stand there. Like I knew this was coming. Hell, I did. I’ve never left this place. I’m honestly too afraid to go back into the woods. They gave me some sort of head check when I went back. The docs and psychologists say there’s nothing wrong with me. I don’t know if they’ll ever let me out of here. Everyday seems longer than the last one. I sit in my cell every day. No one ever talks to me. They never really did before, but now the silence is deafening. I can hear every little drip, every whisper. They think I killed him.
Page | 10 They’re right, but they think I killed him on purpose. Stabbed him or something. Although they never respond, I always tell them to never try to get out of here. Those woods and swamps don’t like letting you go. The parole meeting went exactly as I wanted it to. As they let me back into my cell, I can’t help but crack a smile. I may not be happy here, but I am safe. Nero is buried on some old family plot out wherever he used to live. It’s weird. Every time I stare out into the woods, I can feel him looking at me. I’m afraid that the woods will take me again, and this time, they won’t let me out. The trees will keep me there. Forever.