Redemption Road(12)

Too much damage.

Too many years in the dark.

“You can do this,” the old man said.

“I shouldn’t be getting out. Not this early.”

“You know why.”

Adrian’s fingers tightened on the metal. Thirteen years was at the bottom end for murder two, but only with good behavior, only if the warden wanted it to happen. “They’ll be watching me. You know that.”

“Of course they will. We’ve talked about this.”

“I don’t know if I can do it.”

“I say you can.”

The old man’s voice wafted from the dark, a touch. Adrian pressed his back into the same damp metal and thought about the man who’d shared his life for so many years. Eli Lawrence had taught him the rules of prison, taught him when to fight and when to bend, that even the worst things end in time. More important, the old man had kept him sane. On the forever days in the forever dark, Eli’s voice had held Adrian together. That was true no matter how alone he was or how much he bled. And Eli, it seemed, had evolved to fit the role. After six decades inside, the old man’s world had contracted to the exact dimensions of their cell. He acknowledged no one else; spoke to no one else. They were tied so tightly—the old man and the young—that Adrian feared Eli would disappear the moment he left the cell. “I wish I could take you with me.”

“We both know I’ll never leave this place alive.” Eli smiled as if it were a joke, but the words were as true as any truth in prison. Eli Lawrence had earned a life sentence for a robbery homicide, in 1946, in the backcountry of eastern North Carolina. Had the dead man been white, he’d have hung. Instead, he got life times three, and Adrian knew that Eli’d never breathe free air again. Staring into the dark, Adrian wanted to say so many things to the old man. He wanted to thank him and apologize and describe all the things Eli had meant to him over the years, to explain that, as much as he’d already endured, Adrian didn’t know if he could make it beyond the walls without Eli to guide him. He started to speak, but stopped as lights flickered beyond the heavy, steel door and a buzzer sounded down the block.

“They’re coming,” Eli said.

“I’m not ready.”

“Of course, you are.”

“Not without you, Eli. Not alone.”

“Just be still and let me tell you some things people tend to forget once they leave this place.”

“I don’t care about that.”

“I spent a lifetime here, boy. You know how many people have said that to me? ‘I can handle it. I know what I’m doing.’”

“I meant no disrespect.”

“Of course, you didn’t. Now, be still and listen to an old man one more time.”

Adrian nodded as metal clanked on metal. He heard distant voices, hard shoes on the concrete floor.

“Money means nothing,” Eli said. “You understand what I’m saying? I’ve seen people pull twenty years in this place, then come back six months later on account of the dollars. In and out, like they don’t learn nothing. It’s only worth so much, the gold and dollars and shiny bits. It’s not worth your life or your joy or a day of your freedom. Sunshine. Fresh air. It’s enough.” Eli nodded in the gloom. “That being said, you remember what I told you?”

“Yes.”

“The waterfall and how the creek splits?”

“I remember.”

“I know you think this place has used you up for the outside world, but the scars and busted bones don’t matter, same with the fear and the dark, the memories and hate and dreams of revenge. You let that go. All of it. You walk out of this place and you keep walking. Leave this town. Find another.”

“And the warden? Should I leave him, too?”

“If he comes after you?”

“If he comes. If he doesn’t. What do I do if I see him?”

That was a dangerous question, and for an instant Eli’s dull eyes seemed shot with red. “What did I just say about revenge?”

Adrian ground his teeth and didn’t have to speak to make the point.

The warden was different.

“You let the hate go, boy. You hear me? You’re walking early. Maybe that’s for a reason, and maybe not. What does it matter if you disappear?” The guards were closer; seconds, now. The old man nodded. “As for what you suffered in this place, all that matters is survival. You understand? There’s no sin in survival. Say it.”

“No sin.”

“And no need to worry on me.”

“Eli…”

“Now give an old man a hug, and get the hell out.”

Eli was nodding, and Adrian felt his throat close. Eli Lawrence was more father than friend, and as Adrian wrapped the man up, he found him so light and hot it was as if coals burned in the hollows of his bones. “Thank you, Eli.”

“You walk out proud, boy. Let them see you tall and straight.”

Adrian pulled back, looking for a final glimpse of the man’s tired and knowing eyes. But Eli faded into the shadows, turned his back, and all but disappeared.

“Go on now.”

“Eli?”

“Everything’s fine,” the old man said, but Adrian’s face was wet with tears.