Redemption Road(13)

*

The guards let Adrian step into the corridor, but kept their distance. He was not a large man, but even the guards had heard rumors of what he’d endured, and how he’d done it. The numbers were undeniable: the months in hospital, the staples and stitches, the surgeries and broken bones. Even the warden paid attention to Adrian Wall, and that frightened the guards as much as anything else. There were stories about the warden, too; but no one pushed for the truth. It was the warden’s prison, and he was an unforgiving man. That meant you kept your head down, and your mouth shut. Besides, the stories couldn’t be true. That’s how the decent guards consoled themselves.

But not all guards were decent.

When Adrian got to processing, he saw three of the worst standing in the corner, hard-faced, flat-eyed men that even now made Adrian hesitate. Their uniforms were creased and spotless, all the leather shined. They lined the wall, and a message was in their arrogance. We still own you, it said. Inside. Outside. Nothing’s changed.

“What are you looking at, prisoner?”

Adrian ignored them and took his cues, instead, from a small man behind a counter topped with steel pillars and chain-link.

“You need to strip.” A cardboard box settled on the counter, and clothes unseen for thirteen years came out. “Go on.” The clerk flicked a glance at the three guards, then back to Adrian. “It’s okay.”

Adrian stepped out of prison shoes and stripped off the orange.

“Jesus…” The clerk paled at the sight of all the scars.

Adrian acted as if it were okay, but it wasn’t. The guards who’d brought him from the cell were silent and still, but the other three were joking about the crooked fingers and the vinyl skin. Adrian knew each of them by name. He knew the sounds of their voices, and which was strongest. He knew which was most sadistic, and which one, even now, was smiling. In spite of that, he kept his back straight. He waited until the whispers stopped, then put on the suit and turned his mind to other things: a dark spot on the counter, a clock behind the chain-link. He buttoned his shirt to the collar, tied his tie as if it were Sunday.

“They’re gone.”

“What?”

“Those three.” The clerk gestured. “They’re gone.” The clerk’s face was narrow, his eyes unusually soft.

“Did I blank out?”

“Just for a few seconds.” The clerk looked away, embarrassed. “Like you went away.”

Adrian cleared his throat, but guessed the clerk was telling the truth. The world went dark sometimes. Time did strange things. “I’m sorry.”

The small man shrugged, and Adrian knew from looking at his face that those particular guards made a lot of lives miserable.

“Let’s get you out of here.” The clerk pushed a paper across the slick surface. “Sign this.” Adrian dashed his name without reading. The clerk thumbed three bills onto the counter. “This is for you.”

“Fifty dollars?”

“It’s a gift from the state.”

Adrian looked at it, thought, Thirteen years, fifty dollars. The clerk pushed the bills across the surface, and Adrian folded them into a pocket.

“Do you have any questions?”

Adrian struggled for a minute. Other than Eli Lawrence, he’d not spoken to another soul in a long time. “Is anyone here for me? You know … waiting?”

“I’m sorry. I wouldn’t know that.”

“Do you know where I might find a ride?”

“Cabs aren’t allowed at the prison. There’s a pay phone down the road at Nathan’s. I thought all you people knew that.”

“You people?”

“Ex-cons.”

Adrian let that sink in. The guard who’d brought him from his cell gestured at an empty hall. “Mr. Wall.”

Adrian turned, not sure what he thought about all these strange words.

Mr. Wall …

Ex-con …

The guard lifted a hand, indicating a hallway to the left. “This way.”

Adrian followed him to a door that cracked bright and split wide. There were still fences and chain-link gates, but the breeze was warm on his cheek as he turned his face from the sun and tried to quantify exactly how it felt different from the one that shone in the yard.

“Prisoner coming out.” The guard keyed a radio, then pointed to a place where gates rolled on wheels. “Straight through the gate. The second won’t open until the first one closes.”

“My wife…”

“I don’t know anything about your wife.”

The guard gave a shove, and Adrian—like that—was outside. He looked for the warden’s office and found the right windows three floors up on the east wall. For an instant sunlight gilded the glass, then clouds slid across the sun and Adrian saw him there. He stood as he liked to stand. Hands in his pockets. Shoulders loose. For a moment the stare held between them, and with it enough hate to fill another thirteen years of Adrian’s life. He thought the guards would appear, too, but they didn’t. It was he and the warden, the slow tick of a dozen seconds before the sun burned through and mirrored the glass again.

Walk out proud, boy.

He heard Eli’s voice as if he were there.

Let them see you tall and straight.

Crossing the parking lot, Adrian stood on the edge of the road and thought maybe his wife would come. He looked once more at the warden’s office, then watched one car blow past, then another. He shifted from foot to foot as the sun walked up the sky, and the first hour stretched into three. By the time he started walking, his throat was dry and he’d sweated through his shirt. Staying on the verge, he kept one eye out for cars, and the second on a clutch of buildings dropped like blocks a half mile down the road. By the time he reached them, it was over a hundred degrees. Lots of shimmer coming off the road, lots of pale, white dust. He saw a pay phone next to a self-storage place, a shipping company, and a bar called Nathan’s. Everything looked closed but the bar, which had a sign in the window and a rusted-out pickup angled in near the front door. Adrian fisted his hand around the wad of bills in his pocket, then turned the knob and walked inside the bar.