It’s been over thirty five years since I last experienced what would undoubtedly be called death by most everyone I’ve ever met. I was walking across the third street in New York when I was struck by a taxi cab while on my way to pick up a pack of smokes. The bastard didn’t even stop to see if I was alive just kept going on down the road in the dark and away from where he’d left me laying along side the gutter covered in a muck that I hope you never mistakenly step into. I laid there for a while before getting back to my feet. The rain felt so cool on my face as I looked at the moon and questioned why it was that I had again been cursed to walk. I finished my stroll to Jile’s bar and picked up a brand new pack of Lucky Strikes and before I had even shook off the cold I was finishing my first cigarette from the back and looking forward to my second. The bar tender, Ben, was a polite over weight chap and had asked me if I was okay, I never even stopped to look at myself before stepping into the bar but I nodded and told him that I was indeed okay. He looked nervous but I felt that in another time and another place we could’ve been friends. Ben offered me a drink, I declined but he insisted and left a shot glass full of whiskey beside my pack of smokes and reassured me that I needed it before walking back to the other side of the bar and to his other customer, a woman in her fifties. The whiskey burned as it slid down my throat and my stomach ached in an attempt to warn me of what was to come. I thanked Ben with a wave and a few dollars left on the bar before I stepped back outside and into the cool night air. My stomach burned and I knew just what I needed. At my apartment I opened the closet and removed the duct tape from a small pillow case that it was stored in. Entering the bathroom I peeled my coat and shirt off leaving a trail as it were to my last free moments in this life. The mirror showed me a reflection that I don’t remember owning but I assured myself that it was indeed my own. The burning in my stomach turned out to be a jagged piece of metal, perhaps from an old exhaust pipe, that had pierced my side and was again turning out just under my arm. It’s funny how it doesn’t hurt, but the amount of blood is unsettling, even to me. It took nearly three hours for me to remove the piece of metal and wrap my body in duct tape. I’ll heal like I always do, of that I have no doubt. The room is spinning. I remember the sound of the front door opening just before I blacked out. Awoke to the sounds of the guard yelling at me, I sit up and the world slowly fades into a moment of clarity. The cell is concrete and cold, barred walls and barred door, just beyond the door the guard looks at me with disgust. “Get off yer ass and get over here!” he spits and taps the bars with his baton. I oblige him and glance at my bare feet and wonder where my shoes are and how long I’ve been out of it. Every time I am born I have a time of great disorientation, sometimes only for a few moments, sometimes for days. From the look of my surroundings I’d say it’s been quite a bit longer this time. The guard slaps the bars again with his baton and draws my attention again, my head is pounding and I wish he’d stop just for a moment so I can get my bearings before I pass out. My legs feel like pins and needles and I force my attention to the guard. “I’m right here you ass hole.” Apparently this wasn’t the type of thing I should’ve said in my situation, the door opened and I quickly found out how good he was with that damn baton, now my body hurts as much as my head and the world is spinning again. He forces me back to my feet and pushes me into the walk way outside of my cell. “I’m going to miss beating your ass.” He whispers to me as he pushes the baton into the small of my back forcing me to walk down the aisle past the other cells where inmates look at me in awe. My feet are cold against the decking below me, the prison seems alive, the walls breathe and flex around me. Each cell stands nearly empty as I pass. Few prisoners even look up but one in particular, a older black man with eyes as wide as the sun itself stares out at me. “You okay brother?” he questions as I pass him with a single nod. The guard makes a comment under his breath, I cannot make it out but the emotion behinds it suggest to me that perhaps the prisoner and I are friends. I’m led down the stairs to my left, and when I say led I assure you I was nearly pushed down each and every stair before I reached the bottom. I run my hand along my side where the pipe had been a moment ago and feel nothing but a raised scar running just below my shirt. We pass other prisoners all of which struggle to not make eye contact with me as I’m led outside and into an awaiting patrol car. The car looks abnormal to me, long and slender, as hot as it is outside the inside of the car awaiting us is cold and crisp. The driver looks into the rear view mirror and adjust it so he can make eye contact with me. “You are not going to give me any trouble today are you now Carl?” I smile softly and assure him that I am not going to be trouble and then wonder why he is calling me Carl. I think about that for several moments only to realize that I cannot think of my name…. Phil, Pete… definitely not Carl. The more I think of it the further I search my memories names come and go as often as rain clouds. I look around the car and then outside, the world is cleaner than I can remember it being the last time I was outside. I struggle to remember when exactly that was and cannot. “See anything interesting?” The driver speaks again and draws my attention back to the rear view mirror. I reply and he seems satisfied for a moment before again speaking. “So how long you been a visitor with us Carl?” I have to admit I don’t remember and he smiles and laughs slightly, “It’s been 32 years, at least that’s what your file says.” I nod and he continues, “I sure hope I look as good as you do when I’m 68 years old.” I look at my reflection in the window and cannot seem to remember anything other than getting hit by that damn taxi. “Where are we going?” I question. “Everyone’s got their day Carl, today’s your day.” The driver pauses for a moment and again makes momentary eye contact. “They’re going to hang you today Carl. You know that right?” I have to admit again that I did not know that but reassure the officer that I will not be trouble. “What will they do if it doesn’t work?” I whisper. The officer chuckles and assures me it’ll work. “Ive never driven someone from the hall back to the jail Carl. Not even one as good looking and healthy as you.” The officer turns into a large parking lot surrounded by large barbwire topped fences and pulls up to the building and a few awaiting guards. Upon stopping he turns in his seat and looks at me. “How much do you remember about what put you here Carl?” I think about it, “I remember picking up cigarettes.” The driver looks oddly at me but nods. “You killed that man and woman at Jile’s Bar in New York, do you remember that Carl?” His words echoed in my ears for a few moments, the memories in my head rise and fall back into the oblivion of my mind. “I did what?” My mind struggles to grasp what was said to me and I cannot bring myself to remember. “No, I only went there once or twice, bought a pack of smokes there once.” The officer nods and continues, “A man saw you coming out of the bar, covered in blood, followed you home and called us.” I nod and am escorted from the car by another officer. The sun is blinding and the heat outside of the car is nearly unbearable. The officer steps out of the driver side door. “Carl, repent while you can, the Lord is Salvation.” He states before turning back to the car and reclaiming his seat behind the wheel. “This way.” The new officer before me motions towards a walkway between the fences.
Posted on: Mon, 17 Jun 2013 03:15:10 +0000
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