CODE SEVEN Read online

However, I wasn’t the only one in the twenties. There were a few others, who somehow got used to being molested. They would give anything they had if asked to, without hesitation. On my side ,I was a little tougher. I can say pretends but I had to survive.

  Furthermore, I wasn’t stupid to withstand the thought of giving my lunch or supper to someone then go angry. To say the least, I struggled. I got beaten up though after a couple of months, I guess they gave up.

  I remember an incident when I first killed. It was on a Tuesday morning and as usual fresh inmates got to wrestle with the champion, as a welcome party to prison. The rules somehow supported it though it was illegal.

  So, all inmates used to gather around outside their cells to watch the fight. I did know that wasn’t a fair game, but everybody had done it. So they enjoyed watching fresh ones beaten to death.

  That afternoon, I felt tired and so, I had decided to take a nap peacefully in my cell. Suddenly, I heard someone scream as I approached my quarters. At first, I couldn’t tell whether it was mine due to a lot of noise from the spectators. As I came closer I could hear struggles and definitely it was in my cell.

  I tiptoed closer and I saw a couple of men holding someone, whose legs spread between them. From their movement I could tell whoever was held down, was struggling. In Bakar, there were only two possibilities in such a situation. Either someone was being slaughtered or getting raped.

  I had heard of several such cases being commented on by the senior officer on parade days, and here one was about to happen or already happening. I couldn’t let those sons of beaches do whatever the hell they were up to.

  So, I quickly came up with plan. My room Mike, kept a knife hidden beneath his pillow. But that was way too far and I couldn’t get to it on time before they were on to me. So I had one choice. To distract them and dare a challenge in order to get a pass.

  “Hey, what the hell, Put him down.” I yelled furiously moving closer.

  From a far I could see the tall one was the leader of the phantom family, which comprised of the Mexicans. The tall one stepped back and came furiously at me.

  “You”

  “What” I said clenching my both fist.

  “You wanna enjoy the party kid?”

  “No, but that no good big guy” I said pointing at the boy.

  “Now you tell me what to do you brat.” He had said trying to get hold of my neck.

  The other two held a boy down just watching. The boy seemed younger than me and from the hopelessness on his face and tattered pants I could tell this was a rape case.

  “Know am gonna kill you kid.” He said

  “Yeah, I know.” I answered as I dived towards the other two and luckily ended up knocking one off.

  Then, I quickly pushed the other guy off and pulled the boy behind my back. Before the short one got up, the other two came at me, clenching their fists ready to strike. I did what I had to do. I don’t know whether they saw me grab the knife under the pillow, since they hadn’t shown any signs of fear.

  The first thing I did was stab the short one on the back, as he struggled to get up. The rest realized that immediately. So, they had tried to get hold of the knife. I don’t remember the guy on the floor getting up, but I recall struggling with the other two and stabbing the tall one twice, in the eye and on the left shoulder. Before I realized it, the other guy fled. To me and this boy, it had been a victory. Two bodies lay right in front of me.

  If you don’t know, some laws never work inside the walls. Because later, I tried to argue my case showing a couple of bruises from the steel bed and a patch I got on my face. Surprisingly, my days in the chambers were reduced to a week instead of a month. I was happy the senior officer had accepted my plea of self-defense at last.

  The chambers back then were some special rooms for criminals who committed crimes in prison like murder and assault. I don’t know whether they exist to date but I guess they still do.

  A few days in the chambers, I was a totally different man. Whatever the case, I had nothing holding me back. So, I had pressed on my feelings of guilt and made them say, my step stones. I reasoned with myself about the future, and I had concluded that power, was what it had held for me all along.

  Probably not a bad man but, let’s say I had the courage to do what had to be done. Like taking control of the situation the way Ben had explained that night. Since then, I developed my theories of conquest and dictatorship which seemed to work pretty well, the moment I left the chambers. Later, I fought my way to becoming the leader of the Phantoms, though I was an American.

  For the first time, I was able to enjoy what champions or rather kings do enjoy in prison. Better food, cell, services and a little respect. In some way, I also acted as a mediator between the in mates and the law at times of crisis especially riots.

  Note that all this never happened without challenges here and there. Now and then I lost men. Some died, others left for the chambers and a few walked on crunches and others on wheel chairs. I can’t exactly estimate how many deaths I was responsible for, but I once had the senior office want me extracted.

  I think the reason I survived someone chopping of my head in exchange for freedom, was because Mr. Hudson got transferred. Tell you what, now he is the head of code seven. Somehow, from the way he stares at me time to time, I think he still remembers me. That’s why in the first place I said I hope to leave this place. Something I can’t be so sure about, as along as he is around.

  For the next one and a half years I was a king, till I turned twenty four. I didn’t inform you that all these years I only had one visit from my step sister Lucy. She had informed me that then she was married and worked for some advertising agency in New York. I hadn’t paid much attention to her advice though, I knew she was quiet generous on offering it. She didn’t seem sorry, so we had a normal conversation about dad and ever since I never saw her again.

  For the rest of the years I was serving, I became a little friendly to my fellow inmates and learnt as much as I could in return. During my last days in Bakar, I met this engineer named Harrison gates, a math genius. Well, I was smart but remember my knowledge was limited since I never had a chance to attend college.

  Mr. Harrison taught me a lot of incredible stuff. From figuring out different structural designs, to how to identify their weaknesses. Which, was my favorite part. Every time he conclude, he used to say,” I hope you are not gonna try this shit spencer.”

  I had a conversion with him one evening during supper.

  “What do you ever think is the true meaning of freedom Mr. Harrison?” I had enquired.

  “Freedom to me is doing whatever I wanna do with no limit, no fucking laws.”

  “Really”

  “Yeah, that is what every preacher I met told me.” He had answered.

  “And here you are in prison, right?” I had commented.

  If I wasn’t wrong, whoever had this guy convicted was supposed to take him first for a medical checkup.

  One minute saying this and there minute implying something else.

  “Of course am in prison.”

  “Because some freak think, with my skills this is where I belong.” He had answered.

  (I laughed slightly)

  For sure, at times he was quiet funny. Yet most of the stories he told, made a lot of sense. Let’s say from his reasoning point of view.

  A few weeks later, I was a free men roaming back on the street of Brixiton. I had learnt a lot by then. All I saw were possibilities of something incredibly beautiful and at the same time the end of me. I remember promising myself not go back in prison and incase, it would be a long time before some law enforcement caught up with me.

  People say the cost of freedom is
high and some like us have always paid for it. This time round, I stood unshaken to prove the world wrong. There was no cost for freedom because, it was always there for whoever wanted to enjoy it. Hey, I can hear some footsteps. I think jay is back. Let me say sorry to this good friend of mine.

 

 

 

  Chapter five

  First I had the thought of I returning back home and begging dad for forgiveness. Something I hear once happened to a prodigal son. Am not much of a Christian but then, I knew I was about to be one. I would gather my courage, get home, knock and ask for forgiveness.

  The good thing was that my dad had always been a believer for as long as I had known him. So the probability of being forgiven was high I guess. Someone once said, if you can be able to convince people in religion, you can make them do anything you want. For instance, what I was about to do.

  If you remember clearly as much as I do, the year 2008 was the worst year of financial crisis. Life was too hard for me. Such that, if I decided to live on the street sooner or later I would be dead, and my body probably found somewhere in a ditch.

  Let’s say I could have gone back, to being me. However, I couldn’t get to convince myself that being a bad guy was what I wanted, after everything I had