I was able to put what happened next together after the fact. The captain had a bunch of hard core bikers transferred to one of my upper rows that night. Had one of his crew keep their JRCs. When I came in the next morning, my board showed that row empty. I racked everyone out to chow. Went to walk my rows. Everyone’s gone at chow now. On the second side, almost to the end. That’s when the bikers jumped the tier. Surround me. I key my radio…it’s dead. No mic. Fuck me. I don’t know how many there are. No time to count. Too many. Back myself into a corner. Flashlight in one hand. Keys in the other. There will be no cavalry coming for my ass today. My last thought before it starts is to try and take as many of them with me as I can before I go.
It starts. Two come at me. I take one out with the flashlight. I put my keys through the other’s jugular like Billie Joe taught me. Shit works pretty good. God, I wish he was here right now. Two more come from the right. Up high. I don’t see the one that dives at my bad leg from the left. I go down hard. Then they’re on me like buzzards on a dying wolf. Mercifully, I black out.
Like I said, I was able to piece this shit together later. The inmates know shit in a jail before anyone else. When my trustees got to chow, someone told them about the bikers. The word was out I would be dead by EOW. King, Tatupu and Billie Joe left chow early. Got back just in time. They fucked those bikers up. Big time. Saved my life. Went and got the rover Deputies. Told them they found me that way. Everyone assumed I saved myself. Convicted killers wouldn’t save a Deputy, now would they. It’s a fucked up world when the guys you’re on the job with are either trying to kill you, or turning a blind eye while its done…and cons save your life because you treated them like men. Someone on the captain’s crew replaced the JRCs, so it looks like they were supposed to be there and I was HUA about them not going to chow. It should have been a perfect set-up. They fucked up.
I wake up in the hospital. Been in surgery again. The Doc tells me my knee looks like someone put a grenade in it and pulled the pin. Then he asks me why I never had my ACL, PCL, and MCL reattached from my previous injury. They’re rolled up and calcified in the joint, so he can tell they’ve been that way for quite a while. Fucking County Doctors. On the take. Now I know why the leg never got better. He tells me the nerves in the leg are shot…and the ligaments, cartilage and bones. The “unholy triad” he calls it. Tells me I’ll need a cane for the rest of my life…at least until I lose the leg. Tells me when the job gets his report, they’ll retire me. Fuck. I figure it can’t get any worse than this. I’m wrong. Again.
My dad comes in. I can tell he’s been crying. I’ve only seen him cry once…when they thought Ruby was going to die from her heart condition years ago. I’m scared now. Really scared. Shawna was at the hospital with Tony, the girls and my folks. Left to take Tony to her Moms. The CHP just came and gave my Dad the news.
“She must have lost control of the car...I wasn't thinking...I didn't realize she was that tired...that upset, you know...I...I never would've let them go, son...I just didn't...I mean...I never thought...”
He’s destitute. Blaming himself. I should comfort him. Tell him it’s not his fault. Tell him I love him. Something. Instead, I brush him off. Send him out. God, I can be such a self centered prick.
I should tell you about the funeral now, but I can’t. Just can’t relive that right now. It’s in the screenplay. Read it for yourself.
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