MacArthur's Freehold

Chapter 2

Chapter 2 -- XABGWSLBOITSAB

Damned Tommy, Carter thought as he was returned to his cell. He was a bit of a joker, and would enjoy leaving him in suspense for a week.

He had received a letter about once a month or so but they were never more than a 'how are you doing, I'm all right, hope to get together when you get out,' and so on.

He had only known Tommy for the three years he had been in, after they struck up a conversation one day while working out together. Neither was a fitness fanatic, but they shared a determination to not let their physical condition deteriorate due to inactivity. And it it didn't hurt to be built up in here. Carter was already big enough to discourage attacks by other inmates, but the additional muscle was both intimidating and useful if a potential attacker didn't get the idea right away. In any case he had few problems - the prison was a mixed medium and and minimum security facility, and most of the inmates were guys like Tommy, low-level first- timers who caused little trouble.

Tommy was the sort of person people naturally liked at first meeting, and did not all seem like someone who would be in prison, and perhaps he wasn't. He had gotten three years for receiving stolen property. Just helping a friend out of a jam, he said. Just doesn't pay.

Carter looked at the dark patches of skin on his forearms. He had gotten those pulling kids out of an overturned van when the spilled gasoline went up, weeks of pain that he thought would never end. And then your life is destroyed because you allegedly mishandled the arrest of a dangerous, violent, drug-crazed felon who had already knifed his partner. But the only available video showed him with the cretin's face down on the roadside with Carter's knee on his back.

Of course, the drug-crazed felon was the wrong color. The usual agitators showed up to incite riots, and the rest was, for Carter, history. He knew what was going to happen, and should have gone on the run. He had seen enough cops go to prison over similar incidents with such human debris.

He had said afterwards, when asked about his injuries, that he would not do it again. That there was no place in his thinking for other the people's problems.

Tommy had told him he couldn't mean it. "What would you do now - let a bunch of kids burn up because of what happened to you?"

He knew he didn't mean it, but the anger which prompted it would never leave him, only be assuaged by retribution. He refused to think of it as vengeance, but a necessary delivery or justice.

His cellmate had returned and was reading. He was a quiet sort who had made the mistake of succumbing to the desire to make some big money the easy way, and got unlucky. Normally the sort of drug deal he did was small enough to go unnoticed, but one of the guys he was dealing with was a big enough fish that he got dragged in with him. Carter liked him better than his previous cellmate - he was literate and quite intelligent. Just not smart, Carter thought. But then, he was in for an actual crime, and I'm not, he thought. Unlucky or dumb, either could screw up your life.

"You awake?" asked Jackson. Jackson Miller was the cellmate.

"Yeah." said Carter. "What are you reading?"

"Dune" replied Miller.

"That's an old book." Carter said. "You read much science fiction?"

"I didn't until lately. A little before I got in here, one of my college buddies was into it. He has a huge collection, sends me some of them. to read. He says the old stuff is pretty good, and most of what's written these days is trash."

"Like everything else" said Carter. "Including people. Especially people."

"Yeah, I guess you have some experience with that. Being a cop you probably see the worst of it."

"Unfortunately some of the worst isn't on the streets. It's in the government and the ones who control it."

"I guess you have a reason to feel that way. I got here by my own stupidity. You try to do your job and something goes wrong, they throw you under the bus."

"Yeah, well, it's happened to a lot of cops in recent years. Don't be surprised if, when you go back, the only cops are the rejects. No man in his right mind would be a cop. Not only do you risk getting killed every time you go to work, you also risk being used as a sacrifice for some politician."

"Well" said Miller, "You'll soon be out. Any idea what you'll do?"

"One thing is certain" said Carter. "What's left of my life is mine and mine alone. The world can go straight to hell, which is where it's headed anyway. I'm just going to watch, and maybe laugh once in a while."

"Well" said Miller, "good luck. I guess I'll probably end up on the street when I get out. Everything I had is gone, and I don't see any way I can ever start over."

"You can" said Carter. "You will probably have to abandon conventional thinking. Outside the box, as they say. Concentrate on survival, nothing else, and keep whatever you can get and try to make a life independent of society. It's only going to get worse."

"Is that your plan?" Miller asked.

"Pretty much. Stay away from the cities, disappear. Go off the grid, find a way to survive with some level of comfort."

"It sounds like you expect the place to turn into Communist Russia, or Nazi Germany."

"Probably some of the worst of both" Carter replied. "The rule of law is almost totally gone in the big cities, except in a handful of states, and I'd be surprised to see them hold out for long. The only question is how long it will take the government to subdue the resistance in the smaller towns and rural areas. There are a lot of people out there who aren't going to go quietly, and are armed. But without being united and organized, they will eventually be eliminated, a few at a time."

"You seem to think it's hopeless" said Miller.

"Pretty much" replied Carter. "When I got in here seven years ago it was well on the way. The election process was subverted to the point that from here on every presidential election will be predetermined, and the few conservative states will be outnumbered. It's a dark future.

"Luckily, I don't have to live as long as you. How old are you, anyway?"

"Twenty-four. I'll be twenty-seven when I get out, unless I can get paroled."

"You will if you don't give them any trouble. They can't let people out of the prisons fast enough, at the rate they new ones are coming in. In a way the world may be better for us criminal types, since we're already part of an underclass, to to speak. Hang together and stay under the radar. It's the normal, productive, law-abiding types that are going nasty surprise."

"Well" said Miller, "I've got some time to worry about it. Thanks."

"I'll try to remember to look you up when you get out. You're smart enough to survive, with the right help."