Glimmer of Hope (Book 1 of the Land of Tomorrow Post-Apocalyptic Series)
Page 18
Chapter 10 – Decisions
Harold Buchanan rubbed his head and looked down again at the sheet of figures on his desk. He still could not force himself to use the Prison Warden’s large office, even though the old man ran off over two months ago and was unlikely to return. Harold felt moving out of his small office into the larger one was to accept the fact that none of this was temporary, but in his heart he knew better. He looked out the window at the rolling, wooded, snow covered hills of eastern Kentucky and with a sigh accepted that the world had gone straight to hell.
Jim Meeks lumbered into his office and collapsed on the couch across from Harold while pulling his baton out of its holster, laying it beside him. The couch groaned in protest as Jim’s gigantic frame settled into a comfortable position. Harold looked up and just shook his head.
Jim smiled grimly twirling the baton in his hands, “As bad as all that?”
“I’m not sure what to do, Jim." Harold admitted running his hand through thinning hair. "We’re losing guards and staff every day and the inmates know it. We have more attacks by the day and they’re getting as desperate as we are. Also, I don’t think the electricity or water is going to come back on. And even if the Governor had any instructions for little old Hancock State Penitentiary, how would he let us know?”
Jim nodded gravely, “Yeah, I talked to those National Guard boys watching the Food Lion in town, and they haven’t heard anything in over four months. They’re only stickin’ around because they’re local and get first dibs on food. All the others in the unit have taken off including their commander. Just a few left now and they've stopped accepting money, will only take fuel or ammo now.”
Harold felt the weight of what must be done. He'd said he didn't know what to do, but he did. Time was clearly against them. Under such circumstances somebody was going to make a mistake. In Harold’s experience mistakes in a prison led directly to death as sure as night followed day.
He was able to keep some of the guards and staff around by allowing them to move their families onto the prison grounds. This arrangement provided the families greater protection from the increased acts of robbery and violence outside the prison. It also meant those guards were less likely to run off, or not show for work. Also, Harold could work them longer hours, but that came with a cost he knew only so well. He had lost his left eye working a triple shift at a penitentiary in Kansas many years ago because he had not been alert to the ever-present danger of working near the most violent and dangerous men a society could produce.
Time was not their friend, and Harold felt each passing minute increase the load on his shoulders.
“Jim, we have to do something soon, before more guards run off or the inmates get organized to make a move. Also, we can't keep feeding them and us even with the Food Lion,” said Harold.
“What are you thinking?” asked Jim.
Harold hesitated. What he was contemplating certainly exceeded his authority as Chief of Prison Security, but he had already assumed the role as acting warden. He also knew that if things ever returned to normal, they would likely put him in prison for the rest of his life, but he felt certain they would never see “normal” again. With that thought, he made up his mind.
“Jim, have all the inmates locked down in their cells as soon as possible, even the trustees and anyone in the infirmary. After that, I want to meet with all the guards and staff and tell them my thoughts.”
“You sure you want everyone?” Jim asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Yes, all the way down to janitorial crew, but no family members. This is going to be official. Maybe the last official thing we do here.”
Jim started to say something and then thought better of it, lifting his giant frame off the couch. “All right boss, I’ll let you know when we have everyone in the cafeteria. You need anything else from me?”
Harold smiled, “No…thanks. I appreciate it.”
Jim slid the baton back into his belt and walked out closing the door on his troubled friend.