Skin Trials

by S Y Humphrey

  “Oh no, that’s quite all right. My people will handle it. They know how I like my things put away. Just tell them where to go. Maisie and William, hop to it.”

  Seren and NG jumped right away, and Seren was sure to move as she had been taught, staring at the ground, not making eye contact, dragging her movements just lazy enough to avoid admonishment.

  “We have a guardhouse set aside just for you. Overlooking the Killarney Lake.”

  “The guards have their own houses here?” One of Pepper’s colleagues asked.

  “Oh, of course. For our best people who run the facility smoothly. Every now and then, we might even let the Negroes sleep there, as a reward for helping us keep inmates in line,” Mrs. Clamper answered.

  Seren looked out on the green lawn to see a row of decent sized houses sitting atop an incline, overlooking the fields of the plantation where the prisoners labored. On the other side, sat a glistening lake, with some of the guards and a few visitors, sitting under the shade trees chatting next to their fishing rods. Seren and NG proceeded to carry Pepper’s luggage inside the guardhouse. They moved to enjoy breakfast in the dining area. Seren and the other blacks stood in the corners of the room and waited to be called on, while watching the whites laugh and eat. Seren noticed the black servants of the property come and go with plates filled with food, and any little thing they asked for.

  “Tilly, honey, fix your face. You act like you’re not happy to be here,” Mrs. Clamper noted to one such servant.

  Immediately, Tilly plastered a fake grin across her lips and curtsied. “Of course that couldn’t be further from the truth. No other place I’d rather be, ma’am.”

  “Good then, why don’t you get on over there and show our guests how good you can dance. Maybe they’ll hire you for the boxing ring entertainment.” Mr. Clamper then turned to Pepper. “Best dancer you ever did see. She moves so good you’d think she had hot sauce in her drawers.”

  At that comment, Mrs. Clamper’s face immediately burned red hot. Seren watched her clutch her fork and knife as if she was getting ready to go to prison for using them.

  “Maisie, William, why don’t you two go out and help set up the prototype demonstration. Look it over, make sure they haven’t left anything unpacked. We have a big show to put on tomorrow for our hosts,” Pepper said.

  Seren could sense she was growing uncomfortable, and did not want them present to watch Tilly’s humiliating dance. As she hobbled by on her cane, Seren caught Warden Clamper’s eyes roving over her rear end.

  “Dr. Terry’s cellblock is on the other side of the grounds,” NG whispered once they were outside, and out of earshot of any servants.

  Pepper’s crew had already begun construction work, putting together a mockup of an actual hotel, complete with boxing ring, amenities, a penthouse, and a casino. All of the bells and whistles of a twenty-first century bloodbath that southern white folk could enjoy with their steak.

  NG spoke with the prison guards over the sounds of loud jackhammers and drills.

  “They took him out of the hole yesterday morning. We believe he’s been placed in Camp C, with the most brutal convicts. When we confirm it, we’ll let you know,” a guard reported.

  Seren shuddered. The small group lingered a little while longer, pointing at the construction and discussing it. Next, NG strode over to the wooden boards and picked one up, showing it to the prison guard, and standing it up to demonstrate the hotel architecture. That’s when Seren noticed a small container of VScan eye contacts, protruding only slightly from NG’s hand, on the underside of the board. The guard leaned in, peering closely as if looking for what NG was describing. Then the container disappeared. Seren was impressed at the covert tactics they had perfected, avoiding any agent who might be surveilling and taking photos in the distance. After a few more seconds of dallying and pointing, the prison guard moved on.

  “What kind of credits are in those?” Seren asked.

  “Entrance to a nice restaurant down in New Orleans. Places these guys don’t ever get to go. It’s just a little something to whet his appetite for now,” he answered.

  “I’m surprised they can be bought so easily. You’re not afraid he’ll tell? Or that he’s an undercover agent?”

  “He’s one of our guys. Trained by us. We sent him here. He’ll point out to us who’s new, and the guys that have been here a while that we can trust. As for the other guys, prison guards don’t make much money. They’re the least paid law enforcement officers. Making them the easiest to buy. They’re not that sophisticated though. If the warden searches them, we don’t want them carrying major bank account access. So we take care of them later. Once they’re off the job.”

  They located the boxes packed by Seren and Omu, with hidden compartments that were outfitted with panels designed to throw off weapons sensors. They helped carry some of the boxes and place them around the mockup, pointing them in varying directions, so the weapons could be detonated to hit specific targets if needed.

  The rest of the day consisted of Seren waiting on Pepper hand and foot in the blazing heat. Though she didn’t really need the cane anymore, Seren made sure to hobble with it every time, so she would look weak and defenseless. She knew Pepper was asking a lot primarily to keep her close, away from any grabby prison guards. Still, Seren tired of going for any and everything that Pepper could think of - a wet cloth, a hand fan, bug repellent, ice cream, feminine products, and even the Bible so they could pray. But Seren was grateful. Later that evening, she didn’t envy the dread on young Tilly’s face upon being summoned to Warden Clamper’s house from the servants quarters, after Mrs. Clamper had likely gone to sleep. Seren swallowed as the girl, who must have been the same age, appeared to muster every ounce of strength she had. Stomping, she went marching out across the green lawn in the night. Seren peeked out the window, and saw her straighten up her muscular body, as if to steel herself first, before entering a small door at the side of the house.

  For all its rich food and romantic scenery, the South’s patriarchal degradation Seren could do without. And it absolutely disgusted her that she needed someone else in order to feel safe. She had always been independent, needing no defender. But the more she thought about it, the only reason she had ever truly felt safe was her last name. She had always relied on someone else for her security, and just hadn’t paid attention until it was made so blatant now.

  For a few reasons, Seren simply couldn’t sleep. Tilly swept back into the women’s quarters, hair disheveled and buttons looped through the wrong buttonholes on her dress, without bothering to keep quiet. The heat almost suffocated her, and there was no air conditioning, only a large fan shoved in the window that circulated heat. Finally, though NG checked on her every so often, she still feared that one of the prison guards would sneak to her room, or Warden Clamper.

  “Why are you here?” Seren asked Tilly once the other girl settled into her bed in the dark.

  “My mama makes me. So he’ll pay her bills.”

  “You or your mother can’t get a job?”

  “Will you hush? I have to get back up in two hours and make breakfast. Besides, I know who you are, and I don’t want to talk to you anymore. You’ll be dead by tomorrow. You were stupid for coming here.” Within seconds, Tilly was sound asleep.

  Seren’s body turned stiff in the darkness. Terrified, she listened to the melancholy and resigned singing that started in the distance. In the fields, steel slammed into the soft Earth.

  “Ain’ gon’ let nobody…” one older man started off singing.

  “… Turn me ‘round. Turn me ‘round,” a group of men chimed in for the chorus.

  “Ya’ll pick another song. I don’t like that one,” came an authoritative voice.

  “My baby don’t stand no cheatin’, my baby.” The elderly lead singer switched to something with more of an upbeat rhythm. Then, the hoes moved faster into the dirt.

  There was no way Seren could listen. So she got up and hit the shower
before any of the other servants arose. When she reached the edge of the back porch for a stroll on the lake, she felt a touch at her back. Whipping around, and thrusting out her bandaged hand, it stopped at NG’s throat.

  “He’s in cellblock C,” he informed her as she hobbled around the lake with her cane a few minutes later. “We make our move tonight, during the rodeo.”

  “Where they make prisoners fight a bull?” Seren confirmed.

  “Yes,” he answered.

  “They know who I am. The girl sharing a room with me told me.” In a panic, Seren repeated everything Tilly said.

  NG nodded. “We know her. Know her family.” He then gave her a knowing look while keeping silent.

  Seren’s mouth fell open, as she realized what he had done. “You! You pay her mother’s bills? So her mother makes her sleep with the warden!” Seren whispered.

  “It keeps him distracted. And she’s not going to tell.”

  “Hypocrite!” Seren hissed. She punched him, with the part of her hand that wasn’t bandaged. He tried to duck but wasn’t fast enough. She began to hobble off, and he grabbed her and swung her around, steadying her so she didn’t fall.

  “Look, I did what I had to do to get us here, okay?” he whispered, gazing down at her, and she saw genuine concern in his eyes.

  “Don’t touch me!” she shot back. “Don’t you ever judge me for anything I do again.”

  “Okay, so I’m doing some bad things to help a lot of people, and you do the wrong thing for yourself,” he said keeping his voice hushed.

  “Your movement’s not pure. If I had known this, I wouldn’t have helped you. Let go of me.”

  Yanking her toward him, he closed the space between them, and to her surprise, he then pushed his mouth against hers. Her body responded more than she expected, leaning into him. His lips were full, and when they sucked hers, he pressed harder and more passionately than Lyndon did. When he pulled away, the unwavering seriousness in his eyes made her reel.

  “Don’t leave,” he said soberly. “He’s still your father and he still needs you. We need you.”

  “Don’t kiss me like I’m some child who’s foolish enough to fall for that. You’re a jerk.”

  Sure, it had felt good, but that was besides the point. Seren’s eyes scoured their surroundings angrily, as she wondered if she should punch him again, just remembering all of his tough talk about the Tier Fives and their heinous was. Glancing toward the main house, Seren caught eyes staring at them through the window. It was Pepper.

  Suddenly, this felt uncomfortable. Like they were in trouble now. But Pepper was married. Once they went inside, Pepper was polite and kind. But what followed was awkward silence and dawdling around, as they both waited for Seren to leave them alone in the kitchen. Then, she heard them arguing.

  “She’s a kid. Nearly half your age. And you know where she comes from!” Seren heard Pepper chastise.

  “Money. Just say it. Her folks— her real ones and her fake ones— have money and status. And I don’t.”

  “Jonah, you’re a fugitive. She’s a Tier Five aerospace engineer headed to outer space. I’m saying don’t screw her up. We’ve already thrown enough on her. When it’s over, she’s running right back to Jernigan. Let her.”

  19

  Stroke of Midnight

  Seren watched the masses pour in. She and Pepper sat in the reserved seating of the open bleachers. Only a few feet away from them, the servants drew water and stacked First Aid supplies for those prisoners who paced nervously in their cheap boots.

  Searching the stands, Seren felt slightly nauseous and weak-kneed at the chattering kids who carried cotton candy and popcorn, while filing into the bleacher seats, row by row. Happy families pointed and peered at the large bulls stomping behind flimsy gates.

  Scanning the prisoners eyes’ as they waited their turn to go out into the very small arena, these hardcore convicts at the worst prison in America were terrified. Prisoners who had never done it rubbed their faces. Prisoners who had won the bullfighting contest in the past beat their chests, and posed for the families lining up in the bleachers.

  Some of the members of the audience had their favorites, and pointed to them gleefully.

  "Hey, Wolf Attack! Win it for me again this year!"

  "Mom! Mom! There’s Diehard!"

  “Stingray! Will you get me another ball?”

  The first bull was released from the shaky gate, along with the first five men. Seren flinched while bullhorns as sharp and pointed as swords entered the men, lifting them in the air and flinging them like meat. She turned away from the battering of bodies just as NG beckoned her to come and meet him outside the stadium. Hobbling through the bleachers and out of the entryway, she met NG and several others in their crew, who had already stripped out of their servant clothes, down to full dress as prison guards.

  In a discreet, dark corner with no cameras, Seren removed her servant clothes and stripped down to the prison uniform she too wore underneath the long period dress. Unwrapping her hands, she removed the bandages, rolled them up and carried her cane. Though she still had a slight limp from three days before, she didn’t really need the walking aid. With stealth weaponry in discreet pockets, she walked alongside the others. They were then joined by several prison guards who actually worked there.

  Screams erupted from inside the tiny arena, and Seren heard the angry stomping of bulls. Cheers erupted ecstatically, and the announcer laughed, calling the victors and losers with exaggerated voice that drew out every syllable.

  “We will spend a little time scoping out the block, seeing what’s going on there, and taking the temperature of the inmates. We’ll make sure the inmates on that block aren’t up to anything. And Seren will come with me,” the guard stated.

  “I’m going with Seren,” NG said.

  Seren looked around to count seven members of the rebel fighters they had on hand. “And our crew will split into three groups, in case he is not in Camp C,” Seren said aloud.

  NG threw her a look of surprise. She hadn’t mentioned this idea before, but she saw that NG took her suspicion seriously, especially being that she knew her father so well.

  They decided that two of the rebel fighters would follow a guard to Camp C, two more would follow another prison guard to the Red Hat cellblock, and two others would head with a guard to the Warden’s quarters, per Seren’s instructions.

  Seren and NG headed to Camp C, the block of the most violent convicts, where they were told he had been moved.

  “I don’t have a good feeling,” she said to NG. “Are there cameras on that block?”

  “We have them deactivated.”

  “But only for a short window, right?” she asked.

  “We’ll have him out by the time the cameras come back on. Stop panicking,” he whispered.

  But this didn’t feel right to Seren. Walking around in open daylight, this guard would just open up a cell door and release Lyle Terry with no pushback. There was a hole in the thought process somewhere. They continued across the grounds, and she knew each of the other Keeper fighters possessed a clink watch. She touched the inside pocket along her thigh, feeling for the small trigger list gun she had tucked there. Her fingers felt it just for reassurance.

  They approached an ugly gray structure made of cinderblocks that was about the size of a small elementary school. Entering, the setting sun cast dying light into two stories of prison cells that form an open rectangle around them. Most of them were empty since the prisoners were at the rodeo.

  Seren allowed the actual guard to lead the way. “Will follow your lead.” She did not trust him, and wanted to walk behind him to observe his every move.

  “We’ve got four minutes before the cameras and electricity shuts back on,” NG said.

  “He’s down here, in this one,” the guard stated, still walking toward the very end.

  As they moved, some of the prisoners began to take note of her presence. Beginning to set up and appr
oached the bars, they reached out.

  “Hey, over here! I haven’t had me a good woman in a long time. You sure is mighty pretty,” one of them said reaching out to touch her. Another said nothing, attempting to lean through the bars instead and swiped his long arm around to try and snatch her. He gripped her prison guard shirt. Pulling hard as he could, she swiftly chopped his wrist.

  “Ow!” he cried letting go. She ripped away, continuing onward.

  They had almost reached the end of the block.

  “Wait here!” NG ordered, while he moved ahead to peer into the cellblock at the very end. Pulling out his gun, he aimed it and whipped it toward the cell. His face froze.

  “Jonah Scranton! Long time, no see,” a wretched country voice spoke from within the cell. “It’s been a long time coming, but you are finally in here where you belong.” Seren recognized that voice. Lieutenant Scarborough, her father’s muscle.

  “Jonah! Run! Now!” Seren cried. She lifted the clink to her lips as she ran. “Not in Camp C! I repeat, Dr. Terry is not in Camp C! He’s in Red Hat. They never took him out! Do you copy?”

  “Copy that!”

  A single shot fired behind Seren, as she reached the front of the cellblock. Whipping her head back quickly, she saw Jonah stumble. “No!”

  “Seren, run,” Jonah whimpered. She refused to give up, reaching out and yanking his uniform. “Stop it! You’re wearing a bulletproof vest. Come on!”

  Seren heard the rifle pump behind her, from the other end of the block.

  “Stop!” she threw herself in front of Jonah, so he would not be hit again. She took out the grenade tucked against her chest. “Lieutenant Scarborough, stop. Shoot that gun one more time, and you will be explaining to my parents why they’re scraping up my body parts from these walls. I’m walking out of here and so is he. Stand down. Now.”

  As she said it, she backed up and N.G. pulled himself up. “Now where is Lyle Terry?”

  She heard the clink come in on her watch. “Seren, Red Hat cellblock.”