EVO Universe 1: The First
Page 1
The First
Kipjo K. Ewers
Copyright © 2013 Kipjo K. Ewers
All rights reserved.
ISBN-10: 0615836690
ISBN-13: 978-0615836690
For Sophia…
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to thank God Himself for giving me the gift of words, and blessing me with the breath of life and longevity to make sure it did not go to waste.
I would like to acknowledge the two women who inspired this book.
First, my mom Kimba Ewers, who held down a house of four men and gave a kid like me everything he could ever want, I can say I was born to the greatest mom ever. Thank you for loving me.
Last but never least is my wife Jacquelin Franklin-Ewers. You are the epitome of “Behind every good man is a great woman”. Thank you for giving me the privilege to share my life with yours.
Finally, I like to acknowledge all of the mothers, daughters, sisters, nieces, aunts, grandmothers, women of the world. God may have made Eve from Adam’s ribs, but women have proven they are also the backbone of the family, and of us men. Thank you for holding us down.
Contents
DEDICATION
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CHAPTER ONE
Monday 11:30 PM, Mountain View Unit in Gatesville, Texas, prisoner 28301:014 stared straight at her prison door as if she was watching a movie. She barely touched her meal of medium rare steak, mashed potatoes with chives, and macaroni on the side. Her dessert was a double chocolate banana fudge sundae with sprinkles on top, which she mostly ate. Quietly she sat holding a thick leather bible in her small hands, as she waited the sound of heavy boots and chains got closer. Not an inch she stirred through the clicking and clanging of the cell door opening as a shadow casted over her.
A rough voice announced, “Dennison…it’s time.”
In less than two minutes, she was in restraints, which connected from her arms and legs to her waist. After confirming the security of the restraints, the female correctional officer of the group handed her back her bible. She proceeded to pull out several envelopes from out of it handing them to the female C.O.
Dennison requested, “Could you please make sure these get mailed…they have stamps and addresses on them.”
The female correctional officer took them with a silent nod.
Dennison took a deep breath letting the officers know, “Okay…I’m ready.”
Monday 11:35 PM
She walked the halls of cellblock D clutching the black leather bible as if she could crush it while flanked by two large male correctional officers from behind and the female correctional officer in front. The sound of her chains clanking like Ebenezer’s ghost, along with the heavy boots and gear of the officers, were the loudest thing on the block that night. As she walked, she could feel the eyes on her. Through her chains, she could hear the sniffles and the whispers; she started to count her paces in her mind; she was at thirty paces when she heard deep sobbing to the right as she came to her first destination.
The correctional officer to her left turned reminding her, “Five minutes…”
“Thank You,” she gratefully responded as she stepped out of her procession shuffling over to the bars of cell 28.
A young woman with her raven colored hair in cornrows, barely in her twenties with head bent trembled as she gripped the bars sobbing. Resting the bible between the bars, she placed her hands on top of her hands as best she could with her restraints.
Dennison then leaned in close to the bars kissing her on the top of her head causing the young woman to whimper as she whispered to her, “No more tears now…two more weeks and you can see your babies…and God help you if you ever come back here…because I’ll be watching. Car boosting days are over…you hear me?”
Her words only made her cry harder as she now fought to hold her hands through the bars; as Dennison tried her best to comfort and silence her tears; another woman two shades darker than Dennison with longer dreads than hers walked up to the bars behind the young woman standing a thick yet fit four inches over her. Prison had chiseled her face and demeanor, but it could not take away the motherly eyes she looked at her with. Despite being behind bars, she gave off an air of respect that made the officers give them the time they needed, which was close to being almost up.
Sister Shareef nudged the young woman in mourning, “Come now…soldier up girl…our girl’s going home…she got too much on her mind than to deal with your tired ass and the water works…”
She placed a gentle hand on the sobbing young woman’s back, then placed her other hand on top of Dennison’s hand while looking her in the eyes. In her best Tom Cruise voice she said, “I shall miss…our talks with one another…”
Dennison laughed as she responded back in her best Ken Watanabe voice, “I shall too…they were just…perfect…”
The two women laughed over the young woman’s whimpering sobs.
Sister Shareef finally choked up. She quickly swatted away her tears so they would not flow, “I’m sorry…I know you don’t need this shit now…”
Dennison fought back her own tears while keeping a smile on the best she could, “It’s okay…happy tears…remember…I’m going home…”
Sister Shareef tried her best to match her painful smile while fighting not to breakdown, “Yeah…you are…you’re going home…”
“I’m going home…,” Dennison’s smile began to twitch.
She tried to make it sound more convincing, but it did not. It also did not hide the trembling her body was doing which made Sister Shareef hold her hand tighter to comfort her.
“Dennison…two minutes…,” the correctional officer said a bit forcefully reminding her that her timed request was almost up.
Sophia turned nodding and quickly took the Bible she had handing it to Sister Shareef, “This belonged to my mother…she’s not going to need it back…she’s got like a ton of them…something to remember me by…I left you both a little goodbye note on the inside…please read it.”
“Dennison…,” warned the correctional officer again.
Dennison nodded as she tried to pull her hand away, but the younger woman clutched her left hand refusing to let go.
Sister Shareef stepped in to pry Dennison free of her before the guards did, “Come on Bishop…you got to let her go…you got to let her go honey.”
“No! No! It’s not right! No! No! No!” hollered Bishop. Each “no” followed by a gut wrenching howl as if someone was actually killing her.
With bitter reluctance the young woman forced by Sister Shareef broke her grip wailing as she completely dropped to her knees curling into a ball, Dennison gave a final wave as she fell back in line and was lead off by the guards.
Sister Shareef trembled as she finally allowed her tears to fall gripping the bars and screamed, “An innocent woman right there! God help you all! God help yo
u all!”
11: 50 PM
She walked through the door which was held open for her by one of the officers, her eyes winced at how bright it was; as her eyes adjusted to the medical lights she finally got a glimpse of the table.
“Oh dear god…,” she uttered as she went down with a whimper.
Almost everyone went down after seeing the table; it was the final gut check etching the cold hard realization that what was happening was real. The male officers on instinct caught her as she went down, it was the one and only time of compassion they showed as they allowed her to compose herself and help her back up to her feet.
As they lead her to the table she started to chant her mantra, “I’m going home… I’m going home… I’m going home… I’m going home… I’m going home… I’m going home… I’m going home… I’m going home… I’m going home…”
She kept repeating the same words to herself as they finally removed her shackles for the last time; she opted to remove her shoes and socks before they positioned her on the table, and proceeded to strap her down. She liked being barefoot, and wanted to be so one final time; stretching her toes and the chant helped to keep her from breaking down into tears, but it could not stop the uncontrollable quivering her body was going through. Finally the lab technician walked over with the needle, she closed her eyes as he stuck it in her arm; she barely felt it going in, but clearly it was there as he checked it, then taped it down to her arm. Silent tears poured from her eyes that she would be unable to wipe at this point making everything around her now blurry.
With the final checks made, the Warden stepped in to begin the proceedings, “The time is now 11:55 PM as we prepare to proceed with the execution of Prisoner 28301:014 Sophia Dennison by the state of Texas, by lethal injection for the crime of Capital Murder. At this time the condemned will be allowed to say a few words.”
She drew a quivering breath as she looked at the double mirror hiding from her whoever was sitting on the other side listening to her final words, and watching her draw her last breath, “I…stand here before you…declaring my innocence. As I did four years ago…I now go to my Maker in peace…. knowing despite all my other sins….which I have owned, the one sin that I am truly clean of is the one I am condemned to die here…for…tonight…”
Her body shook violently while her tears heavily rolled as she fought to get out her final words, “I…did not…murder my husband. And I forgive you all…for what you’re about to do…to me…”
Timidly she nodded her head giving the cue for the table to be raised to a vertical position, her eyes became blurrier as more tears continued to pour, but she could make out the three clear canisters lined one after another…all she focused on…was the one that would put her to sleep…
Sophia softly sang, “I’m going home… I’m going home… I’m going home… I’m going home…”
Midnight:
The warden gave the nod, as executioner pushed the button pumping the sedative within the first cylinder into the tube heading for her arm, a final light smile appeared on her face as her eyes began to flutter.
Sophia continued to sing to the end, “I’m going home… I’m going… home… I’m going…”
The machine then pumped the fluid from the second cylinder.
It was now Tuesday 12:01 PM…
CHAPTER TWO
Tuesday 6:30 AM, Mountain View Unit, Texas, SAC (Special Agent in Charge) Mark Armitage had seen it all; his ten years in the army, and his almost fifteen year career in the FBI had exposed him to terrorist cells that threaten nation security, drug cartels, missing and exploited children, you name it he’d seen it. Nothing surprised him these days, especially the night he came home to an empty home and divorce papers on the bed his wife and him used to share. Neither did the 2:30 AM call from his Executive Assistant Director to get on the first plane from Washington down to Gatesville, Texas ASAP. By right, he should have his job, but Armitage chose to remain a field agent. He knew a desk job would see him one night with his service weapon in his mouth ready to blow his brains out the back of his skull. In the field meant, he was in the shit, which meant his mind was preoccupied with other things besides ending his own existence; and if he were lucky…someone else would do the job for him.
He slowly drove his rental car up to the gates of the Mountain View Unit, the section of the Gatesville women’s prison created solely for prisoners on death row; and looked around to see the usual media whores taking pictures and holding their microphones screaming questions to get answers that they had no business getting. This was usually a normal scene for him except for the National Guard keeping the inquisitive media and residents at bay and not the local police or even state troopers.
A Private First Class in full gear holding his M16A2 walked up to the window of his rental car giving Mark the cue to flash his badge and credentials.
The Private nodded and signaled to open the solid steel gates blocking the outside world to the prison letting him in; it was then that Armitage realized the need for the extra firepower.
Inside the Mountain View Unit was a perpetual war zone. There was a huge gaping hole in the side of the main building, and a massive hole in the side of the forty-foot wall, which enclosed the facility. A large personnel vehicle now blocked the hole keeping residents and nosey reporters from getting in. There was also an obliterated watchtower, and two destroyed vehicles, one smoking and one still on fire covered in debris from the watchtower partially brought down. The local fire department continued to put the hose to it to kill the flames. Littered inside the compound were local police, state troopers, special agents, correctional officers, and National Guard. Paramedics were also on site attending to the wounded, which appeared to be both correctional officers and local police. Mark had to admit, rioting was a common thing that could break out in regular prisons both male and female; but this was a battlefield; and he had never seen anything like this in his life much less his career.
As he parked and stepped out of his rental looking around, his longtime friend and fellow SAC Dustin Mercer who was put on this case, and then requested the brass to send Mark, fueled his sentiment as he walked up to him, “Ain’t never seen no shit like this in my life Mark.”
“What the hell happened here?” Mark asked as he looked around at the damage all around him.
Dustin filled him in, “Prison break, one dead C.O.; several guards and police badly injured.”
“Only one dead?” Mark scanned the yard again surprised that the amount of damage around him only caused one fatality.
“Yeah, what’s left of the poor bastard on top of the smashed in squad car over there,” Dustin pointed to the caved-in Impala with the Gatesville police colors smoking and covered with debris from the massive hole made in the front of the building from the eighth floor.
The only thing of the dead seen from Armitage and Mercer’s distance was a leg as forensics took pictures of the scene before the paramedics removed the body.
“How many broke out?” Mark asked as he walked with Dustin to the prison.
“One,” Dustin dryly answered his partner.
“Just one,” Mark asked stunned, “Who broke her out; an organized gang or a terrorist cell?”
“No one broke in to break her out; she broke out all by herself,” Dustin nervously returned.
Armitage gave Mercer the look that it was too early in the morning for jokes; Mercer returned the look meaning that this time he was not yanking his chain.
“Dustin, you’re telling me one inmate did all this damage?” Mark looked around is disbelief.
Dustin not prepared to explain to him fully what happened yet motioned for him to hurry up, “Just walk with me…”
Armitage followed Mercer into the facility where they went through security and saw some of the injured that was brought down from the eighth floor; some were talking to field agents and accounting their version of what they saw, while others just sat there with blank expressions on their face u
nable to speak much less comprehend what they just saw.