A Haunt of Jackals

by G. R. Carter

“Not fully briefed on that, ma’am. Here’s the paper we were ordered to hand over to you.” He passed her a sealed envelope with crisp precision.

  She examined the outside, read the logo embossment, and tore it open. She scanned it for a moment, then appeared to read it again, a little slower this time.

  As she passed the letter to Lewis to read, she asked the lieutenant, “Have you already secured the rations from Dot Foods?”

  “Yes, ma’am, the first batch. We’re to retrieve more when we bring you back tomorrow,” he told her.

  Marduk looked at Lewis, then at Morton, then back to Lewis. “You think both of us leaving for an entire day is a good idea?”

  Lewis looked stern. “Yeah, I think it'll be okay. Sergeant Morton can handle the place for a little while. Right, Sergeant?”

  Morton tried not to choke. “Yes, sir. You’ve trained us well. We’ll be okay for that short a time.”

  Lewis raised an eyebrow, imperceptible to anyone else but the two of them.

  Marduk took the paper back from Lewis, folded it and put it in her pocket. “Very well, Lieutenant. Give me fifteen minutes to throw a bag together and I’ll be ready.” She turned to Lewis. “Captain, what about you?”

  “We always have a Go Bag ready, Warden,” he replied. “But I’ll want to confer with the Sergeant for a few moments.”

  “Take the time you need. We’ll get on the road when you’re comfortable everything is in place,” she said formally. “In the meantime, Lieutenant, you and your team can make yourselves at home in our CO break room.”

  The group split and Lewis grabbed Morton by the arm, leading them into the warden’s executive conference room.

  Morton flinched at Lewis’ grasp; no guard liked being touched by anyone inside the walls. Lewis seemed to realize his overstep and apologized.

  “Sorry, Red. Just a little nervous.”

  “It’s okay, Pete. What’s got you shook?” Morton was nervous now, too. Lewis was Mr. Cool, usually wearing an impassive mask. “And who issued the orders for you to go there?”

  Lewis looked at him with a mixture of surprise and irritation. “What's got me shook? I don't know, maybe the National Guard showing up to take me and Marduk for some secret meeting? The electricity being out for God knows how long? The whole thing…”

  Morton didn’t answer. He’d been thinking along the same lines, but nothing had ever seemed to bother Lewis. He also noticed Lewis didn’t answer the question about who gave the orders.

  The captain continued. “I want you to get that scratch list ready, the one we sketched up in the conference room.” He handed Morton some folded papers. “I’m not saying to complete the list yet. But I want you to move them all to the holding pens. Put some space between them and gen pop. We won’t be getting any new fish for a while, so let’s use that area.”

  Lewis looked around and lowered his voice. “Double the dose of Syn this morning, then again this afternoon. Triple it if you need it to get the scratch list moved and secured.”

  That was too much for Morton. “Come on, Pete. You know the kind of withdrawals they’ll go through coming back down from a triple dose? We’ve been working to get the perfect dosage, and that’ll screw them up for a month.”

  Lewis’ hands clenched, his lips curled over his teeth. “Red, dammit, just do what I tell you to do! Marduk can brag all she wants to about that New-Age religion of hers keeping this place calm, but you and I both know it’s because we keep them drugged. If a little is good for everyday use, I’d say a little more is necessary in emergency.”

  His breathing calmed and he patted his old colleague on the shoulder. “I’m sorry—seems like I’m apologizing a lot to you lately. Anyway, have your Rapid Response Team on standby. You’ve only got a handful of Eels in here you can really trust, give them rifles out of the armory if you need to.” He took a deep breath and tried to conjure his politician look. “All I’m saying is to put the Zoo to sleep for the night while Marduk and I are away. We’ll be back tomorrow. I’m sure we’ll have a better plan after that. Okay?”

  Morton nodded. Lewis was right; putting the inmates into an effective coma while leadership was gone was probably the smart thing to do. And he had plenty of Syn to hand out after the large delivery from the Kaplans. If only he had that much fuel…

  “Wait, Pete,” Morton said suddenly. “The FS station was only able to give me enough fuel for one more day. They’re telling me I’ll have to come back every day to get the next load. That means we’ll have to do the scratch list transfer this afternoon, before the evening Syn handout. I can’t do it after we drug them, and I won’t have time in the morning.”

  Lewis seemed troubled by the thought. “I guess you’re right. Your only other option is to wait to give the scratch list their Syn until you get them moved.”

  “That’s a little dangerous.”

  Lewis nodded, then remembered something else in his pocket. “I took the liberty of making the scratch list for the guards. I knew you were struggling with it, so I did it for you. It’s out of your hands now. How about you have them be the ones who take care of sorting this out for you tonight? If they screw up, we’ve got an immediate excuse. No sense in putting our A-team in danger.” He stopped and pointed his finger. “And that means you, too. I know you’ll want to oversee the move, but you do it from behind glass, understood? That’s a direct order, Red, do you understand?”

  Morton nodded without looking Lewis in the eye. Worry crept into his very bones. Something felt overwhelmingly wrong; a hole in his gut was able to overcome his usual numbness. The old maximum-security guard instincts, dulled by years of calm, flashed warning signs.

  “I know what you’re thinking Red. I can see it in your face…I feel it, too,” Lewis said.

  Red looked at him with a mixture of surprise and skepticism. Lewis flashed a small, tired grin. “I’m not completely management, you know. I did come up through the ranks, I know how to spot potential trouble.”

  Morton nodded. It was true, Correctional Officer Peter Lewis had been a first-class hardass back in the day. The young Eels still talked about the day Lewis single-handedly broke up a riot between two gangs. The legend had Lewis putting three of the inmates into the infirmary by the time it was over. Morton knew the truth of it—the count would have been four if that one had survived. Morton himself helped cover up the death, self-defense and justifiable to the COU, but frowned upon, and a blow to the young guard’s career in the era of state oversight. Morton hadn’t lost a second’s sleep over it, even when Lewis used his newfound respect to rocket past all of them on his way to senior leadership.

  “Okay, Pete, I hear you. We’ll be extra careful. But you better be careful, too. Who knows what’ll be going on out there on those roads?”

  Lewis didn’t reply. He just nodded and turned on his heel to grab his personal items.

  Morton stood and watched him walk away, suddenly feeling very alone. He’d never longed to be in charge, not like Lewis or any number of other officers in the COU. He just wanted to do his job and go home…

  There was no other place left to go to, though, this was his home now. He looked around at the concrete and steel and safety glass, inmates and Eels in drab-colored clothes, artificial light mixed with a just a little bit of natural from the skylights above. At least here he was a somebody, not like the little three-bedroom ranch sitting locked up and empty of anyone to care for it. He should have sold it; he’d had interest from some of the younger Eels. The extra money from renting it might have been nice, too, but he didn’t need to buy anything else. Instead it stood as a memorial to a life once loved.

  “Sarge, you got a second?”

  Morton looked up, McCoy was standing in beside him; he hadn’t even heard the man’s size-eleven boots approaching. He gritted his teeth to shake off the memories and nodded. “Sure, McCoy, what can I help you with?”

  “I was wondering if I could ask your opinion on the health insurance forms? With the new contr
act, I want to make sure the kids are covered right. Sherry’s been asking me to get that done—she’s always worried about that kind of stuff.”

  Morton sighed and worked up an understanding smile. His son and wife were gone, but his adopted sons and daughters, his COU family, still needed his help. That at least was something.

  Chapter 13

  Ridgeview Hunting Lodge

  Rural Brown County, Illinois

  Day Two of the Great Reset

  Sunlight beamed through branches, twinkling as leaves twirled in the morning breeze. The chill of an early fall hung heavy in the morning air. Gloom joined the temperature to make JR Casey shiver despite the expensive overcoat that covered him down past his knee.

  In front of him was a simple rectangular wooden box, built by Sy Bradshaw’s skilled hands overnight. Inside the box was JR’s hero, his leader, his boss…his father. He put a hand on the box and sobbed. In his other arm was Trey, still trying to figure out why his Grandpa wouldn’t wake up and why his Daddy was so sad. He was mature for his nine years, and he’d heard adults discuss death. Still, he couldn’t comprehend the finality of it.

  They weren’t alone in their grief. The whole staff of the lodge and their families joined them, standing just a few feet behind. Forty-one people in all, each touched in some way by the kind and generous man who had passed so suddenly.

  JR cleared his mind and his throat. He took a deep breath and turned to those assembled. “I want to thank each and everyone of you for being a big part of Dad’s life. Even though he only saw you for one week a year, I hope you know he cared for each of you and your families. This place was a true solace for him. Most of you know that even though he was born and raised in the city, out in the woods and meadows was where he felt most alive.

  “Your kindness meant the world to him. You never made him feel like an outsider, always answered questions you probably have known the answer to your entire life. This place grounded him.” JR chuckled and shook his head. “He used to talk all the time about wanting to move out here, can you believe that?”

  He tried to fight the tears welling up again. “Regardless, I think he would be very happy this is his final resting place. I want to thank the Bradshaw family, again, for allowing us to bury him here in their family cemetery.”

  With a simple nod to Sy, and a hug from Kara, he stepped back and let six large men surround the box. Darwin King was one of the six, and on his order they lifted ropes looped underneath to bring the coffin a foot off of the draped sawhorses it had been resting on. Just a few steps away was a pile of light brown clay; in front of that a six-foot-deep rectangular hole. Together they lowered the box until it disappeared beneath the surface into the ground—a sight overcoming JR and many others with emotion.

  “Sorry we didn’t have a preacher to say a few words,” Kara said as she put her arm around him.

  JR shrugged. “That’s okay, I don’t put too much stock in that kind of stuff. He had a good life. That’s really all that counts.”

  Kara started to say something, then stopped. After she thought for a moment, she smiled and nodded. “He was a good man. You and Trey are proof of his legacy. You really made him proud.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “Those are big shoes to fill. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to come close.”

  “You will, don’t worry.”

  Darwin joined them. “You’re the leader of the family, JR. The leader of the business, too. Don’t worry, every colleague of your father’s will rally behind you. I’ll help make sure of that.”

  JR grabbed up Darwin in a bear hug. Together they walked back to the lodge while Sy’s men shoveled dirt in to refill the hole.

  JR stopped and turned to take a final look, then steeled himself and rejoined his friends.

  “I think you’re right about bringing everyone together,” JR said. “Even if this thing with the electricity turns out to be nothing big, we can still do a celebration of life for Dad. He’d gotten to know a lot of the folks in town. Maybe we can just call it that, bring people together, then if the timing feels right we’ll talk to them about what we’re afraid of.”

  “Brilliant, JR. Just the kind of strategic thinkin’ leaders come up with.”

  “I’ll get it all set up,” Kara told them. “I’ll get Sy and a couple of the guys to go around and invite as many people as possible to come. Set it up for a couple days from now?” she asked.

  “No,” Darwin said. “Let’s do it first thing tomorrow. We’ll spend today takin’ inventory of every asset we’ve got here at the lodge. Every can of food, every weapon, everything that’s still movin’, even tools.”

  “I’ve got most of that listed already. Did an inventory for Ben a while back,” Kara said.

  Darwin smiled and patted her on the shoulder, but JR was irritated. “Anything else you and Dad had going that I don’t know about?” he questioned.

  She shrugged. “You said it yourself, Ben had a real interest in this place. We wouldn't have made it the last few years without him. He gave me a whole list of things to buy for the place.”

  “So I guess I own the lodge then?” JR spat. “Since my family’s money bailed the place out?”

  “Come on, JR, that’s not quite fair,” Darwin said. “I know it's been a tough day, but what’s with the sudden bitter tone?”

  “I’m just tired of finding out things about my Dad and my company from folks who only saw him once in a blue moon. Why didn’t he trust me with any of this?” His face was bright red.

  “Ben called it plausible deniability. He said you’d find out in good time, that you’d understand someday,” Kara answered.

  “It’s just too much…too much…” JR mumbled and walked away.

  Kara started to go after him but Darwin gently grabbed her arm. “Let him go, love. He’s been through an awful lot. Let’s just get to plannin’ what we need to do, right? That’s best for all.”

  Kara nodded, but she wasn’t entirely convinced. “Ben was worried about how JR would react to the meeting this week. He said JR’s never one too happy to follow. Wants to be a leader but not willing to pay his dues. He blamed himself for that.”

  “You really did get to know Ben, didn’t you?”

  She nodded again. “Since Sy and I don’t have our parents, Ben kinda adopted us.” She seemed uneasy at the comparison but continued. “He gave me a lot of business advice. He said he appreciated giving advice to someone who actually listened.”

  “Well, love, let’s put that guidance to good use. We’re gonna have that meetin’ Ben wanted. Just a little different crowd than he anticipated.”

  Chapter 14

  Western Illinois Correctional Facility

  Mt. Sterling, Illinois

  Day Two of the Great Reset

  The afternoon hours melted away for Red Morton. Always a question or a situation popping up—he put out small fires to make sure that nothing ever became major. The scratch lists in his pockets nagged at him. Time was running out for him to put off moving inmates considered a threat to the order his Eels tried so hard to preserve. He wouldn’t sacrifice even one of his men for the entire inmate population, that wasn’t in question. Still, the idea that he might be penning a group of human beings up for execution…

  With an hour left before the first of three shifts of inmates came down for supper, he finally made his way up to the second-floor control room looking out over the cafeteria. The whole facility had been reconfigured and remodeled since he started here. This was the one place inside the walls where natural light flowed in, invited by the bulletproof glass ceiling. The only shadows were from white-painted steel supports crisscrossing the transparent roof. To some of the older men who remembered shopping malls, it looked for all the world like a food court. By day it helped to illuminate the giant room, by night it was spectacular place to view the solar storms that filled the skies with neon colors.

  The beauty was real, but the hassle was, too. Jordan Inc. had spent millions of gov
ernment grant dollars to retrofit electronic eyes and brains throughout the entire facility. Morton wasn’t convinced how much work actually got done correctly; during the more severe storms the system still glitched. He’d gotten used to that, and to the storms, by now.

  The control room was dim with no overhead lights. The soft glow of color flat screens highlighted the faces of half a dozen men and women watching every square inch of the prison, looking for any signs of trouble. He walked through the control room, slapping shoulders and making small talk.

  “Don’t spend too much time watching the newlywed wing, Porter,” Morton laughed at one of his new Eels. “You’ll pass out if all the blood drains out of your brain.” The room burst into laughter as the young man blushed and flipped one of his six screens to another, less interesting view. There was zero privacy for any inmate, anywhere, even after the place had gone coed and prisoners were allowed to pair up.

  He walked out onto the control room balcony and back into the light. His eyes took a moment to adjust as he watched the kitchen staff moving around, preparing for the six hundred inmates that made up the first of three shifts to arrive for their evening meal. Ten Eels were already there, suited up and checking each other’s equipment. One of them looked up and waved at Morton, who smiled back. She was young and had only been on the job about four months.

  Morton didn’t really like the fact that guards lower on seniority pulled cafeteria duty. In reality, it should have been the more experienced Eels who were in the middle. Chow time was an invitation for trouble, the only period of the day except yard time when this many were together. But the negotiated contract made it clear: seniority picked assignments, and no old head wanted to be in the middle of the Zoo during feeding.

  The kitchen manager walked out from behind the serving station wall. There were a series of windows, much like a bank teller's had been, made of clear glass several inches thick. An opening just wide enough for a plastic tray to slip through allowed meals to be slid out and the staff to stay out of reach.