by Nesly Clerge
In the stillness of that space, Starks heard the last breath leave Kane’s body, felt the release. His son had been denied his father and then denied by his father, and now life.
Now it was his turn. Denied a second chance. Denied the peaceful expression on the departed’s face reported by so many. There was far too much damage to Kane’s face for that grace to be given to the man who had fathered him. Nor, he felt, did he deserve such grace.
The keening began in hushed tones then amplified as Starks rocked his son in his arms. Head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, he roared the anguish fragmenting his soul.
CHAPTER 104
“WHAT THE HELL is going on in here?” CO Roberts yelled. He entered the laundry room, followed by CO Simmons. They cursed at first sight of the gore, saw the displaced washer, heard wails come from behind it and rushed to the corner.
Simmons said, “Aw shit. It’s Starks’s cellmate, Kane something.”
Roberts spoke into his radio, ordering a gurney and more guards. He squatted next to Starks. “He’s gone, Starks. Put him down.”
Starks pulled Kane’s body closer. Sobs wracked through him, sometimes silent, sometimes expelled with force.
Footsteps thundered down the corridor, accompanied by the screech of gurney wheels as metal grated against metal.
Roberts tried again. “We need to take over now.”
Slowly, Starks lifted his head and looked into the CO’s eyes. “He’s my son.”
It took Roberts a few moments to absorb what he’d heard. To realize Starks’s eyes and manner conveyed the truth. “Oh, God.” Roberts stood and motioned to the guards to move several feet away, where he talked in hushed tones to them.
Roberts returned to Starks. “Help us lift Kane onto the gurney. You can make sure we do it right.”
Starks relaxed his hold and gazed down at Kane’s face. Finally, he nodded.
“Let me help you up, Starks.” Roberts said in a quiet tone, “Okay, guys, let’s move this boy, gently.”
The guards positioned Kane’s body on the gurney and secured him in place with straps. A wounded moan escaped from Starks when they draped a pale blue blanket over Kane, covering him completely.
Starks walked alongside the gurney. Roberts said, “You should go to your cell and…” he averted his eyes from Starks’s blood-soaked clothing, “take care of yourself. I’ll see to Kane then come back and talk with you about—”
“I’m not leaving him.”
“I’m sorry, Starks, but you can’t come. Prison rules.”
“Fuck the rules!” Starks grasped the side rail of the gurney and hung on.
Roberts took Starks by the arms and turned him to face him, but Starks kept his gaze affixed on Kane. “I’m sorry, Starks, but you can’t. I’ll stay with Kane. Let us take care of him. I’ll see to everything. Wait for me in your cell. Starks, listen to me. It’s for the best.”
Starks drew the blanket from Kane’s face. He ran a hand over Kane’s matted hair as dark as his own and kissed his forehead. He stepped back as the blanket was placed once again over his son’s face.
Roberts said, “Simmons, take Starks to his cell. Stay with him. If you think he’s going to go into shock, get him to the infirmary.”
Simmons tugged on Starks’s sleeve. “C’mon, Starks. There’s a lot to do and we need to let them get on with it.” He gave another gentle tug to get Starks moving.
Starks nodded and started forward, occasionally looking over his shoulder at the silent procession following him. When they reached the end of the corridor, he stopped and stayed focused on the guards until another turn into yet another gray tunnel removed them from his sight. Simmons propelled him in the opposite direction. He went along without further protest, though, he wanted to scream until there was no sound left in him as much as he wanted to retreat into silence. Once back in his cell, Starks sat on his bunk, feeling more than he could cope with.
It was the simple action of happening to glance at the desk Kane had used, of seeing the sparse items in disarray on its surface, of seeing the half-eaten bag of potato chips that would never be finished that caused Starks to begin his descent into a place for which he had no name.
CHAPTER 105
THREE DAYS BLURRED by in that peculiar way that happens after loss, as though the individual affected stands still on a busy city street while life continues on at its usual pace. There was the time, albeit brief, on Monday spent before the council, with Spencer demonstrating more compassion than Starks imagined the man possessed, aside from the moment he looked askance at him when he said Kane had been dead when he found him and had therefore been unable to learn who had killed him. There was the second time on Wednesday that he was called before the council, when Spencer informed him that Kane’s mother was distraught and had said she was going to make the facts of her son’s parentage known to the media, to which Starks shrugged.
And afterwards, returning to his cell to see that someone had removed all of Kane’s few possessions while he was out. He chose to believe it was meant to be an act of kindness that resulted in wounding him more. He should have expected the removal, should have thought to keep something of Kane’s. He hurried to the lavatory, relief flooding him when he found Kane’s comb next to his, with a few strands of his son’s dark hair intertwined in the teeth. Hair that provided proof they were father and son. Hair that provided proof beyond mere memory that Kane had existed.
There was his crew, bringing him food from their own commissary stock every day, attempting to get him to eat, and failing. Their attempts at getting him to talk failing as well.
Thursday afternoon, Jackson visited Starks in his cell. “Sands officials have acted better than I thought they would. Usually, when a bed opens, they fill it. Nice of them to wait, but you know they’re gonna change that soon.”
Starks sat on the edge of his bunk with his gaze fixed on his linked hands dangling between his knees. He nodded but said nothing.
“How would you feel about my moving back in, instead of some stranger?”
Starks nodded again and remained quiet.
“There’s something you need to know. That bastard Seth strutted around the first two days, bragging that he’d slayed the dragon, because you hadn’t done anything to retaliate. Said he’d sent you into your cave to lick your wounds for good, and was taking over. Then word got out that Kane was your son. I gotta tell you that shocked the shit out of all of us. Almost had to sit on Ethan to stop him from stammering about how he was going to take care of Seth for you. Told him what’s to be done is your decision. Told that to the crew, too. They’re ready to shred Seth and feed him to the birds soon as you give the word.
Jackson waited then continued. “Here’s something in your favor. Instead of inmates seeing Seth as the big shit, they’re shunning him like he’s Amish or something. Even some of his gang’s hanging back. Everyone’s waiting to see what you’re gonna do about him.” When no response came, Jackson asked, “Any idea what that’s gonna be and when?”
“I don’t want to talk about him right now.”
“Of course. Sorry.” Jackson glanced around the cell. “Trevor’s AWOL. The guys are wondering if you know anything about that.”
Starks rubbed his face hard. “I did what I thought was best.”
“What did you do?”
“For his own safety, I got him moved to the SHU until it can be arranged to transfer him to a different prison. I haven’t followed up because…” Starks dropped his face into his hands. His shoulders heaved in silent weeping. A few minutes passed before he wiped his eyes on his sleeve.
Jackson gave him a moment. “So you protected the twerp in spite of what he did to you.”
“The kid has a mouth on him. He was pissing people off as though he could afford to. I was afraid that if he pissed the wrong someone off, he’d be killed. I didn’t want that on my conscience. It’s already too cluttered.”
“You did what you could for Trevor, not that he’s
likely to thank you. Problem is, wherever he goes, his mouth goes with him.”
“See about getting transferred back to this cell. Talk to Roberts about it. Tell him to talk to Brunson and get it done. Today.”
Jackson took this as a dismissal, an end to a conversation Starks wasn’t ready to have as yet. He stood and said, “I’ll get on it. Anything I can do for you, Starks?” When no answer came, he left.
Starks eased away from the bunk, splashed cold water on his face, briefly studied his reflection in the mirror, not caring about his unshaven cheeks and chin or unwashed hair. He looked into eyes red and puffy from hours of weeping and lack of sleep and knew what he wanted to do. Needed to do.
It was a slim thread, possibly the last one that might keep his sanity intact.
CHAPTER 106
STARKS LEFT HIS cell and continued toward the only room that held—what? A way to search for answers that could never repair damages done?
The workroom door was ajar. Starks rapped, entered, and called Gabe’s name.
Gabe came around the corner and stopped.
“I’m surprised the door was open,” Starks said.
“It’s been open for days, ever since… I was giving you another day to come find me then I was going to leave my sanctuary and find you.”
Starks shut the door but didn’t move. Gabe closed the distance between them. He placed his hands on Starks’s shoulders, waited for Starks to look him in the eyes and said, “I’m sorry about Kane.” He nodded a few times, patted Starks on the cheek then gestured to the chairs. He waited for Starks to speak.
Starks scratched the wooden tabletop with a thumbnail. “You once said when life becomes ashes we need to rise from them like a phoenix. What you forgot to mention was that first, the phoenix bursts into flames. That’s happened, and I feel like I’m nothing more than embers dying out. No regeneration to follow.”
“Losing a child is an incomparable pain.”
“I’ve lost three. Three sons.”
“Mother of God. I thought I knew just about everything about you. You never said—”
“I had a son with another woman, while I was married to Kayla.” His eyes met Gabe’s. “I took care of him financially, but never acknowledged him. He drowned when he was five.” Gabe made the sign of the cross. Starks nodded. “And although Blake is still alive—thank God—he isn’t mine. Now, Kane.”
Starks gave Gabe the facts he had about Kane’s mother, about Kane’s decision to be sentenced at Sands, about his caustic denial when Kane told him who he was, and about the proof. “For a brief while, I felt more on purpose and connected to someone than I had for a long time. He came here to be with me and was slaughtered. All he wanted was…” Wracking sobs replaced words.
Gabe waited until Starks composed himself then said, “Even though I’ve gone through similar grief, there aren’t any words that make a damn bit of difference other than I understand.”
“I feel like I ended their lives myself.”
“You didn’t.”
“I left Kyle and Kane without a father. As for my other children, sure, I was there for them. As long as it was convenient. I all but gave them cash and told them, ‘There you go. Now leave Daddy alone so he can make a lot of money and screw a lot of women.’ I told myself I worked the hours I did for them. That’s one of those self lies you talked about. I did it for me. Had to be a big-shot. I always thought I was so fucking responsible. Look at what I’ve done to innocent children who deserved better. I’ve screwed up their lives and mine.”
Gabe sighed. “My grandfather always said regret was the only thing to fear. Smart man, my grandfather. Regret is the heaviest fucking burden we ever carry. It’s also the hardest one to put down.”
“Do you have regrets?”
Gabe barked a non-humorous laugh. “What do you think? Only thing we can do is try to learn from our mistakes and never make them again. Try to anticipate consequences and hope we avoid making worse mistakes.”
Starks scrubbed his hands over his new growth of hair. “I don’t like what I’m learning about myself. I don’t like what it took to get me to look at that.”
“Only thing I can tell you is something you already know and will remember when the time’s right: You’ll come to terms with what’s happened.” Starks shook his head. “You will. You did it with Kyle. You’ll do it about Blake and Kane. Because, my friend, not to, will fuck you up even more than you are right now.”
“Come to terms. With what’s happened. And with what’s about to.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It isn’t over yet.”
CHAPTER 107
“IT SEEMS THAT nearly every situation in my life is a no-win,” Starks said. “Even when I win, I’m still screwed over by something or someone else. It’s like some twisted game where you move around the board and take rewards or licks based on how the dice land.”
Gabe edged forward on his chair and rested his forearms on the table. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”
“Kayla’s got a few months to live. She came here to tell me and ask for my help. I never gave her the chance. Instead, I crucified her and told her I never wanted to see her again. I found out later from Jeffrey. And even then I acted like an asshole, which I’ve since corrected as much as I can.” Starks dropped his head into his hands. “I told her I wouldn’t give a fuck if she died tomorrow.”
“But you do.”
Starks used the bottom of his shirt to dry his face. He caught Gabe’s fleeting reaction to seeing the scars on his abdomen. “But I still can’t forgive her, because I can’t forget what she’s done. I know I should but I can’t.”
“You’ve got that misconception a lot of people have. Forgiveness isn’t about forgetting. Unless you lose your memory, you never forget. Forgiveness is about not letting the memory manipulate you like it once did. It’s the only way to let go of bitterness so it doesn’t destroy you. Had to learn that one the hard way, myself.”
“I’m not ready for that yet. It’s still too difficult.”
“Yeah, it’s difficult. What’s even harder is forgiving yourself. That one kicks you in the ass and leaves the shoe inside.”
A small smile appeared on Starks’s lips then left. “I have to hope there’s time to make it up to her.”
“You said she has a couple months left. Even if she only had a day, you could do it.”
“I hope I get out in time.”
“What’d’ya mean?”
Starks explained about Margaret’s confession. “My attorney thinks there’s a possibility he can either get me released for time served or released into his custody. There isn’t much I can actually do for Kayla. But I think it would ease her mind if she knew I was there to care for our children. That’s if the timing works in my favor. According to Parker, there’s a chance it may not.”
Gabe whistled. “If you’re smart, you’ll keep that news to yourself. Anyone in here’s got a beef with you, he’ll try to end you if he knows you have a chance of getting out.”
“Like Seth.”
“Word is he’s the one who—”
“Kane identified him just before he died.”
“I’d heard the opposite.”
“That was intentional.”
“Like it or not, in here it’s kill or be killed. I wish someone could break the loop, but it isn’t likely. What are you gonna do, Starks?”
Starks chewed his bottom lip then nodded once, more to himself than to Gabe. His gaze met Gabe’s. “I intend to win.”
“Win can wear a lot of hats. Which one are you gonna wear?”
“The only one left.”
COPYRIGHT
When the Dragon Roars
Copyright © 2016 by Nesly Clerge
All rights reserved
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the
written permission of the author or publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
(Print) ISBN-13: 978-0-9965017-4-3
(Electronic) ISBN-13: 978-0-9965017-3-6
Publisher: Clerge Books, LLC
Editor: Joyce L. Shafer (http://editmybookandmore.weebly.com)
Cover: Damonza.com
Ebook formatting by www.ebooklaunch.com
