“So, why are you sitting?” McKenzey asked and turned on the flat panel television. “We have work to do.”
McKenzey turned the TV to CNN and newscasters talked about the earthquake that rocked the East coast.
“Is this still a topic?”
“What, you didn’t know?”
“I was locked in a cell and my only bit of news came from the USA Today and the Philadelphia Daily News.”
“Damn, no TV for over a year. That’s absurd.”
“No, this is absurd,” McKenzey said and wrapped his hands around Justin’s throat.
Justin struggled and fought to get up. His legs kicked and swam in the air.
“I’m not as old as you made me. You think that this is a game. Setting me up for the kill.”
Justin gargled out a muffled sound. It wasn’t recognizable and didn’t matter to McKenzey. His paranoid schizophrenia had kicked in. His delusions that Justin broke him out of jail to kill him, forced him to rob an ally of breath. “Sorry, I just don’t need witnesses for what I plan to do.” He had been without his Abilify for three days, and it was time for him to do things his way: The Lucas McKenzey way.
Justin stopped moving and fighting. McKenzey said, “I bet the neighbors think we had a quick romp. Who knows, while you’re dead, we just might.” He squeezed even tighter on Justin’s throat for good measure before he let him go.
McKenzey walked over to the bag that Justin had carried. He snatched his faux identification and passport out along with all of the cash: $6,976. “You won’t be needing this,” McKenzey said and chuckled. He picked up the hotel telephone and called the Avis rent-a-car station located in the hotel’s lobby. Seconds later, he walked out of his room and smiled at a woman who exited a neighboring room.
“Hi, how are you?” she asked coyly.
“Oh, just great,” he replied and entered the elevator. “Just headed to get my car and take a road trip.”
“Oh, really. Where ya headed? There’s so many fine things to see.”
“Canada. I’ve seen enough of Boston and the surrounding area.”
EPILOGUE
TWO WEEKS LATER
My cellmate was the first face that I saw every morning, which was becoming a bad thing. He was loud and a card shark, but tripled as the best prison lawyer in the FDC. It had been two days since I managed to get out of the SHU and had been dealing with Calvin Bradshaw. I was beginning to think that the SHU wasn’t that bad after all. Ravonne had managed to convince them that I did not need to be separated from the general population, which was a first. Attorney’s generally did not have any control over what the BOP decided to do with an inmate, but my housing situation was a sensitive matter. The prison was fully aware of what I was capable of and they did not want another episode like that of Andre Bezel, which no one could believe was back out in the streets. Laugh now, bitches. I smiled under my cover. I was pretending to be sleep until my cell mate left for work.
I had managed to dodge prison for so long and after having committed so many crimes, I was blessed. But I had surmised that God had had enough of my antics. Hell, so did I. I hoped that He forgave me, as I really hated that I was a clever thief and a master manipulator. And so young. I was genuinely sorry for my crimes, but people have been committing crimes against my people since the 1700’s. And I robbed millionaires. The 99% that the Occupy Philadelphia movement had wanted to tax. Tents parked all around City Hall was comical too me, and I just didn’t get the point of sleeping out in the cold, but hey it was their prerogative.
“Bradshaw,” I heard the prison librarian, Donna Bacon yell.
Mrs. Bacon had interrupted my thoughts, but I loved to hear her, as I knew that meant that I could sulk in my cell all alone. I was not ready to talk to anyone, and no one knew how to relate to me. I owned the media and now I was right within the reach of the men that had probably been rooting for me. I was somewhat of a celebrity according to Calvin.
Thank God. Mrs. Bacon was there to take Calvin down to the law library and out of my hair for half of the day. I had been pumping him for legal information and he had been brought me case law back from the law library. I had planned to spend what time I had in jail doing two things: researching to find a way out of my charges and keeping a journal. I was a public criminal that had demanded time in the news. Certainly, I had a story to sell and I planned to chronicle what I endured to jail to sell. Hell, perhaps, I’d break into fiction, as well. Give Barnswell something to read in the hopes of using against me. Sad, I know, but hey, it’s being done by other prisoners and ex-cons.
What I needed Ravonne and his investigators to do was look for the idiot that had framed me. To think that I dodged prison and was suddenly there for a crime that I absolutely did not commit really killed me. I was confident that I’d be let out and this would be an after thought. But for now, I had to be bothered with the other men that donned these horrible green one piece jumpers.
I also had to deal with the silly rules and regulations of the prison. I had read the manual 9,000 times in the SHU to pass the time away. I had no idea why the staff wanted the inmates beds made each day by 8 a.m. Inmates, as I am a prisoner of war. They know I am being framed. Certainly, I would never, with a capital N, work to have McKenzey escape from jail. Whomever was responsible for this was quite clever. So was I. The more that I sat in this place, the deeper my plan for revenge had become. The party was not over by any stretch of the imagination. I was determined to win, and get the last laugh.
Dear Friend,
Thanks for reading DIE LATER, and I hope that you enjoyed every syllable. If so, or not, please post a review of this novel. Yes, share the joy. ;) If this is your first of my novels, please try my other hits in this series: LAUGH NOW and FIRST LAUGH.
I look forward to meeting you and please keep in touch with me on Facebook and Twitter. I am Rahiem Brooks on both...lol.
Very truly yours,
Rahiem Brooks
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Die Later Page 16
