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Cain, 2
The Bagboy, Chap. 12
by Bob Nelson
"You cain't take me in er lock me up!" Cain bellowed the Highway Patrol officers manhandling him into a cruiser. "It's them Goddam QUARES you gotta ketch an' lock up! They shot me and kidnapped by boy! No tellin' what they're up to with him, but ah'm shore they're tryin' some quare shit on him... I jes' cain't unnerstand why you don't take off after 'em. They live somewhere in Lynchburg. I know!"
"Just how do you know where they live, Sir," the Officer in charge asked, trying to keep his professional demeanor. He was hard put to do it, though after this foul-mouthed, bad-smelling old fart had cursed at them, spit at them, and tried to escape twice. Two other officers were each holding one of the man's arms, even though they had finally cuffed his hands behind his back. They had just put shackles on his ankles, too, as there was probable cause that this man was a perp, not just an innocent man, shot and tied to a tree.
"Tell us again how many there were. who got shot, how you got shot, and how they were able to get your son to go with them," the officer asked in a level voice of authority, scowling at the man. They had all been trained in domination tactics, to get and keep the upper hand in action, voice, eye gaze, facial expression and body language. It was easy to do with this man -- he had never met a more unlikeable person.
"Like I TOL' ya! Ah was a-huntin' an' my boy Ralphie had gone back to the cabin to fetch the scatter gun. We hadn't had any luck with d-- bigger game, and ah figgered we'd best git us a rabbit or a couple o' squirrels. Then I saw what I was shore was a gobbler behind this very tree. I was about sixty yard up that hill, thar," nodding his head up hill, where there was a more open space than anywhere else nearby, "so I took a bead and fired. Then Godalmighty, I heard a man holler! I prayed to God I hadn't kilt him or hit him bad, and went runnin' down here. The older man was on the ground, the younger man was leanin' over him, tryin' to stop the blood comin' out'n his side. I aksed what I could do and that young whippersnapper told me to get away, that I'd almost kilt his friend, and musta done it on purpose. I was shocked to hear him say that and tol' him 'No WAY, but what er you fellers doin' on my land. It's posted.' He said he brought his friend up here to show him his Grandpappy's cabin over yonder," nodding his head toward an old log cabin about one hundred feet away, with a split rail fence enclosing a pasture. It had the look of being long abandoned.
"That let me know ezackly who the young feller is. He's my brother's son, Greg, that I hadn't seen in almost ten years. I din't even know he knew where my Pappy's cabin was. I ain't never seen him or my brother Adam since we was all moved off this land by the Gummint, in 1939. Then Greg got real testy an' lunged at me, tryin' to take my rifle. I jumped back quick and pointed it kinda toward him to make him stop. I din't know what he might do if'n he thought I'd shot his friend' on purpose.
About then my boy Ralphie came down the hill from our cabin, with the scatter gun. I hollered at him that I'd accident'ly shot a man, but the other one was tryin' to get my gun and seemed dangerous. Told Ralphie to cover them till the one settled down. Right away Greg started hollerin' uphill to tell Ralphie his way o' what happened, like I'd shot 'em on purpose! No way! I'm a peaceable man!" he finished almost in a whine.
"But how did YOU get shot and tied to the tree?" the officer in charge asked.
"Right away, Ralphie believed him! My own boy, my own flesh an' blood! Turned agin me and said, 'Pa, why'd ya shoot 'em. I tol' ya and I tol' ya that ya cain't jes' shoot trespassers!' Think o' that! A boy tellin' his Pa what's right an' wrong! Sure, I've fired warning shots at a couple o' people in the past, jes' to scare 'em off an' let me an' Ralphie live peaceable here."
"Have you ever shot any others, maybe hitting them by accident?" the officer asked.
"Wal, one of 'em hollered and cussed me, said I'd almost kilt him, but he was movin' much too easy to have been shot. He never came back though! That's what I do it fer."
"Who shot you and tied you up?" the officer persisted.
"Why my own boy, Ralphie!! He believed Greg, though he didn't know it was his cousin at the time. Greg tol' Ralphie to cover me with the scatter gun so's he could get my rifle. I warn't about to give it to him, so I raised it kinda like pointin' at him, and tol' him to stop er I'd hafta defend mahself. He din't stop and jes' as I pointed the rifle at him, Ralphie shot me! I dropped my gun and rolled on the groun', not knowin' how bad I was hurt. Then Greg an' Ralphie jumped me, one of 'em clobbered me with a heavy stick and I guess I went out for a few minutes. When I came to Ralphie had got a piece o' rope outta the cabin an' they were tyin' me to the tree! I started fightin' back, cussin' 'em, hollerin' at Ralphie to act like my son. Remindin' him all I'd done for him. Damnedest thing -- he said that's why he was helpin' tie me up!
That's how it happened, Officer. Now let me go, Dammit, er I'll whup every one o' yer sorry asses! ARRRHHH!"
"Put the restraints between his elbows and knees and tighten them up! We don't want him to hurt himself - - or any of us!" the officer in charge ordered.
The two patrol cars headed to the station to book Cain on threats against them, and suspected intentional wounding of a trespasser. The officer who booked him was none too gentle, as Cain unleashed another stream of invective against him and his mother.
Cain came to or woke up, head throbbing, his foot hurting, and his mouth dry. He tried to sit up and found he was still cuffed and shackled. He began hollering, "Guard! Guard! Gimme some water, dammit -- an' let me OUTA here!"
In a few minutes the duty guard came back to the solitary cell where Cain was, with a cup of water.
"Are you going to settle down, so I can remove your shackles, and maybe your cuffs?"
"Hell, NO, I'm not gonna settle down and be nice! You got a innocent man here, treatin' me like shit! Now lemme loose an' lemme go!" as he rolled, trying to get up.
The guard opened the cell door and knelt down with the cup of water, saying "I'm not going to release your hands without a backup guard or two, but I'll hold the cup so you can drink."
Cain took two swallows, then spat the third swallow into the face of the guard, saying, "Fuck you, pussy boy! Yer so nice an' dainty yer prob'ly another of them fag quares what stole my son outta the woods!"
The officer kept his cool, backed out of the cell, locked it, and went to dry off and write his report.
Monday morning Cain was brought into court for his hearing, to determine if there was a case against him.
He was still in his same clothes, cuffed and shackled, but no restraints between his elbows and knees. He shuffled in, looking down and muttering. He was seated in the accused's seat.
"All rise! This is District Court ------" the Bailiff announced the opening of the court, specifying its jurisdiction and naming Judge Lynch, presiding.
Judge Lynch was an imposing man in his robes, with a face that showed he was in charge. He was not big in stature, but seemed larger than life in HIS court room. The only case that morning was Cain, and as he was brought before the Judge, the charges were read: intentional wounding, resisting arrest, and threatening police officers on duty.
"Has Mr. Hanson requested Council, Baliff?"
"No, Your Honor."
"Mr. Cain Hanson, you heard how you were charged. How do you plead?"
"NOT GUILTY, o' course, you silly sumbitch!"
"SILENCE IN THE COURT! You will not curse me or any other person in this courtroom! You will answer all questions in a polite manner, with NO other outbursts!
DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?"
"Yes, your Honor," Cain mumbled, obviously subdued.
"Bailiff, are there witnesses of the acts for which this man is charged?"
"Yes Your Honor, three witnesses: Mr Bob Nelson, who was shot, Mr. Greg Hanson, nephew of the accused, and Mr. Ralph Hanson, step-son of the accused."
Cain whirled around and saw the us sitting there, staring at him coldly. He immediately began, "You no good sons o' bitches, you --" when the Bailiff put his gloved hand over Cain's mouth. Apparently they'd expected it and were prepared.
We were all sworn in, told our stories which corroborated each other and absolutely negated Cain's fabrication. Bob had his hospital release, detailing the severity of the wound and the procedures needed to save his life. I told how Ralph had realized his "Daddy" would shoot us if given the chance, and Ralph stated calmly and clearly that he had shot his "Daddy" in the foot to keep him from getting to the rifle, hit him in the head to knock him out, helped me tie him up, and left with us. I added that Ralph's actions had saved Bob's life, according to the Head Nurse and the E.R. Physician.
"Mr. Cain Hanson," the Judge continued, "you have heard the sworn testimony against you for intentionally shooting Mr. Bob Nelson and threatening to shoot not only his friend, your nephew Greg Hanson, but also your own son! Do you wish to change your plea?"
"No Sir! Them er all lyin' and plottin' to put me away so's they can steal my land up there! My boy was a good boy, but he's been gettin' disrespectful, lately, so's he jes' went along with 'em. They had time to talk it over so all their stories would match!
They're LYIN'! I'm innocent!" He started lunging and tried to grab the Bailiff's club, the only weapon in the court.
"Restrain that man and return him to his solitary cell!" the Judge boomed. It was done instantly.
After Cain was gone, the Judge verified our stories once more, explained that this was a preliminary hearing, but he was called in due to the seriousness of the charges. A formal trial, with an attorney for Cain and a prosecuting attorney, a jury if Cain requested, and all formal procedures would be held. He asked if we were willing to attend and state what we had already told him under oath. We all agreed.
The trial took longer, with a lot more procedural action, reaction, and counteraction between the Prosecuting Attorney and the Defense Attorney. Greg's Dad came with us, for support, and told us it all had to be carefully done so it couldn't be overturned or thrown out on a technicality. We were willing to sit through it if that man were put away.
The jury came back in with "Guilty on all charges." When they came back in the next time, their recommendation to the Judge was "Ten to Twenty years, without parole." The Judge agreed, and sentenced Cain to fifteen years in the penitentiary.
"You can't put me in there! You can't put me in there! I've heard what they do to a new man in these places!" wailed Cain as they drove him up to the penitentiary walls.
"Oh? What kinds of things have you heard? What are you afraid of?" asked the accompanying guard.
"There's lots of preverts and quares in these paces! They grab a new man when the lights go out and trade him all around, raping his ass! They'll rape me to death!"
"Oh, I wouldn't be that worried. They like tender, young prisoners -- the nice looking ones who smell nice and have all their teeth. I think they'll let you alone," the guard said with an evil leer, "unless you want them to play those games with you?"
"WANT them to? What kinda man do ya think I am? I ain't no quare, no pussy-man! I'm a real man what fucks women, and don't want NOTHIN' to do with no limp-wristed fags!"
"Well, you're in luck, Mr. Cain. They send all those kinds to other penitentiaries. This is the BIG House, where only real men, real hardened criminals are housed. Since you're such a big, strong, man, who hates weak men, we thought you'd like it here, better."
With that the guard took Cain through the double barred entry doors, closed and locked behind them before a similar door was opened to let them into the prison, itself. A raw, cold gust of air hit them, carrying the mixed scent of greasy fried foods, human excrement, and a strong deodorant, like Pine Sol mixed with Lysol. There was a damp coldness that seemed to start sapping the warmth from any newcomer. Cain shivered in spite of his bravado and false courage.
He was marched between two huge, burly Black guards to Prison Issue. Either one of the guards could have thrown him up onto the catwalk of the next level, or broken him in two. Cain walked meekly to Prison Issue where he was given his blankets and clothes. He was forced to change out of his old, ragged clothes into prison gray, with a black strip diagonally across his back and down each leg. All the clothes were loose, including the boots. He buttoned up, zipped up, and tied his boots, then picked up all the rest and was led to his cell.
His cell was on the third tier of cells, down one long, wide open passage, which Cain would later find out was called "Broadway," the main way in and out, to the dining room and out the other end to the exercise yard. Cells faced into it from both sides. All prisoners were in their cells and came to the ends, looking out at the new man. This was the only entertainment for some, while others who had earned their privileges had TV time, Library time, or workout and job training time. But now they were all looking out, calling out invitations and insults to Cain.
"Hey, Sweetie, Welcome Home!"
"Is your dance card filled, yet?"
"I've got something I'd like to give you!"
"Save some for me!"
"Let me have him before The Beast gets him!"
"Yeah, he'll be too loose for any of us after The Beast!"
Cain had started down the long open area with a tough, mad look on his face, but it gradually faded, to be replaced by fear. He'd never been afraid of anything, he told himself.... but he'd never been in a place like this -- or even imagined it. His little boy terrors of bullies beating him up came rushing back, with a very large probability that some -- or many of these men would do things to him that he shuddered to think of.
Cold sweat broke out on his face, as he furtively glanced as some of the loudest or biggest cons. They ALL looked meaner than he'd ever felt! The guard took him up two flights of metal stairs to a catwalk or narrow balcony that all the cells opened onto. It overlooked "Broadway." All cells had their doors facing "Broadway" or the corridor running at right angles to it, called "Main", or on one of the balconies running fifteen, thirty, or forty-five feet above them, with only a heavy metal rail to keep anyone from falling down onto those mean streets.
Cain shuddered in spite of his promise to be tough, to not let it get to him or at least to never let it show.
"Here you are, man. Your home for fifteen years. Go on in, make yourself comfortable, and meet your new best friend and room mate. The cons all call him 'The Beast.' "
A huge, ebony Black man, over six and a half feet tall, and probably weighing 280 to 300 pounds, with a shaved head and not an ounce of fat on him rose from the bottom bunk, with a scowl on his face.
"So you're my new pussy, eh? GOOD! I wore out the other one and they buried him yesterday, my friends, tell me. What's yer name?" leaning down an inch from Cain's face, his garlic breath and sweaty B.O. washing over Cain.
"Cain -- Cain Han--"
"SHUT the FUCK UP! I just asked to be polite, I don't fuckin' care WHAT name you went by, in here your name is "Beast's Bitch." Got it?"
Cain tried not to tremble, but he couldn't help it. "Yeah, I got it," he answered meekly.
"You mean Yes SIR, I got it! Say that!"
"Yes SIR, I got it!" Cain responded.
The Beast towered over him and moved closer. "That's some better. You'll really get much better with practice. And we're going to practice. But you're lucky."
"L - L - Lucky?" Cain stammered.
"Yeah! Other cons' bitches always got to watch their rear, afraid some new man will take them away from the one they're with and they'll have to be broken in all over again. Not YOU! NO one would dare take away The Beast's Bitch, so you're safe with me. ALL you gotta do is make me happy."
Cain crawled up into the top bunk and lay there till dinner, trying not to think of how The Beast wanted to be made happy. He may have dozed off, as the next thing he knew, The Beast had picked him off the top bunk with one hand, and was lowering him to stand on the cell floor.
"Come on, Honey. Let's wash you up so you look nice. All the others are going to meet my new wife at dinner, tonight."
Cain's wildest fears were confirmed! The Beast tidied him up, washed his face and combed his hair, then stood back, "There, that's about all we can do. Don't worry, I think you look nice, and we'll have fifteen years together, 'cause I'm a Lifer."
Cain started to pass out at that thought, but The Beast was very observant and grabbed him, sat him on the lower bunk and got a cup of water for him.
"Don't worry, Honey, I'll be gentle the first time or two, then you'll get so you really like it and want it all the time."
Cain shuddered internally, with a cold spreading through him. How could he survive fifteen years in here? How could he even survive tonight?
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It seems like Cain will get what he accused Ralph, Bob and Greg of, or possibly he secretly wanted to do it, himself. Will he survive? Will they be a happy couple? What if The Beast gets upset with him, or tired of him??? Stay tuned. More to cum. Send comments to nailsb69@hotmail.com If you want to read the whole story in html, cum join us at my website, Gay Vikings: http://communities.msn.com/GayVikings and say "Bagboy sent me" when asked why you want to join.