HYPOTHESIS ONE: (PEOPLE ARE FORCED TO COMMIT CRIMES)

As the rains descended high from the skies over the roof tops of the bar, Ottoman sat still monitoring his coffee as it grew cold by the minute. His thoughts weren’t with the coffee as he barely took a sip from it; something the bartender noticed, along with the other patrons.    

As he sat still; eyes monitored him from spread out corners, making it obvious he was the sore thumb amongst them. Compared to the rest, he stuck out like an odd number; his beards, his sharp eyes and numb lips, his brown skin all gave him away. In as much as he tried to fit in; shaving off a short portion of his beard and putting on American suited clothes, he couldn’t fool anyone to being one of them.                                                                                  

He missed Texas during the winter; it was the getaway season. You could come and go without seeming suspicious.                                                                                                

Tapping the tea cup, he slowly raised his head to turn around. A SUV van rolled into the parking lot of the bar with a stout framed middle aged man stepping out of it.                           

The man’s eyes caught up with his from outside as he waited in the rain for minutes. Ottoman had to turn away immediately.                                                                                      

The SUV man visibly shaken from the rain, had to reluctantly walk into the bar. From his steps, it was obvious he preferred the rains to the bar, but either way, duty didn’t let him have a say in the matter.                                                                                                                       

Instead of walking in and heading straight for a seat and await one of the waitresses or the bartender himself, the SUV man walked straight to the old bartender while keeping a watchful gaze at Ottoman.                                                                                                                       

“Can you show me the rest room please?” he asked; his voice shivering as his wet clothes froze his body.                                                                                                           

“Sure…sure,” the bartender said taking pity on him. “It’s by your left” he pointed.                       

Taking his lead, the SUV man nodded, leaving immediately.                                  

Ottoman whose eyes had been on the man for long, spent some minutes looking at his coffee after the SUV man had disappeared.                                                                                

Wasting no more time in gazing at it, he finally lifted the cup and with a large gulp swallowed the coffee. Ottoman rose up immediately then headed for the rest room.              

As he made his way forward, eyes monitored his movements at every turn till he eventually disappeared from sight. It wasn’t so much as what he did that everyone was so cautious about, but the omen that came from his looks and the storm and thunder that struck. The bartender was the less bothered. To him, anything that brought ‘green’ to his desk would keep him happy.   

As the door to the rest room slowly creaked open, a voice came from inside as Ottoman walked in.                                                                                                                                          

“I still don’t know why am helping you” it said; its tone bearing with it the voice of the SUV man.                                                                                                                           

Ottoman whistling gently made for one of the toilets. “Because we are paying you…” he said, replying the voice.                                                                                                         

“Because I’m being forced to!” the voice chided; visibly shivering from its tone. “And if I don’t play by your rules, you kill my pregnant daughter” the voice revealed, humoring Ottoman who smiled.                                                                                                                  

“Good…” Ottoman replied, “And if you do, you get to take care of your family and have your wife go for that surgery she really needs” he said; his Arab accent ever more evident. “You see, we don’t have anything to loose, but you…you on the other hand…”                                          

“I get to betray my country by aiding a fucking terrorist!” the voice barked.           

“Shhh…” Ottoman calmed, making a sibilant sound. “Terrorist? Is that the way you see it?” he asked.                                                                                                                             

Ignoring the question, the voice went on to mumble some words. “I found him” it said, “He’s where you said he would be. Atwater penitentiary”                                                                       

“Good” Ottoman commended. “Then you know what to do, don’t you?” he added, inspiring silence into the room that minute as the rains reigned from outside.                           

“Why am I the one that gets to kill him?” the voice eventually replied. “That…that wasn’t the deal. I help you I. D your guy, you let my daughter go” the voice pointed, irritating Ottoman.                                                                                                                                           

“Why the sudden sense of morality…? He is only a ‘fucking terrorist.’” Ottoman chided, clearly stressing on the words the voice had used prior.                                                      

“Whom you want dead by my hands!” the voice reminded. “Look, am…am…am a vegan, I haven’t killed anything before, we hold all life sacred” the voice resorted to begging knowing what was at stake.                                                                                                             

“…but one more than the other” Ottoman reminded before releasing a large junk of urine into the toilet and flushing it. “The world would be a lot better if everyone did what they are told. In 72 hours, one life gets traded for another” Ottoman said before leaving and allowing silence eventually take over the room.                                                                           

There was no way to tell whether the voice made it out or not, but it was safe to say no sound came up afterwards. Ottoman on the other hand walked out of the bar after paying the bartender.

Among all the days of the week, Wednesdays at Gridgehock Women’s Penitentiary was the most deadly. Aside the fact that it was the hottest in all the days; something partly on the prison system for turning off all Air conditioners and substituting it for the heat, it was the day the most dangerous and psychotic of all inmates were granted luxury to roam free in Gen Pop. For the lack of a better word, it was the day any inmate with a vendetta had the luxury of making good on his grudge and pinning it on the psychotic beings. Or better still; hire one of them to do the job for you.                                                                                                               

Ximena was one not to fear though but this Wednesday, amongst every other was different. She had never felt the heat she felt in those moments as perspiration travelled down her hair to her grey vest as she walked with the prison guard with no smile on her face. Ximena didn’t get into a fight but there was blood in her eyes. Her stomach even went ahead to mock her for it. What if the fight started? There was always a fight.                                                     

“Wait here…convict,” the guard taking her back to Gen-Pop, stopped to bark right at her face immediately.                                                                                                                                      

The woman made no other attempt at saying anything safe for turning right back and struggling with the door in front of her.                                                                                                 

This was no good, Ximena realized. No guard ever asked an inmate to wait in ‘No woman’s ward’ unless there was something behind it. She turned to look around her immediately before stretching her chained hands to claw on to the guard.                                                    

“Hey…hey…hey…no…no…no, please…don’t do this, am with child…no,” she protested immediately as the guard fought back to hold her off. “You can’t do this…you can’t…” she struggled only to have the guard shove her to the wall and shut the door against her.                                                                                         

Ximena made for the door instantly, pounding her fists at it. “No…! You can’t do this! You can’t do this…!” she yelled atop her voice; her Venezuelan accent coming off hard.                  

She knew if by any means she played coy with the guard, she was done for. The Guard must have been tipped, not to off her but to turn a blind eye.                                                                       

“You can’t do this to me…you fucking harlot!” she cursed in her native dialect as the woman’s footsteps disappeared behind the metal door.                                                                           

No-no-no—Ximena thought looking around. Footsteps were approaching, she thought as she searched for where to hide. This was literally prison, there is nowhere to hide, she realized, finding out late. She turned to the door once more, banging multiple times at it. “Help! Help! Help!” she screamed, hitting at the door again.                                                                              

Ximena turned to look around her again, footsteps were fast approaching, and with it shadows cast on the wall as it came closer.                                                                                                     

“No…no…no,” she mumbled as her eyes dilated and hovered around.                                            

“Well what do we have here?” came in a voice from the empty space with 3 feminine figures appearing in Ximena’s sight immediately.                                                                                               

Though they had the shape of women, the muscles that formed on their faces made their description more complicating. To be on a safer side, one would purport to call them ‘feminine males’.                                  

In the moments those 3 walked in, Ximena thought of only 2 things—keeping her cool and keeping her eyes down. Who knows, things may end up not being utterly bad, she thought. The sight of a bladed object in one of the feminine males’ hand dissuaded her of such thoughts though. They came prepared the moment she was least prepared and vulnerable, which only meant one thing, they came for business.                                                                                                    

Ximena raised her head to look at them again; one was evidently the eldest and most deranged, the others were just schizophrenic bull dogs. Still, she couldn’t hope at achieving anything.                                                                                                                                                    

“Looks like a corpse waiting to be buried…” said the somewhat youngest with a frail but muscular physique.                                                                                                                                       

She was right to know a corpse seeing as her breasts were dead and the spot, to which they once stood, was now flat. The feminine male went on to caress Ximena’s hair and face while she looked at her.                                                                                                                         

“Please…i…” Ximena muttered swallowing a large gulp of saliva as the eldest looked at her. Whoever thought to release this bunch from Solitary? “Please, let me go…” she struggled with the flat-chest woman who now soiled Ximena’s cheeks with saliva while the others caressed other parts of her body. “I…I will do anything you want…i…anything…” she begged.                

The eldest seeing the humour in her plea, chuckled while the others laughed and snarled; the flat chest woman on the other hand, struck at her neck to give her ‘the vampire’s bite’.                                                 

 “Whoa…!” the eldest exclaimed, “But that wasn’t the deal now was it?” she mocked in a southern accent, revealing she was from Kentucky.                                                                                        

“Am…am with…with child” Ximena let out again, but before the words could fully sink, the flat chest feminine male pulled a punch at her throat, sending her head striking the wall behind.                                                                                                                                                         

The third of the feminine male followed her’s with a kick on Ximena’s knee.                          

“What did you say?” the flat chest feminine male asked afterwards, sizing Ximena’s baby bump in her hand to taunt her the more.                                                                                          

Stressed by the urge to squirm out tears, Ximena held back as she tried to avoid the flat chest feminine male’s eyes and devious to look at black face. It was in those moments the eldest came closer to her and pulled her by the hair, dragging her on the floor with it.                                             

“What did you say?” the eldest asked as the flat chest feminine male and her counterpart looked on smiling.                                                                                                                                              

“I’m…I…am…with child…” Ximena stuttered, rolling on the floor while doing all she could to shield her baby bump.                                                                                                                

The woman didn’t give her chance to though. She launched multiple strikes at Ximena aimlessly before kicking her on the face.                                                                                                   

“I…uh…I can’t here you…” the woman mocked as Ximena rose her head to look at her and the other two as the circled her.                                                                                                              

The urge to tear up, bleed out and throw up juggled within her as she lay feebly staring at the 3 deranged fellows. As they stared back at her, it became a lot more obvious, this wasn’t the actions of mere lunatics but bribed inmates sent to kill her.                                                             

“Please…please…please don’t do this,” she babbled as the gang prepared for the worse with their crooked blade in sight.                                                                                                             

Without wasting any more time standing, the three unveiled their true skins; hitting, punching and stabbing at the helpless woman like mad wolves hungry not for blood but the pleasure at being the first to draw it out.                                                                                                     

The eldest tiring herself from playing slice and dice, ultimately raised her blade high for the killer strike to end the foreplay, only for a metallic sound that rang deep in her ears to halt her. Without knowing what or who it was, the feminine male fell on her face down.                                   

Her comrades sprang from the shock almost immediately, in time to catch an iron tray smashing their faces. The noise rang in their ears for minutes while their faces suffered repeated tremors from being punched by their assailant                                                                   

Continuously the person released her fist on them, unwilling to rest it till she was done drawing out blood. When she was done and satisfied, she moved once more to the eldest. The assailant grabbed at the feminine male’s head then repeatedly slammed it against the wall opposite. She ended the assault with a snap on the woman’s neck with her arms round her throat.                                                                                                                                                      

The assailant turned to Ximena afterwards looking at her.                                                

As their eyes jammed, the facial features of the person registered in Ximena’s mind. She was tall, plump and blonde haired. Ximena let out a sigh of relief afterwards once she recognized who it was. She was among those released from Solitary confinement. Ximena coughed out as she looked at the woman while struggling to breathe and control the bleeding on her side.                                                                                                                                                          

“Gracias…thank you…gracias amigo” she struggled to cough out as her eyes darted round and at the woman.                                                                                                                             

The assailant annoyed at the sound of the word, ‘Amigo’, frowned at Ximena. “I did not do it for you, Snake…” she chided in a thick Russian accent. “I did this because I want my husband to pay for what he has done” the woman revealed, walking by Ximena who let her hand up, pleading for assistance getting up.

“Don’t think I will hold your hand and walk you to your cell, snake…” she barked, walking away and leaving Ximena to her fate.                                          

As saliva gushed through her mouth, Ximena stared at the ceiling, fighting within her to scream that one word. The metallic door sounded before she could.  

‘The hour glass is ticking. Your daughter has 12 hours of Oxygen left in the tank until you refill it. You can choose to play saint or be a man…’ the SUV man read on his phone as he sat in his SUV dressed in prison guard uniform.                                                                                                         

Clenching his fist, he struck his steering once he saw the image that followed the text. It was a video clip of a woman, pregnant and dying of exhaustion in a cell guarded by men in army camouflage and masks. The SUV man looked around him from the car. He couldn’t dare show this to anyone, not even the cops. His only hope was in front of him; Atwater Penitentiary and Henry his comrade.                                                                                                                                

The SUV man looked at his badge and I.D card again; Officer L. Elijah—Prison Guard, it identified; something that would soon change to L. Elijah—Prison Inmate if he went through with his thoughts. He glared around again. It was better being Prison inmate than ‘man with deceased daughter and wife on life support.’ The man pulled out a syringe from his glove compartment, then with a final sigh, stepped out of his SUV. He looked at his badge and I.D card again; ‘Officer L. Elijah—Prison Guard’ it read again. Whatever it read now was subject to change in 12 hours.                                                                                                                                     

As Officer Elijah stepped out of his SUV, he made into the prison and straight to the prison food court. There his comrade stood waiting for him.                                                                

“I can’t go through with this, Leo” his comrade informed, immediately and without hesitation. “I thought about it…I’ve got family to feed and protect. Am no good to them if am in prison or this whole thing backfires. I want to help you, but…”                                                                

“Am not asking you to do it-I am the one doing this” Officer Elijah countered, holding firm the syringe in his pocket. To think Henry was his only hope.                                                                    

“And who do you think the blame falls on?” Henry questioned, forcing Elijah to go mute. “They are gonna do an autopsy damn it. And they’ll find out. They need this guy. He is about cutting a deal with the Feds and you know how everything goes when America goes over protective” he explained.                                                                                                                          

“What are you saying? I should let my kid die?” Elijah sparked, fuming as his skin reddened. All he needed was access to the bastard’s food.                                                                              

“Am telling you to think this through”                                                                                            

“I did,” Elijah insisted pushing Henry to a corner. “And it took me 2 days to plan this through” he revealed, pointing two fingers.                                                                                                  

Breathing out loud, Henry looked around the prison hall then his comrade. “Am sorry...I can’t” he let out. “Think of another way”                                                                                                        

“Tell the cops?”                                                                                                                                  

“Hell no” Henry dissuaded, “Think of another way” he whispered with eyes pointing at one of the inmates and direction to which Level 4 stood. “That way suspicion falls on no one”             

Seeing the hint in the coded language, Officer Elijah paused for a minute to allow the thoughts register in his mind before coming up with an action. He looked at his comrade again. He was literally begging him to consider the option. After all, suspicion falls on neither of them.              

Elijah taking the needed step backwards and away from his comrade to think nodded afterwards when his eyes jammed the southern axis of the prison hall and thoughts formed in his mind’s eye.                             

Without a word, he made for it and headed for Level 4; the Solitary Housing Unit for the most violent of criminals; those dangerous that they became threats to Guard and Criminals alike. Officer Elijah for one had suffered in the hands of one. Only if he had thought to resign after that incident, this wouldn’t be happening.                                                                                         

“Got word I need clearing out with Roar Shank” he said at once to the Prison Guard standing watch at the door post to cell Eight. This was the nightmare he never thought experiencing, he asserted as he smiled to the comrade briskly.                                                                      

On a normal day, the guard would have denied his request but the two went a long way back; which made the whole thing a whole lot difficult for Elijah. If he did this, it was certainly going to be the pal, and if he didn’t, it was his daughter and an innocent kid yet unborn.                                  

The guard as if having the faintest idea what was going on and with Elijah, shook his head before opening the gate for Elijah to walk in.                                                                                           

Elijah seizing the chance walked straight in immediately then pulled a punch on the inmate before shoving him against the wall opposite. The guard smiled shutting the door on them. He would’ve loved to watch but he had a post to maintain.                                                                     

“Hey boss! Good of ya to visit after that last fiasco” the inmate said to Elijah with a smug face that revealed his broken teeth. His left eye for one was badly damaged, something Officer Elijah smiled to himself for. The inmate though, was not pleased; he expected the blood to still remain on his tummy along with the blade.                                                                                                         

“Shut up!” Officer Elijah barked, holding firm the inmate by the throat as he struggled to cough out. “Wanna get outta here? Outta prison?” he asked.