Officer Olsen straightened his hat and checked himself out in the mirror. A fine figure of a corrections office, he was, if he did say so himself. Pleased with what he saw, he kissed his wife goodbye and headed out for his first day on the job at one of the roughest prisons in the country.
Training had been long and rigorous, and the physical fitness requirements just to qualify had been unreal, but he came to understand why they were necessary. He would be dealing with some the most vicious miscreants to ever be locked up, and if they sensed any softness about you...well, you had to be tough, and they had to know it. Sometimes you were alone on the row, and had to be ready for anything.
He had butterflies in his stomach, but he knew he could do this. He was determined to be the very best corrections officer he could. He figured he'd come in for some guff from the old timers for a while, it was that way in the army, and in many ways being in corrections would probably be similar. Same sort of hierarchy, blind obedience to the rules, all that sort of thing. He didn't mind.
He had needed a change of career. He was going nowhere, and when he had seen the ad in the paper he had told his wife he thought he could do it. She had told him she thought it was a good idea and she'd support him in ever way she could. Now it was time to deliver. He pulled into the car park and looked at the prison.
It was a foreboding place. Old and rugged. The razor wire and towers with the armed guards made it clear that this was no picnic. It was hell on earth for those who ended up here, but they had brought it on themselves. In training it was made clear over and over again that you never let them get to you. They would play for sympathy when you were new. They would test you every way they could. Well John Olsen was no man's fool, and they would soon know it. He got out of the car and reported for his first day of duty.
"Olsen, good to see you. Welcome to hell." Warden Allen seemed a warm and caring man.
"Thank you sir. I'm ready for duty."
"Captain Stevens will introduce you around and get you started. My door is always open if you need anything."
John knew you didn't bother the old man without a damn good reason. "Thank you sir."
He was introduced around the block and given the grand tour. When they got to D Block, Captain Stevens stopped and gave him a serious look. "Now this is isolation. The worst of the bad are kept here when they screw up, as punishment and to give them time to cool out. How long they're here depends on several things, but mostly on how they do." They walked along until they came to a cell that looked older than the rest. It stood apart and was heavily reinforced and battered looking.
Captain Stevens glanced at the door and picked up his pace as they passed. That made John curious. "Um, what's with that cell we just passed?"
Captain Stevens stopped in his tracks and turned around and scowled. "We don't talk about that cell. We have a strict rule here. Nobody goes near that one. No matter what happens, you understand?" He fixed John with a hard look.
John gulped. "Uh, yes. Yes sir. But what..."
"I said we don't talk about it. What part of that didn't you understand?"
John turned bright red. "Sorry, sir. I just...Sorry."
Just then a low moan was heard. It seemed to be coming from the cell. John started to turn his head, then noticed Captain Stevens looking at him intently. He looked away and feigned interest in the goings on across the block. The moaning continued as they moved back down the row.
The next day he was again shown the rounds, and they put him on D Block, it was where they tested the newbies, apparently. If you could handle the mongrels on D Block, then they knew you had what it took. He made his way along, being taunted by the inmates, and he gave as good as he got.
As he approached the forbidden door he did his best not to take any notice of it. Nothing happened as he passed, but on his way back, just has he got a bit ahead of it he heard a scratching noise. He turned and looked. The moaning he had heard the day before came again. He hurried back along the row, a bit unnerved.
At lunchtime he sat with the other guards and when most of the others had left he turned to his new work mate and let his curiosity get the better of him. "Hey, George, you know that last cell on D Block, do you..."
George fixed him with a dour look. "We don't talk about that cell. Ever."
"Yeah, I know, it's just..."
"Ever, man. You just ignore it, ok?"
John bit his lip. "But what if...I don't know. What if you hear...something?" He couldn't contain himself. "Who the hell do they keep in there, anyway?"
George glared at him and shook his head. He picked up his tray and walked away.
A week later he was on the night shift, and again they put him on D Block. He did his rounds with a sense of dread. He really didn't want to go past the cell, but it was what he had to do. He whistled to himself as he approached and pretended he didn't care. The prisoners were asleep and everything seemed alright.
As he approached the moaning started up. Then the scratching. He tried to ignore it. He turned to go back, then he heard it. The thing he had been dreading. A voice emanated from the cell. A deep low growl, but pathetic and in pain.
"Help me...help me..." It sounded angry, but pathetic and beaten at the same time. He stopped in his tracks and felt the blood run to his feet.
"Please...open the door...I need..." the voice seemed to trail off and he couldn't make out the last part of what it said.
He moved a bit closer, and then, in a low voice, "Who are you? Why did they put you in there?" Nothing. He started to move away, and then, "Help me...please, for god's sake...help..."
It was more than he could take. Something was wrong. They had said not to, but this sounded like a medical emergency. He moved to the door and got out his master key. He thought it over. More scratching. Damn. He held his breath and turned the key in the lock and slowly opened the door. It was pitch black and he couldn't see a thing. He took a step in and suddenly felt a hand grip the back of his neck and pull him backward.
He screamed and wet himself simultaneously. It was then that the laughter and guffaws started. He spun around and there were his fellow guards and Captain Stevens, doubled over with laughter, pointing at his wet pants. One of them went into the cell and came out holding a tape recorder.
"Welcome to hell, Johnny boy! You've now been properly hazed." They couldn't contain themselves. John stared at them and then broke in to a grin. He was one of the guys now. He barked at the complaining inmates to shut up and go back to sleep.
