Anything for Profit 2: Nothing to Lose (25 page)

No amount of love could blind Meka to the fact that it was only a matter of time before Ant was caught or killed though. You can’t stay on the run forever. She loved him, but she wasn’t stupid. And now she had another life to think about besides her own. The life growing inside her womb had her viewing things very differently.

Even if Ant did live long enough to see his child born what type of father would he be? What type of father
could
he be? They were brother and sister. Though the love they shared was real, through the eyes of society what they had done was something dirty called incest. Imagine how people would look at their child. Shit, life is hard enough as it is. Meka at least wanted to give her baby a fair chance to make it in this cold world. Two months pregnant, Meka still wasn’t showing. As she lay in bed beside a man that she cared about, but didn’t love she made one of the most difficult decisions of her life.

CHAPTER 29

3 Months Later…

“
This morning on Fox 21 News at 6:
Greenville County's administrators are saying that the Greenville Detention Center is out of room and out of control.
As of June 30, the facility designed to hold about 950 inmates held over 1,500 inmates. Officials said the number of inmates has put the facility 30 percent over 'critical capacity'. Critical capacity is the level where staff believes they can manage the inmate population without jeopardizing safety and security.

“
To deal with the overcrowding, the county has instituted a number of temporary solutions:
Single cells now have three occupants.
Holding cells are being used as living spaces.
Portable bunks are being used in inmate classrooms, disrupting religious and other services. The indoor recreation court is being used for temporary housing .Each inmate's record is being reviewed to determine who might be considered for personal recognizance release. Proposals already on the table for further expansion have been approved by the City Council. However, the document must be signed by Mayor White before construction can begin. So far the Mayor has yet to sign off on the proposal.

“
In the meantime, it seems that the jail has turned into a very unsafe environment where many staff and quite a few inmates say they are in constant fear for their lives. Just last week, 18 year old Johnathan Thompson was brutally murdered by another inmate who after severely beating Thompson, took a pen and shoved it up his nose; all this before setting him on fire. Due to the overcrowding, Thompson, who was locked up for driving with a suspended license was housed in a unit with other, more violent inmates facing a range of charges from murder to home invasions and armed robbery. Attorneys for the Thompson family said a lawsuit against the county of Greenville is forthcoming.

Coming up: it looks like it’s going to be a beautifully hot July day here in the Upstate. We’ll have weather from meteorologist Jack Tomlinson and more early morning news after the break…

“Ninety-eight, ninety-nine… hundred,” Mike wasn’t even breathing heavily as he did the last pushup of his set. After spending the last 3 months in the S.H.U. for busting a nigga’s face open with a mop wringer he was in the best shape of his life. While he was in the hole he’d do pushups, back arms, and shadow box all day until he fell out from exhaustion. The exercises gave him something productive to do each day. It also kept him sane.

He chuckled as he got up off the ground. He’d been listening to the 13’ TV that was screwed into the wall as he got his workout in. It was amusing to him how the conditions they faced on a daily basis weren’t considered news until some little punk ass white boy got killed.

Since his release from the S.H.U., Mike had been re-assigned to L-Block and he didn’t need the news to know that the fucking jail was packed. All he had to do was look around him. He was living within the confines of a cell they had placed him in with 13 other inmates. All eight beds were occupied. The short timers were sleeping on the floor.

He damn sure didn’t need them to tell him how violent shit was in here either. He lived with that reality everyday too. But that wasn’t anything new. Violence had been a part of his life for as long as he could remember. In the streets or in jail; it was the same shit just a different toilet.

Mike used the steel bench of the breakfast table to do a quick set of back arms. He was shirtless. Across his chest was a fresh piece of work he’d gotten done as soon as he got out of the hole. It read: “Nothing to Lose,” in large old English letters. Tattooed under his right eye were two teardrops that weren’t filled in. They symbolized his loss. The war wounds from last year’s attempt on his life could be seen easily on his chiseled frame as he walked back and forth. He liked looking at the wounds; touching them. They kept him on point and focused.

Only a couple of the other inmates were up, but it was almost time for breakfast. He knew it wouldn’t be long before everybody got up and would be in his way as he tried to work out. He got back down and banged out another 100 pushups like it was nothing. “Line up for breakfast!” the C.O. yelled out as he unlocked and opened the door to L-Block.

On an old large metal cart with wheels there were stacks of hard brown trays with food on them. On the side of that was a smaller metal cart with a large jug that contained what was supposed to be juice, but tasted more like flavored water. As usual, since he was up, Mike was one of the first out of the cell. He waited in line while the other inmates slowly made their way out of their beds. Sleepily they filed out into the hallway and got their trays before going back into the cell.

“You gonna eat them biscuits?” Hungry asked this skinny white dude who was about to put his tray up. Hungry’s real name was Greg Davis. He was a short, fat and light skinned with a bald head. It wasn’t uncommon for somebody to ask for the scraps off another inmate’s tray if it looked like they weren’t going to eat it. But since his very first day in L-Block Greg had been asking for whatever was left on somebody’s tray… every meal. He’d been ‘Hungry’ ever since.

“Naw,” replied the skinny white boy.

“Bet,” said Hungry as he snatched up the biscuits. “Shit, lemme get that jelly too. You gonna eat that sausage Boogie?”

“Maaan Hungry, if you don’t get yo’ hot ass mouth out my face… You ain’t even brushed yo’ goddamn grill yet and you running ‘round begging for food,” snapped Boogie, who was staring at 30 years for a home invasion. The block started laughing. They already knew where this was going. Despite the time he was facing, Boogie kept the block in tears, laughing. Everybody dealt with being locked up differently. Boogie cracked jokes all day.

“Aww, C’mon Boogie. You ain’t even gotta play me like that man.”

Boogie chuckled. “Shut up nigga! I see why muh’fuckas is always giving you they food. Soon as they smell yo’ breath they lose they damn appetite,” he cracked, fanning his nose. The cell erupted with laughter at that one. “Nigga, you hungrier than two fat bitches tryna split a Kit-Kat!”

The intercom crackled to life, momentarily saving Hungry from further ridicule. “Smith. Get ready. You got a court run.” Mike frowned up his face in thought.
A court run?
His lawyer hadn’t said anything about going to court anytime soon. But Mike damn sure wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity like this.

5 minutes later, the door to L-Block opened. “Smith; let’s go,” exclaimed a tall black C.O. He was new to the old jail and had heard so many stories that he was obviously trying extra hard to be tough. It was amusing.

“C.O., what’s your name?” somebody yelled out.

“You don’t need to know my name,” the C.O. replied sternly.

“Well you doing a real good job turning them goddamn keys,” joked Boogie. “Matter fact, you prolly the best new turnkey I done seen in a good minute. You just keep on turning them keys like that. They gon’ promote yo’ ass to corporal in
no
time.” Everybody in the block began to laugh.

“Smith, let’s go,” the C.O. barked out angrily.

Mike made his way to the door. Before he stepped out into the hallway, an old man who was in for drunk driving stopped him. The man hadn’t spoken a word since he’d been put in the block. In his raspy voice he uttered two words: “Be free.” Mike paused for a second. He looked into the old man’s eyes, and then exited the cell.

$$$

In the hallway leading to the transport area outside, Mike was lined up along with 4 other inmates. They were all waiting to be shackled, belly chained and handcuffed. Then they would be led outside together and onto the dark blue van that would take them to the courthouse. Two deputies from Sherriff’s office transportation unit were responsible for their transport.

“Right leg.” Mike faced the wall and lifted his right foot. The officer bent forward and put the stainless steel shackles around his ankle. Mike heard the distinct sound of the shackles clicking as they tightened. Without being told he lifted his left foot next. Mike knew the routine. After the shackles were placed upon his ankles, Mike began to turn around. He was forcefully pushed back up against the wall.

“Did I tell you to turn your ass around yet?” asked the tall redheaded deputy named Franklin. “Wait till I tell you to fucking move,” he snarled. Mike wanted to turn around and knock that pig’s fucking head off his shoulders while his hands were still free. Instead, he remained as calm as he could and stayed quiet. “Now… turn around.” This officer was obviously on some type of control kick, but Mike kept silent and did as he was told.

The officer put the belly chains around his waist. As he was tightening them, Mike looked him in the eyes and grilled him. He saw the fear in the pig’s eyes. “Don’t fucking look at me like that! You tough? You think you’re fucking tough?” yelled the transport officer into Mike’s face. Mike smirked. He had already seen what he needed to see.

“I got him Frank,” said the short, top heavy black female sergeant, Ms. Lewis. They were already behind schedule and the last thing she needed right now was a damn altercation between her officer and an inmate. She came over and finished putting the belly chains on Mike. Then she hurriedly secured his wrist with the handcuffs that were attached to the chains in the front.

After all the inmates were adequately secured, the sergeant punched in a numeric code in a panel next to the door. The thick steel automatic door that led to the outside world opened. There would usually be other detention center staff outside taking a smoke break but not this morning.

The inmates shuffled down the hallway outside and waited under the breezeway for the doors of the van to be opened. Mike made sure he shuffled a little slower than everybody else so he could be last in line. He took a deep breath of fresh summer air into his lungs as he looked around. It was his first time being outside the stale air of the jail since he had arrived several months back.

Once the doors to the van were finally opened, a metal step stool was placed on the ground in front of the doors. Sergeant Lewis went around and got into the driver’s seat. Officer Franklin instructed the men to fill the van up from the rear, as per procedure. The inmates filed into the van one by one. When it was finally Mike’s turn to get into the van he just stood there with his back to the officer and his head down.

“Something wrong with your fucking legs or you fell asleep?” Franklin asked. “I said…” Before he could finish his statement Mike swung around and viciously elbowed the C.O. in the face. There was a loud crack as his nose broke. Franklin screamed out in pain as he fearfully went for his gun. He managed to get it out of the holster only to have it snatched out of his shaking hands.

Mike knocked the officer in the forehead with the butt of the Glock 9mm, causing a deep gash. He unlocked the safety then aimed it at his face. “Get in the fucking van!” Sgt. Lewis had been watching the whole thing unfold, but she was frozen still with surprise. She had been with the transport unit for years. Nothing like this had ever happened before
. How the hell did the inmate get free?

By the time Sgt. Lewis decided to act, it was too late. Mike had forced the bleeding Franklin into the back of the van with the inmates. Now he was sitting beside her in the front with a loaded gun to her temple. “Drive bitch, drive!” The van’s tires screamed as she pulled off. On the ground, next to where the van had just been was a silver handcuff key.

The sound of the screeching tires had attracted the attention of two deputies who had been at the far end of the parking lot eating Krispy Kreme donuts and drinking coffee as they talked. The deputies looked at how the van pulled out of the parking lot. Something was wrong. One of the deputies got on the radio inside the patrol car. He attempted to contact the van. No answer. Something was
seriously
wrong. They radioed into dispatch. They hopped into their patrol car and sped off, leaving uneaten donuts and spilled coffee all over the ground as they gave pursuit.

CHAPTER 30