Cast the First Stone (7 page)

At the back of the waiting room was a door leading into the courtroom. Somewhere back of that I knew was the hole.

Kish, the big Greek hole attendant, came out from in back somewhere and tried to start a conversation with me. I didn’t feel like talking. He went and stood in the doorway. Then the sergeant they called Donald Duck came in. He asked me what I was waiting for. I told him I wanted to see the deputy. He wanted to know what for. I told him.

“The deputy don’t want to see you,” he said. “You come on with me.” He started back to the coal company with me but before we got there we ran into Warren.

“So you tried to run away?” Warren said.

I didn’t answer.

“I found him over to the hole,” Donald Duck said.

“I’ll take him back there and lock him up.”

“No, let him stand up some more first,” Donald Duck said.

Warren jerked me by the arm. He acted as if he wanted to start something. I let him have his way. Just so long as he didn’t hit me. They took me back to the coal pile and left me standing there while they went into the dormitory.

Mal came by and saw me and wanted to know what was the trouble. When I told him he said, “You ought to go to work, Jimmy. They’ll make it tough for you.”

“They can’t make it any tougher than they’re making it.”

He looked worried. “I wish you’d go on to work, Jimmy. You can’t buck ‘em.” I didn’t answer. “Well, if you won’t do it to stay out of trouble, do it for me, then.”

“Mal, I like you,” I said. “But it’s too late now.” I was feeling very melodramatic. “I might have gone to work this morning when they first brought me out here if they’d let me put on some working clothes. But it’s too late now. I wouldn’t go to work now to save my life.”

“You’ll catch pneumonia.”

“I don’t give a goddamn what I catch.”

“Come on, please, Jimmy.”

“It’s no use talking, Mal. I’m not going to work.”

He looked very worried. Roe saw him and came over and chased him away.

“How you doing, big shot?” Roe said to me. I didn’t answer.

When the men quit work that afternoon to wash up for supper Captain Warren took me to the hole. There were two other convicts from another company, charged with refusing to work. One of them looked very young. He must have been about my age. But he acted sort of simple. He kept giggling and whispering something to the other fellow. When Warren told him to shut up he kept on giggling as if he couldn’t stop. Warren made him get up and move down to the other end of the bench.

The other convict was very fat and greasy. He was about twenty-five or -six. All the time Warren was in there he kept trying to catch my eye and forming words with his lips behind Warren’s back. I couldn’t make out what he was trying to say.

“You wait here,” Warren said, shoving me toward the opposite bench. I frowned. I was getting good and tired of all that shoving. Warren went next door after the deputy. As soon as he’d left, the fat fellow said, “What say, Jimmy?”

“Hello,” I said.

“Don’t you remember me? I’m Benny Glass.”

“Oh, yeah. Hello. What say, bud?”

“I was in the county jail in Springfield with you last year. I guess it was year before last now.”

“Oh yeah, sure.” But I couldn’t remember him.

“Didn’t you get a five-year bench parole for forgery?”

“Yeah.”

“What’d ya do, break it?”

“No, I’m doing twenty years for robbery.”

His mouth came open. “Je-hesus Christ!”

Captain Warren came in with the deputy and we stopped talking. The deputy stood very erect and walked with short, fast steps. He didn’t look at any of us. He walked jerkily and his head bobbed up and down. He kept straight on back to the courtroom.

Kish came in from outside and followed them. There was a grimy old window between the courtroom and the waiting room. I saw the deputy take the middle of the three chairs behind the scarred, flat-topped desk.

Kish stuck his head out of the door and called, “Wilkerson, 102697.” The youth got up and went inside. He wasn’t giggling now. We kept silent, watching the door, trying to hear what was being said. All we could hear was a jumble of voices. Then the voices stopped. Kish stuck his head out the door.

“Glass, 101253.”

When he passed me Glass said, “Jumpy’s in his sins today.” He didn’t come out either. Then Kish called me. I went inside and stood before the desk, leaning forward with the palms of my hands on the desk and my cap stuck in my coat pocket. Kish stood in front of the far door above which was the legend: correction cells.

Warren stood to my right, at the side of the desk. “Take your cap out of your pocket and fold your hands,” he said. The deputy was reading the yellow report card before him on the desk. I folded my arms, holding my cap in my left hand. Old man Warren took it out of my hand and said, “See, he’s got slick already. He’s got a tailor-made cap.” The deputy didn’t look up. I reached for my cap. Warren said, “Oh, no, I’ll keep this.” I felt myself getting tight again.

“‘Refusing to work,’” the deputy read from the card. He looked up at me. “You’re starting pretty soon, pretty soon, pretty soon, Monroe.”

“I gave him every chance,” Warren said. “But he won’t work. I gave him a porter’s job inside, but he quit that…”

“I got fired,” I interrupted. “Old B&O wanted me…”

“Shut up! Shut up!” Warren shouted, drawing back as if to slap me. “Don’t you interrupt me like that.”

I burnt up. I could feel the fire in my eyes and face. My whole body got stiff and wooden.

“I did get fired, goddammit!”

Kish came up behind me and held my arms. Warren slapped me twice in the mouth.

“That’ll do, that’ll do,” the deputy said.

Kish held me for a moment longer to see if I would put up any resistance. I didn’t move. I was saying to myself—so he hit me, he hit me. I’m not going to take that. I’m damned if I take that. Then Kish turned me loose. I still didn’t move.

After a moment I said dully, “All right, all right. You hit me!” I tasted a little blood on my lips.

The deputy looked at the card again. “What’s the matter you can’t work, Monroe? What’s the matter? What’s the matter?” He was very impatient and his eyes were snapping-sharp. I couldn’t meet his gaze.

“I’m not able to,” I said, looking down at the desk.

“What’s the matter? What’s the matter?”

“I’m injured!” I shouted. Then I told him about my back.

“There’s nothing about it on his hospital card,” Warren said.

“I didn’t tell the doctor.”

“We’ll see about it, well see about it,” the deputy said.

“He’s very impertinent, too,” Warren said.

“All right, all right, all right, all right,” the deputy said, beginning to shake all over. “All right, all right, all right. Refusing to work. Put him in the hole. Put him in the hole.” He had a rapid, brittle voice. All the while he talked his head kept bobbing up and down.

“I’m not refusing to work,” I argued. “I’ll do what I can. I’m just not able.”

“We’ll see about it in the morning. Take him back, take him back, take him back!” He was very impatient.

I looked around at Warren. “You hit me,” I said, biting my lips. I was going back to the hole anyway. I just may as well bust him one, I thought. I kept biting my lips, trying to get up enough nerve to sock him one. But it wouldn’t come.

“Watch out, watch out, watch out he doesn’t hit you again,” the deputy said.

Kish took me by the arm and pushed me through the back door into a small dressing room. There was a bunk against the concrete wall, where he slept. He handed me a pair of overalls and told me to undress. The other two fellows were sitting on the bench waiting for me. They’d already put on their overalls. I stripped naked and put on mine. I could hear Warren still talking to the deputy. But I couldn’t make out what he was saying.

“The dirty son of a bitch,” I muttered.

“He hit you?” Glass asked. I nodded. “Wipe that blood off your lips,” he said. I wiped the back of my hand across my mouth. My lips were swelling. The other fellow giggled. He was a little simple-minded.

Across the room was a heavy barred door. Behind that was a door of solid steel. Kish opened both doors and motioned us to enter. We walked forward into the hole. It was completely black inside. Kish snapped on the lights.

Inside there was a miniature cell block made of solid steel. It sat in the center of the floor. The cells, six on each side, faced outwards toward the thick, windowless walls. It was very cold and damp. My teeth began to chatter immediately. I felt my hands getting numb.

“Put us all together,” Glass asked Kish.

“You all want to cell together?” Kish asked.

“I want to cell with him,” Wilkerson said, pointing to Glass. I didn’t answer.

Kish put the three of us in the last cell, down on the North side. He locked the cell door. There was a steel strait jacket built to the inside of the door. We listened to Kish’s footsteps on the concrete floor. Then we heard the outer doors being locked. The lights were turned out. It was so dark we couldn’t see one another’s eyes.

“What you punks in for?” The voice sounded as if it came from the other side. It had a muffled note. We didn’t answer. I could hear myself breathe.

“Who’s a punk?” Glass shouted. It came so unexpectedly I jumped.

“Aw, I didn’t mean no harm, buddy.” It was the laconic, indifferent voice of an old-timer. “You know I didn’t mean no harm. Got a cigarette?”

For a time none of us replied. Finally Glass said, “No.”

“Got a cigarette paper?”

“No.”

“Got a match?”

“No. We haven’t got a thing, buddy.”

“Go to hell then you goddamn punk. You stinking schmo. You fat gunsel.” The voice was still laconic, indifferent, unraised. I felt like laughing.

“Aw, shut up, you screwball,” Glass said. “You’re stir-simple.”

“Your mother’s a screwball. Your sister is stir-simple.”

This time none of us replied. For a long time it was silent in the hole. “Ain’t you even got a butt?”

“Kiss something, rat!” Glass yelled. I wondered why he sounded so vehement.

“Aw, shut up, you fat louse. I bet that’s you doing all the talking. I’ll catch you out there when I empty my bucket tomorrow morning and kick your ass out your nose.”

Glass got agitated. “I’ll meet you!” he shouted, jumping around. “I’ll fight you! I’m not scared of you!”

He stepped on my foot and I said, “Goddammit, wait and fight him in the morning.”

The voice didn’t say anything else so he sat down. There was a slab of steel projecting from the back wall for a bed. It was very cold and the cold came quickly up through my overalls. Glass said there were some blankets in the cell. We felt around on the bench and on the floor without finding them. Then we got down on our hands and knees and groped around on the floor. I knocked into something that rattled. I jumped back as if I’d touched a rattlesnake and knocked into Glass.

“What the hell’s that?” I asked, shakily.

“That’s your bucket,” Glass said.

“Bucket? Water bucket?”

Glass laughed. The other fellow giggled. I began smelling the stink. I’d knocked the top off. I fumbled around and found it and put it back on. “We all use the same bucket?” I asked.

“Sure.”

“Don’t they ever wash it out?”

“Sure, one of us will have to wash it out in the morning.”

“I hope it ain’t me,” I said.

Finally Glass found the blankets stuffed back into a corner. “Here they are,” he said.

There were two pieces which must have been one blanket torn in half and another piece, no larger than a face towel. They felt very grimy to touch. We sat on the bench and wrapped up in them as best we could. Glass took the smallest piece. He said he would sit in the middle and we could sit close to him and keep warm.

“Damn right,” I laughed. “Hot as you are.” After awhile we began to warm each other.

“Twenty years. Jesus Christ. You must have stuck up a bank, Jimmy,” Glass commented.

“No, just some people.”

“Fat Funky fink!” the voice yelled from the other side. “I bet you got a fat mama.”

“Dirty screwball,” Glass muttered to himself. “Aw, let him alone,” I said. We were silent for awhile. “I’m cold,” I said.

Wilkerson hadn’t said anything at all. “I’m hot,” Glass said. “I’ll put my arm around you and that’ll keep you warm.”

I had my half-a-blanket wrapped about my shoulders but it wasn’t long enough to cover up my front. I held it together at my throat. “Never mind,” I said. “I’ll get warm in a minute.”

Then Wilkerson said, “Put your arm around me, Ben.” After a time the bedbugs began to bite. I didn’t know bedbugs could live in that much cold but they certainly worked on me. They bit me all over. I began scratching and moving about. The bench began to hurt the end of my spine. I was cold and itching and thoroughly miserable.

“I want a fire!” the voice yelled from the other side. It sounded hollow and metallic as if the fellow was standing at the back of his cell. “I want something to eat!”

After a time I heard the sticks banging outside. I could just barely hear them. “Damn!” I whispered. It was just bedtime.

I tried to go to sleep. I said to myself if I sit in one position and keep my eyes closed I’ll go to sleep. I’m tired, I’ll go to sleep. I’m tired, I’ll go to sleep. I’m tired, I’ll go to sleep…I sat perfectly still. A bedbug bit me. Something crawled over my bare leg. My neck and throat and legs itched intolerably. I itched all over. And then a trickle of pain crept into my body. It began at the base of my spine. It flowed down my legs, up my back. I’ll be asleep in a minute, I said. And then it came in a rush. The pain and the itching and the biting and the cold. “Goddamn, goddamn, goddamn,” I sobbed. “Take it easy, Jimmy,” Glass said. “I’ll take it easy,” I said.

“We’re lucky they didn’t put us in strait jackets,” he said.

I heard the distant scream of a locomotive whistle. I could imagine the long line of coaches, gliding through the night, with its chain of yellow-lighted windows filled with people, going somewhere, going anywhere.

“Damned if I’m lucky,” I said.

That was the longest night I spent in prison. In the morning the deputy asked me if I was ready to go back to work. I said, “Yes, sir.” He sent me back to the coal company. Warren gave me a job sweeping off the wheelbarrow tracks. It was an easy job.