The job that cut short my time with the undead couple? I got there on time, and began my duties as assigned, only to be pulled aside and get fired for it. The authorities were pleased that I had the least number of attempted prisoner escapes, the least number of successful prisoner escape attempts (these two numbers were the same), and the least number of guard-prisoner altercations.
They were not happy about how I accomplished this.
On Day One, I approached the prisoners and declared, “Buck me, I’ll break you. Respect me, I’ll respect you. I don’t care what goes on in your heads or between yourselves. Don’t give me a reason to cleave your ass in two, and there will be no grudges between us.”. That day, I sent five prisoners to the infirmary.
On Day Two, I sent three more.
On Day Three, the self-appointed block captain stopped two others and beat the shit out of them for me. I never said anything, but continued my patrol.
On Day Four, the block captain greeted me. I returned his greeting.
On Day Five, the block captain and several of the prisoners were lined up in the yard for daily inspection and greeted me.
On the two days that I was off, there was an attempted riot.
On the first day back from my break, I personally beat the shit out of those that led the riots, but not enough to send them to the infirmary. I didn’t want my superiors to officially know. I did so away from the cameras, inside the cell block, and alone.
A hundred hardened prisoners knelt in a circle around me. “Respect me, and I’ll respect you. I don’t give a flying fuck why any of you are in here. I don’t care if you are guilty or innocent. I care about leaving here intact, and I will do what ever the fuck I have to, to ensure that I do. Y’all giving me shit for being a guard. My fellow guards give me shit for being a bitch. Very well then, I will be the meanest emasculating bitch of a motherfucker to ever crawl out of hell, and if anyone decides to send me back, I’ll make sure they clear the way personally. Understand?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Do. Not. Give. Me. A. Reason. To. Step. Back. In. Here. Y’all ain’t animals. Police your damn selves, and no one gets hurt. If I have to step in here one more time, I’m taking someone’s balls with me when I leave. Understand?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
I left the block. My fellow guards knew where I was but never checked on me. They were assuming the worst and planning which of their chums were going to replace me. To see me emerging with only a ripped uniform started the rumor train, but that too, never left a mark.
The next day a fire was set in the block. I entered with a fire extinguisher. The fire was put out. I left with an expended fire extinguisher in one hand, and a bloody lump of flesh in the other. “Inmate C75 should be seen by a doctor.” I placed the dripping filled scrotum in the trash. “He has caused injury to himself in a fit of madness. Can’t imagine how that happened.”
From that day on, there were no further altercations between me and the prisoners. They policed themselves. Quarrels were settled. A bartering system distributed goods. Incoming prisoners were quickly educated by the block. All was well.
So why was I fired? The inmates were interviewed by my superiors, and it was decided that they felt too nicely about me. They did not fear me, and felt I was not a threatening force to them. Never mind why they felt that way, never mind what I had to do to get to that point. As a guard, I was too lenient, and was blinded by false sympathy.
I was fired the day I saw the undead couple again.
I turned in my badge, yelled my farewells to the inmates that were vigorously protesting my departure, and walked out to the sound of multiple fire alarms.
I made my way to where the couple was fishing and told them what happened. They told me to spend the day with them. It was peaceful at the river. Quiet. She still made textiles. He still fished for the two of them. Silent.
What broke the silence, I am deciding if to write publicly of it. I have a new job, it seems. But of what, I just don’t entirely know yet. Only that it is a direct consequence of being Esse’s Bitch.