(The Last Day and One Red Checker)
Throughout Saturday, the four had been using Max almost continuously. His plan had been successful late on Saturday night. Mark and Daniel had gotten a bit rowdy. Khan had stepped in, and Jack Nelson had fallen into his camp. Things were still wrong, but how could they not be? Max believed it was okay if the four were at odds.
It was midmorning Sunday, and the house smelled of stale beer. They had woken up, gone through their redneck rituals, and administered hangover cures. The Cracker Barrel Redneck Breakfast Special included cold pizza and beer. Max did not like to think of others this way, but Daniel and William often referred to him as trash as they sat there eating cheap cold pizza and drinking beer early in the morning.
They had spent the whole weekend taking advantage of someone that was in neither the place nor had the temperament to do a damn thing about it. One thing was for sure. Come sometime in the future, as in later today. Max Stapleton would remember Daniel Williams and, most significantly, Mark Wright. The day would come today. Even against all his personality against such, he would be ruthless to them.
They had just a few hours yet before Warden Stapleton was due to pick up their prison bitch. So, with Daniel and Mark pushing, it was time to have more last remembrance drawings from the bag with the one red checker. He stood in the corner naked and eyed Mark and Daniel carefully.
During his time at the Stanton Home, he had gleaned more about the world's workings than all these young men would ever know. He knew who would get the red checker before they drew this time. He thought to himself about this person. Live it up now. Enjoy it one last time. Things like this were subject to drastic change. That was something to look forward to, that he would do.
Daniel drew first, too dumb to realize that the more checkers in the bag, the lower his chances of drawing the red one. His was black. Jack Nelson was like Khan and could no longer stare him in the eyes. He was up, and he drew a black one. He looked disappointed, Max thought. Get used to it, as disappointment is a part of life.
Now, it was time to see if what he had learned thus far since his life had gone sideways on him was true. The person who was bound to draw that red checker was up. Mark Wright, his good friend from school, had his hand in the bag, fishing around for one.
He pulled it out in his hand and revealed what he had. Life was nothing but a complete and total bitch. Of course, he had the red checker. It was the way things worked.
He looked at the prison bitch with perhaps the smuggest look on his face Max had ever seen. Max held eye contact with him, careful not to show aggression. Deep in his eyes, a fire burned, akin to a feeling of hatred. The difference between their prison bitch and most of these people, he hated himself for it.
Mark said, “Oh boy, I am going to enjoy this. I did not think I was ever going to draw this damn thing.”
He walked over to Max, smirking, took him by the arm, and began leading him upstairs. He had known Max for a significant portion of their lives. Undoubtedly, he could pummel Mark into oblivion if he wanted to. He also knew it was not in Max to be that way. He was a gentle person who never even raised his voice to another.
As Daniel Williams had done the other night, he stopped by the office and got some solid cords for restraints. It was better to be safe than sorry, and he was getting hard as he selected the ones he wanted.
He led Max down to one of the bedrooms at the end of the hall. When he entered, he began to take his shoes off as he removed the rest of his clothing.
He looked at Mark and said sarcastically, “I would tell you to take your clothes off, but I guess there is not much need for that.”
Once he had his clothes off, he told their prison bitch, to go and get on his knees at about the center of the bed. Then, he held his arms straight out. He held his arms out to the side and pointed at the front two corner posts of the bed.
Max did as he was told to. He had to endure these last few hours, which would be over. This person who had caused Max so much misery could not see him smile. Mark walked over to his right arm and firmly looped and tied a cord around that wrist. He then secured it tightly to the corner post to which arm was closest.
He then walked over to the other side and did the same thing. He double-checked and made sure the prison bitch was nice and secure. Now he climbed over him and moved down to where his dick was directly in front of the bitch’s face.
He was mainly hard now and started smacking Max in the face with his cock. As he slowly did so, he grinned down at him.
“Max, you could be a bit upset with me. There would be no reason to, as what happened was caused by simple bad judgment.”
Max looked at him and said, “That bad judgment cost a man his life, and you didn’t have to stick it all on me. I was not even driving and even asked you to slow down.”
Mark continued to slap his face with his hardening cock.
He said, “Who cares about that man? He was an old homeless bum. That should have been in a shelter, not an alley at night.”
Mark said quietly, “I cared about that man, even though I didn’t know him. You forget we had a liberal amount of alcohol plus your fast driving. It didn’t have to happen, and you and Phillip lied to cover yourselves at my expense.”
Mark continued to slap him in the face with his cock and was enjoying it.
He said down to prison bitch, “You must admit, I still have my freedom and good name, get to fuck when and who I want when I want. As brilliant as you were, I would guess you have spent most of your time being passed around to different people. In the end, it means nothing, and you are the one that went to prison.”
Mark was uncharacteristically angry, “It does because I still have my soul, have made real friends, and have become a better person.”
Mark stopped what he was doing, “I have heard enough of your mouth. Open it so you can do what you are good at and suck my cock.”
Life had put Max on the street. He rarely disobeyed anyone, but he would not open his mouth for the benefit of whatever he was.
Mark said, “Really, it makes little difference.” He climbed back over Max.
He went over to the table, got out another tube of lube, and got on his knees behind Max. He lubed himself up and began to push into him roughly.
He said, “If you start making a bunch of noise, I will just take my underwear and stuff them into your mouth.”
He had finally managed to push up inside of their prison bitch. He started to thrust into him hard, and it rocked Max’s whole body.
“See, that feels good to me, prison bitch. I could have been civil and not fucked you so hard. If you won’t suck my dick, though, that is the price.”
On his knees and tied, Max stared straight at the wall and took what Mark was dishing. He never gave him the satisfaction of grunting at the pain. His sensitive prostate was trying to betray him, but he pushed hard back against that. Whenever Mark shoved into him, he thought there would be a time. On that day, Mark, I will be the last man you want to see on earth. Yet they will come for you first. Put that in a safety deposit box.
Mark shoved up deep inside him and began busting his nut.
He told Max, “This is just a little going-away present from me as you go back to prison.”
He finished, got up, and entered the bathroom connected to this bedroom. He returned, put his clothing back on, and left Max tied to the bed. About five minutes later, Khan came into the room and untied him. He talked to him and said several things, but Max did not reply.
Khan said nervously, “Look, man, we need to get you showered and back in your uniform. Warden Stanton will be here soon to get you. Are you okay?”
Max stood up and followed him to the shower, “I am fine, I am looking forward to returning. Thanks for the times you were nice to me. I won’t forget.”
As Max took the shower, Khan said, “I won’t forget you being nice to me either. Are you sure you’re okay? You have a strange look on your face.”
Mark said, “I am just tired.”
He had been out of the shower for over half an hour, and Warden Stanton arrived. He left without parting words and entered the Warden’s grotesquely red Cadillac.
The Warden got it, backed onto the highway, and sped away.
Stanton said, “Glad you are back, Mr. Stapleton. I am sure Mr. Koufax, and his crew will be equally glad to see you.”
Max said, “I am sure they will as well.”
They rode the rest of the way in silence, and before them was the dreary Stanton Home. Upon seeing whose car it was, the Warden went through a checkpoint, and once again, the guards looked away.
They went through the administrative wing, and Warden Stanton told him he needed to return to the accounting schedule tomorrow. He should return to his cell and take the rest of the day easy. Max walked up slowly, and he was a bit sore. He slowly went up to the H floor, went down, and entered his cell with his bag.
His master, lying on the bottom bunk in shorts and socks with his feet crossed, was reading The Alvin Maker Series by Orson Scott Card.
His slave came in and quietly put his stuff away. The Master just observed him. Once it was put away, he sat silently at the work desk. As he was apt to do, Max didn’t hear the big man come up silently behind him. He just now had a pair of big, strong hands gently on his shoulders.
Richard said, “We may need Sherlock Holmes this time. I have never seen you look quite like that before.”
Max said, “It will be very unlike me. The time has come, and I am going to bowl them all fucking down. Will you and the guys help?”
His Master tightened his hands and said, “Nothing can stop us. Those who try will find out what a mistake that is. How do we get past fuck-stick, the Warden?”
Mark said quietly, “My sense of honor, I will not break. That man has used it against me repeatedly. So, he is always very exact in getting my word, knowing I will honor it. The warden is like any man and overlooks things. In his deadly position, I have always given my word. I would not use this or that against him. Yet, I ran the show when you get sick with Influenza A. He failed to do so. I can knock him off his castle gate with all that.”
His Master began to rub his shoulders slowly, which was what Max was used to.
His Master said, “Well, dear, that idiot has been playing an elaborate game of checkers against a Grand Chess Champion.”
His slave said, “Good analogy.”
His Master asked, “So what is the plan?”
His slave said, “The Warden has used me. Now, it’s my turn to use him, and we are all going home a bit earlier than the State of Illinois planned. I am going to tear this place down, and the only one that will be in under it is that motherfucker.”
His Master asked, “Over the weekend, what happened to you?”
Mark was honest and told him, and the more he talked, the angrier the big man got.
His Master said, “Is that so? I wonder if this Mark has a prison gang kicking his tires. You sure will. We are not to be tangled with in here or when we get out there.”
His slave looked at him and said, “Will you go with me while I make the first move? We still need the Warden, but it’s about to get nasty. Also, use your cell phone and report what I just told you to the FBI. They need to get here quick to take DNA and forensics while the shithead that put me here’s cum is still up in my ass. DNA doesn’t lie, and to boot, we get to take out a tyrannical homophobe, and it will weaken the Warden.”
Mark called the local FBI field office and told them what had happened.
Mark added, “We will need people to watch Rahman and ensure a proper chain of custody handover of evidence. His Master was on the phone for about fifteen minutes. He had to repeat some stuff twice and assured them plenty of witnesses. The icing on the cake is when he gave the victim’s name and then ran it. It was a college National Honor Roll Student from a good family. He was instructed to get him over to medical immediately. Field agents were coming.
He got Max, and they went out on the walk. He yelled for Clyde Owens and Johnny Eubanks. They appeared out of nowhere, and the big three men went with him to medical.
His slave told him quietly, “You can come into the exam room with me. Just have the mod squad watch the doctor closely after he takes his sample. Like a hawk, we can’t let this get by. We must make it work, no do-overs.”
Richard had him by the arm, looking concerned. “Oh, it’s going to work. It takes great courage to do what you are doing right now. You might be the bravest man I know.”
As they approached medical, his slave told him, “I am going to play the victim for a while, so it may not seem like it. We must be deceptive with Warden Stanton, but he must be the last to fall.”
They entered medical, and Big Richard moved everyone out of the way, waiting to be processed. The nurse on duty was Marjorie Taylor Jones, a lovely lady surprised by the commotion.
She was a heavy-set lady. She got up and said, “Richard, Maxwell, what’s going on?”
The Master said, “We have an emergency, and we need Rahman immediately and at least one other attending doctor to be present.”
She asked, “What has happened, Richard?”
He replied, “Nurse Jones, it is sensitive, and time is of the essence. Mark needs immediate attention.”
She said, “Of course, let me call and gather Doctors Rahman and Rigby.”
She came around and took Max, who was with Richard, into an exam room. The big man stayed right behind him. Clyde Owens and Eubanks waited in the waiting room for the time being.
It did not take long for Dr. Rahman's friendly face and a short, petite woman with wavy blond hair to enter the exam room. If Max had turned that way, he would have found her attractive, and she would have had a look of concern on her face.
Dr. Rahman said, “Maxwell Stapleton, I understand there are problems of some kind. Can you tell me the nature of the problem?”
Max looked at his Master and Doctor Rahman and said, “This is hard to say, so I will. You will need a rape examination kit and to take forensic samples from my body. I was held in a house over the weekend, and one individual hurt me badly. I know from what I have read that anal swabs can usually recover semen in about six hours after it happens. It has been nearly three hours and forty- five minutes. I trust you; I would ask you to notify the State Police, and the FBI already has agents en route.”
The woman said, “I am Doctor Marsha Rigby. Oh, Lord, we want to move as quickly as we can. Don’t worry about the particulars now; let us get you examined if this gentleman steps outside.”
Max said, “No, I would prefer him to stay. He is my cellmate and has seen it all before. I am scared, and his presence is a comfort.”
Dr. Rigby yelled, “Nurse Jones, we need you here immediately.”
They had gotten Max on an exam table and had several kits assembled. Rapes at a penal facility of any kind were not unusual, but this young man was saying he had been taken off the grounds for this. That was of the highest importance and against the law. These Doctors were good people and had protocols to follow.”
Dr. Rigby gloved up, and as Dr. Rahman undressed Max Stapleton, she began taking closed-taped samples off his skin. People could try any tricks they liked and hire the best attorney’s money would buy. DNA evidence had become unbeatable in court because of its spot-on accuracy. They got Max on his stomach, and Dr Rahman gloved up and looked at how red his anus was; there were abrasions. It was sure the young man was not lying.
He asked Mark, “Have you taken a Xanax today?”
Mas answered, “No, Dr. Rahman.”
Rahman thought what a terrible thing to happen to such a lovely young man.
He said, “I am going to give you an injection. It is one milligram of Ativan, which will help you relax. I must get some pictures of this and do some swabs. I want to do the swabs first, as that is time-sensitive. Are you in any pain? If so, please rate it on a scale of 1-10 for me?”
Mart said, “Yes, Doctor, I am in pain; it is about a six or seven.”
Dr. Rigby asked, “Are you allergic to any pain medications?”
Mark answered, “Not that I am aware of.”
She drew a syringe, “I am going to give you a medium dosage of morphine. It will alleviate the pain, but the benzodiazepine you were given will make you sleepy. It will also help you to be calm as you are safe now. The nurse called the State Police en route, and I am sure the FBI would waste no time. You will feel a little stuck, Max. It may sting, but you will be fine.”
Richard observed them take care of his slave. His back end looked rough. The Mark responsible for that would wish he were in another solar system. He was glad he was in capable hands. The Warden had influence, but not enough to stop the FBI. There was a standing President of the United States that got busted for shooting cum on a dress. Warden Stanton was not anywhere near that much of a heavyweight.
Dr. Rahman obtained several swabs with plenty of evidence. As he recovered each one, he sealed it well in a container and labeled it. He knew some things happened below the board. This was too much, not right, and his medical license was on the line. If what this young man was alleging was true, those tapes and swabs off his skin would lead the authorities directly to the guilty party. May the bastards who would do something like this burn.
In a moment, there was a knock on the door. They pulled a curtain around to protect the dignity of their young patient. Then, they were joined by a brunette who introduced herself as Doctor Phyllis Troy, Federal Bureau of Investigation. She came in and smiled at the groggy Max and told him who she was. She joined them in doing the young man's forensic and medical workup.
The door opened, and Warden Stanton started to come into the room.
He said, “My God, I just heard. Is he okay?”
Agent Troy looked in his direction severely, “Sir, we are providing medical care and collecting forensic evidence. I am Special Agent Troy with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. You need to leave this room immediately she stepped in his direction.
Warden Stanton shook his head and withdrew as she went back to work. They had Mark finally attended to put a hospital gown on him and covered him in a blanket. He was nodding in and out of the effects of the medications.
Agent Troy came over to Richard Koufax boldly. His physical size meant little to her.
She looked straight at him, “You would be?”
He was respectful, “My name is Richard Koufax, Ma’am; I am his cellmate.”
She was direct, “Mr. Koufax, has this young man been in your presence in your cell?”
“Ma’am, he came in about forty-five minutes ago. He was gone from early Friday afternoon till then. We have cameras everywhere, so it will not be hard to see.”
Four hours later, Federal Marshalls arrived to take the evidence, and proper chain of custody orders were signed on everything. Special Agent Troy was senior on the scene and had informed the state authorities their assistance would be useless here. This was an incarcerated prisoner who had all the signs of having been raped. Who was alleging it had not occurred in this facility. The FBI would take this case, and several more of her team began to show up.
Her partner was a big bald guy named Flemmings. Mark had come around some, so they were about to interview him. Some of her team members showed up with federal warrants and seized copies of all the tapes from the floor and several other places in the facility. This was rape, mishandling an incarcerated prisoner, and civil rights violation; this was major. The FBI did not like this and had no sense of humor about it.
They had Mark in a conference room covered in a blanket. He had a fresh cup of hot chocolate and was sipping it. They had a psychologist named Dr. Margaret Aikens, who was a bureau specialist on trauma and prison violence.
Agent Troy asked the other two, “Are you guys ready? I could see in this one’s eyes that what he told us would be gold.”
Agent Flemming said, “These cases are hard. I have always known this place was rotten as hell.”
Dr. Aikens said, “Let’s do it. He will feel better if we can get him to talk. It's not your first rodeo, guys. He will be traumatized, so be easy.”
They opened, went in, and all sat down on Max's other side of the table.
Agent Troy smiled. “Mark, this is my partner Stanley Flemming, and the woman on the end is a Bureau psychologist. She is here to help minimize the trauma. You have been through quite an ordeal, and there will be Hell to pay.”
She laid something that looked like a cell phone on the desk.
She asked, “Is it okay if we record this? Also, we can get you a lawyer, not for your legal jeopardy. You are alleging some severe rights violations and Federal Crimes. “
He shook his head. Now, he would have to skirt the edge of his honor policy. He would get over it if that were what it took to stop this place. He did not have to lie, as Mark had done all the work for him.
She turned it on and said, “This is Special Agent Phyllis Troy, with partner Agent Flemming and bureau specialist Dr. Margaret Aikens, interviewing Mark Stapleton. At the Stanton Corrections home, she then said the date and time.”
She looked at him with sympathy and said, “I am sorry about all the formal junk. This is a touchy situation, so we must cross all the t’s and dot all the I’s.”
Mark said, “I understand Agent Troy.”
She said, “I read your file, National Honor Student that tests in the top 1%. That’s impressive. I worked hard in school and could only reach the top 5%.”
Flemming said, “Hell, I was close to the bottom last 5%.”
Dr. Aikens was observing the young man for now.
This was going to take some time to get through. Aikens had good instincts; there was something here, and this one would open it for them.
