Abuse of Chikara (book 1) Read online

  “Hey, why don't you relax, come on in and smoke some weed with me and my girl here?”

  “Young man, the body is the temple of the lord and I'd sooner die than defile it with that skunk weed that you smoke.”

  With that Psycho slams the door in his face and goes back to watching TV and enjoying his weed.

  A group of officers are sitting around at a sports bar watching a news cast about changes the new superintendant has put in place. Bill can’t believe this shit is going down. That punk opened the case again and had them check the camera film. It looks like half of the force are facing civil law suits, not to mention prison time. This Dudley Do-Right looking mother fucker has the feds investigating drug narcotic units for shaking down drug dealers. They just busted Guy, John and Clark for shaking down federal agents they thought were gang- bangers. He's talking about having people being pulled in for random drugs and steroid tests. We got at least a dozen guys on suspension right now.

  “We got to do something about this guy, I'm scared to take a fucking bribe right now.”

  Bill sits back and considers the scene here. A good leader uses peoples ‘emotions, fears, wants and desires to get them to do what he or she wanted. Hell, George Bush had sold the public on a war that was against their best interest. Certainly, he could harness the raw energy of some pissed off officers unused to being disciplined and not allowed to run amok.

  “All right, listen up you cry babies; this is the sarge talking! We stay cool and don't give this guy any ammunition to use against us. We play it by the book and don't expect any help from any of the white shirts. This guy has already demoted any of them them who wouldn't play ball his way, and he has the full support of the mayor. I have an idea on how to deal with him, but need you guys to knock off any extracurricular activates for the next few weeks.”

  Begrudgingly everyone agreed to play it cool until Bill came up with a plan. Good, they still believed in him and looked to him as their true leader and not the new superintendant. One thing that did bother him was Alfonso's lack of participation here. He had not been taking part in any of the after work activities of his fellow officers in the last week or so. He was forming a plan to deal with Dudley Do-Right, but needed to know that he could count on every officer on the force to ride with him if need be. He couldn't tolerate a sheep in wolf’s clothing who'd squeal like a pig if the superintendant blew his house down. It was time to arrange that test, and if Alfonso failed he’d have Red arrange that funeral instead. He made a quick call and gives Dirty Red a code word that means he should give Alfonso the test. They had their own little codes that meant nothing to anyone else. Even with phone records, any investigation would not be able to prove he had ordered anyone to be killed. He hoped Alfonso passed the test as he felt the young man would make a useful subordinate to help him achieve his goals of course.

  Red, Psycho and Alfonso were driving down Lake and Cicero by the old Brach's abandoned candy factory. Red spots two prostitutes whose services he frequents often. One is an African American girl and the other a Caucasian. Both are 19 to 20 years old and buxom. Red pulls up close to the curb and has Alfonso roll down the passenger side window.

  “You ladies looking for work today?”

  “Any time for you honey.”

  “Good, let me get the gate to this factory open and we can all party.” Red has pretty much every key to this factory, amazing what money, drugs and material goods can get you in today’s world. Entering the east gate, they enter the factory itself and prepare to get down to business. “All right ladies, I got something special planned for today’s festivities. “You two sweet young things stand by the wall on the north side over there.” With that, he takes his 38 revolver and shoots the redhead white girl dead in the forehead, killing her instantly. “Listen up Alfonso, I want you to take this gun and shoot that black chick in the head right now man!”

  “Are you fucking crazy, dude? Why in the hell are we going to kill these broads for no reason?”

  “Don't act so innocent man, we've killed people before.”

  “Not like this Red, those guys are usually thugs, rapist or ex-cons.”

  “Look Alfonso, everybody gets a test at some point to see if they can be trusted, okay. You're way past due as far as I'm concerned; and Bill has some doubts about you. Now take this gun and shoot that broad now.”

  Alfonso takes the gun, hesitates and wishes he hadn't given Red his gun earlier. He didn't have a problem beating up and even killing people he felt deserved it, but he wasn't with doing something like this.

  I am sorry man, but I refuse to do shit like this, Psycho! Shoot, this fucking Dudley do right motherfucker! With that Alfonso no longer walks this world of men.

  “Too bad white boy, you had potential; you could have been one of my best pupils. Psycho, I'm sick of that bitch screaming, please shoot her.” Red loved this factory; it really muffled gunfire very well, and if you waited for a train to go by no one would hear a thing. Incredible how well CTA trains muffled out weaker noises like gun shots. “Okay, go outside and get that serial killer we got locked up in the trunk and bring him here.” They had caught and arrested a local serial killer that had a habit of shooting prostitutes in the head after raping them, and then dumping their bodies in the local river. He'd confessed to the location of the body after Red had worked him over a few days. “Okay, we’re going to blame Alfonso's death on this serial killer. We saw some guy walking around the factory and went in to investigate. We split up and heard shots, only to find Alfonso dead, and we shot this guy. Take these bodies and dump them with the other ones in the river. We'll blame their deaths on the serial killer also. Nobody knows where the bodies are, so time of death won't be a problem. Seems like a shame that we didn't get to fuck them first Red. Okay, Psycho, you've been a good boy today. You can fuck their dead bodies before you dump them in the river with the rest. Take the other car we got parked on the other side of the factory. The one with the GPS disabled.”

  Psycho loads up the bodies and heads off to dump them in the local river. Red knew Psycho would in fact have sex with the bodies before dumping them. It's not like this would be the first time. Well, this job was almost done all he had to do was radio it in and do the paperwork, drugs, money or ass would easily erase any questions asked about what really went on here. Tomorrow he'd start working on that other problem for Bill.

  Nick the producer is laying in his cell thinking about his current situation. Prison life hadn’t really been all that bad to be honest. Many of the Hispanic and African American thugs knew about him and his underground films now. His connections to the Mexican Mafia meant that he had some level of protection here. Prison had certain rules one had to follow and observe to survive. One you really needed to have was some connections with a group to survive in here. Unless you were Steven Seagal, Bruce Lee or Rambo, you weren’t going to make it too long in here by yourself. Those who didn’t have any back up were fresh meat and would soon become somebody’s bitch. The second rule was to never appear weak or allow anyone to intimidate you. New prisoners always got tested. Nick was no exception to the rule. He’d knocked out some pumped up white boy the first day in the joint and given that fool a concussion. He wasn’t going to give JetLi or Bruce Lee a run for their money, but he did work out and was a pretty good boxer. He actually had enough skill to fight pro if he had wanted to. Rule three, don’t fuck with the prison guards if you could avoid it. Going too far could lead to a beat down Rodney King style. They could also lead to them setting you up with a cell mate who was a well-known rapist or being left some place alone with known enemies or a trip to solitary confinement. If you really gave them a problem there were nastier situations they could dream up. He hadn’t found prison life to be as mentally or physically debilitating as some found it to be. Nick was a strong-minded person and maybe, just maybe, he was well-suited for this environment. They let him have paper and a pen, so he could still write his screenplays in here. He’d actually improved h
is writing skill in his opinion. The only thing he had to do in here was workout, write and read. He’d actually improved his knowledge on a number of subjects by reading the books in the prison library. The funny thing is an American prison actually had a better quality of living than some Third World nations. Hell, he’d rather be in prison in an American prison than living in the slums of Brazil any day. The only real drawback had been his inability to shoot his films in prison.

  He had made the major mistake of thinking the gangs in Chicago were the same as the ones in Mexico. In Mexico, they didn’t tell the police anything no matter what. Loose lips didn’t sink ships in Mexico unless they wanted themselves, their relatives and friends killed. No such luck with the gangster apostles he had hired. One of them had ratted him out to cut a deal on his own crimes. He did have a lot of fun shooting his films in Chicago, though. He had gotten some great shots of Sears Tower.The Bean and different buildings downtown. His film had been about two African American boys abandoned by their parents, growing up on the streets and raised by gangbangers..These real-life gangbangers had proven to be a valuable source of information for his films, offering all sorts of feedback on the storyline. They had no problems acting out the murders, rapes and home invasion in his films as many of the “actors” had been doing these things long before they met him. They even had a signature look that had played well on film. The thugs would poke holes in sweaters; turn them around when it was time for action.

  It had been a good run making his films, but now it was time to go eat lunch. Nick could eat with pretty much any one at any table. He was something of a celebrity in here. He was cool with all the different races of people in here. It was kind of unfortunate that he couldn’t walk around unnoticed because of the publicity in the paper and the news. Strange how he had a much larger following now. People paid good money to purchase his films. He even had some film producers asking him to write scripts under a false pen name of course. Not to mention all the pussy he had gotten in prison. Yep, he had banged at least four black female prison guards. He had always been good at sweet-talking women of any race, and these woman were no different. Women loved powerful men and it did not matter if you were a rich businessman or a thug drug dealer. Good or bad. Powerful men were exciting and excited them. The mere mention of his name got woman hot and ready to come out of their clothing. He had gotten so much tail in prison that he had started turning it down. It was unfortunate that he had gotten at least two of them pregnant. Guess they would have to get with some simple motherfuckers and pass it off as theirs.

  Miguel was waving for him to come over to his table and eat with him. “Hey Nick, got an amazing offer for you man.” Beckoning for him to come closer Miguel starts whispering in his ear. “I know a guy who wants to get you out of here. He’s a big fan of your films and wants to see your work continue.”

  “Hell yeah, I’m all for it.”

  “There is one catch, this person wants to pick the target of your next film.”

  “Look, if you can get me out of here to shoot again, I’m all for it.”

  “This guy’s going to get you transferred to another prison, but en route you’re going to escape. I’ll go over the details with you later, so be ready.”

  A chance to shoot his films again was an opportunity he couldn’t pass up. Rumor was that Miguel had contacts with the police, politicians, gangs, and just about most of the major players in Chicago. Nick didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, but one thing had been bothering him was about all these rumors he kept hearing about Miguel having so much pull.

  “Hey Miguel, I’ve been wondering about something?”

  “Go ahead and shoot amigo.”

  “If you have so much pull, then why are you still in prison?”

  Miguel smiles a big toothy grin and rubs his face before answering.

  “I like being in prison, it’s where all my homies are at. Not to mention, I can sell drugs here and smuggle in illegal shit just like I did back on the streets. The fucking prison guards are easier to bribe than the cops. Lastly, it’s fucking fun in here, what’s better than whipping the shit out of white boys, opening those cheeks up with a broom stick and fucking them.”

  “I’m sorry I asked now Miguel.”

  “Hey, you asked amigo, but forget that and just concentrate on being ready.”

  With that Miguel walks off to talk to some of the prison guards and Nick sits back down to finish eating. Might as well get his strength up for whatever comes next.

  Red and a number of police officers are off-duty eating at an Indian food restaurant on Chicago and Orleans. Usually they sit around telling stories and seeing who has the best one. Red usually goes first and almost always has the best story to tell.

  “Okay guys, I’m driving around Madison and Canal by Union Station when some chick flags me down. She says these two young Asian guys robbed a cab driver and ran into the Union Station building. I went in and beat the snot out of those motherfuckers and arrested them.”

  “What did you do to them exactly?” asked Garcia. He usually asked questions during the stories to move them along.

  “Man, I had them both handcuffed in the bathroom building and pistol whipped the shit out of them. After I got through pistol-whipping those motherfuckers, I pissed in the toilet and laughed as I put those motherfuckers’ faces in the toilet. I drank a lot of Kool-Aid so I hope they enjoyed it.”

  “Did you recover the money they stole?”

  “Man, Garcia, I recovered that shit in my pocket.”

  “That’s a good one, Red, I see why they call you dirty. Can anybody beat Red’s story?”

  “Hey wait, look, some brothers are out there about to throw down. Looks like some type of gang fight, maybe 15 guys from what I see. Maybe we should do something?”

  “What do you want to do Red?”

  “Fuck that shit Carl, I come here to unwind, not stop some brothers from kicking each others asses. As a matter of fact, this might be some good entertainment. Let those motherfuckers duke it out I say.”

  “Okay go ahead Psycho, regale us with your tale of action and courage.”

  “Okay, sure thing, Red, my man. Me and my friend Josh were cruising around and drove past this farm. We decided to have some fun and went into one of the barns. Some guys were in that motherfucker making drugs, real small-time operation to be honest. I identified myself as a police officer and gave them an ultimatum. Hook us up with some of that shit or go to jail. Shit, we spent all day getting high and went out and fucked a cow until it passed out on the ground.”

  “How the hell do you stop the cow from moving, dude?”

  “You place a cart in front and one in back because a cow can’t move sideways, only forward and back. We fucked cows, horses and some sheep.”

  Garcia listens to a few more stories and gets up to give his judgment as to who is the winner. He stands and waves his arms emphatically to quiet everyone down.

  “Okay, ladies and gentlemen, all the stories were interesting, but nothing beats getting high and fucking farm animals.”

  Psycho takes a bow and thanks all his adoring fans. They get together like this once a month and tell their stories of crazy interactions with the general public. The winner gets money, material items, or the services of a prostitute. The prizes usually change from month to month, depending on what Garcia picked. Red has business to take care of and gets up to leave.

  “Okay guys, this has been fun, but I got things to do.” A number of officers say their good-byes to Red as he walks out the restaurant. Everyone starts to say their good- byes and depart, shaking hands and giving manly hugs. The 20 officers head home, or to various other destinations to tend to their daily business half drunk or high from their festivities. As he drives home, Red hopes that everything went okay with getting the producer out of jail. It was a pretty good plan and the guys working the plan were reliable. However, lady chance could always foul things up at any moment.

  Nick the pro
ducer is sitting in the prison transport vehicle. These things were usually a van or bus retrofitted to transport prisoners from one area to another. Nick had read up on these things while in prison. Because of their relatively low security and isolation from any real assistance when in route, it made perfect sense for him to escape here. The police escorting the prison bus was in on the entire deal. This particular bus didn’t have segregated prisoner compartments and prisoners were merely handcuffed rather than having any more advanced type of restraint. One of the guards came back to check the handcuffs and dropped the key, according to plan, where Nick could get them. He quickly got himself out of the handcuffs and passed the keys to a few more prisoners about 20 in all. When everybody was free Nick attacked one of the guards, quickly knocking him out and taking his gun. He threw this particular guard off the buss per the plan. This guy was the one who dropped the keys and one of the people involved. He was supposed to survive, but the other guard’s lives were up in the air. He shot one in his bullet resistant vest and the other guard let loose firing on prisoners, killing four, but they were quickly overwhelmed.

  One of the prisoners takes the wheel and attempts to drive away with it and the police vehicles give chase. Here was the hard part, but what he had to do had been drilled into his head. Going past a forest area he gets read to jump.

  “I’m going to jump and take my chances, who’s with me?”

  “Dude, fuck that, you’re crazy. Not me motherfucker. Fuck that shit you crazy- ass Mexican. We got hostages bro we do what the fuck we want.”

  More prisoners chime in against jumping so Nick is on his own. He opens the door and jumps out at high speed hoping the grass will cushion his fall. He rolls when he hits the ground to protect his limbs. The police had been told to ignore anyone jumping out of the bus and concentrate on the prisoners on it. Those guys wouldn’t get anywhere considering prisoner transportation vehicles usually had a global positioning unit installed and they would not out run the police chargers. Of course, what did you expect from stupid-ass thugs in prison? The guards would get reamed out, of course, for not following proper procedure, but they had been paid a king’s ransom by whomever set this up. The crooks wouldn’t kill the guards, rather they would try to use them as hostages and most likely they would live. Not that he really cared, to be honest, his own safety was more important right now. He did a quick check of his body for damage from the jump. His knee was skinned badly and he knew he had to have broken his left hand as it didn’t respond. He started to run through this forest area to the spot designated for him to be picked up. He’d be taken to a safe area where he would hide and plan his next feature film. A doctor with medical equipment would be provided as well.