Never Go Home Again by Shannon Holmes

Author:Shannon Holmes
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atria Books
Published: 2004-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Armed correctional officers closely watched as dozens of slow-moving prisoners boarded a big blue prison bus, known as the blue bird. Inmates of all shapes and sizes were shackled together with heavy metal chains, leg-irons, and a device known as the black box, which, once a pair of handcuffed wrists were inside, made it almost impossible for even the craftiest convict to pick the handcuff lock.

Corey stumbled along struggling to keep in step. He would never get used to these restraining devices, but somehow he managed to keep pace with the other inmates and board the prison bus.

Prisoners from every borough of New York City were present and accounted for. There were even a few from out of state. They were mostly blacks and Hispanics, but some Asians and Caucasians were among them too.

“Watch your step boarding the bus,” one correctional officer warned.

After the last of the inmates had boarded, a correctional officer went down the aisle and conducted a brief head count. He wanted to make sure that every last one of his precious cargo was accounted for. If even one wasn’t, there would be hell to pay by both the inmates and the guards. The guards would be mad because they would have to go through the formality of searching for the missing inmate, and the inmates for having to be locked down until he was found. And the inmates would be equally upset to have their daily routine disturbed.

Finally, the time had come to leave. Corey took a deep breath; he was more than a little nervous—he was afraid. Going upstate, to prison, was almost like being sentenced to death to some inmates. Corey had heard the horror stories, in jail and from returning convicts, on the streets. He’d heard about the robbing, extortion, cutting, stabbing, and even rape. That stuff happened on Rikers Island too, but it was just child’s play compared to what went down in the state prison system. The way he heard it told, the state system was a whole different breed of animal.

In the wee hours of the morning, the Department of Corrections whisked a busload of inmates to the state diagnostics center in Elmira, New York, to be classified for various security levels and to be housed at various institutions accordingly. As the bus made its way onto the highway, some inmates got their last look at New York City. It seemed to look so inviting and peaceful at this time of the morning. But they all knew that those same streets would be alive with trouble in just a few hours. Any kind of trouble you could think of.

“Shorty, where you from?” the older man asked. “Whut’z ya name?”

“Corey! Da Bronx!” Corey quickly replied.

“Mine’s Melquan, I’m from Brooklyn. Do or Die Bedstuy! I don’t mean ta be all up in ya bizness, but whut’z ya charge? You a stickup kid?”

“Stickup kid?” Corey repeated, unbelieving. “Do I look like one?”

“Ummmm, yeah!” the man joked. “I’m just fuckin’ wit you. Just kickin’ da bo-bo.

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