What Waits in the Shadows by Wil Forbis

Author:Wil Forbis [Forbis, Wil]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-five

JEREMIAH SAT ON A stained mattress set on a bedframe pushed against the wall. His new cell was small—12’ x 12’—and built out of unforgiving concrete. A metal toilet in one corner glinted light from the fluorescent bulb attached to the ceiling. A locked steel door cut into the wall to his right.

The air was musty, heavy with a scent that reminded him of his mother’s basement.

How long had he been in solitary confinement? It felt like days had passed since his altercation with the skinhead prisoner. But perhaps the slow ebb of time was merely an illusion. It was impossible to know when one languished in a chamber designed to deplete the human mind of its faculties.

One thing he was sure of: he’d saved the young CO’s life. But the other guards had rewarded that heroism by tossing him into solitary, where he now sat with his flesh bruised and his bones aching.

The irony washed over him. Only a few weeks earlier, he’d been savoring the possibility of freedom. Perhaps he’d been naïve, but he’d truly believed he’d had a shot at parole. As a model prisoner, he’d tried to maintain some sense of decency in a sewer overrun by animals disguised as men. Only the hope of feeling the warm sun or a cool afternoon breeze had given him the strength to endure the past two decades of captivity.

It was the girl who had ruined everything; that was what Clarkesdale had reported. By speaking in front of the parole board, Lisa Kallman had stolen Jeremiah’s chance at freedom. What had she said to turn them against him? What would it take for her to leave him alone?

He sunk his head into his hands and wept. He’d been cursed throughout his life. God had filled him with the urges to be with children in a way that was sick and wrong. When he’d been released from prison the first time, people had spat on him. It had been impossible to find work. His mother’s constant recitation of her religious proclamations had almost driven him mad. And just when it seemed like it couldn’t get worse, the police had come into his house and arrested him for the murder of Derek Kallman.

A distant clack clack cut into his awareness. Footsteps in the corridor, approaching his cell.

Was it time for a meal? It seemed like the guards had delivered a food tray only a couple of hours ago. But time had no meaning here.

A powerful stench wafted into his nostrils, something rank and foul. A key clicked into the lock and the door slowly opened.

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