Degeneration (58 page)

His mother entered the kitchen and stepped back, pale, afraid. She dropped the bag of groceries she was holding and screamed.

             
His father ran into the kitchen, pushing past her, holding the Buick keys in one hand and a bag of groceries in the other. He dropped the keys on the floor.

             
Father darted forward and snatched him by his collar, raising a hand to strike.

             
Richard spun around and stabbed the butcher knife deep into his father’s throat.

             
His father jolted back off of the knife, gurgling. He collapsed and bled out on the kitchen floor.

Richard turned his attention towards his mother, still wielding the knife.

             
She tried to run, but she never even made it out the door.

             
It was dark work, but it needed to be done after what they caught him doing.

             
It needed to be done to silence the voices.

             
Andy was the only person he had left.

39

             
H
e finally emerged from the corn stalks, close to fainting. He stumbled forward a few steps and collapsed onto his hands and knees onto a two-lane road that ran parallel to the corn field.

             
Get up.

             
“Andy…?” Richard asked, exhausted. His head pounded and he was dizzy.

             
I said get up.

             
Richard recognized the voice; it was his own.

Slowly, he stood, breathing frantically.

             
The road stretched out for miles in both directions. Across the street, he saw the turn-off that led to the prison and a concrete sign next to the turn-off that read: ‘United States Department of Justice Federal Bureau Of Prisons Correctional Facility’.

             
Richard stumbled across the barren street and cut across the grass embankment onto the prison’s main parking lot.

             
The parking lot was empty with the exception of a few ransacked cars and looted prisoner transport vans. The parking lot’s high-mast lights were powered on and bathed the vacant lot in an orange glow, making it evident that prison’s emergency generators, capable of lasting for days, were still operational.

             
Two rows of tall barbwire-topped chain link fences ran the expense of the prison’s perimeter. In-between the two fences were rows of razorwire. Multiple corpses were tangled throughout the razorwire and snagged up on the fence, many of which continued to move and escape their entanglement. Darkened, abandoned guard towers lined the expanse of the perimeter fence.

             
Inside the fence, sat the penitentiary itself. It was a large
monolithic
structure that had very few windows. A long corridor connected the featureless building to a separate building that sat outside the perimeter fence.

             
The smaller building outside the perimeter fence was the main entrance lobby and housed the administrative offices. It had ample windows, all of which were shattered.

             
Behind him, infected started to emerge out from in-between the corn stalks and stagger after him, crossing the highway, moaning.

He knew he had to be quick.

             
He ran towards the entrance of the administration building, huffing.

             
The infected that were snarled in the razorwire along the perimeter fence went into frenzy as Richard drew closer. They struggled intensely inside the ensnarled wire, snarling, desperately trying to go after their prey.

             
Six empty military jeeps were haphazardly parked near the main lobby doors, causing him some apprehension. The glass doors were shattered. Dried blood speckled the cement steps leading up the lobby amongst numerous spent brass shells. Above the lobby entrance it read: ‘United States Department of Justice, Federal Penitentiary – Butner, NC’.

             
“I’m coming, Andy,” he muttered tom himself, but his voice came out different, somehow.

             
Richard ascended the steps and kicked open one of the shattered entrance doors.

             
A mixed look of horror and aggravation washed across the officer’s face who was manning the main reception desk. The officer was wearing a dark blue blazer adorned with the Federal Bureau of Prison’s emblem, white shirt, grey slacks, and a maroon tie.

             
Two large metal detectors and an x-ray machine stood next to the desk, similar to the security screening protocols at an airport. All staff members and visitors had to go through the rigorous screening ritual. It was all prison protocol to control contraband.

             
“It’s him again,” the desk officer told the other officer manning the metal detector and x-ray machine.

             
“I’ll call the operations lieutenant,” the other officer said, picking up the phone up off of the desk.

             
The front lobby was full of visitors and screaming babies, a typical scene on visiting days.

             
Richard rushed up to the desk, placed his hands on the counter, and smiled politely at the desk officer.

             
“Hello,” Richard started, “I’m here to see my brother.”

             
“Yes, yes… we know. We’ve done this song and dance before, remember? You’ve been trespassed from the property. You know you’re not allowed here. Why do you keep coming back? Are you off of your meds again?” the officer asked flatly. “If you don’t leave right now, we’ll have to forcibly remove you from the property, sir.”

             
Richard’s smile flattened.

             
“I’m here to see my brother,” Richard said. “You have to let me see my brother. Do your job and let me go see my brother!”

             
“The lieutenant is on the way up,” the second officer said.

             
“You need to leave,” the first officer told Richard. “Just do yourself a favor and leave. We’re not going through this every month. Your brother…
pf
f
t
í
,” the officer shook his head. “You know, most cons don’t want to go back to prison, but you just can’t stay away. I don’t get you.”

             
The other visitors in the lobby stared in silence; even the children quieted to stare at the strange man.

             
A smile slowly returned to Richard’s face.

             
“How could I stay away when my brother is waiting for me?” Richard asked. “That’s okay. If you don’t want to let me though, I’ll just go let myself in. My brother is expecting me.”

             
The desk officer rolled his eyes and let out an aggravated sigh.

             
Richard turned and waltzed through the metal detectors that flanked the desk on both sides–

             
BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP

             
–and headed towards the secure sallyport that led to the inner secure confines of the institution. The sallyport was situated next to the institution’s main control room.

             
Richard didn’t make it five steps before he was tackled to the ground by the two officers and handcuffed. He screamed in pain and fought with the officers, struggling to break free.

             
Additional officers rushed to the scene.

             
“Andy!
ANDY!
” Richard closed his eyes and yelled.

             
Slowly, he stopped yelling and opened his eyes.

             
The lobby was ransacked and peppered with bullet holes. The chairs in the waiting area were overturned and strewn everywhere. The overheard
fluorescent
lights were on, but most of them were flickering, creating an ominous ambiance. The reception desk was unmanned and had been reduced to splinters by heavy gunfire. Riot shields and batons lay on top of the desk, most of which were battle worn with blood-splatter.

             
Seven handcuffed corpses in khaki inmate uniforms had been lined up against the wall and executed. Their rotting corpses reeked.

             
Richard walked around the desk and passed through the metal detector–

             
BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP

             
He glanced down behind the desk and saw a bullet-riddled guard wearing riot gear.

             
On the wall next to the desk, something was spray-painted on the wall in orange spray-paint:

             
He walked towards the sallyport next to the control room. The sallyport doors had been pried open and the control room window had been shattered.

             
Richard carefully peaked into the control room and saw two more guards wearing armor sprawled out on the floor, each shot in the forehead. Behind them, on the wall, another cryptic message was painted:

             
All of the CCTV monitors in the control room were speckled with static and the electronic door controls were powerless.

             
It reeked of death and decay.

             
He stifled a cough and turned around as he heard the moaning infected approaching outside. They were shuffling up the steps towards the lobby.

He knew he had to keep going.

He ran through the breached sallyport doors and raced down the long narrow corridor into the institution. The corridor was dark and the air was thick with the same stench of decay that permutated the lobby. At the end, he found another sallyport. The sallyport’s iron doors had been cut off of their tracks.

Richard stepped through the sallyport and found himself in a small atrium. On the left side of the atrium, a sliding door was labeled ‘Visiting Room’ and on the door on the right side was labeled ‘Main Corridor – To All Housing Units – No Visitors Beyond this Point’.

The main corridor’ steel door was pried open and its electronic lock had been welded off.

Richard cautiously slid the door aside and walked into the main corridor.

             
The main corridor had been barricaded by numerous overturned tables, desks, and steel filing cabinets; evidence of somebody’s last stand against the besieging military. Normally, a barricade like that would make accessing the housing units difficult, but there was a secondary corridor to the right that ran the expanse of the entire penitentiary.

The secondary corridor was normally used during emergency situations since it bypassed the main compound and had back-door access to all of the housing units. It was protected by a series of iron grilles that were controlled from the control room. Fortunately, as far as Richard could see, the iron grilles had all been cut through by a cutting torch and were forced open, providing a straight shot down the corridor.