I voted for Frankie. He voted for me. I’d rather he got the honor of winning this election. I looked into the eyes of all those waiting to vote and saw the hunger there. I had a premonition I’d win this election even though I’d done everything in my power to lose it. Most candidates in a contest want to win, but I’m the exception.
It all started when I was a captain at “The Rock”, you know Alcatraz. The idiots in Washington decided to shut the prison down. That was a big mistake. We knew how to treat hard-cases there. If a year in solitary confinement didn’t straighten them out, I took over. I’d studied medieval tortures, so I knew ways to use them mixed in with modern methods. The old water boarding worked pretty well, but it got boring after a while.
I came up with a fun way to get the prisoners to obey. I’d have them strapped into a restraint chair, then at close range coat their faces with pepper spray. They’d cry, scream, and then beg to be allowed to wash it off. Instead, I had a hood placed over their heads so they’d breathe in the fumes and their pain would intensify. Only a half dozen or so died over the years from this treatment, so it was basically safe.
When they shut down the Rock, the warden put me in charge of moving all the troublemakers. I chose Frank to help me load them on the scow used to transport them to land. It was nothing but an oversized rowboat with a motor. We loaded twenty-one handcuffed and shackled trouble makers wearing life vests into it. Frank sat in the bow cradling a shotgun. I sat in the stern with a 45 caliber pistol in my holster. I cast off after starting the motor and headed for the city lights. We left before dawn so citizens and reporters wouldn’t see the condition of the prisoners when we landed.
The sea was calm when we launched. The motor conked out half way across the bay. There were only two sets of oars. Two prisoners in the bow and two in the rear were made to row. We weren’t making much headway when suddenly the bay turned violent. Waves grew to ten times their previous size. The wind blew with hurricane force. Before I knew it, we were blown out to sea and land was out of sight. We drifted for days. Fortunately, there were three five-gallon buckets of water aboard. Frank and I drank when we got thirsty. The prisoners got enough to keep them alive.
Frank tried to remain vigil with his shotgun at the ready, but he dozed off, and a well-placed oar knocked the gun overboard. Though chained together two prisoners managed to overpower him. I pulled my .45 and shot Curly through the shoulder before I too became overpowered. They drank water and discussed how long they’d survive without food. Curly, the prisoner I shot and had recently treated to a few rounds of pepper spray said, “Let’s eat the screws.”
“Yeah, but one at a time. If we kill them both now, they’ll rot before we can eat their meat. Kill one now and one later.”
The coast guard would be searching for us, and it was only a matter of time before they found us. Frank and I were thinking alike because at the same time we said, “Kill him first,” and pointed at one another.
The prisoners laughed when Curly said, “Let’s take a vote.”