At Light's Edge - Chapter 2: New Duds

Two

____________

New Duds

“Place your transportation clothes in the basket in front of you and put on the orange jumpsuit you will find at the window over there,” a female correctional officer pointed toward a rollup window to their right, then emphasized loudly, “Get your jumpsuit AFTER you take a shower. You will spend the night on the orange side of the complex and,” she took a deep breath, “in a day or so, once you are finished being processed, you will be moved to your permanent cell on the green side of the institution. That is where you will be issued your new duds, a green coat, matching pants, a one-size-fits-all Velcro belt, underwear, two brown shirts, shoes, socks and blah, blah, blah, all of the rest of your necessities. Guard them well, or you will be sorry later. Believe it or not,” she smiled before continuing, “we have thieves in this place.”

A few chuckles could be heard, even from the three youths stripping off their transport clothes.

Orange is new and green is processed, Renwick pondered. Duds are duds, I suppose. The IRU’s odor reminded him of the fresh concrete smell of a newly constructed multi-level parking complex. He liked that smell. I guess there’s one thing ok about this place. A sudden feeling of terror stabbed Renie like a knife, There’s nothing ok about this place.

Once the three new inmates dressed, a different correctional officer escorted them to a small room. A lone table with three empty chairs awaited the trio. The officer instructed them concerning the dos and don’ts of prison life during their tenure at Y-MAX. Smoking and weightlifting were also among the institution’s naughty-naughty taboos.

The officer continued his discourse, “This is a state of the art facility with state of the art technology. This includes two perimeter razor-wire topped fences. These fences contain mesh throughout their central fields that is very sharp. The fences reach a height of over five meters, which are well over fifteen feet high, not counting the barbed and razor wire at their tops. There is ample enough razor wire to keep a terrorist group out of this place. And to top that off,” the officer pointed to the room’s window, “if you look outside, without getting out of your chairs, please, you will notice that five and one half meter strange looking fence between the other two, slightly taller.” The boys observed intently. The exterior lights glowed like the noon sun around the complex’s perimeter, enabling a clear view on the darkest of nights in every direction for at least a quarter mile.

"Those signs attached to both the interior and exterior fences read; Danger, Keep Out, High Voltage, Peligro, Alto Voltaje, No Entre. That is a lethal electric fence, it carries five-thousand volts and seven hundred milliamperes." The officer stared at each youth, one by one as he said sternly, "Seventy milliamperes are enough to kill a normal healthy adult in most cases, and yes, the fence does cycle and parts go on and off at indiscriminate time periods, but there is far too little time between the varied cycles to climb up one side and down the other, so don’t try to escape. We opened around one year ago and have not encountered any successful escapes to date. The fence is designed to withstand over one hundred and seventy-five mile an hour winds. We never experience those out here in the deep desert. The foundation goes underground for more than eighteen feet. There is no water to be found anywhere in the nearby desert for more than a day’s walk, providing one can walk an entire day in one hundred and fifteen degree summer and minus fifteen degree winter temperatures.”

 The youths looked at each other attempting to maintain tough and cool exteriors despite the astonished fear each felt. One of the boys asked about the towers and the officer informed the youths that at this correctional facility the tower officers were qualified snipers. “These folks train on the range every other week and must maintain perfect scores or be reassigned to another post.” The officer detailed the Crisis Response Team’s role at the prison, “The CRT conducts its training sessions around the clock and is always ready to respond in the event of a serious crisis.”

Before being escorted to their temporary housing accommodations and after being photographed for their inmate ID cards, the youths received a list of prison activities and work assignments. “Each of you will be assigned to a daily job or school endeavor,” the officer stated. “Weekends are free for most, but not if you are assigned to a specific work detail. Only school is out on weekends. We conduct seven inmate counts per day and nobody but nobody changes locations during the count until it is cleared. Don’t forget that.”

Renie looked over the list. One activity item listed was of particular interest to him, Final Hope, a group that united together staff and inmates to counsel youth offenders for two consecutive weekend sessions. Youth offenders from all over the state were sentenced to this program instead of prison. Parents were also welcome to participate, but were not allowed to intimidate or suppress the free expression of any of the youths or inmates. I'll have to check this out and see if I can get involved, Renie’s thought’s raced around his mind like a pool ball bouncing around a billiard table.

A second activity of interest listed the church services for Sundays. Different denominations and religions rotated each week, but he figured he might be able to attend one or more of them. Friday evenings featured movies and a ‘To Be Announced’ activity was to begin sometime soon.

Renie felt slightly better inside, Maybe I’ll make it here. I just have to keep busy.

Upon arriving at wing Z-2, the youths were assigned beds by the unit’s housing officer. Their names were written on a whiteboard in the staff office. It looked as though the officer in a secure booth above the office entered the same information into a computer consul. The Control Officer, the position’s official designation, operated all of the doors, ports, turned on and off lights, and performed many other duties. This officer also carried a semi-automatic rifle along with a pistol on his duty belt. All of the cells in this unit were double bunked, making Renie slightly nervous about meeting his celly for the first time.

Renie’s automated cell door opened slowly. He saw another youth on the bottom bunk, so he knew he would be climbing up to his bed for at least a day or two. He entered the cell while his cellmate rose to his feet. Renie did not know what to expect, but he stuck out his hand in a friendly gesture of hope, hope he wasn’t going to be pounded to the floor on his first day in prison.

“The name’s Billy, Billy Watkins,” announced the boy as he smiled warmly. “What’s you in for?”

“My name’s Renwick, but my friends call me Renie. I am in here for a killin’ I didn’t do.”

“Yeah, we’re all in here for somethin’ we didn’t do,” the youth laughed. “I’m here for a killin’ too. I killed my sister’s stalker and dumped his dead sorry ass into a river, hopin’ to wash away all the DNA stuff.”

Renie inquired, “Did that work?”

Looking at him as though he had asked a stupid question, Billy replied, “What’s you thinkin’?”

“Sorry, I guess that was a dumb question.”

“Naw, not really. It sort of did work.”

“How’d they get ya then?”

“Some old fisherman out there took a picture of my van with his cellphone. Even though it was four in the morning, the police could make out my license plate number,” he shook his head slightly. “And here I be. Ya know, that stalker said he was gonna kill my older sister, but that meant nothing to the judge or the jury. A person is two times more likely to be stalked than they are to be killed in a car wreck.”

Renie stared, and then replied, “Is that a fact?”

The control officer announced, “Stand for count!” over the intercom and the evening’s routine was now underway.

Next Chapter...

Chapter Three: A New Crib

Seven Words of the Skull

Seven Words of the Skull

By Royce A Ratterman

Copyright © 2015

ISBN: 978-8293267195

All Rights Reserved

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, transmitted in any way, by any means, or in any form, without prior written authorization from the publisher and/or author.

Cover Photo by ElisabethR

 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ Seven Words of the Skull ~

“Hey, you children get off of this hill,” shouted the aggressive looking soldier, forcefully approaching the trio. “Away with you, now!”

Marcus, the most bold of the three youths, replied, “My uncle is a Senator of Rome.”

“Then go visit him,” the man ordered. “Go, get off of my hill.”

“Markus,” Ruth scolded, “your father is not a Sena—”

“That Centurion does not know that.”

Drawing a sharp breath, Ruth protested, “You will get us killed, Markus.”

“Killed? The Romans do not kill children unless they do something extreme. Playing on a hill is not extreme, Ruth.”

Departing as swiftly as lambs from a pack of hungry bloodthirsty wolves, the youths climbed fifty meters downhill over sharp rocks and sparse brush. Marcus stopped abruptly, being in the lead, and looked back up the rocky precipice.

“What are you thinking, Marcus? Do you think that soldier knew we're not Romans and you lied?” questioned Aristarchus, attempting to catch his breath.

Replying sharply, Markus barked, “Do not any of you tire of asking me the same question?”

“Sorry, but I—”

Interrupting his friend, he said, “Ruth, Aristarchus, come, this way. I know a place where no one will discover us. We can watch another area of this hill from there.”

 The two reluctant friends followed Marcus along a sheep trail, crossing rough boulders and crawling on their bellies through holes and crevices. One steep-sided area almost forced the trio to abandon their endeavor, but Marcus’s insistence and tenacity pushed them onward.

“Just a little bit more… here!” exclaimed Marcus.

Leaning over and pointing, Marcus showed his two friends what he previously placed into a small hole in the rocky cliff's side. “Check this out, I found it down the hill about three months ago. Probably rolled out of a bone box.”

The skull lay in the crevice as a grizzly reminder of that location’s purpose. Ruth and Aristarchus stared.

“Look, there,” pointed Ruth, “three of them. Wow!”

From the barely accessible location, the three explorers could clearly observe the area where the Roman soldier forbade them to remain.

“I think I know that man who is helping,” commented Ruth. “He’s the father of Alexander and Rufus.”

Interrupting, Aristarchus affirmed, “It is. They are from Cyrene.”

Marcus stared intently, his eyes fixed upon the man being fastened by large spike nails to a crossbeam, and then hoisted up and attached to a tall stake of wood with a sign written in three languages affixed atop it. They could read that the man’s name was Jesus. An eerie silence permeated the emptiness of their location, only being broken when Marcus stated, “I’ve heard that man speak before.”

“Where?” the curious friends inquired.

The grim silence gave way as the man moaned, “Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.”

Marcus commented softly, not wishing to miss a word of what was going on in the near distance, “My friend gave that man, the one hanging in the center, his lunch once. He used it to feed thousands of people, and he said there were baskets full of leftovers after everyone ate to their fill. His name is Jesu--”

“I heard about that,” replied Aristarchus. “That man did that two different times I believe.”

“Did what two times?” questioned Ruth.

Trying to maintain the silence, Marcus stated firmly, “Fed thousands of people with almost nothing.”

Ruth moaned, “Oh.”

The boys watched while the soldiers divided up and then gambled for the criminals’ clothes, making snide remarks all the while to the dying offenders. Other men and women arrived and departed from the crucifixion area periodically, stopping only to ridicule those suffering, those souls long on their way to death’s door. The youthful curious trio observed the mockers from the distance.

“If he be the King of Israel, let him now come down from the cross, and we will believe him!” someone shouted.

It was difficult for Markus, Ruth and Aristarchus to hear the arguments that the two other criminals, being executed with the man, uttered, their voices weakened from their plight. The conversations had something to do with the man who fed the thousands and him needing to save his own life. Finally, one of the men asked the man in the middle to remember him.

Markus crouched down when a soldier glanced their way. “Listen,” he commanded, “the man in the middle is saying something."

“Today shalt thou be with me in paradise.”

The young trio heard the reply, but had no idea how that promise could be real.

“Maybe he’s a bit dazed from the drugged hyssop,” Ruth surmised.

“He did not drink from that sponge, only the other two did. You should watch closer,” snapped Marcus.

“Ok, ok.”

“Maybe he will drink later from the other hyssop, the one with only wine in it?” projected Aristarchus.

“Why drink from one and not the other?” Marcus snapped back. “How do you know what is in it, anyway? Just listen and be still.”

Marcus’s two companions decided it was best to only watch and not to offer comment for the time being.

A short period passed before an older woman and a young man approached and stood by the man hanging in the center. As the man called ‘Christ’ looked toward the two below him, he said, “Woman, behold thy son!” He then said to the young man, “Behold thy mother!”

A small zephyr quickly arose and the three youths ducked under a crevice to avoid a gust of dusty wind crossing the hillside. The sky darkened.

After what felt like hours, the youths heard a shout, “Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?” Someone nearby the three crucified criminals claimed that the Christ man was calling for the prophet Elijah.

The three friends crawled out from under the crevice to hear the dying man shout once more, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”

“This fellow is quoting one of King David’s Psalms. My father used to read the Psalms to me before he died, may God rest his soul, ever since I was little. I remember this one well,” an excited Marcus proclaimed to his friends. “This is making a lot of sense to me. Everything that is happening right now is written in that Psalm.”

Aristarchus and Ruth did not understand exactly what Marcus was saying, but kept their wonderings in silence just the same, not wishing to be yelled at by their friend again.

The man, Jesus, moaned, “I thirst.”

“I told you he would want a drink from the other branch of—”

“Shhhh!”

After the man, Jesus, said 'It is finished' the ground shook. Some stones tumbled down the cliff’s edge near where Ruth kneeled, but none caused her any injury. Then the dying man said his final few words, “Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit."

“This man was certainly innocent,” they heard someone comment. The centurion standing below the man stated, “Truly this man was the Son of God.”

Marcus addressed his friends, “Usually it is sort of boring here, but not today.”

Not wanting to vocalize their feelings of horror, the two friends remained speechless.

“When do the soldiers break their legs?” asked Ruth.

“Soon,” replied Marcus. “They are over there,” he pointed east.

Aristarchus inquired, “Why do they do that?”

“You have been watching for hours,” questioned Ruth, “and you still cannot figure it out?”

Hesitantly, Aristarchus responded, “So they can’t push themselves up with their legs?”

“That is it,” Marcus affirmed.

Not wanting to press the issue further and appear ignorant, Aristarchus kept silent for a long time before commenting, “Hey, they didn’t break the Christ man’s legs. Is that because he already died?”

Marcus conjectured, “It must be. Why would a Roman soldier waste extra time and effort to do any extra work or anything hard?”

The three friends laughed.

“I wish these soldiers were all gone from this land and stayed only in Rome,” lamented Ruth.

“We all do,” agreed Marcus.

After some well-dressed men arrived later in the evening and took the body of Jesus called Christ away, the youth eased their way back along the cliff’s precipices and entered the city gate together. Bidding each other farewell, they parted ways for their homes.

Many days later the three friends came together again. They discussed their previous time's experience on the hill and the rumor of that Christ man, Jesus, came alive again after dying. Marcus seemed to be able to quote from the Holy Scriptures concerning it all, but his two friends could not understand why it all mattered, or why Marcus was so captivated by it.

“This Jesus is the same man that told the Herodians and Pharisees to give to ‘Caesar the things which are Caesar's; and unto God the things that are God's’,” Ruth commented. “My aunt told me he said this when they showed him a denarius coin. And he is the same one that chased the sellers out of the temple grounds a couple of times.”

Marcus stated, “He even used a whip, I heard. Maybe that is why they executed him.”

Ruth mocked, "Not for that."

“Do you believe he’s alive?” questioned Aristarchus. “Actually alive?”

“All of those different rumors about his followers stealing his body while the soldier guards slept outside the sealed tomb, a tomb with a huge rock in front of it," analyzed Marcus, "they just do not fit well together.”

“Yes,” agreed Ruth. “How could that many soldiers all be sleeping when someone rolls a huge rock away from a tomb entrance and carries away a body, especially at night when you can hear almost everything clearly?”

Aristarchus added, “And why weren’t the soldiers executed, since that is the punishment for sleeping at post? My uncle knew a Roman soldier who was execut--”

“People have seen him, I swear,” Marcus asserted.

“Time will tell, I suppose,” commented Aristarchus.

“Hey, let’s go back up to that spot on the cliff again. What do you say?” suggested Marcus.

“Sure, why not?” his two friends agreed.

“Another day,” Ruth added, “is another day to explore. Let us climb the hill again.”

“To the hill!” Aristarchus shouted.

Ruth and Markus pointed into the distance and cheered, “To the hill.”

The End

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The characters and events herein, though inspired in part by historical remembrances and are intended for educational and entertainment purposes.

Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Pilate answered, What I have written I have written.”

John 19:22

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Cotton & Corn: A Place, A Life, A Memory - Chapter 21

Twenty-One

____________

Sowing & Reaping

Several things happened that fall of 1940 that will be etched in my mind forever. 

Pa’s youngest cousin died from an infected knee. This was before antibiotics. In the spring my Ma’s cousin’s daughter, who was five years old, died of Bright’s kidney disease. Pa also fractured his arm tryin’ to crank-start the Model T.

1940 was swiftly comin’ to a close. Pa sold pert near everything we had and we were on the move again. This time to Vale, Oregon to help some of Pa’s extended family with their farm. They were sharecroppers just like we were. Pa had other family livin’ in nearby Harper too. The Vale area was the first stop in Oregon that early settlers encountered along the Oregon Trail. Pa’s relatives decided not to proceed any further into Oregon Country and just stayed put in that area back in the early 1840s.

Before leaving Oklahoma, we stopped by Sarah Jane’s grave to bid our farewells. It felt like the hardest thing for me to do… to leave Sarah Jane. I still feel the deep sorrow in my heart, though it is not as sharp as it was during youth.

Another thing we did before we set off for Oregon in our new 1938 Ford Deluxe Fordor sedan with a V8 motor, well, it wasn’t exactly new but it was new to us, was to give our dog ‘Lucky’ to Carol Wozenski. It was a hard decision to make, but we knew Lucky would be loved and would not have to move from the Oklahoma farmland she had always known. Carol and I agreed that she should keep the diary we found in the church, the one we always read together. The last entry in the diary revealed that the girl was very sick and was going to take the book to the church and hide it there and retrieve it when she got batter. She must not have gotten better or somethin’. Carol said she would make an attempt to find an exact date for the diary and age for the girl then, if possible, check for a grave containing a girl of similar age and time period.

After a year and a half in Vale, we moved to sunny California the summer of 1942. Pa bought four lots in the San Francisco East Bay Area on what is now called The Arlington Boulevard. He sold three of ‘em after about two years sayin’, “They ain’t never gonna be worth nothin’!” Little did he know at the time how things would change and how the area would grow. Only a handful of folks, sparsely scattered, had homes on this street at that time.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

“This arm’s going to need a lot of rest, John,” the doctor informed Mr. Charlton. “You better find a way to not use it for a spell.”

John contemplated the doctor’s words seriously while driving back to the farm. He’d already planned to eliminate the need to crank start a car, he experienced trouble doing that left-handed. But what about farm life as it was, so many questions plagued his mind. He thought of Abraham in the Bible's book of Genesis when he was still named Abram, and how God told him to leave all to go to a land that He would show him.

Words from the Bible filled John’s mind…

“Ye have sown much, and bring in little; ye eat, but ye have not enough; ye drink, but ye are not filled with drink; ye clothe you, but there is none warm; and he that earneth wages earneth wages to put it into a bag with holes;

But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus;

But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you;

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus;

For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.”

Mr. Charlton turned his car around and drove to the Cobb Creek store to use their phone. He made two calls that day, two calls that would alter the lives of his children, his life, the life of his lovely wife, and the lives of other family members in Oklahoma.

“I understand, God,” John whispered softly as he drove home. He would still confirm his feelings and the offers he received over the phone with his wife and children to be sure that what he felt was really God’s guidance and was also consistent with his family’s needs and desires.

When John entered his home he presented what had transpired that day to Hilda, along with everything that came to his mind and heart. He told her of his phone calls to their farm’s owner and to relatives in Vale, Oregon.

“I’ve been having the same feelings, dear,” she confirmed, “but I didn’t think about a transition time in Vale, I must say.”

“It’ll give us time to get on our feet and for my arm to heal some before movin’ on to California. We should also be able to save us a piece of money.”

“We’ll be needin’ that for settlin’ in California for sure.”

“I still want to make sure the youngins are ok with all of this,” John affirmed his heart’s conviction.

When the Charlton children returned home from school their parents shared their thoughts and feelings with them in order to observe their responses.

“I like the idea, Pa…Ma,” Mary said.

Teddy was thrilled as well as Richard, but Rae Ann voiced her concerns, “Well, we are leavin’ all of our friends and family. But worst of all we will be leavin’ Sarah Jane here all alone. You got to promise me we will come back from time to time to visit Sarah Jane’s grave and lay some flowers down, please.”

Everyone agreed that they would return every summer they were able to see the growing fields of crops, to smell the aroma of the land, and to visit Sarah Jane’s resting place.

For over a week, while the Charlton parents planned their move, the four children went to El Reno to stay with some relatives. When John and Hilda held a large farm items sale the children were off to Minco to stay with family friends for another week. Mary was unhappy though and her parents had to pick her up after only two days had transpired.

The children all received a quarter when they returned from Minco. Rae Ann spent hers on two yards of material that cost eleven cents per yard for making a new dress for the upcoming trip. Richard bought marbles, Teddy bought jawbreakers, and Mary purchased a small doll.

Standing and staring across the field toward the highway, Rae Ann and Richard spent many of their final Oklahoma days counting the vehicles that passed by their farm. Teddy finished reading his collection of books before packing away the few he was allowed to bring on the trip. Mary played with her dolls in her room. But most of all the children enjoyed the hours they spent playing with their dog Lucky. The chill in the late fall air made running across the fields together both warm of body and warm of heart. Lucky was soon off to live with Carol Wozenski and it was time to depart the homeland so deeply loved by the family.

Mr. Charlton was presented with a great deal on a newer automobile and could not resist the offer. Now, this is a vehicle fittin’ for a family!

On the day of departure the family drove to visit the grave of the only family member not coming on the trip. Standing at the grave, Mr. Charlton removed a poem he had hastily written that morning and read it aloud…

As Tumbleweeds Roll

By John Charlton – Oklahoma 1940

As tumbleweeds roll,

So we’ll be rollin’ on,

To a life with new dreams,

To the sound of a new song.

The cotton fields will wave,

Prairie breezes will cry,

As we drive away slowly,

With a tear in our eye.

With our memories old,

And our memories new,

We add memories sad,

Those with happiness too.

Our little girl we leave,

In peace she does sing,

Awaiting our return,

And the return of the King.

The King of kings, Lord of lords,

Holds Sarah Jane so very tight,

In his arms of pure love,

In His Kingdom of light.

We’ll never forget you,

Our daughter so dear,

Though we be far away,

You are always so near.

With Oklahoma in our heart,

In our eyes her beauty so grand,

Her aroma fills our senses,

We’ll miss her deeply, our cherished homeland.

Oklahoma – a place, a life, a memory!

When Mr. Charlton finished his reading he placed the poem on his daughter’s grave and placed a white stone over it. Rae Ann kissed her fingers and touched the white stone gently. Mrs. Charlton cried softly. The family recited the Lord’s Prayer then climbed into their car and drove away toward the west into the golden light of the Oklahoma horizon.

To: Epilogue