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Review This Story || Author: Floyd Polgar

Hard Time for the Prisoner

Part 11 The Firing Squad - 3

“What

From Orientation for X.

 

V.  Special Punishment - Firing Squad (continued):  Immediately after the execution, MA’s shall examine prisoner.  When they have finished their preliminary evaluation and cleared the release, the special unit of guards shall cut the ropes holding prisoner to the post.  The fall from the post to the ground will likely result in much pain from the injuries sustained in the shooting.  When the prisoner hits the ground, responsibility passes from the special unit back to you.  Keep in mind that further injuries may result while handling prisoner.  Put the prisoner onto a stretcher by rolling her onto it and carry her to the medical facility.  As always blindfold must be securely in place when transporting prisoner between sections of the prison,.  Doctors will administer X-Rays and determine the extent of injuries incurred to that point.  Medical procedures will be limited to diagnosis and only essential care. 

 

When cleared from Medical, carry prisoner on stretcher to the regular punishment field.  Set stretcher on ground and roll her off it onto her back.  Prisoner will probably have sustained broken bones in both arms and legs and will be in great pain.  Spread prisoner’s arms and legs directly out from body in spread eagle position.  Pound stakes into ground just beyond her feet and hands.  Tie feet and hands to the stakes.  Remove blindfold.

 

Prisoner shall be left in this position for 24 hours.  MA’s will monitor prisoner and prescribe water and nutrients as necessary.  Guards shall be present for the entire period.  Individual guards shall rotate into and out of the punishment area according to their assigned shifts.  Guards shall interrogate prisoner and shall administer pain to the extent necessary to fulfill the prisoner’s sleep deprivation sentence.

 

After the 24 hour period is over, untie prisoner, blindfold her, and carry her back to the Medical Center on the stretcher.  There she will receive treatment.  Some bones may need to be rebroken so that they can be set properly.

 

Carry her to the cage.  She will remain in her cage exposed to the rain and the other elements until she fully recuperates.  Guards shall closely watch her for the entire period.  Estimated recuperation time is 6 to 8 weeks.

 

* * * *

 

It was raining.  The downpour was turning the ground to mud.  Fortunately, we had pounded the stakes far enough in so that X’s arms and legs were held firmly in place.  The other guards drifted to the shelter of the wall.  I stayed behind to guard the prisoner.  I looked down at the her.

 

She lay on her back in the mud. She was still in her black bikini.  Her arms and leg were spread eagled out and tied to the stakes.  She had not tried to move them since we had tied her down.  She still had a slight cough.  I imagined that her throat must be raw and her chest one cavity of hurt.  As I stood over her, I noticed that she moved her head from side to side, trying to find a position to get her face out of the rain and failing each time.  There were giant bruises where the bullets had hit.  There were more bruises on her chest than could be accounted for by the bullets.  The MA’s told us that the X-Rays had shown minimal bone breakage and so she had not received any treatment so far, that is treatment of a positive variety. 

 

I leaned down to shield her face from the rain with my body.  She was moaning and coughing and moaning and coughing.  I took a handkerchief out of my pocket and wiped her face with it.  It was as wet as everything else outside but I hoped that it would give her some relief.  She stopped turning her head and looked at me.

 

“Oh, it’s you,” she said.

 

“I’m sorry what he did.”  I really was.

 

No sooner had we taken her off the stretcher and pounded the stakes into the ground, than the head guard had knelt beside the prisoner.  She had been yelling with pain from the lifting of her injured legs and arms.  He grabbed her by her hair and pulled her face to his.  It had still been only an hour since the execution, so she was still coughing horribly.  “Remember what I promised you, jokester?”  X just moaned and coughed.

 

He turned to the other guard and me.  “You don’t need to see this.  Turn around and look the other way.”

 

“I’m already a goner anyway.”

 

“This will put us back to even.  Turn around.”

 

I turned around.  “Ahh!” X yelled.  Then silence.  I turned around again.  X had fainted but her coughing had waken her back up.  The head guard had his hand under X’s bikini bottom.  He was clearly sticking his fingers up the insides of her private area.  X’s hips were writhing and she was bobbing her head up and screaming.  He grimaced and grimaced and pushed further into her.  Her back arched, her mouth opened wide but no sound came out.  Without the strength to keep her head up, she dropped it back to the ground and then brought it up again.  Only coughs broke her screams, silent screams, ghastly screams.

 

This was definitely in violation of the regulations.  Where were the MA’s?  Only us three guards were there with the prisoner.  I wondered about that.  “You’re not seeing anything,” the head guard said.

 

“Nope,” I replied.  “I’m not seeing a thing.”

 

He nodded to me.  I nodded back at him.

 

“Up to now.  I’m about to start noticing real soon.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“I figure you got more to loose if it comes down to it.”

 

He scowled and withdrew his hand.  “Don’t think you have something on me for long.”

 

“Fine.  All I want is to get back to even with you, head guard.”

 

He pondered this for a moment.  “Alright.  Done.  I’ve had my fun.”  He removed his hand and let the bikini bottom snap back to the prisoner’s flesh.

 

That had been ten hours before and I meant what I had just said to X (I mean Maria.)  It was night and the rain continued to pour down.

 

I looked at her and contemplated what a hot babe she was.  Her was black, her skin was a reddish brown as were most of the people of our country.  Her body was petite and thin.  I gently probed the bruises on her chest.  She howled.  Cracked ribs, I concluded.  I lightly traced my finger down the side of her leg, I’m not sure why.

 

 

Her face was contorted in suffering but even now her personality glowed faintly through it.  I wondered what kind of person she was; I knew so very little about her.  What would she have been like on a date?

 

She startled me out of my reverie.  “Hey, knight in shining armor, don’t stop now.” 

 

“Uh, I’m not hardly.”

 

She had calmed down.  That startled me, too.

 

“Say why aren’t you with the rest of them?”  She gestured with her head to the other guards.  We could only see dark forms huddling against the wall in the blackness.  “It’s kind of unpleasant out here.  You did happen to notice the rain and the mud and stuff, didn’t you?”

 

I couldn’t help but smile.  “Actually, somebody’s supposed to keep you awake.  You’re not allowed to sleep, you know.  Sleep deprivation.”

 

“Yeah.  I supposed you’re not going to be singing me any lullabies then.”

 

“No, I’m a bad singer.  Really bad.  In fact I would sing to you but I figured you’re being tortured enough already.”

 

“What’s with you, anyway?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean the proverbial question.”

 

“Oh, what’s a good man like me doing working in a dump like this?”

 

She nodded her head and smiled, “That’s pretty much it.”

 

“Very simple.  It’s a paycheck.  That’s all.”

 

“How?”

 

“How what?”

 

“How did you get this job?”

 

“Oh, I have a cousin in the army.  He’s in explosives.”

 

“I haven’t talked to anybody in so long.”  I knew what she meant.  “I think the others are too far away to hear us.”

 

I sat there, looking into her face.  She lifted her head.  I pushed it back down.  “You need your strength.”  She looked into my eyes.  I looked back into hers.  At length she said, “I’m writing a story you know.”

 

“Well, I’d like to hear your story.”

 

“I have an invisible book.  That’s where I write – in my invisible book.  I even have a piece in there about you.”

 

“Is it about us having a date?” I blurted out.  “I wish we’d have a date.”

 

I thought for a minute.  This was really going far afield.

 

“You know I’m really particular about what kind of fellows I go out with and I’m really tied down with this busy social schedule.  But then you’ve noticed, I’m sure.”

 

“Playing hard to get, are you?”

 

She started to laugh.  “Oh, that hurts.”  There was a low moan.  “My whole chest feels like one big sore.”

 

“How about your arms and legs?”

 

“Oh, I don’t feel them anymore,” she said matter of factly.  “But my back really hurts.”

 

“I really am sorry.”

 

“I wish I could just go to sleep and never wake up again.”

 

“No, you don’t want to do that?”

 

“Why not?”  It was a genuine question.  So I gave her a genuine answer.  “Because I am going to do a murder.”

 

That startled her but only for a moment.  With some anticipation in her voice, she asked, “Will you do it now?”

 

“No, I’m sorry.  There’s still the problem of the aftermath.  My murder plan involves my getting away with it.  That’s pretty important.”

 

“Well then, talk to me about that date.”

 

We chatted like this for the next hour while the rain continued to pour.  I suggested she wear a nice sun dress.  She said she would a pants suit.  I said I liked to look at her arms and legs.  They were sexy.  She said that she hadn’t worn anything over her arms and legs for so long that she would wear the pants just for a change.  And a blouse.  She had definite ideas about her blouse.  So we argued about that for awhile.  Then she wanted to know where I would take her.  To a movie.  What movie?  I told her that “The Sound of Music” was the best movie ever.  She said no, it was “The Wizard of Oz.”  So we argued about that.  While we were doing all this arguing I was running my hand over her body, while avoiding her bruises and respecting her private areas.  She accused me of torturing her.  So I stopped.  Then she chewed me out for stopping.  So I put my hand along her face.  She pressed her cheek to my hand.  I said, “Oh, hell” and bent down and kissed her.  She kissed back.

 

“I don’t even know your name.”

 

“I can’t tell you.”

 

She was surprised.  “Why not?”

 

“It will mess up my plan for the murder.”

 

“You’re serious?  You’re really going to murder me?”

 

“Yes I am.”  And I was, in a way.

 


Review This Story || Author: Floyd Polgar
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