air circulation, but the feeling of being suffocated was strong. He reached up to the collar of his shirt and pulled at it.
“All these years and I’ve never gotten used to the compressed air down here. Just relax, the feeling will go away after a few minutes,” Warden Cartwright said. The warden was a short, stout man with round glasses and a widow’s peak hair line. He had a bum leg, wore a black suit, a white shirt and walked with a bit of a waddle. He had a reputation of being a fair and just man…even if he did look like a penguin.
The warden and P.J. passed by a series of empty, dark, dank cells before they arrived at the one holding Beast. When P.J. first saw Beast, he was sitting on the edge of a rigid, steel bed frame with his head in his hands. Lost in thought, Beast didn’t look up right away. He had always been a brute of a man. Strong, tall, with a large barrel chest, and iron thighs. And although he was well into his seventies now, there was nothing about Beast that was frail. Years in prison hadn’t changed all that fierce strength. All that time with nothing to do but pump iron in a human kennel cage had kept him strong and fit. Over the years, Beast had managed to add some impressive jailhouse tats to his body, and now he was covered in India ink pretty much from top to bottom. P.J. noted with surprise that Beast’s long, gray mane of hair had been chopped off and shaved right down to the bone.
Before P.J. could fully comprehend what that meant, Beast turned to him. Beast’s deep, brown eyes flashed with a quick. unspoken sorrow, before they lit with recognition. P.J. stepped into the cell and pulled him into a hard man hug. “Good to see you, brother.”
“Appreciate you making the trip.” Beast embraced P.J. When he released him, a long look filled with heart felt memories passed between the two men. Beast was first to break the silence.
“Hey, how’d you like the new do?” Beast rubbed his hand over his shaved head.
“Gonna be a big hit with the ladies.” P.J. joked.
Beast guffawed. “Yep, fuckers let me do it myself. I got a match going with my left leg. I feel like a goddamn woman with my calf shaved like this. But better than having my balls catch on fire, or that juice get stuck somewhere along the way and blow a hole right outa my ass.”
“So, it’s the chair then?” P.J. worked to keep his voice steady. He had never considered the possibility that Beast would not be executed by lethal injection.
“Yeah, it’s the chair. Not my first choice, brother. But all those years of drug use and then the damn diabetes, my veins are shot to hell. I’m not gonna spend the last minutes I have left being strapped to a gurney while they stick me with needles trying to find a vein good enough to kill me.” Beast hesitated then shrugged. “Might be a little tougher to watch, though. Better if we say our see ya laters now.”
“I ain’t leaving you. You can bet your life on that.” P.J.’s tone was firm and brooked no argument.
“Bet my life on that? That’s a good one!” Beast slapped his leg and laughed like he had the front seat in a comedy club. Then he called out to the warden who was standing against the wall just outside the cell. “You know what they call that, Captain? That right there is gallows humor. Safe to say though, those fucking veins are the only things that have given up on me, that’s for sure. Once a beast always a goddamn beast. Older than dirt and I can still bench press my own body weight. Haven’t lost my way with the ladies either. Female guards love me and male guards wanna be me. Ain’t it the truth, Captain?”
The warden gave Beast a small, indulgent smile. “It’s the truth, Billy Bob.”
Beast nodded with satisfaction. Then he leaned in to P.J. and said, “He’s not such a bad fucking guy. Dealt with me straight, honest, and fair all these years.”
“Glad to hear it, brother. Nothing less than you deserve.” P.J. told him and he meant it. Despite the truly brutal nature of Beast’s crime, P.J. would always hold the man in high esteem. As far as P.J. was concerned, Beast was a member of a