2 – Ludwig
Black opened his swollen eyes and scanned the room. It was dimly lit, concrete smelled of sweat, urine and feces. The cold, steel bars were the biggest giveaway that he was in a jail cell, though. His head was feeling a tad bit achey, and when he instinctively tried to raise his hand to his face, he found that his wrists were still cuffed behind him.
“That’s right,” he said to himself. He remembered that he had just killed a couple of people at a bar, one of them being a cop. He realized that he still had no recollection of any event before going to the bar, but the fact that he was able to remember what had happened at the bar seemed to be a step in the right direction. He rose to his feet and began to inspect his surroundings more closely. There was no window, so that route of escape was out. The only way out, it seemed, was the locked cell door. He approached the bars and squatted down to examine where the lock was located. Solid steel. Not even a keyhole on his side of the bars. He would have to wait until someone opened the door if he was ever going to get out there.
He didn’t have to wait long. Soon, a loud group of footsteps echoed through the halls of the jail. The steps had purpose behind them. They were hurried. There was an anticipation building with each and every step, and Black could feel it. A few moments later, he was facing a wall of men with badges, each one of them uglier than the last.
“On your knees, son,” said the ugliest, fattest and oldest one of them.
Black didn’t move. “You know what happened to the last law man that asked me to do that?”
He chuckled. “Enlighten us.”
“Last time I saw him, he was lying on the floor, in a pool of his own blood, brains and skull fragments, with a bullet in between his eyes,” Black said, with a curled lips.
The men on the other side of the bars were visibly upset by his cocky attitude about murdering their fallen brother. That was just the way he wanted it. He wanted them angry and off their game. He wanted to make sure that he could get the best of them if need be. There was only five or six of them standing before him; a number that he could easily take care if he had to.
The old, ugly, fat man spoke again. “I am Sheriff Ludwig. You killed one of my men and severely injured another. I’m sure you know what we do with people like you out here.”
“To be honest, Sheriff, I’m not sure where we are, so I wouldn’t have the slightest,” Black said. The look in the Sheriff’s eyes confirmed that Black had severely managed to get his goat.
The heavy cell door, swung open and the men rushed in, picking him up by his arms and legs. Black watched the floor go by quickly as they rushed him into another, darker, smellier room. This room was lit by a single, small bulb, hanging on a wire. He could tell by the murmurs that there were a lot more than five or six men in this room. He thought he might actually be stuck in there with the whole force.
They dropped him under the light and he quickly tried to scan the room, without arousing suspicion. The light was making it hard to see what stood on the outer ring of the darkness just a few feet away, but he could tell that it wasn’t anything good.
“Now listen here, cop killer,” the Sheriff said. “To make you feel a little more at ease with the situation here, we aren’t going to book you. You are not under arrest. In fact, there is no record of you even being brought in here. That should make you feel better! Huh, tough guy?”
The room broke out in laughter and Black was surprised at how many different laughs he heard. For the first time since being in custody, he was uneasy. He no longer thought that he would be able to get out of there alive.