Transport (A Prison Transfer Tale)

By Steve Dustcircle

What is supposed to be a quick, direct delivery from one state to another, a county jail inmate is taken all over the Midwest in a cramped van with a bunch of guys he has nothing in common with, but for two things: they're all facing fugitive charges, and they're all a little bit normal actually, though they come from all backgrounds and parts of the Midwest. A tale that is hard, funny, and reflective.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hudson Books
• Release date: Aug 16, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311263605

Steve Dustcircle

Originally from Chicago, Steve Dustcircle comes from a background in religious ministry and music performance, but now has his hand in many forms of activism, mostly focused on free thought and human rights. He is an amid reader and doer.Steve authored or edited several books: Trump's Cabinet, Leaving Worship, Politics for the Disinterested, Black Panther 101, and many others.Steve has contributed to The Good Men Project, OpEd News, Counter Currents, Ex-ChristianNet, and others. He lives in central Ohio and loves good coffee and stimulating conversation.Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/dustcircle

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TRANSPORT

[Abridged Special Edition]

Smashwords Edition

By Steve Dustcircle

© 2014 Steve Dustcircle

http://www.SteveDustcircle.us

CHAPTER ONE

I snapped back from daydreaming by the movement on the other side of the glass. They're here to pick me up, I assumed, but then I saw the cart.

A cart of food was wheeled to my metal door, surrounded by meshed glass, and there was a buzz.

They're not here yet? I asked politely. It's easier to get the correctional guards to work with you or give you honest answers if you're polite and humble.

No, not here yet. Probably on their way still, was the heavier set old lady's reply, her Sheriff's uniform gleaming and pressed. You never know how long these things can take.

After seeing one cell for two months fighting extradition, and having little interaction with people except for other inmates and C.O.'s, I was anxious to be submerged in any situation besides the one I was currently in, even if it were worse.

Okay, thank you, ma'am.

I took my beige, plastic tray from the cart, and walked it to my table. No need to rush. Time in this room goes slow, especially when anticipating the transport vehicle.

That's another thing I wasn't sure about. Was the other state driving here to bring me back? Surely it wouldn't be a helicopter. What if they drove me to the airport, or made me ride a Greyhound—just me in cuffs and an armed guard, with curious passengers looking over nervously? Is there a service that would pick me up?

They had woken me up hours before breakfast, to switch me out of the white and black county clothes—yes, they still use black and white in some places, but was a canvas shirt and pants outfit—and let me wear the clothes I was arrested in. I was then placed in another room, away from the usual day room with attached double cells. I had the whole bunk room to myself, but time was standing still.

Just after I took a few bites of my bologna sandwich, not even touching the dessert yet, the door buzzed. Now? Seriously?

They're here, the CO said, stepping back, holding the door open. Patience wasn't a trait they were known for. I