Into the Darkness

By C.S. Michaels

After making his way across the country, Jake Bryant finds himself in Miami, broke with no job. When he lands a job on a luxury yacht that is set to cruise the Caribbean, Jake feels like he has finally found a respectable job and it seems like his fortune has changed. Unfortunately for Jake, he finds himself caught in the middle of a drug smuggling ring and must run for his life while fighting for his freedom.

• Language: English
• Publisher: C.S. Michaels
• Release date: May 19, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311076854

Book preview

Chapter 1

Jake Bryant lay in bed looking at the first rays of sunlight coming through the dirty, dingy window that was ten feet above the ground. He was lying on his side, facing the window thinking it was going to be another sunny and beautiful day in Mexico. He tried to tell himself that he was in paradise and that he was going to enjoy a great day. Unfortunately, he wasn’t going to get the chance to enjoy the beautiful day because Jake was going to spend this day like he’d spent so many others because he was sitting in a cell in a Mexican prison.

Jake looked around the prison cell that he had called home for the last three months. There was one window in the cell which Jake was staring at. It was too small for a man to fit through and had bars on it so there would be no chance of anyone getting out even if they tried.

The walls were made of concrete that was about sixty years old, if not older. The concrete was breaking off in places and the color of the walls was a dark gray and black which was the result of decades of not being cleaned. The floor was also made of concrete and it was cracked and dirty from thousands of inmates over the years.

Although the cell was fifty feet long and forty feet wide, Jake was in the cell with nine other inmates, which made it seem smaller than it actually was. From what Jake had gathered, all the prisoners in this wing of the prison were the worst of the worst. They were all convicted of murder.

The government housed them together because the authorities didn’t care if they beat or killed one another. If someone died, the guards would haul them out of the cell as if it were nothing more than a dead rat. Jake always assumed the authorities didn’t care if a prisoner died because it was just one less mouth to feed.

The first thing that struck Jake when he was thrown in the cell was the smell. It was the worst smell he had ever experienced. Jake soon learned the smell was the result of a couple of factors.

The prisoners weren’t allowed to shower very often and there was one toilet that they all shared. Sometimes the toilet worked and sometimes it didn’t. When it didn’t work, the guards were in no hurry to have it fixed and it just continued to fill up and often ran out onto the floor.

Jake thought he would have been used to the smell by now, but that wasn’t the case. It smelled as bad, if not worse, than the day he arrived. He had come to realize that he wouldn’t ever get used to the smell and would just have to learn to live with it.

Jake sat up and swung his legs over the side of his cot, putting his feet on the ground. Jake’s normally short brown hair was now past his shoulders and was curling up at the ends. It hadn’t been cut since before he was sentenced to this horrendous place. They didn’t have a mirror in the prison cell, but Jake suspected it didn’t look very good.

He hadn’t shaved in three months so his beard was starting to get long which gave him a scraggly, homeless man look. He had emerald green eyes and over his left eye was a two inch scar that was due to a rifle butt that had been slammed against his head three months ago. The doctors in the hospital stitched him up, but the stitching was crude and they weren’t worried about how it healed.

He was wearing white pants with gray stripes. The bottom of the pants barely went past his shins and was frayed at the ends. When he was first issued the pants, they were two sizes too small around the waist. The guards just shoved the clothes at Jake and they had to accept what they were given. The pants may have been small when he arrived in the prison, but after three months of eating the slop they called food, the pants fit him well now – at least around the waist.

His shirt had the same white with gray strips as the pants. It was a long-sleeve shirt, although Jake couldn’t understand why they would issue long sleeve shirts in a hot, humid place like this. The shirt was in the same ratty condition as the pants and the sleeves ended two inches before his wrists.

Clearly they just passed down uniforms from inmate to inmate so they could save money. Jake suspected they passed down the uniforms when someone died. From his understanding, that was the only option since no one was ever allowed to leave the prison.

The guards were very strict about wearing the uniform the way it was meant to be. Jake had once rolled up the sleeves because he was hot and it was bothering him that the sleeves were so short. He quickly wished he had left the sleeves alone because this action earned him a beating from the guards.

Apparently, they weren’t allowed to alter their precious uniforms. He learned right away not to do anything or say anything that would draw attention. From that day forward, he kept his head down and his mouth shut, trying desperately to stay out of trouble. At least that’s what his plan was. Unfortunately, it didn’t work out that way for him. It seemed like everyone else was looking to cause trouble for Jake.

Sure enough, it looked like trouble was about ready to find Jake again. Jake looked across the cell, watching a man walking towards him. The person Jake was watching was a big man called Pedro. He was an overweight, loud man that had just been convicted and thrown into this cell the night before. Apparently, he was well known because a couple of the other inmates knew him. It seemed this wasn’t his first stint in prison, although this would be his last. Everyone in this cell was sentenced to life.

Unlike the United States, there were no appeals, at least not for the inmates in this prison and there certainly wasn’t any chance of parole. They were just thrown in prison and forgotten. From what Jake was told, this prison had their own set of rules and didn’t follow the laws that other prisons followed. He didn’t know if that was true or not but either way, it appeared to be a very bleak future for Jake.

Jake continued watching Pedro make his way towards him, knowing trouble was about to start. Two of the other inmates stopped Pedro. They both whispered something to him, pointing at Jake. Jake guessed they were telling him not to mess with him. He had already kicked most of the guy’s asses that were in this cell, so they now had a certain amount of respect for him. Generally speaking, they just left him alone. Not many of the other prisoners talked to him, which suited Jake just fine. However, it looked to Jake like that was about to change.

When Jake was first thrown into the cell, he spent the first couple of days fighting each and every one of them. One by one he took it to them. Sometimes it was a fair fight, other times they ganged up on him and had two or three of them fight Jake. In a fair fight he gave more than he had gotten, but when he was out numbered he often times got more than he gave. Eventually, the inmates started referring to him as El Diablo.

Jake had once asked one of the inmates why they called him by that name. Apparently there was a famous bull at one time named El Diablo. Jake guessed that they gave him that nickname because of the way he fought. He thought of it as a compliment, knowing they could have given him far worse nicknames.

Pedro pushed the other two away from him and continued walking over to Jake. Jake slowly stood up and looked at Pedro. Unlike all the others in the cell, Pedro’s uniform actually fit, which seemed unusual to Jake considering Pedro was pushing three hundred and fifty pounds. Jake figured that Pedro must have some influence if he was able to get a new uniform. Either that or they just didn’t have any used uniforms that were big enough to fit him.

Pedro stopped a couple of feet away from Jake. The big Mexican was about the same height as Jake, but he outweighed Jake by a good one hundred and forty pounds. Jake was normally a hundred and eighty-five pounds, which still made him lean for his six foot one frame. After three months in prison he was lucky if he weighed a hundred and seventy pounds.

Pedro stood there staring at Jake, waiting for him to avert his eyes. Obviously, Pedro didn’t know who he was dealing with. Jake never averted his eyes when someone was trying to intimidate him because he absolutely refused to be intimidated. Jake had spent his whole life around people that wanted to intimidate him and they all learned quickly that he would not be intimidated.

Pedro said something to Jake in Spanish. After three months in prison, Jake had started to understand quite a bit of Spanish. However, he didn’t let on to anyone that he could understand the language because it was a good way to listen to conversations without them knowing he knew what they were talking about. Jake stood there and didn’t say anything. This got the big Mexican mad. He repeated what he had said the first time. Jake stood there, returning Pedro’s stare.

Jake said, I don’t speak Spanish.

Pedro looked at Jake for a second and then said in English, What is a stupid gringo like you doing here?

Jake gestured towards everyone in the cell then said, The same thing as everyone else. I was wrongly convicted.

This got applause from all the inmates in the cell, which pissed Pedro off. His irritation showed as Jake knew exactly where this was going. Jake had established himself as king of the cell and this guy wanted to show how tough he was so he would be the king.

So they call you El Diablo? Pedro said.

I guess, Jake replied as he shrugged his shoulders.

Well, you look like shit to me. I don’t like gringos and I hate all Americans. They think they own everything and can do whatever they want.

I haven’t been an American since I got here. We’re all the same in here.

Don’t ever say we’re the same, roared the big Mexican.

Jake wanted to calm the situation down. Even though he was a good fighter, he actually didn’t like fighting. He usually tried to avoid it when possible but there were always people like Pedro that just couldn’t help themselves. They felt like they had to impose their will on everyone else.

Jake didn’t know if they just liked to intimidate people or if they liked the way it made them feel. Either way, Jake couldn’t stand people like that so he was always ready to fight when he had to.

Although Jake had boxed at a gym for a couple of years, he was more of a brawler than he was a boxer. It usually worked to his advantage, but against a man that weighed over three hundred pounds, Jake knew he would have a difficult fight on his hands.

I’m with you, Jake said. I don’t like gringos either. We should go find one and kick his ass.

Everyone laughed, which further infuriated the big man. He turned his head and spit, but in his fury, some of the spit didn’t make it past his face and it was running down his unshaven chin. Jake laughed as he saw the spit running down the big man’s face, further upsetting him.

What are you laughing at gringo? Pedro snarled.

I’m not laughing at anything, Jake answered then decided to reason with the man. Listen big man, I don’t want any trouble. I just want to mind my own business and do my time.

Pedro shook his head. It doesn’t matter what you want, Pedro responded. This is my cell and you will do what I want.

What is it that you want?

I want you to be my bitch.

Jake laughed again because he didn’t know how to reply to that. He certainly wasn’t going to be anyone’s bitch in this prison or any other prison. They would have to kill him first and Jake wasn’t going to go down easy. He would make it as difficult as possible for anyone that tried to fight him.

Pedro looked confused because he was surprised that someone would laugh at him. What’s so funny gringo?

I thought I heard you say that you wanted me to be your bitch.

That’s what I said.

Well, I’ve got some news for you. That’s not going to happen.

Then you will die.

Jake stared at Pedro, suddenly getting angry. Jake always had a mean look to him even when he wasn’t mad. The nasty scar above his eye now added to the hard look. He usually tried to diffuse the situation, but when things went too far and his switch was flipped, the fury in his eyes usually made others back down.

Pedro wasn’t used to backing down, so Jake knew this wouldn’t be over until one of them was lying on the ground. Jake watched Pedro’s eyes and braced himself for the attack that was about to begin, knowing he wasn’t going to have to wait very long.

In an instant, Pedro swung a big right roundhouse at Jake, hoping to catch him off guard. Jake had noticed something in Pedro’s facial expression that tipped him off to the upcoming punch. He easily leaned his upper body six inches back and the swing missed by an inch.

Now that Pedro was slightly off balance, Jake struck quickly with a right cross aimed directly at Pedro’s nose. The nose was always the first place Jake tried to hit. It was easy to inflict a lot of damage on someone without injuring your own hand. Once someone gets hit in the nose, their eyes water and they usually have blood all over themselves. It makes them a little less ready to fight. This time was no different. Jake hit Pedro’s nose with all his might, breaking it instantly.

Blood started running down Pedro’s face and onto his shirt. His hands shot up to his nose and his eyes were watering fiercely. Jake stepped a little closer and hit Pedro with two quick left jabs and a solid right hook to his left cheek. Amazingly, Pedro remained standing, leaving Jake shocked.

Jake had to give the guy credit, he had hit him four times and that included two of his best punches. Yet Pedro was still standing. That never happened when Jake was in a fight because he was usually able to flatten a guy after the second or third punch.

As Pedro held his nose, he was trying to look through his watering eyes at Jake. Before Pedro had a chance to make a move or throw a punch, Jake lifted his right leg up high and then used it like he was stepping on a bug. Only he wasn’t stepping on a bug, he was stomping directly at Pedro’s left knee.

With Pedro’s eyes still watering he wasn’t able to see what was coming. In a fluid stomping motion, the heel of Jake’s foot slammed into the side of Pedro’s knee. There was a sickening noise as the onlookers all gasped at the sound. Jake knew that he probably dislocated Pedro’s knee and most likely tore all the ligaments.

This time Pedro went down in a heap, screaming in pain, holding his knee. Jake looked at the other prisoners and they were stunned to see Jake take Pedro down in less than thirty seconds. As Jake looked at them, they all ran to their cots, not wanting to be associated with anything that was happening.

Jake bent down to Pedro and said, My name is not gringo. It’s El Diablo, you piece of shit. If you mess with me again, I will kill you.

With Pedro howling so loud, Jake wasn’t sure if he heard him or not. Jake really didn’t care so he walked back to his cot and lay down. Everyone else just lay on their cots as well, acting like nothing had happened. With Pedro screaming as loud as he could, it only took a few minutes before the guards came running into the cell. They saw Pedro rolling back and forth holding his knee, with blood all over the front of his shirt. They looked at Pedro then looked around the room, trying to assess what had happened.

The head guard looked around the room, eyeing each of the inmates. What happened here? he asked.

All of the inmates looked at each other, lifted their hands in the air and said they didn’t see anything. Although they asked the inmates what had happened, the guards already knew who did this to Pedro. They had been called to this cell because of fighting many times over the course of the last three months, so they figured it was Jake that put this guy down. There was nobody else that was capable of doing this kind of damage to Pedro.

The head guard walked over to Jake and asked in English, Did you do that to him?

Jake did his best to look offended and confused. No, I didn’t do anything to that guy.

Don’t lie to me. Tell me what happened."

He was just walking over here to say hello to me and he fell down, Jake replied after he had sat up. His leg must have given out and he fell down onto the floor. His face hit the floor and he must have broken his nose.

I don’t believe you gringo.

Jake pointed to all the other prisoners and said you can ask any of them. I’m sure they’ll tell you the same thing.

The guard looked around the room and they were all nodding their heads, confirming what Jake had said was true. Jake knew that all of the prisoners would agree with him because they wouldn’t want Jake to do to them what he did to Pedro. The guard didn’t believe Jake or any of the other inmates.

Pointing at Pedro, the guard said in Spanish, Get him to the infirmary and have him checked by a doctor.

The other guards nodded their heads and ran over to Pedro. Two of the guards tried to help Pedro up, but he was still rolling around on the ground in pain. They were finally able to get him to stay still. They tried to pick him up, but he was so big and heavy that they were unable to do that. They told him he was going to have to stand. He shook his head no, but they helped him stand on his good leg. At that point they were able to help him out of the room.

After the head guard watched them take Pedro out of the cell, he looked back at Jake. I know you did this.

I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jake replied, raising his hands in an innocent manner.

You know what the punishment will be.

Unfortunately, Jake did know what his punishment was going to be. It was going to be the same punishment as all the other times. The guard turned his back and walked out the door and into the hallway. Another guard shut the door and locked it behind him. Jake sighed and knew that it was going to be another week in solitary. He had already spent a lot of time in there for fighting. It looked like he was going to spend more time in there now.

Jake looked around the cell and thought to himself that he had to find a way out of the prison. He couldn’t take any more of this life. If he didn’t find a way out of there soon, he would end up dead within three years. He had no doubts about that.

He lay his head back down on the cot and thought that this was a horrible way for his twenty-sixth birthday to begin.

Chapter 2

(3 Months Earlier)

Jake stepped out of the cab of the semi-truck, turned and waved thanks to the driver. Jake was in Miami, where he intended on spending the winter. He had spent many winters up north in his lifetime and had come to realize that it was best to spend winters in warm weather areas. It was just too damn cold for him in the northern part of the country during the winter. So this winter he figured he would go as far south as he could which led him to Miami.

Jake had hitchhiked across most of the United States to get to Miami. He had been in Los Angeles and decided to go east, wanting to go somewhere he had never been. Knowing he didn’t want to go north, he had decided to head south and check out Miami.

The only way Jake traveled was by hitchhiking because it was the cheapest way to travel. Using that method of travel, he hitchhiked across the United States, staying in various cities for various amounts of time, depending on how much he liked the city.

As Jake started walking down the street, the first thing that hit him was the humidity. He grew up in Chicago and there were times when it was humid. However, it never felt like what he was feeling now. The sun was beating down on him and he was already starting to sweat from just a few minutes of walking in the heat. He needed to find some shade soon or else he was going to be soaked with sweat in the next twenty minutes. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and started walking towards the beach.

The trucker had said that the beach was about two miles away, but he didn’t have time to drop Jake any closer because he had to go drop off his load. Jake had told him it was no problem, that he didn’t mind walking, especially after sitting all day in the cab of the truck. As sweat was soaking his shirt, he was regretting making that comment.

Jake ran his fingers through his hair and determined that he needed to get a haircut soon. His thick, brown hair was getting rather long and Jake always liked to keep it short, almost a military haircut. He then rubbed his face and could feel the beard from a couple of weeks without shaving. He would need to shave too. As his stomach rumbled, Jake knew getting a haircut and shaving would have to wait because his first order of business was to get something to eat.

He reached into his pocket and pulled the remaining cash out. The bills were wadded up in a ball, so he straightened them out. Counting the bills, he sighed at what was left. He was down to his last seventy dollars and change so he was going to have to find some work soon. Not that it was a big deal because that had been Jake’s life for the last several years, working odd jobs to make enough money to get by.

He did have a couple of other methods to make money. He was a great arm wrestler. Most people looked at Jake and thought he was too skinny to be good at arm wrestling, but Jake had learned long ago that it was about technique more than strength.

With bigger guys constantly underestimating him, he won more than he lost. It was a good way to make money, but he didn’t make enough to survive. Most people weren’t going to bet much money on arm wrestling so he did it more for the fun of it than anything else.

Jake also started hustling pool. He had worked in a bar in Seattle and he would spend a lot of his days practicing pool. As he bounced around the country, he kept practicing and was pretty good at it now. The key to hustling pool was not to take too much from people. Too many bars had people that all knew each other so if Jake took too much money from someone he risked getting jumped by several people. So he just always made enough to buy some food or drinks for himself. It wasn’t going to make him rich, but it kept him fed.

If he couldn’t find a job, he knew he could rely on those methods to make enough to allow him to eat. He would just have to find a bar, which was never a problem. Before he did that, he would try to find a job. He hadn’t worked for a while so he was itching to work a little.

Jake traveled lightly so he didn’t have to carry too much gear, and he always bought his clothes at Goodwill stores to keep the price down. That way when his clothes needed replacing, he could do it cheaply. However, he tried to wear his clothes for as long as possible before he bought new items, allowing him to save his money.

Everything Jake owned was in his backpack. His thinking was that if he couldn’t fit it in his backpack then he didn’t need it. The contents of his backpack consisted of a blanket, a pair of pants, long sleeve shirt, sweatshirt, a toothbrush and toothpaste and a razor. Jake didn’t think there was really anything else he needed.

Jake lived his life entirely off the grid. He didn’t want anyone knowing where he lived or what he did. He felt that the government wanted to control everyone and everything, so he distrusted everyone in the government. Whether they were Republicans or Democrats it didn’t matter to Jake. He felt like it was nobody’s business where or how he lived.

He wanted to make it as difficult as possible for anyone to know where he was or what he was doing. As a result, he didn’t have a driver’s license, credit cards or anything else that could be tracked by the government. He didn’t even think he had a social security number; however he wasn’t entirely sure about that. It was possible that his parents had gotten him one when he was born, but he had no clue if they did or not.

Jake’s father ran off when he was five years old and his mother was heavily into drugs. He didn’t know if that’s why his father had left or if he was just a rotten human being. It didn’t really matter. Shortly after his father took off, Jake's mother abandoned him, leaving him in front of a police station.

He would never forget that day. She had bent down beside him and said that he should tell the police inside that he needed help. He did that and when the police went outside to find his mom, she was long gone. Where she went, Jake had no clue.

Jake ended up getting bounced from one foster home to another until he was eighteen. After that, he was kicked out of the system and he’d been on his own ever since. He knew that his parents were now either dead or in prison. Either way, he didn’t care because he never wanted to see them again.

Growing up in Chicago, he had always dreamed of seeing more of the country. He worked odd jobs in Chicago until he saved enough money to travel. When he was twenty-two he finally had enough saved up so he started moving from state to state. He’d usually stay in a location for three or four months and then move on. Initially, he took the bus wherever he traveled, but then he found that hitching rides with truckers was much cheaper.

Jake figured out that if a person has low standards then they can live very cheaply. Wherever he went, Jake would find odd jobs here and there and do whatever needed doing. As long as he took jobs that others didn’t want, the employers usually didn’t ask too many questions.

Sure they would want him to fill out an application with his name and social security number, but he always used a name and number of someone he made up. They usually didn’t even run the name or number, but if they did then he would just disappear if they confronted him. Most of the time, he found people that were willing to pay him under the table. That way they don’t have to fill out any paperwork and he stayed under the radar.

As Jake continued walking along the sidewalk, he could smell the salt water from the ocean in the air, so he knew he was getting close. He saw a Denny’s restaurant on his left and decided he would eat there. It was going to be a little more expensive than what Jake would like to spend but he loved Denny’s and had eaten at a lot of them over the years so he knew exactly what he was going to have.

Salivating at the thought of food, he made his way towards the restaurant. As he walked up to the door, he saw a newspaper stand. Since this was a Sunday, the price of the paper was going to be two dollars. He fished two dollar's worth of coins out of his shorts and fed them into the machine.

After he grabbed his paper, he walked into the restaurant and waited to be seated. There were tables and booths everywhere and a bar that could seat fifteen people. He received a lot of looks from the staff and the customers, mainly because of how he looked.

He was wearing brown cargo shorts that were tattered and a red t-shirt that had several different stains on it. Neither of them had been washed in quite a while. In addition to the scruffy look, he probably didn’t smell the greatest either. He hadn’t had a shower since he was at the truck stop in Atlanta and that had been a few days ago. He didn’t notice any kind of smell, but he figured he was probably used to it.

A short, red-headed waitress came walking over to him. She was in a hurry because of the crowd so she quickly made her way over to Jake but stopped a couple of feet away from him, looking at how he was dressed. Finally deciding he still met the dress code, she stepped a little closer to him.

Can I help you? she asked while snapping her gum.

I would like a table for one, Jake answered.

She looked him over, clearly trying to determine if he could even pay for a meal. Not only that, but Jake assumed she wasn’t eager to seat him because of the smell. Jake was acutely aware that he must smell a little ripe and clearly she was aware of it too.

Follow me, she instructed.

As he followed the waitress, he decided his priority list was to eat then get a haircut, shave, and shower then wash his clothes, in that order. While thinking about that, the waitress mercifully sat him in a corner booth far away from the other patrons. Most