The thing that Dez found funny in it all was the irony. It was incredibly easy to get imprisoned, quick to reach once the line was crossed, and within hours, justice would emerge. But to get it all over with? To be jailed, sentenced, and settled into your home for the foreseeable future? Oh, that took time.

  Dez would’ve figured it’d be simple. A gaggle of Eyeville’s finest had seen the three of them standing over the recently slain body of Jack, Hooks holding the gun in hand. They had discovered the body of Perry moments later, and they had them dead to rights. They had killed two “innocent” men, and some of those closest to the police of Eyeville. He expected they’d be thrown into a cold cell, key discarded until the day came for them to be silenced, a magical concoction luring them into an early demise. But just like the last time they’d been arrested, it was anything but a smooth process.

  Processing had been a fun experience. Ritz, Hooks, and Dez had been hauled into the local jailhouse of Eyeville and then beaten nice and blue by the men of the same color. They’d then been slowly checked (excessively in Dez’s opinion), entered into the system, and thrown back into the temporary cell until court.

  ?

  The three of them scarcely said a word to one another. Hooks had attempted to break the ice, but even a man as fearless as he recognized the other two were in no mood for his smooth talking. A day later, Hooks had been dragged off to his Initial Court.

  ?

  Dez and Ritz talked then, away from the source of their frustration. But there was nothing really to be said; there would be no amount of lawyering to get them acquitted; they had little leverage for a plea, and it was unspoken that neither would rat on the other. Even Hooks, as dubious as the man could be, wouldn’t consider the option. To add on to it all, they were both aware their death likely lay ahead. The state of Kentucky was one of the over half of the states in the US that still employed the death penalty, and the folks and even politicians of Eyeville were avid supporters. So instead, they offered grim goodbyes, made crude, insensitive jokes, and reminisced about their grandest stories. All too past the time and pretend they weren’t both terrified, though the second round of beatings the officers of Eyeville offered made it just a bit difficult.

  ?

  Then Ritz was off for his own Initial Court. Leaving Dez alone, save for the brutal company of beatings. During it all, Dez cursed just about everything he knew. Mr. Little, his bastard father, Hooks, his bastard best friend, and himself for being dumb enough to keep screwing his life up. The list went on and on, a long tirade of people Dez tried to blame. But Dez knew the truth. Hooks may have worked his magic, but it had been his own choice to listen. To trust they could play with a grenade without it blowing up in their face. In all his misery, he heard nothing of Ritz or Hooks. As angry as he was with the two, Dez still worried about them. Have they already been tried? Had they even made it that far? What would happen when it was his turn?

  ?

  He soon faced some of it all. Dez was dragged along to the courthouse by a disguised van, angry and tense men filling it around him, smashing their shoulders into him, and sneering remarks about his skin, seemingly attempting to goad him into a reaction. And usually they’d have gotten it, but Dez knew there was no point. They would use the chance to torture him, maybe even kill him, so he held his resolve. A silent resistance, the only kind he could provide. Soon they arrived at the old brick courthouse. Dez was stunned into silence by it all.

  ?

  The courthouse was supposedly the second-oldest building in Eyeville. Assembled by one of the founders and run by the highest authority of the city ever since. The old massive bricks used to construct it were stained with moss and dirt over the years, cracked, and bowing from their age. It was a relaxed place, with few crimes and matters needing to be handled here. But it seemed damn near all of Eyeville had shown for him, the second the car had parked, and the men forced him out of it. Dez was exposed to the mob. The people roared with hatred, some of them called him a murderer, others called him slurs that made his skin tingle, and some of the rest just roared with rage. They were all headed back with lines of tape and the few dozen Eyeville officers they had—a surging wave of human hate directed at him. Dez had barely taken it in before a bag was thrown over his head. He was dragged toward the courthouse, the line holding the crowd back obviously failing as the apparent perpetrator was shown in front of them, and Dez suspected the guards allowed them to reach him. He was kicked, punched, pulled, shoved, and even spat on before he finally breached the doors.

  ?

  Dez stumbled to the ground in pain and shock, the court and the residents barely acknowledging it as he was dragged to his stand. The affair had been short and to the point; there was no debating to be had here, merely decisions to be made. And soon it was decided he was being charged with premeditated murder in the first degree. And that his court would be held within the week.

  ?

  Then he was dragged before the mob again, before he was returned to the holding facility within Eyeville. This time, as he waited, he was treated better; he would soon be sent out of Eyeville after all, they couldn’t very well send him in the state they’ve kept him. He even got access to the occasional newspaper, which filled in some of the gaps he had.

  ?

  Their brawl and subsequent murder of Jack and Perry had made national news. The quiet life of Eyeville was being disturbed as the story took flight. A recent lottery winner and his gaggle of minions went out for a night on the town, getting high and drunk and killing two innocent men. They were hated throughout the country, the context of that night being buried in the drama of it all. Soon, in the eyes of their country, Ritz, Hooks, and Dez had planned and executed the assassination of two white boys.?

  ?

  News regarding the fates of Hooks and Ritz was more of a mixed bag, however. Ritz was missing, having apparently disappeared during the chaos of his arrest and transport to trial. The man had gone to the ground according to the news and was considered armed and deadly. Dez wasn’t sure what to make of that. On one hand, Ritz was free, but was he safe? Hooks was much easier to learn, and Dez knew he was annoying.

  ?

  While the PR for Dez and Ritz was at an all-time low. Both being unable to defend themselves or speak out due to circumstances, Hooks had no such limitations. His trial was held before the jury, and somehow the man’s charm seemed to once again work in his favor. The media made him into a celebrity, a controversial one with his case, half the country thinking him scum, but the other half saw him as some bad boy, entertainment to break apart their boring lives. Within the binding, he was interviewed, and people seemed more willing to believe he was innocent. And throughout it all, he pointed the finger squarely at Ritz and Dez.

  ?

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  The first time he had witnessed it, Dez had raged hard enough to be nearly punished. But once it settled, he realized just how truly screwed he was. Hooks was slowly but surely attempting to convince the public of his innocence and Dez’s guilt, while Ritz was missing and unable to share his own story. It left one last person to take it all on.?

  ?

  He met with a public defender assigned to him, but it was of little good. Dez, even with Hooks' betrayal, refused to give in. While he wasn’t the triggerman, and Hooks was deserving, the idea of ratting made his skin crawl. Plus, it may fall on Ritz's shoulders as well. With the evidence presented and Hooks' testimony, his case looked grim. It was then, only after a single day, that their strategy was decided. Dez would plead guilty in hopes of avoiding the death sentence, and maybe even earning a plea.

  ?

  Soon after, the court time had arrived. Dez was stuffed into a rented suit and was led through what they called a trial. The whole thing had been a farce, Dez could tell by the look on the judge and jury when he walked in; he was guilty in their eyes. And as evidence was presented, his plea rejected, Dez sat silently. Desperately attempting to prepare himself for what was coming. He didn’t have long; it was a mere five hours later that he was sentenced. Guilty of First Degree Premeditated Murder. The only comfort of it all was that Hooks was found guilty as well. Their punishment? Capital punishment.

  ?

  Dez was going to die… the assurance of such should have been crushing, but he was numb. He marched through the courthouse stone-faced, and when thrown into a bus to be transported to prison, he felt more of the same. With as small a town as Eyeville was, he wouldn’t be kept there. No, Dez was to be shipped back toward the big city, to one USP, dubbed the Huge Sand, the most secure and harsh prison within Kentucky. Dez wasn’t sure if it was a saving grace or not that his execution date was yet to be determined, and likely wouldn’t be in the near future. Kentucky may have still enforced the death penalty, but it rarely carried it out.

  ?

  So Dez spent the trip stunned, trapped within his own mind. A grim acceptance seeped into his body as he realized this was how it would end—roped into a revenge plan, locked away for it, until the day came to strap him to a table and inject him with a concoction that would stop his breath. Yet it wasn’t his imminent demise that dominated his mind as his empty bus rattled off to deliver him to his new home.

  ?

  As they slowly left the thick woods, Dez had become accustomed to his mind being focused only on the past. The days before he had left home, the constant arguments with his father, raging at his mother. It all seemed so stupid now; he supposed his approaching death at least brought him clarity. Mr. L-, his father had been a stuck-up bastard, of that Dez was sure. But before Dez had rejected him entirely, the man had always been supportive, expectant of him, but in a way that felt it had been because he saw him as more. But as Dez got into a more and more fast-and-loose lifestyle, it had driven a rift between them. His father became cold and judgmental, constantly calling out mistakes and attempting to coerce him to act “decent. And Dez, bullheaded, had rejected his stern love, and now look at him.

  ?

  It wasn’t only there that Dez had some personal discoveries. Primarily, his friendship with Hooks had brought him nothing but trouble. Before him, Dez had been struggling, but he had been the accelerant. Hooks made Dez's impulsive thoughts seem reasonable, bowing to power or authority unreasonable, and his own plans genius. Dez couldn’t help but curse himself; he had known the first time he had met Hooks that he was trouble, but had gone along with him regardless. For some stupid reason, Dez had been convinced Hooks would be his escape, that as long as he followed his “brother” through tough and easy times alike, the two could overcome anything.

  ?

  But the truth was obvious now. Hooks had never seen him as a “brother, as an equal, no, he had seen him as a gullible friend. Someone to keep around whenever he needed help, and apparently the one he could leave behind when things got rough. No, he had been a lackey to the man; at very least, his attempt at framing him had failed, though it was grim comfort to know it only assured they would both die.

  Ritz crossed his mind often as well. Dez couldn’t shake the feeling that something about him going missing was wrong. Perhaps somehow Ritz had managed to escape; the man hated the idea of prison more than any of them. And was one of the craftiest dudes Dez had ever met. If any of them could pull something like that off, it was him. But whenever his mind did wander about his friend, that strange sensation would buzz within his body so intensely he would get dizzy. Dez wasn’t sure what that meant, but it couldn’t be good.

  ?

  Speaking of his strange sense, it was going haywire as of late. Ever since he was on his way to USP Huge Sand, there was a constant sparking feeling throughout his body. Dez was keen on it; after it had nearly alerted him to Hooks several times, he had decided it was to be trusted. But there was nothing to be done. Dez was powerless; even if something bad were on his way, there would be no way to avoid it. And he was aware misfortune was on its way, he was on death row for god’s sake.

  ?

  Eventually, though, he arrived. Dez had expected a barren wasteland but was surprised to see how normal it appeared from the outside. It was nestled upon a hilltop, a decent distance away from amenities of the city life. The large facility was doubly fenced off from the rest of the world. Small checkpoints are located at the facility's west and east sections. The grass was a vibrant green, well-maintained and trimmed, almost too perfect, really. And there were nearly a dozen guard towers that loomed over the central prison and the area around it. Guards toting rifles loafing around in each, several glancing their way as the mostly empty bus approached the eastern checkpoint.

  ?

  From the back of the bus, Dez could scarcely hear what the driver said to the guard before the roadblock. The two exchanged words before the bus door creaked open, and the gate guard appeared and approached Dez. Without a word, the man gestured for Dez to stand. But Dez could only gawk dumbly at it all. The man then hauled him to his feet, patted him down to ensure he had nothing on his person, and threw him back into his seat when he was sure Dez wasn’t carrying anything. When completed, the two were allowed to pass and entered into the prison proper. Parked along the line of designated slots, before two armed guards entered and escorted Dez off the bus and into the prison proper.

  ?

  The two trekked into a small building serving as an airlock to keep those in and out of the central facility. The entire inside was entirely white and gray, a dull vibe that quickly settled into Dez’s bones. He was signed in, fingerprints scanned, a mugshot captured, and given his entry package. Dez had roughed it for a while, so he didn’t mind, but it was grim what little he was offered. Two pairs of prison jumpsuits, a mat that was apparently his mattress, and a small bag containing toothpaste and a toothbrush, soap, towels, and toilet paper.

  ?

  From there, Dez was escorted deep into the central facility. Passing countless pods of prisoners, mess halls, and courtyards, until they hit the center of the facility. A section, gated off from the rest, currently housing ten prisoners, including Dez, with digitally locked doors sealing it off from the rest. The guard has to swipe their keycards to get them in further, then emerges into the section, greeted by a trio of guards, who check each of them before allowing them into the prisoner’s area. It was a small, more decrepit hall, with wear and tear not present at the front of the facility now littering the section. The prisoners inside were a silent lot, barely reacting as Dez was marched down the end of the hall to a cell housing a young man shorter than himself, with his hair buzzed short and a thin, wispy mustache on his lips. As Dez was let into and locked in the cell, the man sat up lazily. Dez watched in disbelief as the guards walked away, realizing it was all set in stone.

  ?

  “My name is Hector Mendez, and I have the honor of welcoming you to the Huge Sand, Death Row at that.” The man stood up and offered a sarcastic bow. “I have the pleasure of being your roommate, and who do I have the pleasure of rooming with?”

  ?

  “Names Desmond Little, but call me Dez,” Dez said numbly. He climbed into the top bunk, ignoring Hector from now on, feeling annoyed as the man merely nodded sagely. “I’m getting some rest, I’m fine with the top bunk.”

  ?

  “Ah, some sleep, a wise way to attempt to deal with this stress. It’s what I did, my friend, sleep on it, we have hours before recreational time anyway.” Hector said before crawling back into his own bed. “Rest well.”

  ?

  Dez wasn’t sure how that would be possible.