Death of a Pharaoh (9 page)

“May the Gods
bless and watch over you,” he added.

The silent
conversation ended as suddenly as it started and Diego lowered his head. It
could even have been a bow then he began feeding another sheet into the press
as if nothing had happened between us. I might have considered it the ramblings
of an eccentric old man if it hadn’t been for the term “My Lord”; the same two
words I read in Ethan’s mind only a few days before.

I always
questioned where my special gifts came from. Was I an angel or a messenger of
God? Maybe even an instrument of the devil. I lost many hours of sleep trying
to figure it all out but now this strange yet dignified man from Peru told me
that my future was somehow planned and that I would soon know my destiny. I
wondered what God wanted me to do in Sullivan. I could think of nothing else
for days.

Apart from Zach, Ethan and Diego, I made few friends those first
months. Friendship was a commodity like any other on the inside and I preferred
to keep myself free of obligations. I started to teach Zach chess in the common
area and other inmates would often gather around to watch the game. One day a
young Latino guy sat down beside me. He was a fish. I could feel him staring at
me and he didn’t seem interested in the way the game was going.

Finally, I turned
to him, “What you staring at newbie?”

He was nervous,
“It’s just that…”

“What?”

“Diego told me you
could help me.”

“Help you with
what?”

“He said to tell
you to put your hands on my head.”

I glanced over at
Zach who seemed as surprised as I was.

“Are you gonna?”
the newbie insisted.

I took my right
hand and placed it on his dark short-cropped hair. I closed my eyes. His name
was Pablo. He’d robbed a liquor store because his mother needed an operation.
They were illegal immigrants and didn’t have medical insurance. He’d used a toy
gun but they charged him with armed robbery anyway. That and a few priors for
shoplifting got him ten years. He felt he had abandoned his mother. Guilt was
tearing the poor kid apart. I asked one of the others to finish the game with
Zach.

“I’ll be back in a
while,” I told my cellmate.

Pablo and I found
a corner where we could talk. Thirty minutes later he walked away feeling much
better about things. My Dad knew a good oncologist and I promised I would call
and make an appointment for Pablo’s Mom.

The next day there
was an older brother waiting to see me. By the end of the first week, I had a
line-up. Often, I couldn’t really do much to help their situations but I could
tell them that they weren’t bad people just because they were criminals. I’d
remind them of times when they had been happier and most of them left with a
tear in their eyes and less of a burden on their shoulders. After two weeks,
everyone noticed a difference in our block. Fights diminished dramatically and
two black guys even came to the aid of a young Puerto Rican about to get punked
in the showers. Normally, they wouldn’t have given a shit. People treated me
different as well. Zach said it was like having a movie star as a cellie.

I saw Diego every
day in the laundry but he never said anything to me about the touch thing,
either aloud or through a silent conversation in my mind. My informal therapy
sessions had been going on almost a month, when two CO’s showed up while I was
sorting a bundle of towels.

“Warden wants to
see you,” the senior officer barked, “now!”

Zach bristled but
I nodded to signal everything would be OK.

They put me in
cuffs attached to a waist chain; standard procedure for moving inmates who
weren’t trustees to the administration building. It was my first trip. The
guards removed the chains just outside the Warden’s Office.

“Be good now,” one
of them whispered in my ear, “or I’ll Taser you until your hair looks like Don
King’s. Got that?”

I wasn’t sure who
Don King was but I nodded yes anyway.

They hustled me
into the reception area. The secretary grabbed my right hand to scan my DIN
then pointed with her pen to the closed door behind her right shoulder. Black
letters stenciled on the glass window read,
Theodore Lawson, Warden
.

The guard knocked
three times.

“Come in,” a voice
bellowed from inside in a tone that sounded more a threat than an invitation.

The warden sat
behind his desk reviewing some papers. He looked like the Vice-president of the
NRA. He made me wait. A control tactic he’d learned in warden school I
imagined.

“Murphy, seems
you’ve been making new friends lately.”

I didn’t respond.

“CO’s tell me you
have a line-up of customers almost every night.”

I shrugged my
shoulders as if to say so what.

“Answer me when I
talk to you,” he barked.

“Yessir.”

“Don’t know what
you’re up to in there but we don’t appreciate people putting strange thoughts
into inmates’ heads. If anyone is going to fuck with their minds, they’ll be
wearing a uniform.”

He stared at me
for a moment. “You’re not one of those Black Panthers are you?”

“No, sir.”

“We had a bunch of
them here once. They walked around wearing skullcaps like the Arabs,” he drew
out the first letter of the last word. “We had no end of problems with all that
black pride shit. Somebody sent them a crate of books by Malcolm X; had to
confiscate everything. Look where that got us with Obama.”

I wondered how
long I’d have to listen to his racist rant. He must have read my mind because
he changed tact.

“My officers
report that things have calmed down somewhat in your cellblock. There hasn’t
been a violent incident in over a week. They blame you and all those whispered
conversations you’re having and everyone acting all buddy-buddy like some
freaking hippy commune. Next thing you know you’ll all be holding hands and
chanting like back in the 60’s.”

His face turned
red and a large vein throbbed in his neck.

“Anyway, I won’t
stand for it. I run a prison here son, not a fucking daycare. Excuse my
French,” he apologized. “We can’t have an inmate walking around like a gospel
preacher laying hands on everyone and making them contented. If the State of
New York wanted inmates to be happy, they would have told me. This is a medium
security prison. There hasn’t been a rape reported in two weeks in your
section. This is an all-male facility, what the hell else are they going to do
with each other?”

He looked
embarrassed when he realized what he had just said. He coughed and picked up a
manila folder on his desk and flipped a page.

“I’ve been looking
over your file. You’re a regular genius it says here. You might have seen
yourself as a sort of Robin from the Hood with all the vigilante shit you
pulled at school but that ended when they put your black ass in here. Don’t
know what you’re planning but it’s always the intelligent ones you have to look
out for. Got any tattoos? I saw every episode of Prison Break and I am going to
keep an eye on you. You won’t be able to piss without having two CO’s
watching.”

He paused to let
his point sink in, “What have you got to say for yourself?”

“With all due
respect Warden, you’re crapping me out for making people feel better about
themselves and as a result letting go of violent behavior toward their fellow
inmates. And you think that is bad?”

“Of course I do,
dammit,” he swore. “I’ll be the laughing stock of the Department. Prison is
full of hard-assed criminals, not a bunch of self-loving pansies. You have
another four and a half years before your first parole hearing, Murphy. Keep
this up and you won’t get it approved until your thirty. Now get out of here!”
he yelled.

Zach was waiting
in our cell when they brought me back.

“What happened
dude?”

“He cut me a new
asshole for making people feel better. He wants me to stop.”

“Did you tell him
to go fuck himself?”

“Naw, I just let
him unload! When I met his secretary I found out she screws him on the couch in
his office twice a week. Regular like clockwork and they are both married.”

“Never saw him as
the type,” Zach admitted. “Too much of a tightass. Just shows you never know.”

“I am going to
call my buddy Tony and get him to plant some rumors on Facebook. Apparently,
she calls his dick ‘The Beast’ and they refer to their sessions as ‘Beauty and
the Beast’. Maybe the Governor would love to know about a sudden interest in
musical theatre here at Sullivan?”

When I returned
for my regular shift in the laundry the next day, Diego was there as usual but
this time he made a silent comment, “Soon, my Lord, soon!”

The day before my birthday on September 12
^th
, Tony and the
gang came back for a visit as they promised in May. They bubbled over with
stories about their summer adventures. Susan met an Italian guy she really
liked, and who was very much alive. Alex did make-up every day for several hot
young actors who apparently gave him more than just their autographs. He was
finally getting over the Bieb.

Tony was pleased
that the smut he planted about the Warden and especially the anonymous note he
sent to his wife and the Governor, resulted in a transfer, a demotion and a
divorce for Lawson. He didn’t say much about his summer in Texas but I knew
that everything went amazingly well. I was proud of him.

It was a
bittersweet occasion. I was happy to see them but I also knew that their lives
were drifting away from me. They were all off to college or great jobs, even
Tony, and with me stuck in jail it was going to be difficult to keep the gang
together. I wondered if they would ever come back. Susan asked me what my
birthday wish was. I hesitated to tell her so as not to jinx it. But it was
real easy to guess. I wanted to get out of prison.

The next day
everyone acted strange, especially Zach. Nobody mentioned a word about my
birthday, my first in prison. I could have had the plague at recreation from
the way they all avoided me. I knew they were only fucking with me, even Ethan
kept to himself.

I shouldn’t have worried.
Two cooks marched out with a giant chocolate cake after dinner with vanilla
icing sprinkled with toasted coconut. Pablo was in charge of desserts in the
kitchen and his mother was doing just fine after her scare with breast cancer.
My Dad’s doctor friend came through, and some charity even picked up the tab.
Ethan brought a box of candles and the other CO’s turned a blind eye while he
lit them up. The prison choir sang a stirring rendition of Happy Birthday and
then I made my wish. I have to admit that I got a little choked up. It was
almost 19.30 when I finished doling out cake to everyone.

“Want to play a
game of chess.” Zach proposed.

“Sounds great to
me!”

“Don’t think I’m
going to go easy on you, birthday boy.”

When we got to the
table he shyly pulled out a large brown envelop and handed it to me.

“I got you a
present,” he said trying not to fidget.

“You shouldn’t
have.”

“Open it already.”

Inside there was a
small stuffed lion. I didn’t get it.

“He’s the young
lion from the Disney movie, you know, Simba.”

I was still
confused.

“It just that … I
checked what your name means. It stands for a little king in Irish. So I
thought… you know, a little lion king. It even rhymes with Ryan…It seemed like
a good idea…from Africa and all…” his voice trailed away, he blushed and stuck
his hands in the pockets of his overalls.

I had never seen
him look so awkward.

“You do like it
don’t you?”

“I love it,” I
assured him. “Best present today.”

“It’s the only
present you got today,” he reminded me.

“Still the best
one!” I repeated. “Just wait for your birthday, I’ll get my revenge. I’m
thinking an autographed poster of Zach Efron with his shirt off?”

We both laughed
and I started to feel it was the finest birthday I could remember. Suddenly
there was an enormous flash. I thought someone had attacked me from behind. I
fell to my knees. The pain was horrific, like some demented tap dancer in
spiked boots stomping on my skull. Zach held me up as he called for help. A
crowd of inmates gathered around as the din in my brain became unbearable. It
was like all of Manhattan was shouting to me at once. Ethan and another CO
elbowed their way through the throng.

“Give him room,”
Ethan hollered.

There was a look
of panic on his face.

“Are you alright?”
he asked me.

“Yeah, I think so.
There was this blinding light, like a nuclear explosion, and I thought I was
going to faint. My head hurts like hell.”

“We better get you
to the infirmary right…” he paused in mid-sentence. He suddenly turned to his
colleague, “Take him to the clinic. I have to make an urgent call.”

Even with the
intense pain, I thought it strange that he would abandon me right then after
paying so much attention to me over the past months. He almost ran toward the
control room door.

Zach hugged the
stuffed lion and looked scared.

“Take care of him
for me. I’ll be back real soon,” I assured him as another bolt of agony shot
through my head.

Ethan went straight to the telephone in the CO’s office and dialed an
outside line. He knew the Philadelphia number by heart. He’d felt the vibration
on his beeper just as he’d bent over to talk to Ryan. It was an emergency flash
from the Falcon Foundation. The message read ‘Code Five’. He couldn’t believe
that the Pharaoh was dead but it did explain what had just happened to Ryan. He
listened to the priority message and entered his code to accept. It instructed
him to confirm the transfer of powers as soon as possible. He disconnected the
call and dialed the Command Center for the prison.

“Walters here, I’m
heading to the infirmary to check on inmate Murphy,” he announced.

He arrived within
five minutes. Ryan lay on a stretcher with a cold compress over his eyes. Ethan
pulled the doctor aside.

“How is he?”

“Complains of a
sever migraine with loud buzzing in his ears. He feels nauseas. I’ve given him
some Ibuprofen but it doesn’t seem to be helping so far,” he informed Ethan.
“I’m going to keep him here under observation for a few hours. It might be an
extreme form of post-traumatic stress brought on by the emotion of his birthday
or even a seizure. He’s in a great deal of pain. He mentioned a blinding light.
Did he fall or hit his head?”

“His knees buckled
but his cellmate caught him in time,” Ethan confirmed. “Did he say anything
about hearing voices?”

“Yeah, he asked me
if I could turn the volume down. Says everyone is saying the same thing,
ingosana or something like that. Claims it’s driving him crazy!”

“Thanks Doc, I’ll
check in on him later.”

Ethan walked to a
corner, took out his cellphone and typed a short text message. It read, “TOP
confirmed. Long live the True Pharaoh.”

He pressed the
send button with tears in his eyes. They were expressions of both sorrow and
joy. Now he had to make certain nothing happened to Ryan. He wasn’t babysitting
the heir anymore, he was protecting his King.

Moments later, Lord Thoth held his breath as the long awaited words
began to appear on the scroll.

“We are humbled to
confirm the successful transfer of powers to Prince Nkosana. Long live the True
Pharaoh and may Horus protect him from evil.”

So, the boy was
now Pharaoh designate. It was a ray of hope for humanity in this their darkest
night. He made the appropriate notation in the Book of Kings. It was out of his
hands now. The Servants of Ma’at would need to decide how they would deal with
the present situation. One of Nkosana’s predecessors as Pharaoh had been a
slave for many years but this was certainly the first time that a king would
begin his reign in prison. Thoth was the God of Wisdom and he prayed that young
Nkosana would find all of it that he would need.

Thoth put away his
files and prepared to make his report to the Supreme Council of the Gods.