Solitary Cell 63

As promised, I give you some work I did. So please enjoy.

Solitary Cell 63

I walked down the dimly lit hall, some of my jet black hair landed in front of my eyes. I brushed it away. I came to the security center for sector 18. I used my hand free of the file under my arm to take off my ID badge, and flashed it in front of the scanner. A computerized voice came up. “Welcome agent AJ Crawford.” I couldn't resist a smirk.

The iron gates creaked open, and I walked through. There were cell doors, not your cliche cell doors, but reinforced steel doors, with small windows. The dim lighting was as bad as ever though. I counted numbers. White cell doors with large black numbers imprinted on them. From behind them came the shrieks of those incarcerated. I shut them out. I took a look at the file. Johnathan Jenkins, held in Sector 18's cell 63. I came to it. The number 63 was in very bold black print. “Here we go.” I mumbled. Then walked through to the outer area, where people monitored.

Captain Wilson came up to me. “Ready Crawford?” he asked. I simply nodded, without a word, and then went to the table where mr.Jenkins sat. I took the chair across from him, and removed my sunglasses, as if I'd just come in from a sunny day. My silvery eyes dug into his beautyful blues. The room was white, and of course, very secure. The man across from me fidgeted. He was obviously not mentally stable. We hadn't given him a straight jacket, but he had chains that reached to the walls, freshly installed this morning. “I want you to tell me about what happened last month.” I said, dryly, and finally breaking the silence. “You won't believe me, nobody does!” he exclaimed madly. I didn't flinch, it was expected. “Just tell me what happened Officer Jenkins, it's my job to listen to you.” I assured. I was tempted to call him JJ, but I hadn't. “I'm no Officer, I was fired!” Johnathan yelled at me. I rolled my eyes. “Or I could tell you what supposedly happened. You know, the wild dog attack, in the middle of NYC.” I said, annoyed. Finally a response. He shook his head. “No, I'll tell you.” he promised, sounding a little less out of his mind. I nodded. “Go on.” I urged.Johnathan seemed to lose focus on me, trapped in a dreamlike state, more like nightmare. He bit his lip as he remembered the horror of that night.
“It was just last month, a full moon, just like tonight.” said Johnathan, his hands balling into fists. It seemed to me like he was having a hard time remembering. “I was just in my patrol car, doing my rounds, out by central park. It was a cold night, and it was snowing.” he continued. The snowing detail was something he didn't seem too sure about. I sit silently, and patiently, pretending to listen intently. “That's when I heard her.” he seemed to shudder. “Who did you hear?” I ask, trying to sound like I care. “I heard a girl. A small girl, screaming.” he said, and you could almost see the shrill cry of a little girl in his eyes. He bites his lip again, as if trying to hold some urge off. I can't help but let a small smile of entertainment play on my face. “So what did you do?” I ask. “What any police officer would do! Get off my ass and get to the scream!” he said to me. For the first time, the horror in his face disappeared, and was replaced by a content grin, and eyes swimming with pride. His obvious love of his job sickened me. “Go on.” I urged Johnathan to continue, trying to stifle his proud face as soon as possible. “What did you find.?” I persisted. I tried not to smile while his face once again darkened. “I skidded into a park, and then jumped the fence into central park. I kept running, and the girl kept screaming. I burst from a group of fences, and saw the girl's horror filled eyes.” he says, as his head collapses into his head. I roll my eyes as tears roll down his face. “Her face was pleading for me to run, but I didn't see anything. I didn't see what sat glaring at her with hungry eyes.” he sobs. I guess I have to ask. “What was it?” I ask. He lifts his face to look at me. “A werewolf.” he says with a terrible grin.

“And now you stop believing me.” he says, and begins to laugh like a madman. I just sit there, arms crossed, looking at him evenly. “So what happened next?” I ask. He stares at me for a moment in confusion, finally, with a smile he responds. “The girl points, and as I look, I see the werewolf, the amber eyes were piercing. He dashes for the girl, and as fast as I can, I release fire.” he says, skidding back some to get slack on the chains, and forms the gun with his hands. “So how does that work out?” I ask. “I get him in the shoulder twice, and once in the freaking head, and the asshole doesn't die!” he exclaims. For once in this interview he seems to have some qualifications. “And how does the wolf react?” I persist. “The wolf gets pissed. It turns from the girl, and comes at me, rage practically streaming off of it. I start shooting again, and empty my clip, only making him slow down. Then, bam, it's on me! I get bitten in the shoulder!” he stops, right at the climax. “What next?” I ask. His head is on his hands again, but this time because he's trying to remember. “I don't know.” he says, losing that tone, and attitude I had loved, only moments ago. “It all just goes blank.” he continues.

I sigh. “Fine I'll finish the story for you.” I say, he looks up, confused. “This is my favorite part. Your left arm becomes hairy, and larger, hand turns to palm, nails to claws. But you still have one good arm. As the hair reaches your head, I enter the scene, and as I do, you run at the werewolf, and it runs at you. You collide, and then you start to pry open the werewolf's jaw. You put in a new clip, and empty it into the wolf's mouth.” I say, I notice him become very tense, and I adore it. I can see hatred burning his eyes. A beep sounds from my watch, and I see his left arm growing dense brown fur. I back up. “The fun part is, that after that, you drop to the ground, and land on all fours. Fur sprouts down your back, and your eyes turn fiery.” As if I was narrating the transformation, it happens. “Soon enough you look just like your now nearly brain dead opponent. Then you lunge at HER throat, and rip it out. Blood gushes from her neck, and then you turn.” as I say this the now fully werewolf Johnathan lunges at me, the chains holding him back. The ferocious roar of a beast splits the air. “Then, you run at the very girl you were trying to save. Luckily, unlike you, I'm prepared for events like that.” I say, taking a pistol from my belt, and removing my clip of silver bullets. “I shoot you a few times, and the poison es to you silver stops you. You become paralyzed, and I get out with the kid, while the rest of my team makes sure you don't move.” I finish. I walk for the door, but at the last moment turn. “Your a beast Johnathan, and there's nothing that can save you from that.” I say, glaring directly into the eyes of the savage wolf, and then leave.

“That went well.” Captain Wilson says sarcastically, as I pass by him. We exit to the hall together. “He's not worth our time.” I comment, breaking silence as we walked down the hall. “He's one of the most stable yet!” exclaimed Wilson in anger. I turn to him, and stop walking. “As stable as he is, he's useless to us.” I say. Only more anger comes from Captain Wilson. “We can change him!” he yelled at me. I didn't flinch. “He killed a werewolf, but tried to kill the girl too.” I say. He decides not to continue with Johnathan. “What's happening to the girl?” he asks. “I'm mentoring her, personally.” I tell him. We can't let that girl go onto the streets. She would go crazy, like Jenkins. “Luckily she was an orphan, so we didn't need to fake her death.” I commented. “So who adopted her?” he asks. “I did. And by the way, what do you think of Sophie Crawford?” I ask. He smirks at me. I can imagine he's thinking that I won't last the week. “It's nice.” he said, holding back his sour words of mockery. “But back to Johnathan, send him consent forms for his termination.” I say and begin to walk away. I continue to walk to the iron gates with The Pack written on them. A fitting nickname to these halls. The howls erupt from cells as the full moon rises outside. “Crawford! You need to write that report!” Captain Wilson calls after me. “Later. Me and Sophie are watching CSI Miami tonight.” I call back.

I exit the gates, and walk through the building until I reach the large double doors, and head for my car, preparing for the drive home from another day at the office.