"The Bulwark's Shadow" - A Novel in Progress via Steemit (Part I, C...

I'm posting up the chapters of this uncompleted book as I hope the Steemit community might offer up its criticism (which would, in turn, force me to finish it, honestly). Started in 2008, this was my first foray into novel writing and was my undergraduate thesis required to graduate. The story is about an executioner in the not-too-distant future. Executioners are highly trained individuals with extensive educations built to help them execute their prisoners in the exact same manner that the prisoner's victims died. This is called the law of retaliation or lex talionis; you may know it better as "eye for an eye."

Because I was also getting my degree in philosophy, I wanted to explore the ethics involved. While I feel I'm a better writer now and could certainly expand most of this book, I also really enjoy criticism as I'm usually too close to the work to see what's working and what's not (though in this case, there's plenty that I feel is not working). So please...feel free to criticize the work if you'd like, but be constructive about it. Simply saying "this part isn't good" doesn't tell me much; don't hesitate to tell me why it's not good or offer up possible alternatives to make it better.

Thanks in advance!

Previous Sections/Chapters:

The electraprod felt like one of my tools in the chamber. I had used it maybe twice in my entire tenure here, but each time it was for something my fists couldn’t end and I was thankful for its comforting grip. I could smell the first scent of Josef’s fright behind me as adrenaline let itself loose inside me, releasing a strange kind of calm as the sirens continued to blare their muffled warning. I heard the lockdown doors further down the hallway continue to shut as the locking mechanisms clicked into place as the door in front of me groaned open slowly.

I caught a glimpse of the rubber soles of the inmate regulation shoes. Intentionally smooth to avoid good traction on the prison floor surface, they prevented the prisoners from getting a good running start from anywhere. The white pants were next and I turned the electraprod up to its highest setting, hearing it crackle with an anxious energy. With a rubber handle and a metal telescoping extension, it looked like the batons of decades before, but was juiced to send a shock through the human body via the blunt end. It was the safer evolution of the taser guns and nightsticks rolled into one as it was both an offensive and defensive bit of peace-keeping weaponry. Taser guns provided no real physical protection and the batons could potentially kill instead of stun, ergo, the two were combined to adapt.

I saw the knees of the tunic bend as if to slide underneath the door in impatience. Jensen’s head followed as he crawled underneath and I stepped forward, landing a hard kick to his face with my right foot. The door was more than halfway open now and I could hear the shrill siren song clearly as blood sprayed out of his broken nose. He rolled out of the way and found his way to his feet before I could reach him. I swung the electraprod around menacingly and we sized each other up. He noticed the blue glow at the tip and grinned through the blood running down the front of his face.

Jensen was in his late twenties and in good shape. As tall as I was, but nowhere near as broad. His jet black hair had thinned during his time here and he had a distinctive widow’s peak just above the natural creases of his forehead. I couldn’t remember which hand was his strong one and decided to aim for his left, hoping the pain would at least stun him for a moment while I reclaimed dominance of the situation.

He launched himself at me and in that instant, I saw his right hand ball up into a tight fist meant for my face. I ducked to the right and immediately swung the electraprod towards the attacking wrist, missing it by inches. I could almost taste Jensen’s sweat as he ran past me and towards Josef. Thankfully, Josef had moved into one of the dark parts of the hallway and Jensen ran past him oblivious until his foot caught up in Josef’s robes, sending him sprawling to the ground. “Get out of the hallway, Josef!” I yelled at him, hoping to get him out of harm’s way. Still stunned, Josef looked down at Jensen on the floor and then back up at me, scared and unmoving.

Jensen had finally realized another person was in the hallway and reached out to grab at Josef’s robe. Panicked, Josef tried to tear himself away, but Jensen’s grip was too tight and the material wouldn’t tear. I dove towards Jensen’s arm, bringing my baton down hard on his wrist. His scream mingled with the sirens around and he immediately released Josef. He held the burned, broken arm with his good hand and rolled over onto his back as I pinned him to the ground with my knees, aware that my mouth had dried up in the melee. I panted over Jensen’s limp body and looked over at Josef standing just outside of the hallway. Three guards ran past him, pushing him out of the way and crowding my prisoner and me on the floor as they bound Jensen’s hands together. I stood up and walked towards Josef, collapsed my electraprod and slid it back in my belt. I could hear the grunts and low mutterings of the guards behind me shackling the prisoner as the siren stopped and echoed through our collective eardrums. Father Josef was slumped against the wall in the main hallway and jumped back in surprise as I turned the corner.

“I’m sorry, Brein. I don’t know why I froze,” he stammered.

I nodded, trying not to chide him. “It’s okay. It happens. Thankfully, not often, but you’ve always gotta be ready for it in here.” He nodded back, mouth still open in shock as we stood there for a moment in silence. “Well, hey. We’re gonna be off schedule now while Jensen’s knocked out, so you wanna maybe get some water or coffee while we wait for them to get him situated and find out how long it’s gonna be?”

“Um, y-y-yeah,” he stuttered back. I guided him by the shoulder and led him back towards the main corridor leading back to the guard break room. I could feel him shaking beneath his robe as a breeze floated through the hallway and kissed the sweat off the back of my neck.

“In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Amen.” Father Josef motioned for us to lower ourselves and the congregation sat in unison, a ruffling of clothing and groans from those wearing old bones and tired skin. Old friends of my parents, colleagues, business partners; the pews were half-filled and silent in the flickering candlelight of the Funeral Mass. My suit felt tight in all the wrong places and my tears had stopped falling once I got out of the shower, but they fought against my need to feign adolescent strength.

“’All things have been handed over to me by my Father. No one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son wishes to reveal him. Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest’ says Matthew in the New Testament.” Father Josef looked up above the crowd, focusing on the back pew of the church. It was a trick he had learned from my father as a means of overcoming his fear of public speaking in front of large crowds. He didn’t do it as often anymore, but I think the gravitas of the day knocked him a bit uneven. Dad wasn’t much of a churchgoer, but they had been good friends regardless. I don’t recall how they knew each other, but Father Josef had come to me and asked to preside over their rites. I had obliged, knowing he would take a certain kind of care in the ritual preparation of sending my parents to the beyond. I folded my hands together as I steadied my gaze up at the pulpit, grinding my teeth absent-mindedly._

“In life we find that the paths we choose for ourselves are not the ones we are to walk. Much like Christ in the desert between Jerusalem and Jericho, we find ourselves tempted by the Devil to sway us from the well-lit path of God’s Word. We have all fallen by the wayside at one point or another, but with God’s help, we realign ourselves and hope to attain the unattainable: a Christ-like persona, embodied in our weak and tiring earth-bound forms. We understand, as God-fearing people, that we will never attain the perfection found within Jesus Christ or His actions, yet we still strive to do more, be more, believe more. Today, we put two of God’s souls at eternal rest…”

My eyes had relaxed and I had inadvertently tuned him out, staring at both coffins before the altar. They were magnificent and depressing at the same time like monolithic reminders of mistakes or missteps taken, except that Mom and Dad didn’t fall into either of those categories. I inhaled slowly and stutter-sighed as I felt more tears coming. The kerchief in my lapel pocket was already soaked from earlier, so I just let them roll down my cheeks, leaving river trails along my face and blurring up my vision. I cried for most of the sermon, not paying attention. I had gotten lost within my own thoughts, tossing files around and in general, making an intentional mess to clean up later just to have something to do.

After the funeral, Father Josef and I walked in semi-silence. His robes swished silent along the recently mown grass while the thighs of my slacks sang of mourning with every rhythmic step. I don’t recall his hand ever leaving my shoulder as we walked. I don’t recall wanting him to remove it. I also don’t recall noticing the sun set, but I didn’t leave the cemetery until I could see the faint flicker of dying stars making their brilliance known across the sky.

More Chapters:

The Bulwark's Shadow - Part I, Chapter Fifteen
The Bulwark's Shadow - Part I, Chapter Sixteen

"The Bulwark's Shadow" - A Novel in Progress via Steemit (Part I, Chapter 14)