He licked his dry lips.
“Listen,” he said, “I’m a scientist.”
Mac smiled bitterly and shook his head again.
“Can’t take it like a man, can you?” he said. “You’re like all the rest for all your braggin’ and struttin’.”
The prisoner looked helpless.
“Listen,” he muttered hoarsely.
“You listen to
me
,” said Mac. “You have two hours, Riley.”
“I told you I’m not…”
“Cut it! You have two hours. See if you can be a man in those two hours instead of a whining dog.”
The prisoner’s face was blank.
“You want to see the priest again?” Mac asked.
“No, I…” started the prisoner. He stopped. His throat tightened.
“Yes,” he said, “I want to see the priest. Call him, will you?”
Mac nodded.
“I’ll call him,” he said, “In the meantime, keep your mouth shut.”
The prisoner turned and shuffled back to the bunk. He sank down on it and stared at the floor.
Mac looked at him for a moment and then started down the hall.
“Whassa matter?” called one of the prisoners mockingly. “Did big boy wet his pants?”
The other prisoners laughed. Their laughter broke in waves over the slumped prisoner.
He got up and started to pace. He looked at the sky through the window. He stepped up to the cell door and looked up and down the hall.
Suddenly he smiled nervously.
“All right,” he called out. “All right. It’s very funny. I appreciate it. Now let me out of this rat trap.”
Someone groaned. “Shut up, Riley!” someone else yelled.
His brow contracted.
“A joke’s a joke,” he said loudly. “But now I have to…”
He stopped, hearing fast footsteps on the corridor floor. Charlie’s ungainly body hurried up and stopped before the cell.
“Are you gonna shut up?” he threatened, his pudgy lips outthrust. “Or do we give you a shot?”
The prisoner tried to smile.
“All right,” he said. “All right, I’m properly subdued. Now come on,” his voice rose. “Let me out.”
“Any more crap outta you and it’s the hypo,” Charlie warned. He turned away.
“Always knew you was yellow,” he said.
“
Listen
to me, will you?” said the prisoner. “I’m Phillip Johnson. I’m a nuclear physicist.”
Charlie’s head snapped back and a wild laugh tore through his thick lips. His body shook.
“A nu-nucleeeee…” His voice died away in wheezing laughter.
“I tell you it’s true,” the prisoner shouted after him.
A mock groan rumbled in Charlie’s throat. He hit himself on the forehead with his fleshy palm.
“What won’t they think of next?” he said. His voice rang out down the corridor.
“You shut up too!” yelled another prisoner.
“Knock it off!” ordered Charlie, the smile gone, his face a chubby mask of belligerence.
“Is the priest coming?” he heard the prisoner call.
“Is the priest coming? Is the priest coming?” he mimicked. He pounded on his desk elatedly. He sank back in the revolving chair. It squeaked loudly as he leaned back. He groaned.
“Wake me up once more and you’ll get the hypo!” he yelled down the corridor.
“Shut up!” yelled one of the other prisoners.
“Knock it off!” retorted Charlie.
The prisoner stood on the stool. He was looking out through the window. He watched the rain falling.
“Where am I?” he said.
Mac and the priest stopped in front of the cell. Mac motioned to Charlie and Charlie pushed a button on the control board. The door slid open.
“Okay, Father,” said Mac.
The priest went into the cell. He was short and stout. His face was red. It had a kind smile on it.
“Say, wantta hand me that tray, Father?” Mac asked.
The priest nodded silently. He picked up the tray and handed it to Mac.
“Thank you kindly, Father.”
“Certainly.”
The door shut behind the guard. He paused.
“Call out if he gets tough,” he said.
“I’m sure he won’t,” said Father Shane, smiling at the prisoner who was standing by the wall, waiting for Mac to go.
Mac
“Listen,” he said, “I’m a scientist.”
Mac smiled bitterly and shook his head again.
“Can’t take it like a man, can you?” he said. “You’re like all the rest for all your braggin’ and struttin’.”
The prisoner looked helpless.
“Listen,” he muttered hoarsely.
“You listen to
me
,” said Mac. “You have two hours, Riley.”
“I told you I’m not…”
“Cut it! You have two hours. See if you can be a man in those two hours instead of a whining dog.”
The prisoner’s face was blank.
“You want to see the priest again?” Mac asked.
“No, I…” started the prisoner. He stopped. His throat tightened.
“Yes,” he said, “I want to see the priest. Call him, will you?”
Mac nodded.
“I’ll call him,” he said, “In the meantime, keep your mouth shut.”
The prisoner turned and shuffled back to the bunk. He sank down on it and stared at the floor.
Mac looked at him for a moment and then started down the hall.
“Whassa matter?” called one of the prisoners mockingly. “Did big boy wet his pants?”
The other prisoners laughed. Their laughter broke in waves over the slumped prisoner.
He got up and started to pace. He looked at the sky through the window. He stepped up to the cell door and looked up and down the hall.
Suddenly he smiled nervously.
“All right,” he called out. “All right. It’s very funny. I appreciate it. Now let me out of this rat trap.”
Someone groaned. “Shut up, Riley!” someone else yelled.
His brow contracted.
“A joke’s a joke,” he said loudly. “But now I have to…”
He stopped, hearing fast footsteps on the corridor floor. Charlie’s ungainly body hurried up and stopped before the cell.
“Are you gonna shut up?” he threatened, his pudgy lips outthrust. “Or do we give you a shot?”
The prisoner tried to smile.
“All right,” he said. “All right, I’m properly subdued. Now come on,” his voice rose. “Let me out.”
“Any more crap outta you and it’s the hypo,” Charlie warned. He turned away.
“Always knew you was yellow,” he said.
“
Listen
to me, will you?” said the prisoner. “I’m Phillip Johnson. I’m a nuclear physicist.”
Charlie’s head snapped back and a wild laugh tore through his thick lips. His body shook.
“A nu-nucleeeee…” His voice died away in wheezing laughter.
“I tell you it’s true,” the prisoner shouted after him.
A mock groan rumbled in Charlie’s throat. He hit himself on the forehead with his fleshy palm.
“What won’t they think of next?” he said. His voice rang out down the corridor.
“You shut up too!” yelled another prisoner.
“Knock it off!” ordered Charlie, the smile gone, his face a chubby mask of belligerence.
“Is the priest coming?” he heard the prisoner call.
“Is the priest coming? Is the priest coming?” he mimicked. He pounded on his desk elatedly. He sank back in the revolving chair. It squeaked loudly as he leaned back. He groaned.
“Wake me up once more and you’ll get the hypo!” he yelled down the corridor.
“Shut up!” yelled one of the other prisoners.
“Knock it off!” retorted Charlie.
The prisoner stood on the stool. He was looking out through the window. He watched the rain falling.
“Where am I?” he said.
Mac and the priest stopped in front of the cell. Mac motioned to Charlie and Charlie pushed a button on the control board. The door slid open.
“Okay, Father,” said Mac.
The priest went into the cell. He was short and stout. His face was red. It had a kind smile on it.
“Say, wantta hand me that tray, Father?” Mac asked.
The priest nodded silently. He picked up the tray and handed it to Mac.
“Thank you kindly, Father.”
“Certainly.”
The door shut behind the guard. He paused.
“Call out if he gets tough,” he said.
“I’m sure he won’t,” said Father Shane, smiling at the prisoner who was standing by the wall, waiting for Mac to go.
Mac
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