posted on Jul, 26 2006 @ 11:50 AM
“There it is again. Look! That fog is back.”
“Did you record it this time?”
“Yeah, I got it.”
“OK. Replay it in slo-mo.”
“Right there. See how it condenses, bulges toward the camera, then retreats back down the hall? What is that?”
“Well… Do you believe in ghosts?”
“Oh man, don’t do this. I’m already getting creeped out here.”
“Well, what do you think it is?”
“You sure this is the tunnel under the East Wing?”
“Of course I’m sure. This goes right to the Sugar Shack.”
“Sugar Shack? I thought that was just a myth.”
“Nope. It’s the real deal. I was here when the East Wing was still in use. The inmates we had there were real animals. The Sugar Shack was
their recreation area. Man, no guards went in there, unless with overwhelming force. The inmates would hold their own tribunals there for snitches,
thieves, or whoever they felt crossed their line. Nobody wanted to be the one working the shift when the inmates came back from rec a body short.
‘Cause sure enough, there would be some dead son of a bitch in the Sugar Shack. It wasn’t my shift, but I saw one of the bodies there, once.
Poor bastard’s head was nearly sawed off. Other bad things went down in there, but the inmates kept their mouths shut."
“The state gave the prison money for these cameras, but it wasn’t in time to do anybody any good. Only a month later the East Wing got condemned.
Hell, you can see why. The ceiling is practically on the floor as we speak.”
“I wish they’d condemn the rest of this dump. Why do they have us monitoring a part of the prison that never gets used, anyway?”
“You’re asking me? Put the monitor back on live feed. You see anything?”
“No, but the hair on the back of my neck is standing straight up. What time is it?”
“It’s only 1:25. Morning is still a long time off. Get Frank on the radio. See if he’ll come in here and take a look at the tape.”
“I can’t get anything on the radio. All I’m getting is static. I just changed the battery… Are you sure nobody is in that tunnel?”
“You want to go check?”
“Okay then. Just try the radio again. The concrete and steel interfere with the reception sometimes when the weather is bad. If that doesn’t
work, use the phone and call the Sergeant’s desk.”
“Yeah. No dial tone, just… well it’s not dead. It’s like someone’s on the other end, but they’re not saying anything.”
“Here. Give me the receiver… What the hell?”
“See? What’d I say? Hey! Look at the monitor. It’s forming again. What the…? The screen went dead!”
“I swear to God, I’d quit right now if I didn’t have to leave this room to do it.”
“In the movies, right about now the lights would be going out and… crap.”