The Irrelevant Few: "Redeemed"

The Irrelevant Few: Redeemed

A Novel by: W. E. Powelson

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Copyright 2015

W.E. Powelson

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, organizations and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

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Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Table of Contents

Acknowedgements

Prologue

Chapter 1: Merry Christmas, Jailbird!

Chapter 2: Arrival at WC-13

Chapter 3: Day one / New Home.

Chapter 4: First Day. New Life.

Chapter 5: Exploring the New Terrain.

Chapter 6: Bitter Cold at WC-13.

Chapter 7: The Cold Reality of Barracks G.

Chapter 8: Survivors and Clean Up.

Chapter 9: Reconstruction and Punishments.

Chapter 10: A Kangaroo Hearing.

Chapter 11: Amy Brings in the Cavalry.

Chapter 12: Tesla's Triumph.

Chapter 13: A Plan Evolves.

Chapter 14: Old chums Meet Again.

Chapter 15: Escape!

Chapter 16: An Ally On The Inside.

Chapter 17: A Very Brave, Irrelevant 4.

Chapter 18: Very Unlikely Spies!

Chapter 19: Liaison with Dr, Phillips.

Chapter 20: Sometimes, It Takes A Thief!

Chapter 21: Spoils of War!

Chapter 22: Damaging New Evidence Emerges.

Chapter 23: Sundae w/ Cream & Cherries.

Chapter 24: Freedom TV Bombshell!

Chapter 25: A Stirring of Hornets.

Chapter 26: Heart to Hartnett

Chapter 27: 30-Minutes That Changed the World

Chapter 28: Hiding and Watching.

Chapter 29: What Became of the Irrelevant 4?

End

Afterword

About the Author

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Acknowledgements

Thanks mostly to the idiot that is me; but thanks also, with sleepy-eyed gratitude, to my 7th grade English teacher who allowed me to snooze through all her classes.

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Prologue

Is it possible for an Irrelevant Few dissenters to battle the powers deep within the Pentagon, that is the United States government. Will they win? If there is a chance, how will they do it?

By the year 2033, the country is in sad shape. Middle class America has almost disappeared. Hoards of homeless indigents roam the streets, back alleys and public parks. The homeless populations now outnumber the middle-class two to one. The crime rates have gone ballistic as a result. The parks and alley ways are packed with the dregs of society. The streets are no longer safe. Those penniless souls are an eyesore and an embarrassment to the wealthy. Something must be done!

Congress struggles with solution proposals for years as the problem worsens. Then it finally acts in desperation and passes a new social Bill that is designed to solve the problem.

However; a few shrewd right-wing politicians, (on orders from the Pentagon), secretly gut and alter the Bill in the eleventh hour. The 10,000 page Bill is quietly and secretly altered in ways that completely destroy its original intentions. It actually becomes a government sanctioned formula for legalized slavery.

It works! The new law does eliminate the embarrassing eye-sore that has become the burgeoning society of insignificant homeless. The solution is deemed a resounding success by the government controlled media. It works beautifully and the streets become safe again.

As a result of the Bill that passed, the War Department deep within the Pentagon quietly becomes the benefactor of the virtual slave labor. Once in the system, those Irrelevant Few (homeless hoards) become trapped and lost within it, indefinitely. They effectively become slaves to the State with no future hope of release or escape.

Our male protagonist Doug Powers, a professional thief, is a tough prisoner who is transferred from the state prison to Work Camp 13, after successfully completing his 8-year sentence. He soon realizes that he has gone from one nightmarish situation to another more Hellish one.

As will happen when little people are given too much power over defenseless hoards; horrific abuses are occurring at the government sanctioned work camps all too frequently. The work camp projects taking place all over America have morphed into legalized tyrannous slave camps. It's a scenario reminiscent of Hitler's concentration camps of World War II .

The work camp project is actually an elaborate ingenious design. It has been created specifically by the corrupt secret powers deep within the Pentagon of the American government. Their objective is to take advantage of the potentially cheap labor force, which they see in the erupting culture of destitute homeless. The Pentagon uses the defenseless poor as virtually free labor to help them develop their truly amazing top-secret new weapons technology, at minimal cost.

The enslaved labor force has no idea what they are producing. Each does a menial assembly portion of the end product. Only a handful of classified government scientists with security clearances know the whole truth about what is being manufactured at the assembly plants.

As push comes to shove, our protagonists accidentally discover those closely guarded classified secrets. They become hopelessly trapped into defending themselves. Our two heroes Doug and Amy discover that they are scheduled to be executed because they know too much. They have become too great a threat to the project. If they do not escape they will be executed within hours. So, they escape, with the help of a sympathetic guard. But they still aren't safe! They know the government will eventually track them down and execute them anyway, no matter how long it takes. They have no choice but to run first. Then they must turn, fight and win or they will surely die anyway.

How well equipped will our audacious Irrelevant Few dissenters be, to do battle with the Goliath that is the Pentagon in Washington DC?

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Chapter 1: Merry Christmas, Jailbird!

"We are all sentenced to solitary confinement

inside our own skins, for life." ~ Tennessee Williams

It was cold. Really cold. It was also damp and the quarters within the cell were small. A 6' X 8' concrete cell with a metal slab for a bed doesn't add a very festive air to Christmas day nor any other day, for that matter.

Of course, after several years in a cramped cell, a person just grows numb to it all. The days come and go very slowly. Each day seems as dreadful as the last.

He was due to be released tomorrow. It was a great feeling but he was anxious about the future.

Thank heaven for the 2' X 2' barred window. It overlooked a guard tower and the dumpster in the yard. It was an ugly view by most standards, but it was actually a blessing after 30 days in the hole. The razor-wire at the top of the 12 foot fence was a complete work of art too, like a aesthetic ornamental statement, verifying all the justifiable reasons for man's inhumanity towards his fellow men.

The razor-wire was to be admired for its efficiency more than its beauty, but it sufficed very well at keeping most of the the good guys out . . . and the bad guys in.

As Doug peered out the window at the boiling gray sky; the 2 feet of snow already in the yard, said it all. 'It was going to be another long and miserable winter at the Sioux Falls, South Dakota State Prison. His sentence was nearly over. He wondered what would come next.

A flight of crows flew hurriedly overhead. They appeared to be squawking travel-directions back and forth. It was apparently something very important to them. Two of the birds sounded-off loudly, as if they were arguing.

They may have been making fun of all the jailbirds as they flew over the prison complex. Maybe they were boasting and laughing; comparing their own freedom, versus that of the inmates. Within a minute they had disappeared over the horizon.

Doug was amused to note that the bird with the loudest squawk had separated, veered off to the right and had taken several followers with her. She had decided to go her own way. Doug saw it as a philosophical slice-of-life, within a 45-second time frame. Their argument had led to a bitter divorce. He wondered who might win the looming settlement between the two.

She would; no doubt. It was obvious that she wasn't one to be argued with. The thought caused him to smile inwardly.

Within the cell-block there was yelling, inmate-chatter and clattering, as always. It was never quiet here. Cell block doors would clang shut with bone rattling regularity like bombs going off. The inmates were always yelling, screaming and complaining about everything.

Any time we double-bunk several hundred hardened criminals into 24 square feet of living space each, there's a certainty that someone will always be angry about something.

All of them, to the last man were angry to the depths of their souls. What a miserable bunch they were. It was a very noisy place, but today was quieter than usual, because it was Christmas day.

Doug was lucky. Maybe it was his seniority, but he hadn't been assigned a cell mate since returning from the hole a month earlier. He was in the final stretch of his 8-year sentence. He should have already been out on good behavior by now, if not for a skirmish or two with other inmates.

He had learned early not to take any guff from other inmates for any reason. If it meant the hole, then so be it. That was better than being some gorilla's lady.

He rested his chin on the window-sill, trying to make sense of it all. The window was placed near the top of the wall in the cell. He had to stand on his bunk to see out, but it still offered the best view in the room. Some days he stood there for hours at a stretch.

Douglas Beaumont Powers was a powerful man. At age 26, he stood 6'2" and weighed 225 pounds. He was naturally dark-skinned, probably of mixed-Spanish or Italian decent though he didn't know much about his ancestors. His hair, when he was permitted to grow it long, was jet black and it matched his eyes which were also black and ornery looking.

Prison life, hadn't offered many diversions. About the only thing to do was work-out on the exercise equipment and weights. He worked-out a lot and his physique showed the effort. He was in near perfect physical shape with perfectly formed biceps and thighs that were nearly twice their normal size.

Doug actually wasn't mean by nature. If he was mean, it was because he had been taught to be mean; or mean appearing, at least. His dad (rest his soul) had instilled it in him at a very early age.

When he smiled, it was genuine and full, if ever he found things to smile about. It had been ages since he had enjoyed much levity, with the exception of yesterday when one of the bulls in the yard, slipped and fell on the ice in front of the entire prison population. That incident drew laughter and applause from nearly every inmate in the yard at the time.

As he stood, gazing out the small window, Douglas B. Powers reminisced his troubled past and pondered his uncertain future . . .

How did he get here? Why was he here? Why had he done all those things that made society so angry with him. He had tried to be the best . . . and his daddy had made certain that he was indeed; the very best, thief; . . . (as far as thieves can best be measured).

He was his daddy's son, to the core. His mom had disappeared when he was just a toddler. His dad's sister had raised him to some degree, but mostly it was his dad who had mentored him. He had followed in his daddy's shoes as all kids do. Isn't that what kids are supposed to do? That philosophical riddle had been on instant replay in Doug's mind for years.

Doug was proud of his dad and his dad had been proud of him too. Good old dad had said it many times, and it always made Doug swell with pride and gloat a little, every time he heard it. Maybe that fact was at the heart of all Doug's troubles. The only recognition he had ever received, was for being just as horrifically bad as his dad had taught him to be.

At the tender age of six, his dad would take him to the local grocery store for ice cream. He would buy young Doug an ice cream bar, but in return for the ice cream, he had trained the youngster to fill his coat pockets with food and other needed items. Then he would send young Doug hurriedly out the door alone; while good old dad paid for only the ice cream. The distracted clerks and store owners rarely suspected anything. It was a near perfect ploy and it worked beautifully almost every time.

It was a rare occurrence to get caught, but If they did, young Doug was trained to say that he had done it on his own. He would say, I was hungry and I just wanted something good to eat. My belly hurts, I'm so hungry.

His dad had made him practice saying that until he could say it convincingly. The clerks and store owners would often smile and let it go. Half the time, they would give him a candy bar because he was so cute and they felt sorry for him.

Dad would then scold young Doug, feigning shock, embarrassment and surprise in front of the store owner. Doug knew he was supposed to cry and say, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, daddy! I won't ever do it again. It always created a more emotionally dramatic scene. It was all a part of the act.

The rules were simple enough. He was to always act as man. He was to pretend as if it was his idea to do the stealing, not dad's. That made it okay and he would get two ice-cream bars and probably a candy bar if he did everything just right. He loved the reward that came at the end and his dad was his hero. He had learned to do it well and was good a it. The two were a team.

As he grew too old to pull off that ruse, they came up with others. To Doug, the meaning of life had become a challenge to be a better thief than the older master: his dad.

So, it was ingrained at that very early age. Stealing was okay! Daddy taught him how to do it well and how to get away with it, most of the time. He had pretty well perfected the art of being a good crook, growing up with dad in the streets of Sioux Falls, South Dakota.

He wasn't to be afraid of anything, ever. Dad's rules again. Dad had instilled it, but maybe it was also genetic. Being afraid just didn't register in Doug's emotions at all, . . . ever. It was a feeling he had never sensed or experienced.

As he grew older, he and his dad were always partners. They burgled homes, jewelry stores and any place where they could make a good, easy haul in the least amount of time.

Doug recalled the final night when he was just barely eighteen. Everything went south, permanently.

He and his dad were burglarizing a used car lot. They had inside information that the weekly profits would be in a locked drawer in the office desk. It was usually more than $10,000 dollars. Thursday night was best night to pull off the caper and they would reap a large take because the owner