Written by Lukas Tyler

Try as I might, all I could possibly see outside was mown grass. One by one, the doors to the cells opened. The guys in green pushed a gentleman’s head down. They kept us from hitting our heads as we shuffled, hunched, out of the cage. Thank you. The familiar face left. I wouldn’t see it again for hours. But my sense of time was gone. I had no watch. I had no phone. They were in my luggage, which was labeled “Lukas” on blue painters tape, in a clear plastic bag labeled “Lukas” on blue painters tape. Every rule I had seen, every request thus far, I had followed to the letter. I didn’t want to be a target. I needed to be good.

“Next!” some guy in green shouted.

It was my turn. I shuffled forward, clanking chains against the metal cage.

“Step!” Some guy in green shouted. He pushed my head down.

“Thank you,” I thought. “Thank you, Sir,” I should have thought. The sun was bright in my eyes. I hadn’t been in the cage that long, but my eyes disagreed. More guys in green stood outside the back of the van. Four? Maybe. My mind was racing. The moment I stepped out men started shouting. I turned right. In front of me a gang of guys in white were shouting wild things. I couldn’t make out anything specific, but I really didn’t want to. It seemed like a group of hardened prisoners. Fuck. Now I have to deal with them too, in addition to the guys in green.

Continue reading Intake – Part 02 →