Shutter Ridge Maximum Security Prison.
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It’s where all the evil people go. At least that’s what parents tell their children as they drive past the outer gate of the expanse of land that looked like nothing more than flat, dead Earth. This is the sixty miles of land saved for the people you don’t want to be near your family. It is in the middle of a desert that is supposed to be the worst one known to man. It’s relatively small, only expanding over one hundred square miles, but it’s temperatures can reach one hundred and fifty degrees Fahrenheit or sixty-five degrees Celsius depending on who you ask. It hasn’t even rained in the last three centuries.
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This meant that not a single escape attempt has been successful. If you can get around the fact that you are underground, under ten feet of concrete, with only one entrance and exit that is guarded by twenty guards at all times and has ten different kinds of locks, all of which is surrounded by four thirty foot fences that are electrified at all times, then you have to survive the thirty miles of pure desert that surrounds it on each side. If you don’t take water with you then you would surely die within the first day, maybe within the first six hours from the sheer heat. If not by that, then you would die by the few creatures that can call the desert home.
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There was a story of someone going out to check on something the guards had spotted, thinking a prisoner had somehow gotten loose. He was out there for no more than thirty minutes and a spider, the size of a large house cat, came out of no where and bit him. Took less than a minute for him to collapse and be lost forever. If only that was one of the horror stories of people going out and never coming back. Most involved hearing screams for days as the person was slowly ate alive by some of the many bugs that thrive under the grounds surface.
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This is why they put all the most dangerous people under this particular roof. Everyone from rapist, murders, terrorists, and more all mingle in the depths of the prison so they never see the likes of society. Though, even with it’s vastly different security system, it is like many other prisons. It has different clicks of people, all of which have a lot of power, but it has one person that rules over it all. That man is the second in command of the Russian Mafia, a man named Pasha Volkov.
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Standing at six foot seven, Pasha towers over most of the other inmates and has the muscles to help with any intimidation attempts he needs to make. If that didn’t make him bad enough, he is constantly surrounded by men about the same size to back him up and the cold personality to make most people, even the most cruel in the prison, keep a a distance when he is around. The only people brave enough to stand within ten feet of him in any shared space is the men that were within his gang. There were enough of them to fill a good third of the prison and that gave Pasha a particularly good standing within the prison.
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They may be in the middle of no where, but if you needed something from the outside world, you got one of his men to get it. You would go to someone he trusted and they would ask Pasha for it and he could get it. Over the last two years he had been held captive within these walls, Pasha had been able to corrupt at least seven prison guards that helped him do what he needed to do. This meant everything was available to every inmate. Drugs, toys, weapons, and even alcohol at times.
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Though this meant that if you made him angry, your life became a living hell. Everyone you knew within the prison walls deserted you, you were raped, you were stabbed, you were brought to the brink of death, but never killed. Of course, Pasha would never agree to having any of that done to anyone and sometimes that was true. If it was obvious you made him mad, people took care of you for him. He never had to lift a finger even though, when he spared with his buddies, he showed just how well he could fight.
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All of this is why he had never had a cell mate. Not even the guards that went uncorrupted, wanted anyone to suffer through his presence. Not until now anyway.
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A few days ago, a man that went by the name Kade Drago had been sentenced to life in prison and was being sent to a place he would never see the light of day again. There was only one spot available though and that meant he would have to stay with Pasha. The single time the prison had given Pasha a cellmate, when he had first came to the prison, he had killed the man that night. Not even an hour into his sentence and he had painted the walls of his cell red with blood. When the guards finally got the cell unlocked and could see the mess better, Pasha, as well as his bed, where the only things untouched by the blood that had obviously come from the man on the floor, who’s mouth was open in a silent horrified scream until the cell could be cleaned of the various body parts scattered across the cell.
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When he had been asked why he had done it, he simply denied doing it. Said they wouldn’t find a spec of blood on him to prove he had even touched the man. To their astonishment, he had been telling the truth and when they went to check for fingerprints on the body, there was none to be found. There was no evidence that Pasha had done anything besides sit on his bed and watch the man get ripped apart. They may not need the proof since he was the only one within the cell when it happened, they did not want to deal with this on a regular basis, so Pasha got a cell all to himself.
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Now though, they had no choice. Kade was dangerous and they needed to put him away here. That could be why, when he was guided out of the helicopter that brought him to the prison, the guard said, “I hope the last hour of your life is memorable Drago.” Though that should have scared the new comer, he simply turned to the guard, a large grin plastered to his pale face. The man’s piecing grey eyes gazed up at the guard who simply huffed at him and pushed him through the door. “Welcome, to your new home Drago. Welcome to Hell.”
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