Primal Read Free

‘exactly what I wanted.’ Kids,
when asked in grade school what they want to be when they grow up, answer
something interesting, something important. All children think they’re
important. It will be years before they realize they are a tiny component in a big
ugly human machine, and they are easily replaced. Some folks, he believes,
never realize that, maybe those are the lucky ones. He would be willing to bet
that no child, when asked to speculate on their future, says ‘I want to be a
middle manager at a packaging plant,’ or ‘a salesman in a discount clothing
store,’ or ‘a prison warden? Tummelson believes most people cannot trace the
path that got them where they are. It is circuitous and rife with intervening
events, a sick parent, a pregnancy, an application denied, a broken heart, a
lack of funds. The immediate necessity of making a living surely led him from
one stopgap job (where he never planned to stay) to another, and then another,
and so here he is today, standing in this stifling office with a desk drawer
full of Purell antiseptic gel. He turns to Wilkins and the frustration shakes
in his tone.
    “Come on, Wilkins, every damn inmate on death row finds God
at the end. Ben Burne? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
    “I’ve been watching him for a long time. He saved my life.
I’m telling you it’s genuine.”
    “During the First National Bank robbery, which he pulled
with his brothers, he shot a twenty-year-old teller in the face for sneezing.”
    “I know.”
    “Two years ago at the Miami Brinks holdup he drove the truck
over a three-year-old who got in the way.”
    “I’m not saying he’s a good guy, I’m saying he’s a guy with
a chance to do something good.”
    Warden Tummelson turns his attention to the reserved,
small-boned, Doctor Kim who waits quietly in his finely tailored suit. His
refinement is an incongruity here. Tummelson is certain he would not last eight
minutes on the inside. This is a man, Tummelson thinks, who probably did choose
his life and he has a flash of envy.
    “Why, doctor? Why can’t you do it here?”
    Doctor Kim raises his eyebrows, “In a prison infirmary?
Impossible. Even if you could construct an appropriately outfitted operating
room, I could never achieve any level of sterility in this environment. The
danger of infection would be too high, and so it would not be a feasible
alternative.”
    Not clean. Yes, that is surely true. No one knows that
better than Tummelson. He swings around and paces back and forth while fighting
a nearly panicked compulsion to wash his hands. The room feels hot and a drip
of sweat crawls down his back underneath his shirt. Tummelson crosses back to
the tiny window and pushes it open. Crisp heavy air wafts in. He breathes. It
helps. “Doctor, I understand you’re a normal person, and so, you can’t really
conceive of what kind of men live here.”
    Doctor Kim responds with calm authority, “Look, I don’t care
if he found God, lost God, or ate God. There’s a young woman who’s going to die
if she doesn’t get that kidney. If your prisoner is willing to donate it’s
unconscionable not to find a way.”
    “If I agree to this I want armed men inside the operating
room.”
    “Again, infection. He’ll be unconscious, Warden, under a
general anesthetic.”
    “Not good enough.”
    “The guards could be allowed directly outside the operating
theater looking in. There’s a window. What if I arranged for that?”
    “Jesus.” Warden Tummelson is torn. He paces with a furious
energy. He does not trust. How can this be done without risk? He didn’t mind
playing god with these degenerates, but he’s furious and frustrated to be in
this position with someone else’s life, someone good and deserving.
    “Look.” Doctor Kim plays his trump card. Warden Tummelson
looks over. He is holding a 5 x 7 of the pretty, smiling young woman.
    “Aw, shit, that’s unfair.”
    “No. That’s reality, Warden. You’re going to kill