Primal Read Free Page A

this man
in a month and this woman is going to die without his help. This is a
no-brainer to me.”
    “You don’t live in my world, doctor.” Warden Tummelson rubs
his temples; they’re just bursting. He can feel the blood pulsing through the
veins. His blood pressure is probably soaring again. He pulls the Excedrin
bottle out of his pocket and downs two pills without water. Then, he turns to
Wilkins, “Okay, bring him in. Let’s see what he has to say.” Wilkins walks over
to the office door, opens it and steps out of the room. Tummelson pulls open
his top desk drawer, squirts Purell into his palm and rubs vigorously. He
offers it to Doctor Kim who declines.
    “You ever been to a penitentiary, doctor?”
    “No, Warden, I have not.”
    “Not much in the way of curb appeal.”
    “No.”
    “You and I are alike in some ways, you know. We’re both
God.”
    “How is that?’
    “You intervene to prolong life. I intervene to end it.”
    “I suppose. Although, Warden, I am not a fan of capital
punishment.”
    Tummelson smiles and nods, “Yes, well, folks who spend their
lives in friendly company, and who debate the death penalty during nicely
turned out dinner parties rarely are.”
    “I am sure your perspective is different for very good
reason. And while I agree there are those who do not deserve to live, humans
are fallible, the legal system is fallible, and so we cannot implement
permanent solutions with fallible hands.”
    Tummelson lays his eyes on Doctor Kim. Here is a face from
the outside, from the other world. He knows Doctor Kim can see the damage in
him. He just cannot care about that anymore.
    Tummelson speaks in a whisper, as if he is imparting
something terribly important, “Doctor, we tell our children, before they go to
sleep at night, there are no monsters.”
    “Yes, we do.”
    “That’s a lie.”
    “Yes, it is.”
    “The monsters are us.”
    “Sometimes.”
    “No. They’re always us. Just not all of us - but us.”
    Wilkins returns leading Ben Burne into the warden’s office.
Ben’s wrists and his ankles are secured in heavy chains and he shuffles in with
his eyes lowered. Ben seems literally smaller and certainly less powerful than
he did in the chapel. The palm of his left hand is completely wrapped with
white gauze and tape but still a little red seeps through.
    Warden Tummelson asks, “So, Burne, you want to donate your
kidney?”
    “After next month I really won’t be needing ‘em, Warden. You
can take ‘em both if you like.”
    Tummelson studies Ben: his posture, his expression, his
demeanor - all submissive.
    “You think giving away your organs is going to relieve your
conscience?”
    “Nothing can do that. Living with myself is much harder than
dying will be.”
    Tummelson leans in and Ben can feel the warden’s breath on
his face. “You don’t fool me, Burne. There isn’t a civilized cell in your
entire pathetic body.”
    “I saw the girl on the TV. Said she needed a kidney. Just
thought she could have mine is all. Simple as that.”
    “You deserve to suffer.”
    Ben raises his repentant eyes to Tummelson and a tear forms,
“I’m going to hell for eternity.”
    The warden exchanges a look with Wilkins who shrugs. “Hell
will be a picnic compared to what will happen to you, if I agree to this, and
you try something.”
    “There are no picnics in my future, Warden.”
    Tummelson’s temples throb. He notices that his mouth is dry.
Stress. He is pissed beyond rationality to be responsible for this decision. He
glances over at Doctor Kim who takes that moment to hold up the picture of the
girl.
    “Maybe since you’re feeling so holy and contrite,” Tummelson
asks, “you’d like to tell me where we can find your brothers.”
    “If I knew I’d tell you. I live every day in fear that they
will hurt someone else. If I could stop it, I would. But they, too, will answer
to God in the end.”
    “Right. Get him out of here. I need to think.”
    Wilkins takes Ben by