![prisoner10.jpg](https://steemitimages.com/DQmQTkSdyPUaa54qCcFYTB7k8ApkdJzfq2HozeTfErCn7Th/prisoner10.jpg)

I'm posting up the chapters of this uncompleted book as I hope the Steemit community might offer up its criticism (which would, in turn, force me to finish it, honestly). Started in 2008, this was my first foray into novel writing and was my undergraduate thesis required to graduate. The story is about an executioner in the not-too-distant future. Executioners are highly trained individuals with extensive educations built to help them execute their prisoners in the exact same manner that the prisoner's victims died. This is called the law of retaliation or _lex talionis_; you may know it better as "eye for an eye."

Because I was also getting my degree in philosophy, I wanted to explore the ethics involved. While I feel I'm a better writer now and could certainly expand most of this book, I also really enjoy criticism as I'm usually too close to the work to see what's working and what's not (though in this case, there's plenty that I feel is not working). So please...feel free to criticize the work if you'd like, but be constructive about it. Simply saying "this part isn't good" doesn't tell me much; don't hesitate to tell me why it's not good or offer up possible alternatives to make it better.

Thanks in advance!

***

Previous Sections/Chapters:

_Part I_
[Chapter One](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-chapter-1) / [Two](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-chapter-2) / [Three](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-chapter-3) / [Four](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/tgjcj-the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-chapter-4) / [Five](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-chapter-5) / [Six](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-i-chapter-6) / 
[Seven](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-i-chapter-7) / [Eight](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-i-chapter-8) / [Nine](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-i-chapter-9) / [Ten](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-i-chapter-10) / [Eleven](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-i-chapter-11) / [Twelve](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-i-chapter-12) / 
[Thirteen](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-i-chapter-13) / [Fourteen](https://steemit.com/writing/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-i-chapter-14) / [Fifteen](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-i-chapter-15) / [Sixteen](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-i-chapter-16-the-end-of-part-i)

_Part II_
[Chapter One](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-ii-chapter-11) / [Two](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-ii-chapter-2) / [Three](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-ii-chapter-3) / [Four](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-ii-chapter-4) / [Five](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-ii-chapter-5) / [Six](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-ii-chapter-6) / [Seven](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-ii-chapter-7) / [Eight](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-ii-chapter-8) / [Nine](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-ii-chapter-9) / [Ten](https://steemit.com/fiction/@bucho/the-bulwark-s-shadow-a-novel-in-progress-via-steemit-part-ii-chapter-10)

***

I was not hooded, but I was shackled. One guard led us down the hall to the Catacombs while the other two guards stepped lively behind the priest and myself. The halls seemed to get thinner and shorter the more we walked and I felt the need to instinctively duck even though there was still a good two feet of space between my head and the ceiling. The shackles on my hands and feet rattled with a cold, dead sound as I shuffled alongside the priest. We marched in silence for the first ten minutes, but there was so much of the prison I was seeing for the first time that I wanted to concentrate on something else. 
	
“Do you do this often? I mean, escort the prisoners who have finally had their number called? I can’t imagine that being a fun walk every week.” I looked over at him and saw the serene look of nothing on his face. Not pleasant, but not unpleasant either. He had stuffed both hands into their opposite robe sleeves and his crucifix necklace shot out tiny bolts of light, reflected from the sparse lighting in the new hallways, as it bounced off his chest and spun. 
	
“I do this on occasion,” he replied, locking eyes with me. “Not all the time, though. I’m more of a stand-in than anything else, but I have to know the procedures backwards and forwards regardless. If you don’t mind me asking, as I find it better to converse in awkward moments rather than keep silent, how long have you been here?”
	
“About twenty years,” I replied as we turned a corner. “And no, I don’t mind. About the conversation, not about the twenty years. I would’ve rather spent the last two decades topside of course, but…” I let the sentence die in the darkened hallway and shrugged more to myself than to anyone else. 
	
“You seem calmer about this than some of the other inmates I’ve escorted. I realize this isn’t one of the easiest things to wrap one’s head around which is why I like to walk and talk with you. It’s hard to find a friendly face down here, I’d imagine.”
	
“You’d be surprised,” I said, turning to him and managing a weak smile. “You’d be surprised.”
	
We walked in silence for a little while longer until we came to a large metal door. ‘Hub 4’ was stenciled in bright yellow paint across the entire door and the priest nodded at the guard to unlock the mechanism to let us in. As twisted as it sounds, I was almost excited to see what was on the other side. For so long, I’d only been privy to the caf, the common room and my cell. Something even just shy of different was a welcome change, even if briefly. 
	
In the middle of the room was an elevated office of sorts. It was circular and windows rather than walls surrounded the equipment and guards inside. Several guards inside stood and watched as we walked along the floor, following the curve of the cells surrounding the guard station until we got to Cell 16. “This is you,” the priest said quietly as the door to my new home slid open, almost blinding me. 
	
White light screamed out into the dimly lit walkway and I found it hard to distinguish the bed from the wall. The priest motioned for me to enter and I walked in, taking in my new surroundings. The priest and one of the mute guards entered behind me and the door slid shut behind us all with a quiet swoosh. 
	
“How likely is it that once these cuffs are off you’re going to attack me in some way?” the priest asked. 
	
“Absolutely no chance,” I replied calmly. “This room has become my purpose for the next twelve months. You won’t get any fight out of me from here on out.” He motioned for the guard to unshackle me. When the cuffs had been released, I rubbed my wrists absently, still in awe of the difference between the new cell and the old. I looked out into the main area and could see nothing but pure black. 
	
“It’s the chemicals in the glass,” the priest said, answering the question I hadn’t asked yet. “The guards can see in, but you can’t see out. Blackened from the inside to provide you a truly solitary environment.” I thought I heard an apologetic note to his voice, but brushed the thought away. 
	
“So, are you the one that explains to me how all this works from here on out then, too?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
	
He shook his head and sat on the bed, motioning for me to join him. I sat and immediately realized how much more comfortable my old bunk had been. This mattress was much thinner, but seemed brand new. “I am here to help in case you have anything left on your mind. I can answer a few questions about the rest of your stay here, but mostly I’m here for spiritual or emotional guidance. This is a drastic change from your stay on the other side, so…would you like me to stick around for a bit or would you prefer your privacy?” From anyone else, that statement might’ve sounded derogatory, but again the concern in his mannerisms proved otherwise. 
	
“I believe I’ll have enough privacy from here on out,” I smiled. “Tell me what you can and we’ll go from there.”
	
He returned the smile and looked up at the ceiling, mentally searching for a good starting point. “You are in what they call the Catacombs. There are 20 cells per hub and there are four hubs. There are anywhere from 60-80 inmates residing in the catacombs at any one time. There is one execution a week, but they occur on a first come basis, as crude as that may sound. What that means is, until someone else comes to stay down here, you are the last person to go. Does this make sense?” I nodded and motioned for him to continue. 
	
“For 20 hours of every day, these lights stay on at this intensity. The other four hours, they are dimmed, but only to an extent. You do not get to leave this cell until it is your time to no longer reside here and all of your meals are served to you through the trough,” he said, pointing to the thin slit at chest level cut out from the door. “You lucked out by being placed in Hub 4.” 
	
“How so?”
	
“You aren’t permanently chained to the wall. And,” he said whispering to me, “apparently the food is not so hot in the other hubs.” I grinned at the joke. This guy was really good. Finding a smile down here had to be difficult, even for someone who got to go topside at the end of the day. “But in all seriousness, any human contact you have from here on out will not be friendly, but it won’t be unfriendly either unless you make it so. Some choose to cause problems for the guards and they end up in the other hubs if there is room. Act accordingly and you won’t have any issues from here on out,” he finished. “Got it?”
	
“Got it. Other than the living arrangements and the food, everything’s still the same.” 
	
“Pretty close, yeah. Any requests you might have; a haircut, a new sheet or pillow, what have you, those all need to be taken care of through the guard that brings you your meals. It will not be the same guard every time. This is to prevent any kind of rapport an inmate might acquire with a guard, thus keeping everything running smoothly and with no problems.” I found myself nodding at everything, understanding completely and worrying less with every uttered syllable. 
	
“And is there a way I could schedule time with you? You know, in case I need to discuss matters of spirituality or something?”
	
He nodded once and smiled again. “Absolutely. That’s one main difference down here: if you happen to need someone to talk to in regards to how you’re feeling, not only does the prison have a grief counselor of sorts, but I would be more than happy to give you and hour or two of my time. Just because you’re in the Catacombs doesn’t mean you need to be treated like a second class citizen. Would you like to set up a meeting with me now or would you like to wait?”
	
I looked to the glass partition and saw our images reflected. The prisoner in the white tunic on the right, the priest in black on the left. Images of old cowboy movies flashed through my head and then vanished. “I think I’ll be okay for awhile. I’ll get in touch with you should I feel the need though, you can count on it.”
	
He stood to leave and stuck his hand out. Stunned, I shook his hand. So much in that moment was said without words. He gave off the feeling that his word and a handshake were more trustworthy than a signed contract. “And what is your name in case you do decide to get in touch with me?” he asked. 
	
“The guys call me J., but my name is James. James Towalski.”

“Well James, whenever you need me, just ask for Father Josef,” he said with a wink and a nod. “May God keep you,” he whispered, exiting the cell and tracing a benediction in the air. The door swooshed shut and I sat on the uncomfortable bed and wondered how I’d sleep with only four hours of dim light to dream by every night.