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who’s been under my care at Paradis ever since I came aboard. You can’t just take him. We have protocol to follow, too.”
    The driver appeared disinterested by Mitch’s plea. He motioned for the soldiers to continue.
    “Sir, I do not mean to be rude, but if you interfere with our mission to retrieve this body, I will be forced to place you under military arrest. Now, step aside.”
    Mitch relented and moved away as the two soldiers rushed past him. One unrolled the vinyl bag and laid it beside Jeffrey. Together, they rolled Jeffrey into the bag and zipped it closed. Each soldier grabbed a side. They carried the corpse away, strapped it securely to a gurney, and then loaded it into the Humvee.
    “The U.S. Army thanks you for your patience and understanding,” the driver said, before he got behind the wheel and drove off. Small pebbles and dust kicked into the air as the Humvee disappeared from sight.
    “What the hell were you thinking?” Burl asked.
    “Me? What the hell was that all about? Man drops dead and the Army immediately shows up to take him away? What kind of shit are we dealing with, Burl? I don’t like it.”
    “It’s not your job, or mine, to approve or disapprove of anything going on around here. The Army is giving us nice healthy bonuses for keeping the peace, and that’s what I plan to do while they’re here. Now, either fall in line, or drop your badge on my desk when you leave tonight.”
    Mitch balled his fist in anger, but let it go just as quick as it had come up. With bills mounting and a note due on his boat, he had no choice but to comply. But he didn’t like it. Something wasn’t right, and ever since his tour in ’Nam, he was distrustful of the military. It wasn’t the boys who served, but the fat politicians at the top who worked the system to get what they wanted. However much blood was spilled, both American and enemy, was simply a necessary evil to them.
    “You’re the boss. You know what’s best.” Mitch closed his eyes and slowly nodded his head. 
    “Good man.” Burl patted Mitch’s back. “Come on, let’s get some lunch. I think its fried catfish today.”
    The two wardens mounted their horses and set them on a slow walk toward the ominous monolith of Paradis. Mitch didn’t say it aloud, but he thought the prison resembled a mausoleum waiting for the dead to arrive.

 
    Chapter 3
    The Fallen Ranger
     
     
                  The alarm sounded five times before Mason slapped it hard enough to stop the shrill beeps. With blurry vision, and his mind swimming with the intoxication from the previous night, he squinted at the red numbers on the machine. 8:05 AM. He was supposed to be at work five minutes ago.
    He didn’t care. What was five minutes late or thirty minutes late in the tiny town of Botte? It’s not like anything of importance had happened in this town in quite a while, and Mason loved it.
    Mason received an honorable discharge from the military once he returned to the States. He had rambled to anyone who would listen about how his group was set up. He told them that his two friends had died for nothing, but the hearing committee dismissed the ramblings as the nonsensical rants of a man suffering from a severe case of post-traumatic stress disorder, and that had been it. Here are your papers, sir. Thank you for serving our country. Don’t let the door hit your ass too hard on the way out.
    That door had hit him particularly hard. Mason tried his best to return to a normal job in New Orleans as a deputy sheriff, but after an incident where he snapped and beat an inmate nearly to death, he was relieved of duty. His superior took pity on the soldier, and, instead of throwing him into a cell, made a few calls. The sheriff found a job opening in the small town of Botte and recommended Mason for the job. The sheriff had figured the small, quaint town, would be perfect for the scarred warrior to nurture his internal injuries.
    Mason accepted the