Dr. Hooters Pt. XXXV Captain Morrison ran her short, tar-stained fingers through her thick black hair. "I have to admit that physically, you appear to be, uh, equal to the task. The job, however, rarely requires physical toughness. Mental toughness, actually, is more desire- able, due to the extreme isolation of the camp and the naturre of the inmates whom you'll be supervising." Yeah, yeah, yeah, thought Julie, blah, blah, blah. Just give me the job, bitch. What she said, though, was different- "All I'm asking for is a chance to prove myself, Captain Morris", she said, smiling sweetly. "I'm going to recommend you to Superintendent Anderson for the job", the captain said, "And I want you to be at the Mercer camp by noon Thursday for orientation. Come prepared to stay. That's all I've got to say." Then the captain forced a smile and ex- tended her hand. "Welcome to the team!" Julie took the captain's hand in her own ham-sized one, and ap- plied just enough pressure to let the captain know who she was dealing with. "You gotta hell of a grip there, Heatherwick. I can tell it'll be good to have you on our side", the captain exclaimed wanly. Julie stood up, immediately filling the room with her presence. At six-foot-eleven, she tended to own her immediate environment aggressively, and the captain took note of this. Then Julie turned and left the office. "Phew!", whistled the captain. "I need a cigarette!" Leaving the legislature-ordered smoke-free administration build- ing, she saw Superintendent Anderson striding up the walk. She signalled him over. "Hey, Captain Morris!", he greeted her, "How's the interviewing going for that slot at Mercer?" Captain Morris blew a cloud of smoke in the opposite direction. "Hi, Sir", she replied. "I've decided to give the job to Julie Heatherwick." "The big girl from Florida, right?", the Superintendent asked. "Big isn't the word for it, sir", the captain replied. "There she goes over there, by the parking lot. You can see for your- self." The Superintendent looked in that direction, and saw the huge redheaded woman stoop over to climb into her Voyager van. "Not unattractive though", admitted the Superintendent, "for such a big woman." "Another understatement, sir", added the captain. "She's more along the lines of drop-dead gorgeous. Still, I wish I could shake this feeling I've got..." She took another deep drag on her cigarette. "What's that, Captain?" "I've been in this business twenty-four years, Supeintendent. I retire next April. In this line of work, you gotta be able to read people. And that redhead is the most dangerous female I've ever laid eyes on. She makes those man-cutters and crack-dealers we got up at Mercer look like a bunch of church ladies!" "Do you have anything to back up this hunch?", the superintendent asked, his eyes narrowing. "That's just it, sir", the captain continued. "There's nothing in her background that suggests anything of the sort. Do you know what job she had before? Head of a research lab in Miami Florida! She lost that job 'cause she took off all her clothes and danced on the table at her recertification hearing!" "Head of a research lab, huh? A mad scientist?" "She's got a Ph. D.", the captain said, sticking Julie's file un- der the superintendent's nose. "Here, check for yourself. I wonder why she wants to be a prison officer in the boondocks of North Carolina!" "Probably had a thing for some guy down there", assumed the su- perintendent. "Most of those guys are faggots down there in Mia- mi, or so they say. She needs some time in the woods to do some thinking, and maybe she'll meet a real Carolina man while she's at it!" He hitched his pants up and ran his hand over his thin- ning hair. "She's got a nice set, too", he added. "Nice boobs and an ad- vanced degree? Take her on as a sargeant, OK?" The shit you say, you asshole, the captain thought. Someday, one of these little gals with a little law-work and a laptop comput- er's gonna hang your ass for sexual harassment. But it won't be Captain Morris. No ma'am. Just give me five acres and my pen- sion. She sighed deeply. "As you say, sir." The Mercer Forestry Camp for Female Offenders was isolated as Julie could imagine anything being. Forty Miles outside of Mer- cer into the National Forest, she turned left onto road marked only by a small sign indicating the prison's whereabouts. Twelve miles up this road, there was another sign indicating a gravel road along a powerline. The camp was twenty miles up this road, as close to the middle of nowhere as humanly possible. Julie parked the van in the prison parking lot, and reported to the low administration building for orientation. She learned the ins and outs of life at the Camp; there was a tour of the turpen- tine mill, the food service area, the inmates' dormitories, and the officers' quarters. She learned that there were two shifts at the Camp, the morning shift which supervised the inmates while they worked, and the night shift, which supervised them in the eveniongs and at night while they relaxed and slept. As a new sergeant, Julie had a lot of responsibility. Most of the officers under her command had been working at the Camp for four or five years. Uneducated, surly, and resentful, they avoided any semblance of work, and were often harsh and brutal to the inmates under their supervision. Julie left them to their own devices, mostly. The inmates were a mixed bag. These were supposedly the most vi- cious and incorrigible female inmates in the whole prison sys- tem, but Julie found them to be quite agreeable and quite amenable to her control. Of course, most of them played by the same rules she did, which made understanding easier between the new sergeant and the convicts under her supervision. For Julie learned quickly that, whereas in prison there is a vis- ible, clearly defined hierarchy of officers, sergeants, lieu- tenants, captains, and majors, there is a parallel hierarchy which is much more important, but which is not quite so visible. Power and influence flowed along this informal hierarchy much more regularly, and much more predictably, than along the offi- cial one. It was at the top of this shadow hierarchy that Julie decided to position herself. Her first opportunity came on her second day on the job. Two inmates, a white girl named Cathy Evans, who Julie had been told operated a loan-sharking business in one of the dorms, and Yolanda, supposedly an enforcer for one of the black gangs, staged a fight outside Julie's post. Word about the huge new sergeant had gotten around the Camp, and the inmates were eager to test her mettle. Would she be a by- the-book type (one who followed the rules to the letter, abso- lutely the worst by convict standards), a ball-buster (one who used the officer's position and privilege for her own profit and benefit, and hence, someone you could do business with), or a fuck-girl (someone easily intimidated or manipulated, a joy to the convicts' heart)? By the time Julie had responded to the hue and cry outside her station, a considerable crowd had gathered to give the 'fight' the illusion of reality. It didn't take Julie long to realize that the whole thing was staged for ther benefit. Interracial incidents were incindiary in the prison environment, and quickly led to riots or general melees. She waded into the crowd of in- mates, thrusting aside those who impeded her progress, grabbed the two protagonists by the collars of their blue uniforms, and straight-armed them to eye-level. She shook Yolanda, a big black woman, uglier than the night-toads that hopped along the perimeter roads after sundown. "I want you to cut this out right now, Yolanda!", she shouted. then she pulled her close and whispered into her ear. "And I want ten percent of all the protection money, in fives and ones, in an en- velope in my trailer every Friday! Understand?" Yolanda's mouth dropped open, and she nodded her head. Julie dropped her to the ground. Then she turned her attention to Cathy, as pretty as Yolanda was ugly, and pushed her easily over her head with one arm until she dangled in mid air, legs flailing four feet off the ground. "And you, slut! I don't want no shit on my shift! You all fight on Sergeant Pevensey's shift, not mine." Pulling Cathy's terrified face to within inches of her own, Julie whispered sweetly to her. "You're my kind of girl, Sweety-pie. Good-looking and vicious. I'm gonna change your life, but right now I want twenty percent of the action, off the top, and rates are going from sixty cents on the dollar to eighty. Understand?" She shook Cathy like a terrier shakes a rat, then threw her three feet into the mass of inmates. "Officer Moon!", she yelled, "Where are those Use Of Force forms?" This display of strength impressed the whole Camp, officers and convicts alike. It wasn't long before Julie was the boss of the camp in all but name. Old loyalties shifted, ancient alliances realigned, and soon, not a transaction was undertaken, not a fa- vor was sought, not a drop of liquor was sold, nor a young new inmate violated, but that Julie got her share right off the top. Major Testaverde, the titular Chief at the camp, appreciated the efficiency and order that Julie brought to his compound, and or- dered all hands to cooperate with the new system. It left him free to work on his golf swing, and, truth be told, the inmates were safer and quieter under Julie's unofficial suzerainty than under the old arrangement of competing gangs. Julie asked that Yolanda be given the post of her own private do- mestic, cleaning her trailer and keeping the grounds. Major Tes- taverde OK'd it, and Yolanda practically moved in with the new boss. It made it easy for Julie to keep up with the collection of money from the various operations behind the fence, and soon the hideously ugly Yolanda became equally feared as Julie's lieu- tenant.