It is called the Hot House. Murderers live there. Gangsters. Serial killers. The nation's worst lawbreakers, sociopaths and evil men call it home. It is the Federal Penitentiary at Leavenworth and it is about to get a hell of a lot hotter. The new warden is also the leader of a pervasive satanic cult, gaining ever more power through his escalating campaign of murder and mayhem. Behind the fortified walls and razor wire of the prison, the warden has transformed the Hot House into his own hell on earth, complete with a bloodthirsty army of hardened criminals.
Only a small, determined band of heroes know the truth about what's going on inside the Federal Penitentiary, but will they be too late to stop the warden before all hell breaks loose?
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An Excerpt from: The Hot House
Copyright © 2012 Joe Donn Martin
All rights reserved, Wild Child Publishing.
A pen appeared in the warden’s other hand. He held it out to Robert.
“Sign here.”
Robert took the pen and in one violent motion stabbed it through the warden’s hand. Robert hammered down so hard, the tip of the pen passed all the way through the hand, and the stack of papers, until it stuck in the desktop.
The warden sucked his pointy teeth with a hissing sound. Black blood bubbled from the wound. “Not good, Mr. Muncie,” he said. “Not good.”
The warden wiggled his hand back and forth until the pen came loose. He lifted it off the desk. The pen jutted out both sides of his hand like an arrow-through-the head gag. Blood spotted pages of the contract fluttered down. Schugart sprawled his fingers wide, blood oozing down his forearm. He made a fist. The pen snapped in two, both halves clattering to the desk. When the warden opened his hand again, the wound was gone.
“The problem, the way I see it, is you still think you’re a badass. You still think you can muscle your way out of this situation. Oh, Mr. Muncie, please don’t give me that look. Yes, that thousand-yard-stare. As if I’m boring you. As if I’m not worth your attention.” Schugart snapped his fingers in Roberts face. Sparks flew from his finger tips and Robert jerked his head back. “Better,” the warden said.
Troy appeared at the opening, balancing a carafe, three mugs, and a plate holding packets of cream and sugar in his arms. Schugart instructed him to set them on the table and then dismissed the line officer. Troy left without a word.
“First thing I did as the new warden of this place,” Schugart explained as he poured, “was switch the coffee. They had been using some generic blend, tasted like shit. I switched to Community Coffee’s Hotel blend. Sure, it’s more expensive, but how can you put a price?”
Julie’s fingers trembled and her mug rattled as she pulled it across the table. Schugart winked at her.
“My heavy metal queen.”
Robert took cigarettes and a lighter from his shirt pocket, tapped two out, and started them up. He handed one to Julie who almost collapsed with gratitude. Finally able to have something that wasn’t a total nightmare – coffee and cigarettes.
“We doin’ good?” the warden asked. Robert nodded, blowing a trail of smoke out the side of his mouth. “Good,” the warden continued. “Because what comes next is important. I will have your soul, or you and your lovely daughter are going in the pit where you will both burn in hellfire for all eternity. Do you understand?”
“You want my soul?”
“Yes.”
“And if I give it to you, you’ll let Julie go?”
“Absolutely.”
“But then you’ll have to kill me?”
Schugart winced and sat back, as if he’d just been slapped. “Oh, no. No, no, no. You’ll go free too – the both of you, one big happy family again. Its just that I’ll have ownership of your soul, is all.”
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