Part 3: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/zoxjey/i_am_a_guard_in_a_hidden_prison_located_in_the/

I was a Correctional Officer at a supermax prison. It was near Florence, Colorado. I stayed as an employee there for a half decade. I saw almost everything you can imagine. Escape attempts, stabbings, and riots. These are only some of the more unpleasant occurrences I have dealt with in the past.

I am currently writing this on encrypted Wi-Fi from an undisclosed but safe location. I have had a change of careers following the events of the tale I am about to share with you now.

I worked in a hidden prison in the arctic full of possessed inmates.

I hope people thinking about becoming prison guards read my story and reconsider. I do not want them to make future life choices they will look back on as a mistake.

*

I had never seen a prisoner transported via helicopter. My sixth month of working at the facility changed that.

It landed on a helipad made of yellow and blue paint. The pilot and guard took the detainee out of the chopper. They were both Army personnel. The stripes on their uniforms indicated they were not low-level within the military.

As I watched this from one of the towers, I could not help but wonder who the new inmate was. The person tried to give the captors a struggle. Both were strong and did not seem particularly worried. They kept the person under control.

I observed the subject’s clothing during the escort down to the top floor of the cells. A black burlap sack was over their head. A large blanket covered them. It was impossible for me to even gauge the basic silhouette of the individual.

I had seen many kinds of transport, but none so high-profile. It made me contemplate if they were an insurgent from some faraway land. I pondered if they were a kingpin of some nefarious domestic terror group.

I asked one of the other Officers if they knew anything about the person. They told me the subject was in the hole, the most isolated cell on the grounds. Orders were not to take the burlap sack off of the person's head. This perturbed me a great deal. I asked if we had any information on the person. I already knew the answer would be vague if there would be any sort of concrete back story at all.

I met the Warden in one of the break rooms as he was eating steak. It was better than the freeze-dried and prepackaged artificial slop they gave to those of us lower in rank. I became jealous in a matter of seconds.

“You told us to watch the prisoners more," I said as I folded my arms. “Who is looking out after the one in solitary? What makes them get room floors above the rest of the general population? Is this person the country’s most prolific serial killer or something? What would merit such severe protections?”

“I don’t create the law here,” he said with a mouthful. “Believe it or not, I’m kept in the dark about a lot of things as well. Don’t assume because I’m not a grunt that I have all the details you so crave. Do me a favor. When you get out of here next month, take it up with the big guys in Italy, especially the one with the funny hat. I’m sure they would love to hear your thoughts. While you’re there, tell them I deserve a promotion.”

That same night, I went up to the top level and walked past the door that led to the solitary cell. Though I could not see inside because it was a wall of pure concrete, I did hear the wails of the prisoner. They sounded familiar.

*

I was doing my routine checks and I passed one of the cells which belonged to an inmate named Andre.

He sat straight up and stared at me. I could tell something was different about him. He was not writhing on his cot, nor was he struggling with the usual muscle contractions.

He walked up to me. The barrier between us did not give me a perfect feeling of protection.

“I am cured,” he said. The usual milky pupils most of the inmates had been things he was now devoid of.

“You are doing much better,” I said. “I’ve never seen anyone look as clearheaded as you do now, not around here anyways. How are you feeling?"

“Paranoid. Do you know what they do to people like me? After they’ve driven the evil out of us, they send us to a mega-church in the Rockies. The church has its propaganda machine. They turn us into pamphlet writers or social media manipulators. Missionaries for their so-called God. I would rather have Beelzebub as my host than be a door-to-door Bible salesman.“

“Who told you that?”

“Your boss, Buckley.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that. He tends to say a lot of mean things to get a rise out of people.”

“You don’t understand. The transporting officers have told the other inmates the same thing. They can’t all be in on one big lie like that. No offense, but none of you are that organized.”

“I won’t argue with you there.”

“They say that once we're sent to their cult-like compound we must comply. If we refuse to work for the church, they put the demons back inside of us. They know how to weaponize those demons. It’s not all about exorcising them anymore if it ever was. It’s about using them to control us.”

Andre’s hand slipped through the metal food flap. He held a shank. The tip of the blade pierced through the midsection of my vest.

I grabbed his wrist and wrestled the knife away from him until it clattered on the floor. I got hold of the webbing of his hand and broke a few of his fingers. I yelled for backup. Another Correctional Officer came by and sprayed holy water into the slot. When it did nothing, we switched over to pepper spray and sent him to the ground.

Inmates using dirty tricks and distractions to try and get one over on me was nothing new. That particular incident made me very spiteful and paranoid, though.

When I patrolled the cells the next day, Andre was nowhere to be found. I found they shipped him somewhere else. I wondered if it was to the nightmare place of forced worship he had described.

*

Nwosu had lent me a copy of Milton’s Paradise Lost. I felt obligated to give it back to him.

After I finished the last page, I went outside and knocked on Nwosu’s door.

There was no answer. I went back into my room and grabbed a flashlight. I walked up to the door again and banged on the barrier with the metal device. Even with the reverberation, Nwosu still did not call out or come to the door.

I had seen him fall into unhealthy habits which were worse for wear. His motivation to help people flee had gotten the best of him. His drinking had spiraled out of control due to the stress level he was under.

I kicked the door down. I could not tolerate the thought of letting him die by choking on his vomit after an intense bender.

The room was empty and clean. None of his stuff was there.

*

I walked into Buckley’s office the next day.

“One of the inmates smuggled a pistol in,” I said.

“Impossible,” Buckley said as his eyes widened.

“I need your help in assessing the cell, sir. There might be some ballistics evidence.”

“You believe he used the gun?”

“Yes,” I said.

I escorted Buckley to the chamber. It was a mess. Items were strewn about everywhere.

“Where’s the gun?”

I braced my knuckles with a small baton and punched Buckley in the temple. He fell. I took his service weapon and master keys. I walked out to the hallway and shut the door immediately.

I waited for him to recover and come to. When he did, he shook his head like he was waking up from a deep sleep, and gazed at me with pure hatred.

“What do you think you’re doing, Lieutenant?” Buckley said as he touched the side of his head for blood.

“I want you to tell me what happened to my best friend. No lies this time. Where did Nwosu go?”

“You do too much. Nothing worse than someone a kid picked on in High School who gets into this profession. They always overcompensate. Sometimes it’s better to not be proactive. Wait till you get out in the field, you’ll learn that lesson an even harder way if you live that long.”

“I’ll tell the boys you gave a direct order to leave this level alone. You’ll be here until you starve and dehydrate. I don’t want to be cruel, but you need to start answering my questions or we’re going to have problems. Who is the prisoner who came in cloaked the other day? Is it Nwosu? Is he possessed?”

Buckley glared at me and did not answer.

I stared down at the master keys.

“Last chance to tell me," I continued. "I’m going to do my investigation if you don’t help me.”

“Fuck off. There’s something I will say, though. Ever since Anna came here, they changed some procedures. One on how those related to the officers get booked in here. Don’t hate me. I don’t make the rules.”

I wanted to ask him to elaborate, but I was getting angrier with him by the second. I left him there and went to solitary confinement.

*

I went to the most isolated holding chamber on the property. When I opened the door, I found a yellow hallway that ended in darkness.

I turned on my torch and walked down the vestibule with a hand on my service weapon. I found the prisoner in the corner, their hands tied to the bed. The burlap sack was still over their face.

I ripped it off.

My wife stared back at me.

Her face had cracked skin and was paler than I could ever remember.

I stumbled backward at the sight of her.

“No,” I said through gritted teeth. As the dawn of my new reality cascaded over me, I punched the wall. I broke a few knuckles.

I knew what I had to do. I undid the restraints on the bedding and zip-tied her wrist together. I did not want the presence which controlled her to fight me.

“You never told me you were in a gang that used to rob innocent people,” she said as I led her down the hallway. Her voice was not my wife’s but sounded the way an actress might on scrambled television.

I brought her to the first level. I walked her past prison bar doors after I used the master keys to gain access to them.

It was snowing when we went outside.

“Where are you going?”

I turned around and saw an Officer I had met many times. Michael Patterson had the face of a bulldog. He never allowed anyone to think he was anything but a consummate professional. Humor was something he was incapable of.

“The most powerful priest is out on sick leave,” I said. “He's possessed himself. I have direct orders to take her to the city. I’m going to drive her to one of the churches there.”

“Did Buckley give you any paperwork authorizing this?”

“It’s in the prisoner transport vehicle over there,” I said, pointing at the SUV three hundred feet away. “Let me get her situated for the drive, and I’ll be right back with it.”

Patterson nodded and gave tacit approval. Once we were in the car, I hit sixty miles per hour and drove far away from that wretched place.

*

It took two weeks to get back to our home state. I return to my house in the middle of the night, so the neighbors would not see my wife in the state she was in.

The next morning, I restrained her to our bed.

I went to the local church and managed to convince a priest to help me. I had to persuade Father Park I was not a delusional person.

When he arrived in our bedroom he knew the case was legitimate. Park performed a lengthy seven-hour exorcism.

I walked him to the door. My wife had already become lucid again. She did not have any memories of what led to her being in my workplace.

“I have tried to pray and purify this house,” Park, said as I opened the front door. “If I were you, I would consider moving.”

As the priest walked up to his car, I got his attention again by calling out his name.

“Father,” I said, “I’ve been meaning to ask. How do we protect ourselves from possession so I can ensure that this never happens again?”

“Demons are like falsehoods,” Park said. “No matter how intelligent you may be, you could fall victim to believing something not based on facts. We have to guard ourselves against lies and deception. In the same way, we have to always be at the ready when our senses tell us something evil is afoot.”

I closed the door and went upstairs. I embraced my wife.

“How did the assignment go?" she asked.

“I’m changing industries."