I took time off the web in general, and this book specifically, to see how it grows on me. I have no choice except to do this. I have a book doctor who is going to take me through a masters class in novel writing. His people get published, and make money. My background in Intelligence may nix the idea of any level playing field. I am not allowed to make money, which is one of the things that goes along with being imprisoned, by my enemies misperceptions, to the point leaving Chicago is dangerous. Such a big deal last time because of my security, and know...
I have to do what I must do... write, and try to bring people together. Show Xenophobia defeated like any phobia can be, by familiarity with the object one has feared. The climate breakdown has made being in gang fights the last of their worries. The prisoners fear for their families, most who live in the area, some just to be near them. The guards as well...
In this book, the gang leaders always lead.... all violence takes place 'off camera' so to speak. Screams and bullets are enough. So I came up with a chapter I will use as the first one. I want an outline that expands what is good, leaves out what is immemoriable.
I will rewrite this, but i got one thing out of this. Interesting. Nothing too big, the signals they give with their hands. The rest are my ideas.
📘 NEW OPENING SCENE — REWRITTEN FROM THE GROUND UP
The radio was screaming again.
A blown‑out speaker in the library hallway crackled with the same message it had been repeating for hours: the government’s last defensive line had broken, Ellis Security Forces were sweeping north, and civilians were being “relocated” to underground labor facilities. The announcer’s voice kept slipping between panic and static, like even the airwaves were afraid.
Refugees had been told — by the last free website, by ham radio operators, by Chicago Sanctuary’s pirate broadcast — to gather at Joliet State Prison. “If you can walk, walk. If you can run, run. If you can drive, drive. Joliet is safe.”
Safe was a lie. But it was the only lie people had left.
Inside the prison, the Scrabblers moved.
They didn’t run. They didn’t shout. They didn’t posture. They walked through the cell blocks with the calm of men who had already survived too much to be rattled by one more apocalypse.
Khalib Turner led the way — tall, scarred, ex‑Marine, eyes scanning every corner. Sean O’Leary followed, pale and quiet, calculating routes and choke points in his head. Jorge “El Chiquito” RamÃrez stalked beside them, short and furious, radiating a heat that made people step aside without being told. Theo Blackfeather brought up the rear, talking under his breath, cracking jokes no one could quite hear but everyone felt.
Kareem walked in the middle, hands clasped behind his back, absorbing everything. He wasn’t a veteran, but he’d studied war the way monks study scripture — taught by lifers who had once commanded platoons, squads, and street armies. He knew tactics the way other men knew scripture.
As the five of them passed, prisoners and refugees alike lowered their eyes or moved their children out of the way. Some nodded. Some whispered. Some simply watched with the stunned relief of people who had been waiting for someone — anyone — to take control.
The Scrabblers didn’t speak. They didn’t need to.
A flick of Khalib’s fingers sent a group of refugees toward the cafeteria. A tilt of Sean’s chin moved a cluster of guards’ families toward the chapel. A subtle hand sign from Jorge made three of his lieutenants peel off to clear the main corridor. Theo pointed at a group of teenagers and they immediately began ushering toddlers out of the common area.
This wasn’t new. This was muscle memory.
They had been preparing for this moment for years.
They reached the guards’ bubble — a glass booth suspended above the central hub of the prison, overlooking sixteen stories of rusted metal walkways spiraling downward like the inside of a broken lighthouse.
The guards inside didn’t resist. They stepped aside before the Scrabblers even opened the door.
Khalib entered first. Sean closed the door behind them. Jorge locked it. Theo tapped the glass once, as if greeting an old friend. Kareem stepped to the console and shut off the blaring radio.
Silence fell over the prison.
Not peace — just silence. The kind that comes before a storm.
Khalib looked out over the tiers. “We start now.”
Sean nodded. “We’ve got maybe a day before Ellisberg hits the outskirts.”
“Less,” Jorge muttered. “They’re moving fast.”
Theo leaned over the console, flipping switches, scanning the monitors. “We got families in every hallway. Kids in the gym. Guards’ people in the chapel. We need order before panic hits.”
Kareem spoke last, his voice steady. “We’ve trained for this. We know what to do.”
They all looked at him — not as a leader, but as the man who understood the map inside the chaos.
He didn’t give orders. He simply named the truth.
“We have no leader,” Kareem said. “None of us would follow the other. Our people wouldn’t either.”
He looked at each of them in turn.
“But we can follow the plan.”
They nodded.
The plan wasn’t written anywhere. It lived in their heads, in their habits, in the way they had learned to keep the peace inside a place built for violence.
Khalib turned to the intercom. “Get the crews cooking. Feed the kids first.”
Sean added, “Move the elderly to the infirmary. Anyone with medical training reports there.”
Jorge barked, “My people secure the yard. No one gets in unless we say so.”
Theo grinned. “And somebody tell the sweat lodge crew to get ready. Folks are gonna need a place to breathe.”
Kareem looked toward the library doorway.
“Maya,” he said, “you keep the peace.”
She stepped inside, arms crossed, eyes sharp. “Already on it.”
Outside, the prison hummed with movement — refugees settling, prisoners organizing, guards stepping aside, children crying, families praying.
Inside the glass booth, the Scrabblers stood shoulder to shoulder, five men who would never choose a leader, but who would choose survival.
The front was coming. The world was collapsing. But they had a plan.
And they had each other.
If you want, I can continue with:
