Dead Man Walking

by David Carter

  “And...?”

  “And through a twisted chain of events, I burned him alive while screaming for mercy. You never know, history might repeat itself.” Blaze gratefully inhaled more toxins as he delivered a menacing stare.

  The warden felt a chill run down his spine. He banged on the door for the guard to let him out. He turned and took one last look at Blaze before he left. “Do it before sunrise,” he said, and marched out of the cell.

  Unknown to the warden, their conversation had ignited a small flame within Blaze. He took a moment to reflect on his life: the people he’d killed, the people he’d loved, the people he’d lost. He wished Danny were here with him; he’d have given him the strength to find a way out of this mess.

  He flipped open the box of Camels and pulled another one out, using the butt of his almost-smoked cigarette to light the fresh one. As he tossed the packet on the floor, he noticed a slip of paper jolt free from its hiding place behind the second row of smokes in the box. What the fuck is that? he thought.

  He unfolded the tiny piece of paper and read the note:

  History channel.

  Mix with water.

  Ready when you are.

  Ace.

  Blaze rubbed his eyes and read the note again, trying to put the pieces together. He couldn’t understand how Mickey said that it was Doyle who’d delivered the cigarettes and said he was sorry, yet the note in the pack was from Ace. It didn’t add up. History channel? Mix with water? Ready when you are?

  Blaze took a slow, calming drag on his smoke as he attempted to connect the dots. He mulled the words over and over in his mind until, BAM! The answer hit him. He hurriedly stubbed out his cigarette and emptied the remaining cigarettes onto the floor. Even though he’d smoked a few already, he convinced himself he still had enough tobacco for their plan to work.

  Now all he needed was a cup of water. It was at that moment he realised he had a huge problem. The tap in his cell had been disabled upon his arrival, and there was no chance of the guard granting him any favours. He couldn’t even suck his way out of this one. So he simply asked.

  Blaze called out through his food slot. “Can I get a glass of water?”

  “Where’s your goddamn, manners, boy?” the guard replied.

  Blaze exhaled heavily in frustration. “May I have a glass of water, please?”

  “Not in this lifetime.” The guard chuckled.

  “Fuck you, asshole!” Blaze screamed and bashed the boor with his bare knuckles. He was clean out of options. And he knew time was running out. The message was at least a day or two old now. Ace and the rest of the SAS wouldn’t be able to wait forever. That was when he realised how Ace and Doyle were acquainted: Detective fucking Ryan. It made perfect sense. Someone back home must have connected the SAS with the commissioner’s death and forced the truth concerning Blaze’s whereabouts from Ryan. No doubt he’d been sent to track him down. He knew that this day would eventuate. There’s no way the SAS could have found Doyle without Ryan’s help. It was too much of a coincidence. He would have to play this smart if Ryan was working against him. Then there was his current predicament: water. He only needed one paltry cupful to make their daring plan work.

  Blaze stared at the toilet bowl. Surely not. Am I seriously considering this? he asked himself. Then he remembered all the things he’d allowed himself to do with Mickey in an attempt at revenge and freedom, and suddenly using water from a toilet bowl didn’t seem as foul as he first thought.

  Blaze grabbed the sheet from his bunk and stuffed it into the bottom of the toilet bowl, wedging it tightly into the pipe so that the remaining water in the toilet bowl couldn’t escape.

  When he was sure he’d created a dam, he broke open all the cigarettes and tipped the tobacco into the water. He used his hand to combine the two ingredients and left it to soak. Not the most conventional tea bag ever, but desperate times call for desperate measures, he thought.

  He waited five long, exhausting hours.

  The mixture was as close to ready as he dared wait. It’s now or never, he thought as he prepared to do something extremely dangerous.

  He cupped his hands and scooped the water from the toilet bowl, choking back the bitter mixture. It didn’t take long for the potion to take full effect. His pulse increased; breathing became a struggle. With his mind clouding and vision worsening by the second, he crawled on all fours to the slot in the door and yelled to the guard, “Help!”

  “Shut your goddamn mouth, boy!” the guard replied.

  Blaze had time for only one last breath. “Help...” His voice faded as he cried out in agony; he thought he was going to die.

  This time the guard heard the noticeable change in Blaze’s voice. It sparked his curiosity. He marched up to Blaze’s cell. “What’s your problem, boy?”

  Blaze didn’t reply. The guard lifted the flap on the food slot just in time to see Blaze flop to the ground, unconscious, in cardiac arrest.

  Chapter 56

  “Looks like Blaze got the message,” Ryan said to Doyle as he saw the ambulance leave The Tombs at an alarming rate of knots. Spider pulled out from the visitors’ car park in Skinny-Jay’s Hummer and tailed it all the way to the nearest hospital with Doyle and Ryan in tow—in an FBI-borrowed armoured van. Ryan thought it was typical American overkill to need such a vehicle, but Doyle insisted that, although Ryan’s plan was brilliant and effective, a plan B was definitely in order in case the mission went pear-shaped.

  Blaze was unloaded with great urgency at the hospital’s emergency entrance.

  After parking their respective vehicles in the underground basement, Ryan and Spider slipped out of the elevator and through the waiting area unnoticed. Ryan ordered Trigger and Ace to remain in the Hummer while Doyle kept watch from his van until Ryan returned or until they had to execute plan B.

  Ryan and Spider followed the maze of corridors inside the hospital until they found the cafeteria. There were hundreds of hospital staff sitting in the enormous seating area sipping drinks and nibbling on their below-par food.

  “Just stay calm and act normal,” Ryan said as he boldly marched up to the food cabinets and selected a stale chicken sandwich.

  After paying the cashier, Ryan scoured the seating arrangement. Most of the tables were taken. It didn’t take him long till he saw the perfect spot: a female doctor in her mid-thirties sitting alone with her face buried in her phone, scrolling through the endless news on social media. “Mind if we sit here?” Ryan asked politely.

  The petite doctor’s features brightened as she saw the handsome man standing before her. “Not at all,” she replied, then turned her attention back to her phone. After a few more swipes down her screen she said, “Sorry, I’m being rude.” She put her phone away.

  “It’s okay, I didn’t mean to interrupt you. Go back to what you were doing.”

  “No, it’s fine. It’s almost impossible to get a table to yourself at this time of day.” She paused. “So, are you visiting family?”

  “A friend, actually,” Spider answered. “Had a cardiac arrest.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” She took a mouthful of her pasta salad, then asked, “So where do you boys hail from?”

  “New Zealand,” Ryan answered.

  “Oh, how lovely! I’ve always wanted to visit Aotearoa: the land of the long white cloud.”

  Ryan was impressed. “So you know a little about the Maori culture?”

  She giggled. “Yes. My father is half Maori. He met my mother while touring the States. He fell in love and never left. Unfortunately for me I’ve never had the time or money to go and discover my roots. But when the time is right, I’ll make it happen.”

  “Well what are the chances of that? Bumping into an expat!” Ryan exclaimed, then nudged Spider’s foot under the table.

  “Nice try, buddy,” she laughed, “I’ll always consider myself a yank!”

  Ryan laughed along with her, keeping her talking. “So have you always wanted to be a docto
r?”

  “Ever since I was a little girl,” she replied. “I always had a stethoscope draped around my neck, examining my dolls and playing doctors with Mum and Dad. They always knew I would make it someday.”

  “I’m glad you have such a passion for helping people. It takes a special person to want to work with the sick. It can be a thankless job at times...”

  “And the money stinks,” she said, and laughed.

  “I thought doctors got paid well?”

  “Not first-year graduates.” She sighed.

  “Well, apparently patience is a virtue.” Ryan smiled at her.

  She giggled, completely unaware of Spider’s sleight-of-hand: slipping it behind her chair, and swiping her identity/security card clipped to the pocket of her doctor’s coat.

  Ryan started wrapping things up. He took an enormous bite of his sandwich. “Jesus Christ, this is terrible,” he groaned.

  “Yeah, the food isn’t so good around here,” she said. “I always bring my own dinner from home.”

  “I’ll remember that next time.” Ryan dropped his sandwich back in its container, then said, “Well, I think I’ll finish this later. It was lovely to meet you.” He gave her a dreamy smile.

  “Oh, the pleasure was all mine.” She blushed. “I hope your friend pulls through.”

  Ryan and Spider didn’t look back as they made their exit.

  “Did you get it?” Ryan asked.

  “Got it right here,” Spider held up the hard plastic card between his rough, tattooed fingers.

  “You know, you’re pretty smart for a biker,” Ryan said.

  He saw the slightest hint of a toothy grin through Spider’s beard.

  “Right, so where do we find Blaze?” Spider asked.

  “There must be a recovery ward around here somewhere. But first we need to make a stop.” He came to a halt in the corridor, getting a fix on their position on the hospital map mounted on the wall. “It’s our lucky day, Spider ol’ boy.” He jabbed him in the shoulder. “What we need is probably just around this corner...”

  “What do you mean, make a stop?” Spider asked, as he scurried off after Ryan.

  “Well, they ain’t gonna let any ol’ person in to see Blaze, are they? We need to play the part. Why do you think I got you to swipe the security card?”

  Spider shrugged. He had let Ryan and Doyle take point in terms of planning Blaze’s escape. Now he was overcome with a nerves, realising he hadn’t thought this part of the plan through. “You never said anything about acting–” he started.

  “Well, I don’t think they’ll buy the Dr Spider act,” Ryan said sarcastically as he snatched the card from Spider’s grasp. He waved it over the security panel outside of what appeared to be a supply room. “All you have to do is follow me and play dumb. Do you think you can handle that?”

  Spider didn’t appreciate Ryan’s tone. “What are you trying to say?”

  “Well, for the moment, don’t let anyone past this door. Stand there and look mean; be yourself.”

  Spider gave him a filthy look.

  The door clicked open and Ryan slipped inside. Moments later he came out dressed in a white doctor’s coat, with a stethoscope draped around his neck, and a clipboard under his arm. He handed Spider a set of blue clothes to put on.

  “I ain’t wearing that shit,” Spider said gruffly.

  “Oh, come on, you’ll make a great orderly.” Ryan struggled to contain himself.

  “I fucking hate you,” Spider grumbled as he put them on over the top of his clothes.

  Ryan gave in, unable to resist chuckling as he admired Spider’s outfit.

  “Shut the fuck up and let’s get this over with,” Spider grumbled.

  “Anything you say, boss,” Ryan replied, snickering to himself as they marched off together in search of Blaze.

  Chapter 57

  “Follow my lead and don’t do anything stupid,” Ryan muttered to Spider as they approached Blaze’s hospital room. They had tracked him down on the tenth floor of the recovery ward. They knew the cardiac arrest symptoms brought on by the nicotine concoction should have mostly worn off by now. Ryan prayed Blaze was coherent enough for plan A to be a success.

  Blaze had gotten lucky. Ace’s idea had fooled the guard in the solitary wing, and being the rule-abiding employee he was, he’d immediately started CPR and called for an ambulance as per the Manhattan Detention Complex’s medical emergency protocol. It was the perfect get-out-of-jail-free card.

  Two armed guards stood outside Blaze’s door with stern looks on their faces. “Good evening, gentlemen. I’m Doctor Cameron Ryan. I’m here to assess my patient.”

  The guards looked confused. “The patient has already been assessed,” one of them grunted.

  “Yes—er, I’ve been asked to do a routine follow-up on some notes made during the initial observation. It will only take a moment.”

  “Let’s see your paperwork.”

  “Unfortunately I can’t allow that,” Ryan replied calmly. “All patient notes are completely confidential, even if the patient does happen to resemble a shit stain.”

  “Goddamn system,” the guard grumbled. “Protecting criminals’ rights,” he scoffed. “He’s a murdering thug. You should do everyone a favour and pull the plug on this asshole.”

  “Maybe if you slip me a Benjamin Franklin or two, I just might,” Ryan said coyly.

  The guard chuckled. “I like the way you think, doc.” He happily stepped aside.

  Spider followed Ryan inside the room without uttering a word. He almost had to wipe a stray tear from his eyes as he gazed upon his brother. Blaze lay motionless, his eyes closed, with only the steady rhythm of his heart monitor breaking the silence. “Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he said quietly.

  “I’ve missed you, too, you fucking softcock,” Blaze mumbled from his groggy state.

  Ryan and Spider nearly fainted in shock at the sound of Blaze’s voice. “Jesus Christ! You’re awake?” Ryan hissed.

  “Keep it down,” Blaze replied, his eyes remained shut. His head was pounding. The effects of the nicotine-cocktail to his internals were brutal. “Don’t wanna alert those fuckers outside.”

  “Right, I’m just going to check his vitals,” Ryan said in a loud, clear voice, doing his best to appear as a professional. He checked his heart rate, listened to his chest, and scribbled some random numbers down on his clipboard.

  One of the guards had taken a peak through the small glass window in the door and noticed Blaze’s lips moving. He barged in. “How’s the patient, doc?”

  “Ah! I have good news,” Ryan replied confidently. “My patient has just regained consciousness. He seems to remember his age, name, and what year it is. In my professional opinion, I believe he’ll make a speedy recovery.”

  “Good. The sooner we get this asshole outta here the sooner we can fill this bed with someone who actually deserves medical care.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Ryan said. “But first I think it’s time he took a shower. I can barely think straight with the smell coming from his bed sheets. I’ll have my orderly here take him for a good old-fashioned scrub down.” He leaned in close to the guard, and whispered, “I’ll make sure he uses the heavy-gauge bristles. That’ll make him scream for his momma.”

  The guard grinned, enjoying Ryan’s sense of sadism.

  Ryan turned to instruct Spider to prep Blaze for the scrub down, and in doing so, bumped the corner of the bed and dropped his clipboard. It fell right at the feet of the guard. He politely bent over to retrieve it and couldn’t help noticing the lack of patient notes attached to it. He took a closer look at Spider; his tied-back dreadlocks, bushy beard, and tattooed hands gave him away. The guard’s face turned sour.

  “What the hell’s going on here?” he demanded, tossing the clipboard aside and raising his firearm.

  Spider reacted the only way he knew how. He picked up the glass jug of water standing on Blaze’s bedside table, heaved it straight at the guard a
nd followed it up with two giant strides and a right hook to his jaw.

  WHACK!

  The guard hit the deck. His comrade outside in the corridor came bursting in wielding his weapon. “Nobody move!” he shouted. But it was too late for that.

  Spider was already pulling tubes and needles from Blaze’s arms, and in sync with Ryan, unlocked the wheel-stops on Blaze’s bed and heaved it towards the doorway.

  The guard dropped like a sack of shit.

  “Let’s go!” Ryan shouted anxiously.

  Spider and Ryan pushed Blaze’s bed down the corridor towards the elevator. Upon their approach, the doors opened. Out stepped the female doctor whose security card they’d swiped, along with two hospital security guards. “That’s them!” the doctor shrieked.

  “Oh, bloody hell!” Ryan exclaimed.

  “Fucking ram them!” Blaze shouted.

  There was no turning back at this point. Ryan didn’t slow down. Instead he and Spider pushed the bed faster and headed straight for the open elevator doors.

  The doctor and two guards promptly jumped out of harm’s way. They were no match for the oncoming locomotive.

  CRASH!

  The steel bed frame collided with the back wall of the elevator. Blaze groaned from the force of the sudden halt. One of the guards tried to enter the confined space before the doors closed. He was met by an almighty blow from Spider’s fist.

  THWACK!

  Ryan repeatedly pressed the ‘close door’ button until, finally, they were sealed in the elevator.

  “Shit! What do we do now?” Ryan asked.

  “Where are the others? You got a ride waiting?” Blaze asked.

  “Ace and Trigger are in the basement with Doyle.”

  “Doyle? What’s that asshole doing here?”

  “Risking his neck to save your sorry ass, that’s what.”

  Blaze let the Doyle issue slide for the moment. “Stop the lift on the second floor, then go down to the basement,” he said.

  “Why two stops?”

  “We’ll need a distraction. Two floors should give us enough of a head start.”