by Chuck Buda
Gorgon realized she was right. He had forced the timeline forward with the cage fights and the videos. The food and water rationing could be understood by the prisoners. But cruelty and senseless violence only made everyone more fearful. And scared people did unthinkable things. He wondered if he should be more selective with the cages. Space the fights out. Save it for the worst of the worst rather than running anyone through it.
“I’d like you to keep me apprised of any new developments.”
Janie scratched at her scalp. “You don’t suggest we act on this right away?”
“No. Continue to play both sides of the fence. Give them just enough information so they believe you are in their camp. Tell them that we will be eliminating food in the pods but you saw to it that they were the last ones to be cut off.” Gorgon tapped his lips with his finger. “And drop a hint that Dr. Shipley may have developed a vaccine to save us. Let us see how far that rumor travels. Give them all a bit of hope. Perhaps quell any plans in motion to hold tight and see. We may be able to play this from different angles across the pods.”
Janie’s eyes shifted around the room. Her nervousness had returned.
“Is there anything else, Lieutenant?”
Janie shook her head.
“You’ve done a fine job here. Your work is very important to my...our cause. You have my complete support.” The Warden strolled toward Janie. He began to extend his hand to shake the Lieutenant’s and then decided against it. “You are dismissed.”
As Janie left the room, Warden Gorgon followed her body with his eyes. He picked up a sensation of sexual tension he hadn’t felt in years. A stirring in his libido which had been long dormant. For the first time in months, even years, Gorgon felt like a man. A younger man who needed to sow his oats. A burning.
The Warden hurried back to the sink in his bathroom. He ran the cold water and splashed his face. Tightening the knobs to conserve water, he stared into the mirror at his reflection. Gray hair along his temples and sideburns faded into a darker, more original hue.
Is it possible I am getting younger? Or does the mirror deceive me like all the liars and “innocent” men downstairs?
Warden Gorgon had more work to do. But he suddenly felt a little more energized.
Chapter 7
Luna had kept to herself more than usual. She had begun to lose her shit with all the clouds of death and Armageddon hanging over them. Luna had struggled to adjust to life in prison. Maria and the others might even characterize her existence in the pen as a train wreck. She clung to Maria morning, noon and night, like a Rhesus monkey clinging to a surrogate mother. Constipation and irregular periods affected her more often than the general population because of her internalized stress. She’d even chewed her fingernails down to the point that her fingertips had calloused over to protect the tenderized skin.
Now that the pod made overt requests for protection to the guards, Luna was petrified the audacity would come back to haunt them ten-fold. Something in her gut told her that she had gone too far this time. Janie had always been open to sharing information with Bo and Tracee. She’d overlooked some minor but punishable infractions. But the girls’ insistence on pushing further than they had in the past left Luna with an upset tummy that couldn’t be assuaged by the plug in her rectum.
Maria entered the bunk room. She slithered into the lower bunk next to Luna.
“Where you been, baby? You’ve been hiding in here all the time now.”
Luna twirled her hair around her fingers. She diverted her eyes and shrugged.
“Still can’t shit, Chica?” Maria giggled and grinned with a lascivious gleam. “Not the anal dreams you thought you would have in prison, si?”
Luna shoved Maria away. Ordinarily, she would laugh along with Maria. Not today. Maybe never again.
“I’m not in the mood, Maria.”
“Not in the mood for anal? Or bad jokes about shitting?”
Luna broke a smile. Maria knew how to lure her out of her funks. Luna was afraid to admit her fears. The girls might bust her chops for being so negative. Or they might choose to distrust her for going against the stream.
“We’ll get through this, mami.”
Luna couldn’t bite her tongue any longer. “Will we? How do know?” She felt hot tears flood her eyelids.
Maria brushed Luna’s hair away from her face. “I got faith. Everything happens for a reason. And He will look out for us.” Maria poked a finger at the ceiling.
“Faith? In what? Where was God when Claudia was fed to those things? How are prayers going to keep us alive when the virus can get through the prison walls? Are you going to protect me when the place falls apart and it’s everyone for themselves?”
Maria’s smile faded. She searched Luna’s eyes but Luna knew she had no answers. At least, not the answers Luna would need to hear.
“Of course I will protect you. We go everywhere together, right? Nothing will change that.”
Luna slid away from Maria. “You say that now. But what will you do when I’m a zombie and I’m trying to bite you? What then?”
Maria stiffened. “I’ll be the first one to put you out of your misery.”
Luna stuffed the pillow against her face to stifle her crying. The emotions flowed without hope of restraint. So much pent up anxiety had found the deluge. She feared the others hearing her cries but she couldn’t control it any more than she could force herself to have a bowel movement.
“Nooooooooo. Something is not right. Janie is going to turn on us.”
Maria tried to shush Luna. “Ay, Chica. Janie is our friend. She needs us as much as we need her. When the walls come down, we’ll all be needing each other.”
Luna jumped off the bunk. She stomped her feet against the concrete floor. “Not this time. She’s going to flip on us to save herself. I feel it. We never should’ve gone this far. Claudia would never have let her guard down like this.”
Maria lunged at Luna. Her grimace took on an evil countenance. “Well Claudia isn’t here anymore, puta. Is she? And you don’t know what you’re talking about. If Claudia saw one of us get shredded like that then she would’ve realized the only path out is to work together. She would have done the same thing.”
“No. No, Claudia would never give in. She would fight and think and figure out another way. A way where we would rely on our own Familia, not those cunts in boots.” Luna dropped to her knees. She finished crying into her sleeves.
Maria stood over Luna. She felt the Latin blood filling her friend’s veins. Luna regretted dropping her guard. Even to Maria. She needed the release but it had been a mistake to reveal her inner turmoil.
“I’m gonna pretend this conversation never happened. I know you are an emotional person and you are all backed up. So I’m gonna let you get your head on straight and then...then we can talk. Until that time, I’m going to pray to God that you see the truth in what we are doing.”
As Maria stormed out of the bunk room, Luna whispered to her back. “I’ve seen the truth.”
She threw herself back into the bunk, burying her face into the pillow. Luna had always needed Maria’s care to survive. Now she realized she had needed Claudia’s as well. She hadn’t understood it while Claudia had been alive because she was so nestled in Maria’s arms. But both women provided the security blanket that Luna required. And one of them was gone.
Luna strained her ears to see if Maria revealed her secrets to the common room. She heard pieces of words that she took for Maria spilling the beans even if her heart told her Maria would never sell out like that. Luna squeezed the pillow against her head to drown out the phantom voices which fed her apprehensions.
Her mind raced to figure out a way to save them all. If she was the only one who could see what they had done, then she would be the only one who can reverse course. Luna would have to put the women on her back for once. She would have to overcome the impossible and take the lead to protect their asses.
Or she could turn th
em all in and protect her own hide.
Chapter 8
Jack woke up to find Swede staring into his face. At first, he assumed he was in the middle of one of those bizarre dreams which bridged the gap between reality and R.E.M. sleep. A couple of blinks later, Jack realized he was awake and his bunk mate was too close for comfort.
“Can I help you?” Jack lifted himself up on one elbow, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“Have you ever heard of Buffalo sauce blowjobs?”
Jack glared at Swede. Half his brain hoped he was still having one of those weird dreams.
“I don’t where you’re going with this question, but if you come near me with any Buffalo sauce, I’m going to tear your heart out with my bare hands.”
Swede shook off Jack’s threat. “I’m not gay. You know that.”
“I’m not always around you. How do I know what you’re into now?”
Swede grunted. “It’s Frenchie. I think he’s losing it.”
Jack waved a hand at Swede to move him back. He swung his legs off the top bunk and stretched. “Frenchie was lost the day he discovered his pussy was a dick.”
“He’s saying some fucked up shit. Telling everyone that it’s all over and he should’ve killed himself before the cops caught him.”
Jack slid off the top bunk. He stared up at Swede. While the Frenchie story was interesting, Jack thought about his peace offering last night. When he had given Swede his meal, nobody had been talking to Jack. Not even Swede. Now, Jack wished for more silent treatment.
“How is different than all the other smack talk?”
“Cause he started talking about Buffalo sauce blowjobs.” Swede held his hands aloft to plead his case.
Jack chuckled. “So that’s the connection with your odd question.” He ran a hand along his stubble. “My answer is no, by the way. I’ve never heard of Buffalo sauce blowjobs.” Jack wanted to begin apologizing once more about the beating but Swede carried on about Frenchie.
“He’s acting really unstable. More than the usual, I mean. He stutters all of a sudden. And his eyes. There’s something wrong with his eyes.”
Jack glanced around Swede’s frame. In the common room, Frenchie paced back and forth, talking out loud to himself. The other prisoners remained on the periphery. However, they appeared to be fully entertained by Frenchie’s strange behavior.
“What set him off? Did somebody fuck with him?”
Swede watched Frenchie for a moment. “I don’t think so. It seemed to start yesterday. After...”
Jack knew immediately what Swede hinted at. Frenchie lost his shit after Jack’s outburst. And after he disowned his men. After beating Swede down. All signs pointed to Jack. His stomach churned. His emotions were difficult to navigate. Sometimes Jack didn’t give a shit about anybody else in the world, least of all the dregs of humanity who lived with him in Warsaw Prison. The rest of the time, Jack saw himself as the shepherd or father-figure of the pod. He understood that the men looked to him to set the mood and to maintain equilibrium. Mostly out of fear. But there was respect there too. You couldn’t have respect without a little fear and vice versa. The edge was razor sharp between good and evil. Especially with the likes of this crowd. Jack had been the one person who could command that kind of attention from the pod. Most of the prisoners didn’t like Jack at all. But they gave him wide berth out of that same fear or respect. Or both. It never mattered to Jack, as long as he got it.
Yet, he felt terrible about what he had said. And how he had mistreated Swede. They’d all been through a gamut of emotions and stress recently. Nobody knew when their last breath was coming, but to a man, they all knew it wasn’t far off. So the stakes were high as the men climbed over each other to keep their own heads above water.
“Guess we’ll have to keep our eyes on Frenchie then. If he’s off his rocker then he could cause a lot of problems for us. Shit we don’t need.” Jack rubbed his hands together, helping him think. “Although, we might be able to use Frenchie’s problems as a solution for us.”
“How so?” Swede glanced over his shoulder toward Frenchie.
“I’m not exactly sure yet. But he could be a useful distraction. A sleight of hand. We might even get him to lay down some false flags for us. Give Muncie and Gorgon something to worry about over here, while we’re busy doing something else over there.” Jack swung his hands around as if he were working a shell game table, moving the shells around to dazzle the gambler.
“Hm.”
Jack patted Swede’s large arm. “I’ll work on it. While I think, do me a favor and stay close to him. See if he says anything we could use. Make mental notes.”
“Got it.” Swede turned to leave the bunk room. Before he could exit, Jack caught his attention again.
“Uh, Swede?”
The giant paused and waited for Jack to finish. No words formed on Jack’s lips. He found himself completely speechless, even though he knew he wanted to explain himself.
“I know you’re sorry. We’re cool.”
“But...how?”
Swede tilted his head to the side. “If you meant it, you would have killed me. You let up. Jack Turk never lets up.”
Jack’s eyes watered. He knew how it felt to be thankful for having a good friend. Jack quietly asked God what he did to deserve a friend like Swede.
Then he thought better of it. Best not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Jack barely nodded in Swede’s direction. Swede smiled and left Jack standing alone with his thoughts.
If Jack was back in the game, ready to take on Muncie and the Warden and all the zombies in the prison, then he would need to start formulating some plans. And backup plans for when the original plans got all shitted up. Which would be inevitable.
Jack paced the bunk room. His goal was still to kill Muncie with his own two hands. But he had to save his men before he could end his quest.
Muncie and Gorgon had to pay for what they had done to Melvin.
Chapter 9
Muncie found Rivera. He leaned in close, speaking in hushed tones. “You got a second?” Muncie tossed his head aside, indicating he needed to speak with Rivera out of range of the other guards.
“What’s up?”
Muncie bit his tongue. He tried to remember ever addressing one of his superiors in such a cursory manner. Since it had never happened, Muncie swallowed down his anger.
“You tell ME what’s up. Any signs of a rat?” Muncie kept himself from sniffing Rivera. His olfactory senses were honed to a sharp blade. Muncie could smell fear and lies from a mile away. People never realized their acidity turned whenever they stressed over telling the truth. And Muncie knew that smell well. Like blood in the water.
Rivera shrugged. “Nada. I did like you said. Laid a little track in front of Jonas to see if he would follow along. But he didn’t bite.”
“What about Crawford?”
“Same. He genuinely likes you. I don’t think he’s out for your job.”
Muncie shoved Rivera against the wall. “Maybe YOU’RE the one I need to watch, hm?”
Rivera gasped, struggling to catch his wind after Muncie knocked it out of his chest. “Chill, bro.”
Muncie used his weight to pin Rivera harder against the cinder block wall. “I’m not your bro, bro.” He pressed his forehead to Rivera’s, taking a deep sniff. “And don’t ever tell me to chill.”
He remained in position for a prolonged moment before releasing Rivera. The younger guard wiped a trembling hand across his brow. Rivera avoided direct eye contact with Muncie.
“Now that we understand each other, keep setting traps. For both of them.” Muncie decided to soften a bit. He liked to keep everyone around him guessing. “I wanna be sure they’re on the right team. Our team, yes?”
Rivera nodded emphatically.
“If we can’t trust each other then those fucking animals in there will rip us apart. That’s what makes us different. That’s why we wear the badge and they rot in their cells until they
die.” Muncie pointed his baton in the direction of the pods.
Rivera kept nodding.
Muncie felt pleased with himself. Anytime he could make the pubes curl tighter on a wetback was an event to celebrate. He rapped the night stick in his palm to a mesmerizing cadence. “I still think there’s a rat in this cellar. And when I find out who it is, I’m going to shove this stick up their ass just to get the lube going. Then I’m going jam my cock inside that shit pucker.” Muncie grinned and whistled. “And when my dick is all full of their shit, I’m going fuck their eye sockets and bust my nuts in their fucking skull.”
Rivera swallowed something which threatened to travel up his esophagus.
Muncie slapped Rivera’s back. He squeezed Rivera’s shoulder. “You can quote me on that.” He winked.
Rivera’s throat bobbed like a tricky elevator. “I’ll get back to post, sir. And I’ll keep doing what you said.” He shifted as if he wanted to sprint down the hall but thought better of dismissing himself without permission. Muncie stepped aside without a word. Rivera hurried away. Muncie mumbled, “My man.”
He’d been disappointed with no real updates on the situation. He reasoned that no news could be good news. But not here. His instinct, every fiber in his belly warned him. Someone was working with the Warden. Besides, Guyton. And that same rat fuck was potentially slipping up with the prisoners too. Maybe there were two rates. Perhaps a couple of skulls needed fucking.
Muncie licked his lips. A shiver rippled up his spine at the prospect of punishing multiple maggots. A guard, maybe two. Gorgon. Turk. Depending on the attitude and fruition, maybe even a doctor. Muncie squeezed his eyes closed, lifted his chin to the ceiling and envisioned himself covered in blood, shooting his loads into body cavities that weren’t meant to be filled with such fluids, feeling the crunch of bone fragments coming apart beneath his baton and fists.