“When Phil wakes up,” he told Mystique, “I want him up here to explain himself.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And if you find Chris, tell him I want him checked for major injuries, and then I want him up here to explain himself.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Keep me informed,” Bowers told her, and hung up.
Twenty-Five
Mercedes had watched it happen in a state of utter disbelief. At Brennick, guards didn’t protect prisoners. Not at the Brennick she was used to. She looked up, wide eyed, at Mystique.
“What the hell just happened?” she asked her.
Mystique looked at her like Mercedes had just materialized out of smoke. “You weren’t here,” she told her.
Mercedes nodded.
“Get back to your cell.”
Mercedes went to get up, but stopped. “No escort?” she asked.
The guard on the floor groaned. Pushed himself up off the floor, shaking his head. “Oh, man. You fucking tased me?” he asked Mystique. “Today just keeps getting better and better.”
“What was I supposed to do?”
He got to one knee, looked around and asked, “Where’s that sack of shit?”
“He took off.”
“Which way?”
“Warden wants to see you right away.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“He sounds pissed.”
“Then he knows how I feel,” the guard told her, and stood up. “Which way?”
“Go back to your cell,” Mystique told Mercedes.
The male guard turned and looked at Mercedes. “Which way?” he asked her.
Mercedes pointed.
“I said go,” Mystique told her.
“Which way’s your cell?” the male guard asked.
Mercedes pointed.
“Same way,” he told Mystique, then to Mercedes: “I’ll escort you. Wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.” He turned back to Mystique. “I had a lovely evening, but I’m afraid I have other business to attend to. Mind if I call you some time?”
Mystique shrugged. Said, “You know where to find me.”
The guard smiled and nodded, then ushered Mercedes away. They walked a bit in silence, Mercedes not sure what they would talk about. She glanced over at him. Not tall. Not short. Not handsome but not ugly. Not really anything to distinguish him from a million others. She felt like she should just call him Blah.
He caught her studying him and stopped. Put out his hand and said, “My name’s Phil. Nice to meet you.”
Twenty-Six
The voice in Chris’ head was reminding him that this was what happened when he didn’t follow orders. Chris wanted to tell it to go fuck itself, but it wouldn’t do any good: it was right and they both knew it.
His mind clearing. He could remember everything that had happened. He knew his mission. He knew where he was going. No pain now. No weights in his head. Just pure, unfettered rage and purpose.
“It’s not over,” he told himself. “He’ll get his. They all will. That little bitch, too.”
He paused at a lock, the guard inside stared at him as the gate rolled sideways. “What the fuck happened to you?” he asked.
Chris passed through without acknowledging the question.
Walking down along the floor, muttering to himself, the lights too bright for him to see well. He checked his watch: fifteen minutes to lights out. He would have to hurry now, but everything would be easier in the darkness.
He passed through A Block without a problem. The prisoners watching him pass without showing any emotion. Stopped at the lock that split the passages between A-Block and B-Block and waited for it to open. When it did, he went through. Crossed the hall that ran between them and stopped at the lock leading to B-Block.
Checked his watch again while he waited.
The gate came open and he passed through and kept going.
“Everything’s going to be perfect,” he told himself. “No one’s ever going to fuck with me again. Not after tonight.”
The lights burning his eyes. Everything a bright white haze. He made it through B-Block. Went through the locks mechanically. Not even sure where he was. Just knowing he had to move forward. Get to D-Block. Do as he was told.
He made it halfway through C-Block and heard his name. Stopped and turned.
“What was that?” he asked.
“I said ‘how’s it going?’” the prisoner told him.
Chris blinked a few times, trying to focus. “Gibbs,” he said. “Going great. Almost lights out.”
“I know,” Gibbs told him. “What’s going on with you?”
“Excuse me?”
“You know, you look like shit.”
“Fine, don’t worry about me.”
Gibbs studied him a minute. “Warden tell you what’s up in the morning? Me taking over as his go between?”
“He mentioned something about it. But don’t worry, everything’s going to be perfect.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Chris looked at him a moment. Studying his gray skin. His eyes, alive and boring into Chris’. He wondered what he was going to look like after. Chris would have to wait and find out.
“You’ll see in a few minutes,” Chris told Gibbs, and left.
Twenty-Seven
“What do you think that’s supposed to mean?” Tall Bill asked Erin.
“Fuck if I know,” Erin told him, and sat down in the corner, thinking.
“What happens in a few minutes?”
“Lights out,” Erin reminded him.
“Right, but I mean, so what?”
“No idea.” Erin shook his head. “Did you see that guy? Looked like he’d been through a fucking grinder.”
“Looked like he got his ass kicked and then some,” Bill agreed. “Like he got himself killed, then when he tried to dig himself out to come back to life, someone hit him with a steam roller.”
“Very descriptive,” Erin said.
“Thanks.” Bill smiled.
He hadn’t been exaggerating, Erin thought. Chris’ face had been a tapestry of blood and slowly bruising flesh. His left eye sunken, the right already inflaming from some recent trauma. A gash on his forehead, slowly trickling blood. What looked like a boot mark to his jawline.
“Someone fucked him up, big time,” Erin told Bill.
“Yep.”
“Now,” Erin asked, “who the hell would do that?”
Twenty-Eight
“This is your stop,” Phil told Mercedes. She was holding up alright, he decided, as they waited for the cell door to open. After getting beaten like that, she could easily have been in hysterics. He had seen it before. Many times.
“Thank you,” she said, hesitated, “for everything.”
“Not a problem.”
Mercedes’ cell mate came up as the door rolled to the side. “What the fuck happened?” she asked, and touched Mercedes’ face. Now that Phil was looking, he could see a few day’s old bruises there. Under the new ones.
“No big deal,” Mercedes said, and shrugged.
“You,” her cellie said to Phil, pointing a finger at his chest, “are a fucking dead man.”
“Jessie,” Mercedes said to her, and pushed the girl’s finger down. “It wasn’t him. He saved me.”
Jessie glared at him. “How’s that?” she asked.
“Chris was…”
Phil watched Jessie’s eyes go wide and then snap back down into a squinted rage. Flames rolling across her irises. “Chris,” she seethed.
“I’ll take care of it,” Phil told her, and meant it. “I have a meeting with the Warden in a few. I don’t think he’ll like how his new number two spends his free time.”
Mercedes looked at him balefully and then stepped into the cell. Phil didn’t understand, but he had never really understood women. He didn’t think anyone did.
He nodded to her, and waved to the guard to close the cell door. It starte
d rolling back to its closed position. The latch clanked shut. Phil waved and left them. Heading to the Warden’s office. He was going to do more than kick the shit out of Chris, he thought. He was going to fuck him, too.
Twenty-Nine
Seven minutes to lights out.
Chris passed into D-Block and made straight for Jared Patterson’s cell. He was running out of time. He had three more stops before lights out. He needed this to go quickly. Smoothly.
The voice assured him it would.
He made it to Patterson’s cell and peered in. The bitch was lying on the bed, reading a romance novel. Jared was sitting beside him on the bunk, sweating.
“Fifty-two B,” Chris called. The door started to open.
Jared glared at him as it slid to the side. “What the fuck did you give me?” he asked.
Chris looked up at the guard on the catwalk. “Need to have some words with Mr. Patterson in private,” he called. “Have someone take his lovely lady for a walk.”
The guard nodded and disappeared.
Chris waited, didn’t go in.
“What was it?” Jared demanded, slowly rising.
“Just a flu shot,” Chris told him.
“Bull shit.”
Another guard, Ryan Parker, came up next to Chris. Medium height, with dark black locks curling along his hairline. “Sam,” he told the prisoner in drag. “Come on, Sam.”
“Not until you call me by my real name,” Sam said.
“Samuel T McBride.”
“Wrong.”
“Samantha.”
“Better,” Sam chirped, and got up. Gave Jared an overlong kiss on the lips, and went out. “You look like you need some R and R,” he told Chris as he passed.
Chris ignored him and stepped in. “Give me five minutes and then bring him back. I have to give Jared here a shot.”
“What for?”
“How the hell would I know? Doctor tells me to give him a shot, he gets a shot.”
“Copy.”
“But he’ll probably be asleep when you get back. I’ll just be in here, waiting. Keep the cell closed until then. Oh, and we need the catwalk guards in the tower after lights out. Keeping the creepers off the fence. Pass it along to the control room.”
The guard nodded and left with Samantha.
The door began closing. Chris directed his attention to Jared.
“Why’ll I be asleep?” he asked Chris.
“Sedatives.”
Jared flashed a gap toothed grin. “I like sedatives,” he said.
“Then you’re going to fucking love this,” Chris mumbled. Pressed a needle into a vile. The label read: POTASSIUM CHLORIDE.
Thirty
Warden Bowers picked up the phone and dialed A-Block. It rang twice and then was answered.
“A-Block, Lajolla speaking,” the guard said.
“Have you seen Chris?” Bowers growled.
“About fifteen minutes ago.”
“Where?”
Lajolla hesitated, then said, “Here.”
Bowers sighed. “I got that,” he said. “Where was he going?”
“I didn’t ask.”
“Have you seen Phil Craig?”
“Negative.”
Bowers sighed again. “Fine,” he said and pressed the phone’s tongue in with his finger, then let it go and punched in the extension to the B-Block lock. It rang twice and was answered.
“B-Block, Flynn speaking.”
“Have you seen Chris?” Bowers asked again.
“Yeah, maybe ten minutes ago.”
“Did he mention where he was going?”
“No, sir. He was pretty banged up. I asked him about it but he ignored me. Is there something wrong, sir? I thought Chris was in charge.”
“He is,” Bowers told him and hung up with his finger again. Pulled it off and called C-Block’s lock.
“Just saw him. Five minutes, tops.”
Hung up. D-Block next.
“Yeah, he’s here. Said something about the doctor wanting him to give a few prisoners shots. You want me to go get him?”
Bowers thought about it a minute. Then said, “No. It’s fine. But when he’s done with whatever the hell he’s doing, tell him to come see me immediately.”
“Roger that.”
The guard started to say something else but Bowers hung up on him. Leaned back in his chair, thinking. “What the hell are you up to?” Bowers wondered aloud.
Thirty-One
Phil passed through the last minimum security lock on his way to the Warden’s office. Went down the hall to the elevator and punched in his code. Waited. It dinged and the doors opened.
He went in. Pressed the top floor. The doors closed. He fingered the spot on his side where Mystique had tased him. “Shot twice, blown up, and tased, all in one day,” he said. What’s tomorrow gonna bring?”
He thought about his short fling with Mystique.
“Probably herpes,” he admitted.
The elevator dinged again and the doors opened. He stepped out onto the top floor of administration. Went down the long hall. Passing all the offices. Ignoring them. The Warden’s was the last, at the end of the hall. It overlooked the garden in the entrance, now frozen and covered with snow.
Phil had never thought it was all that special anyway.
He passed the office that read SAM WATKINS and stopped. Fucking Sam, he thought. He still wished he could have caught that piece of shit. Instead, the fucker got to kill his wife and just run away. Coward. Phil thought about going in and trashing the place. Showing Sam what he thought of him.
What the fuck was with the guards at this prison? he wondered. One kills his wife in the morning, the other attacks a prisoner at night. Had he really worked with these assholes all this time and not noticed?
He opened the door and went in. Looked around the gloom.
Sam wasn’t there anymore, he reminded himself. He had run away, but in almost every possible scenario, he had been torn limb from limb and consumed by ravenous creepers.
That made Phil feel better. He smiled. Crossed the room and flicked on the light.
“Holy fucking shit, man,” he gasped, turned and ran out of the room. Down the hall. Through the Warden’s reception area. To Warden Bowers’ door and pounded on it.
Thirty-Two
The guard was back with Samantha. Chris got up from his seat on the bed and nodded at him. “You might want to give him some space,” he told Samantha, “after those sedatives, you wake him up, he’s going to be in a real bad mood.”
The bitch nodded, knowingly.
Chris took one more look at Jared lying peacefully on the bed, and went out. Patted Ryan on the shoulder. “You pass that message along?” he asked him.
Ryan nodded. “Hunter’s up in the control room. Once lights are out and we’ve made a last pass, we’ll pull everyone but me and him out. I’ll be on stand-by in case something happens. Hunter’ll stay in the control room. That way, I need to bust a head, he can open the doors for me.”
“Good man,” Chris nodded. Checked his watch. “What,” he asked, “three minutes ‘til lights out?”
Ryan nodded. “About that,” he said.
“Fine, we’d better get a move on then.”
“What’s up?” Ryan asked as they started walking.
“I just have a few more prisoners to see,” Chris explained. “I’ll need to keep the cellmates out while I give the injections.”
“What’s that all about, anyway?”
“If these bastards found out what I’m walking around with,” Chris explained, “it would start a fucking riot like you’ve never seen.”
Thirty-Three
Warden Bowers answered the door, angry. Flung it open, barely keeping it on the hinges. “Where the fuck have you been?” he snarled.
“Sir,” Phil said. “There’s something you need to see.”
“No, there’s something I need to hear. Like why the fuck you were in the women’s wing, what you w
ere doing in their showers, and why the hell you kicked the living shit out of one of my guards.”
“He’s an asshole,” Phil told him.
“Not the fucking point. You may be able to run around shooting and blowing shit up on the outside, but that’s not how it works in here. You don’t assault my guards. You don’t go wherever the hell you please. This is my prison, not yours. And you are my guard. If you don’t like me, or my rules, you’ll be out on your fucking, bland, ass!”
“Who said I was bland? That’s fucked up, man.”
“So,” Bowers prompted, ignoring the question, “explain.”
Phil thought a moment, then said, “There’s too much.”
“Too much? Bullet point it.”
“Look,” Phil said, grabbed the Warden’s arm, “I really have something you need to see. Seriously. No bullshit.”
“Everything I’ve heard for the past eight hours has sounded like bullshit.”
Phil thought about what had happened in town and nodded. “That’s probably fair,” he said. “But you really need to see this.”
“I don’t need to see anything I don’t damn well want to see,” Bowers told him, and pulled his arm back. “You don’t tell me what I need, what I do, what color the fucking sky is. I tell you.”
Phil sighed and nodded.
“Now, I want to know what the hell is going on. What happened, and I want to know now. I don’t give a shit if it’s ‘too much,’ I want it all.”
Phil took a deep breath, and then rambled, “I went to the women’s wing to use the shower because the civilians were using the men’s shower, on the way met with Mystique, she wanted to fuck, so we did, but I heard something and went out and found Chris beating this chick’s head into the floor, so I lost it and kicked the shit out of him…” deep breath, “then Mystique tased me because I guess she thought Chris had had enough, I woke up and he was gone, so I was gonna go after him but the prisoner, Mercedes, needed to be brought back to the cell and Mystique said you were pissed, so I brought her back and then came up here.”
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