Outpost Season One

by Finnean Nilsen Projects

  “Why?”

  “Because they always leave me wanting more.” We try to leave the reader wanting more, but we love to give a flow to it. Like each scene or act is another chorus in a ballad. Rising, building until the final release. It’s just one of the things we strive for, and I think it gives our work a distinct flavor. Not good or bad, just us. After talking so much about transitions I wanted to share it.]

  “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 started 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.

  [RL: The only thing better than being put to sleep is getting Put To Sleep. Believe it or not, my dentist told me that potassium kills… Okay, that actually makes sense.]

  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.

  [RL: *Laughing*]

  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.
<
br />   “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.”

  [TK: No shit.]

  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 were 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.”

  Phil paused and took another deep breath. “But on the way,” he continued his fast talk, “I was going past Sam’s office, and I was pissed because he killed his wife and got away – fucker – and so I went in, no real good reason because he’s more than likely dead, but when I went in I found something that you really,” deep breath, “really, really, really, really, really, really, really,” deep breath, “really need to see.”

  Bowers blinked a few times. Phil waited.

  “Well,” Bowers said slowly, “that actually makes sense. Sort of.”

  “I’m saying, man, you need to see this.”

  “Fine.” Bowers nodded. “Lead the way.”

  Thirty-Four

  Mercedes lay in bed, thinking.

  “I swear to God,” Jessie told her from beneath, “I will kill him.”

  Mercedes didn’t say anything.

  “At least you’re not defending him this time,” Jessie told her. “That fucking limp dick piece of shit is going to get his day.”

  Mercedes thought he had already had a pretty bad one. She thought about the guard, Phil, who had saved her. What was his deal? Why had he jumped in like that? And vicious. Brutal. If Mystique hadn’t stepped in, Chris would be dead right now. And why had Chris just ran away? And what the fuck was wrong with him? The world was getting so complicated.

  Prisoner. Not prisoner, representative. Guards. Not guards, co-workers. Was that it? Had her station changed and now she had that “security detail” the Warden had talked about? She doubted it. Phil was a maniac. She didn’t think it had anything to do with her personally.

  And then there was Erin. Soon to also be the Warden’s representative. A man she loathed but couldn’t stop thinking about. A man she felt safe with. A man who knew how to survive.

  “I’m not kidding,” Jessie told her. “I’m going to shank that fuckhead if it’s the last thing I do.”

  “Don’t worry,” Mercedes told her. “Phil took care of it.”

  “Who’s Phil? Your new boy toy?”

  “No,” Mercedes said, and smiled, even if Jessie couldn’t see it. “He’s just a guy with a shred of decency.”

  There was a rolling sound as the lights at Brennick went out.

  “Fucking prison,” Jessie told her. “Suddenly it’s full of nice guys.”

  Mercedes thought of Erin and Phil and Tall Bill and smiled even more. Rubbed the tiny – almost imperceptible – lump in her belly. There, laying in the darkness, the cold walls so thick and the shadow so complete, for the first time in as long as she could remember, Mercedes was not afraid.

  Not even a little.

  [RL: But, she really fucking should be. Just sayin’.]

  Thirty-Five

  The cell closed with the sound of metal scraping metal, and Chris nodded. He was ready. The lights were out now, the world so much clearer. He thought back to when they first learned the creepers were blind during the day. That prisoner – Chris couldn’t remember his name – said that the pupils dilate when the person died. Maybe that was it, Chris thought, maybe he was already dead and didn’t know it yet.

  “All set?” Ryan asked him.

  “Perfect,” Chris said.

  “Alright then. I’ve got to do one last pass and then we’ll be set for another uneventful night.” Ryan thought a moment. “In here,” he said. “Outside, I’m sure there’s plenty of fireworks.”

  “Don’t count the night out yet,” Chris mumbled.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Nothing. You go about your business. I have a million things to do. You know how it is.”

  Ryan stared at him. He didn’t know, Chris realized.

  “Well,” he said, “running the whole show now.”

  Ryan nodded. “Big responsibility,” he said.

  “Got that right.” Chris coughed. “Check the cells.”

  Ryan nodded again. Set off, his nightstick swinging and slapping against his leg.

  “And Ryan,” Chris called. The guard turned. “Good job.”

  Th
irty-Six

  Ryan Parker walked slowly, enjoying the quiet. On either side of him were cells, the inmates talking in low, hushed tones. He hadn’t walked the floor like this for days, and he missed it. There was something peaceful about it. Everyone knew who the Man was, and it was Ryan, if only for the moment.

  For the past few days, he had just wandered the catwalks. Which was fine, but it wasn’t the same. Up there, he felt like he was watching a scene play out below him. Because he was. But down here, he was part of the story. Part of the lives of every inmate in D-Block.

  He stopped to tell a prisoner to quit jerking off. The guy didn’t stop. He should still be asleep, Ryan thought. The fucking sedatives Chris had given him.

  [RL: Cue the piano.]

  “Jared,” Ryan called. “Jared, quit fucking that little bitch of yours or spanking it or whatever you’re doing.”

  The smacking sound continued. Ryan sighed.

  [RL: A little louder.]

  “Jared,” he said, “if you don’t stop it right fucking now, I’ll have to come in there and kick the shit out of you. Is that what you want? Because I really don’t feel like starting my night with a fight.”

  Ryan waited. Jared was still keeping rhythm. Grunting now. Ryan shook his head. Waved to the control room. “Fifty-two B,” he said. The door began to open.

  [RL: Now the violins – short, frightening pulls.]

  “I swear to God, Jared,” Ryan scolded him. “A dick sucking isn’t worth the ass whooping you’re about to get.”

  He stepped in as the door slowly rolled right, and flinched. Jared wasn’t jerking off. He wasn’t fucking his gay lover. He was eating him. Samantha’s throat open in a gash. Blood still pouring out onto the bunk. His eyes dead and glazed. Jared lapping it up, grunting, pressing his face in for more.