Bird

by KW Finch

  It was about three hours later that my cell door was finally unlocked, I could hear the screws unlocking the doors further up the corridor and by the time he got to mine some of the cons were out on the wing asking the screws what was going on and why they had been locked up for so long. The screws of course were not giving anything away and I wouldn’t have expected them to.

  Word would get around eventually but for now the screws would have been told to keep a lid on things and keep their ears open. By now of course it was past lunch time and that part of the day went on as normal but just a little later. I made my way to the dining hall and queued up for food. Peso, Crusher, Johnny Briggs and Gibby were all waiting for Muzzleflash to come back with the food trolley.

  It was another five minutes before he turned up, accompanied by a screw. There was a bit of a queue by now as all the cons were hungry after the delay. There was chatter in the line and speculation about what had gone on that morning. Some of the cons had seen an ambulance from their cell window and that started rumours ranging from a gang war starting, to cons killing a screw.

  The most bizarre of which was overt gay behaviour in the showers and a male rape. I chuckled to myself, the more rumours to muddy the water and confuse what actually went on the better.

  It was eventually my turn to be served. Some limp soggy chips were dumped on my plate by Peso and next to him stood Crusher. He planted some pastry encased thing on my plate. I walked along the line to Gibby next, he gave me a great big grin as he dumped some green stuff on my plate. Johnny Briggs dumped a lead weight that was my duff into my plastic bowl and smothered it in custard, well yellow liquid anyway. Muzzleflash was at the end with a big ladle in his hand and he was dishing out the gravy from a large urn.

  “That’s a nasty cut.” He said with a frown looking at my face.

  There was a screw at the end of the line next to Muzzleflash and he looked over at me when he heard the remark. I inwardly cursed Muzzleflash. He looked at me and grinned, guessing what had just gone through my head.

  “Yeah, cut myself shaving.” I replied.

  “Oh right.” Muzzleflash replied in a totally uninterested tone and he and the screw just carried on as normal.

  I had finished my lunch and was on my second cup of tea when Muzzleflash and the rest of the boys finally came and sat down to start their lunch. There were still other cons around quite close to our table so I didn’t want to say too much about what had gone on earlier in case we were overheard. We just had a general chit chat about how rubbish the food was and we did have a bit of a joke about some of the rumours that were flying around. A few of the cons did come up to Muzzleflash and ask him if he knew anything about it.

  “What did the screw say about our bang up this morning?” A particular thick looking con asked.

  “What screw?” Muzzleflash replied.

  “When you get the food from the kitchen, the screw must have said something to you about it?”

  “No, not a word.” Muzzleflash answered. “I did ask him but he told me to piss off and get on with my job.”

  “Bastard screw.” He replied before walking off.

  Eventually the number of people thinned out in the dining hall and the boys started to do their tidying up, leaving Muzzleflash and myself at the table. Muzzleflash rolled and lit a cigarette. He sparked it up and leaned back in his chair taking a long drag on the weed.

  “So how did we do?” He asked.

  “Good job.” I replied. “I got my money’s worth, thanks Muzz.”

  “I think we are going to be okay.” He smiled back. I didn’t reply but just waited for him to continue.

  “As our friend is so poorly regarded we’ve quite a good chance no one is going to point the finger in our direction. The general opinion is that he had it coming for a long time. There is just a question mark over security but that is more to do the screws side of things.”

  “Good.” I replied “And how is he?”

  “Pretty bad.” Muzzleflash answered. “But not life threatening. He’ll be out of action for a while.”

  “That’s terrible.” I grinned.

  “I certainly wouldn’t want to upset you.” Muzzleflash said while exhaling a large plume of smoke.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Beating the shit out of Woolfe.” He continued “I know what he did to you wasn’t right, but I have to say I think you more than made up for getting your own back.”

  “Oh!” I answered.

  I’d been a bit tunnel visioned with getting Woolfe out of the way for a while and hadn’t really thought how other people might see it. Of course, Muzzleflash would be thinking it was purely a revenge beating. I couldn’t risk letting him know the real reason yet, not until I knew a little more about what was under the manhole cover myself. At the moment that was all I could think about, Monday morning and what I would find.

  I was champing at the bit by Monday morning. I was already shaved and dressed waiting for the screw to unlock the door. It didn’t make any difference that I was ready and waiting to go so early of course, I still had to wait for the screws to open the gates that led to the computer centre. It was just that my brain was racing, what would be under that manhole cover? I was first in the queue for my breakfast that morning. I still had to have breakfast, I didn’t want to change my routine or do anything to cause too much suspicion.

  “Shit the bed or something London?” It was Monk, he was on servery duty this morning and he was waiting for the boys to organise the trays of food. He was at the ready, serving spoon in hand and was as usual on fine form.

  “I really miss your humour at weekends Mr Monk.” I smiled at him.

  “Unfortunately you have to make do without me at weekends London.” He said in a smug tone. “I have to go home and do things to my wife that you can only dream about.”

  “Dreamt it, done it, she’s overrated.” I shrugged in an offhand way. The con standing next to me, who I didn’t really know that well joined the conversation at this point.

  “I agree with you London.” He nodded. “Overrated.”

  It was at this point that it dawned on Monk what we were on about.

  “You’re not clever London.” He said, pointing the serving spoon at me. “Or you Blackman.” While moving the serving spoon toward the other con.

  “That’s not what your Misses said Mr Monk.” I goaded. He glared at me narrowing his eyes in the process. After a few seconds he changed tack, the cogs in his head whirring away.

  “You know anything about what happened yesterday morning London?” He suddenly asked.

  “That’s a bit random isn’t it?” I asked.

  “Hmm!” He said, rubbing his chin with his free hand, the serving spoon in the other still suspended in mid-air.

  “What’s that cut on your face London, how did that get there?” He asked, stabbing the serving spoon in the direction of the scab that had formed on my right cheek.

  “Shaving accident.” I smiled.

  “Hmm!” he said for a second time. “Wing office when you’re done here London. You and me need to have a little chat.”

  “You can compare notes about his Misses” Blackman laughed. Monk and me both stared at him.

  So there I was an hour later, sitting behind a desk being grilled by Monk and one of his sidekicks.

  “What do you know about yesterday morning’s incident London?” He asked me from the other side of the desk. He was sitting directly opposite with his sidekick standing behind him and off to one side.”

  “What incident?” I played along.

  “Well it just so happens that there was a major beating of a fellow convict yesterday and I think that you might have something to do with it.”

  “Why would you think that?” I asked, in a very uninterested way.

  “The circumstances are very similar to what happened to you the other week.” He smiled at me with a sickly bloated smile while the ripples of fat wobbled on his face. He loved all th
is, even though he wasn’t very good at it. He liked grilling cons. I think he was getting some kind of sadistic pleasure out of it.

  “Come on London, we know you had something to do with it.” It was the other screw talking now. He leaned forward over Monk's shoulder as he said it and crashed his hand down on the table at the same time.

  “Steady Mr Blake.” Said Monk, “I’m sure London will tell us all about it.”

  “Yes sir.” Replied Blake stepping back and straightening up again. “I’m sure he will.” He whispered in a menacing tone and quite an evil smile flickered across his face.

  “Can I go now?” I asked. I really didn’t think they had anything on me and were just fishing for clues.

  “I’ll let you know when we’re done London.” Said Monk and it was his turn to smash his hand down on the table only this time it trembled from the weight behind his enormous bulk.

  “I’m a little bit concerned.” Monk continued, “You end up in hospital, apparently someone attacked you and you didn’t get to see who it was. Then a week later Woolfe here ends up in hospital, beaten to a pulp and do you know what he said when he eventually came around in the early hours of the morning?” Monk paused here, waiting for me to say something.

  “Can I have a cup of tea please?” I ventured.

  “No. Smart arse.” He answered. “He said he didn’t see who attacked him.” Here he paused, staring at me, waiting for a response. I didn’t give one.

  “And you’ve got a cut on your face.” Monk eventually continued. Still I didn’t answer.

  “We found a knife in the shower room where Woolfe was beaten up London. It had traces of blood on it.” He continued

  I just shrugged my shoulders.

  “Did this shaving yesterday morning.” I added.

  “Course you did.” Laughed Monk. “Tell you what London. You can have a little think about your story in solitary confinement for a few days. We’ll see if that loosens that smart arse tongue of yours.”

  I wasn’t expecting this but I couldn’t protest too much or Monk would suspect something even more.

  “Leave it out.” I added as casually as I could but he wasn’t having any of it.

  “We’ll see you back here in three days London.” Said Monk sitting back in his chair with a large smug grin on his face.

  “Come on London, let’s go.” Muttered Blake stepping forward.

  I looked at Monk, he was just sitting there with the smug look not leaving his fat face.

  “This is a waste of time Mr Monk.” I said.

  “Sorry London.” He answered, “Do you have another more pressing engagement you have to attend?”

  I knew he had made his mind up. I couldn’t say anymore without giving anything away or making him more suspicious. He already thought he was onto something and I didn’t want to feed his ideas. We stood there looking at each other for a few moments and then he just said.

  “Cooler, three days.”

  “Funny man.” I replied.

  “Mr Blake.” Monk called over his shoulder, “Take London down to the block if you would be so kind. Let’s see if a little stay in solitary frees his tongue up a little.”

  “Follow me London.” Blake smiled at me and we made our way to solitary.

  “I need to get some stuff from my cell first.” I said to Blake before we left our wing.

  “Nope” he answered, “Just the clothes you’re in, that’s all you can take in with you and that’s all you can come out with.”

  TWENTY FOUR

  He didn’t say any more and carried on toward the block. It was away from any of the main buildings and was a small wing on its own. Blake didn’t say anything on the short journey there he just whistled to himself under his breath.

  We crossed the compound to the far north side and entered the solitary wing. There was a small office by the entrance with one screw in it. He was leaning back on his chair with his feet up on the desk. He was asleep with his head leaning back and snoring.

  “Fire!” Blake shouted. “Help, fire, fire!”

  The screw woke with a jolt and fell back off his chair then jumped up and saw Blake and me standing there. The screw looked at me and then Blake who was by now laughing. It took a few moments for the screw to realise what was actually going on and when he did his face changed.

  “You cock.” He screamed at Blake.

  “Sleeping on duty, isn’t that a sackable offence Dawson?”

  “Piss off, you cock.”

  “Swearing at a fellow officer, now that is surely a disciplinary?”

  “Piss off and die, you cock.” He continued.

  Laughing to himself he carried on with his business.

  “London here is going to spend a few days with you Dawson.”

  Dawson went over to a filing cabinet and after fumbling about in the top drawer for a few moments took out a form and sat back at his desk to fill it in. Neither of the two screws spoke to each other. Blake had a smug look on his face while Dawson was stoic. After writing on the form for a few moments Dawson slid it across the desk. Blake stepped forward and after taking a pen from his shirt pocket scribbled on the bottom.

  “All yours.” Blake said, still looking smug. “Could you lock him up?” He said while pointing at me. “Before you finish off your morning nap?”

  “Like I was saying Blake,” Dawson answered, “piss off and die, you cock.”

  Blake laughed and casually walked out. He started whistling to himself again as he left.

  Dawson looked at me and didn’t say anything about the little episode.

  “Number eight.” He said, pointing up the corridor.

  I started walking and he followed. My cell was near the end, there were probably only about twelve cells in total on the wing. I stood outside number eight and waited for him to unlock it. He undid the lock and pushed the heavy red door open.

  “In you go, London.” he said, “Been in solitary before?”

  “No” I answered, walking in to the cell.

  “Meals brought to you three times a day.” He said before slamming the door shut. “Enjoy your stay.” He muttered from behind the closed door.

  I shouted back at him as he was walking away.

  “Cock”

  I looked around the cell, it was smaller than my one on B wing but then it didn’t need to be as big as that. There was a bed with a mattress and one blanket, a small hand basin with just the one tap and a toilet with some bog roll and that was it. Sparse wasn’t the word, desolate however, was. I sat on the bed, not very comfortable but it was either that or the floor and that definitely wasn’t an option.

  Light flooded in from a small barred window high up on the outside wall, about twelve feet up. I was feeling pretty desperate at this point. This morning everything was looking on the up and was convinced I was going to find an escape route. The caning of Woolfe had gone really well and I was convinced that I was going to be out of this place soon. But now everything was put back at least three days.

  Woolfe could be back on the wing by the time I was out of here. I would have to start all over again. By getting Woolf out of the way before he could escape the already suspicious Monk would be on my case. It all looked very messy and what didn’t help me at the moment was the fact that all I could do was sit around and think about it, there was nothing to distract me from my thoughts.

  The minutes dragged by into hours. It was all mind numbingly boring. Sitting in a room with nothing to do or distract you for hours and hours on end really does mess with your mind. If you try to sleep through the day then you can’t sleep at night. So you think about things, but what things do you think about. You keep going over the same thing after a while and that just makes it all snowball out of control.

  What starts out as a tiny thing starts to manifest itself and grows and grows. The food breaks were actually a welcome relief to the monotony. The food was no better or worse than usual and there was no interaction with anyone. The first meal was a bit of
a shock. I was laying on my bed trying to convince myself that it didn’t really matter that the wall was a slightly different shade of green to the adjacent one when there was a crash as a little flap at the bottom of the cell door opened and a tray was pushed in.

  On it was a plate and bowl each covered with a plastic lid and next to them a cup of steaming tea. The flap crashed shut again and I could hear footsteps fading into the distance.

  By the end of the third day it was a huge relief to walk out of that cell. I was escorted back to B wing and straight into the room I’d been in three days earlier. Monk was sitting at the table with the same stupid smug look on his face.

  “You been here all this time? I asked “You must be pretty bored by now waiting for me.”

  “Oh I doubt I’m as bored as you are London.” He smirked. “Anyway,” he continued. “I’m getting paid for sitting here but you on the other hand London are paying for sitting here.”

  “Very clever.” I replied. “But at the end of the day we’re both here in prison”

  “I go home at the end of the day.” He continued.

  “You do, and every day you come back. And you will keep coming back every day for the rest of your life.” I continued. “I do my sentence and that’s me done. I don’t come back.”

  “You’ll be back London.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” I replied.

  “You’ll be back.” Monk smiled his evil grin. “I know your type.”

  “I will be out of here at some point and spending more money in a year than you could possibly earn in a lifetime.” It was my turn to smile now.

  “I might get caught,” I Continued. “I might not, but in the meantime I will be living a life you couldn’t even dream about.”

  Monk looked at me, all signs of humour had gone from his face.

  “That’s what I love about my job London,” he said, rounding on me, “and why I love to come back here every morning.”

  His body was starting to shake where the rage was building up inside him.

  “I keep filth like you off the streets. Filth like you from spending other peoples hard earned cash.” He raised his hand and started pointing a finger at me. “Filth like you London shouldn’t be allowed back out into society, you’re vermin.”