by David Carter
Elizabeth nodded apprehensively as her stomach churned. She never found it easy to share her failings with another person, but she knew she would feel better by the time she had cast her burdens onto God’s shoulders. She knew in her heart that she needed the wisdom and guidance of Father Meyer, so she stepped beyond the curtain and sat in the quiescent gloom.
She closed her eyes, crossed herself, and thought about her son being escorted from the courthouse in handcuffs the day before. She released her anxiety by slowly exhaling through pursed lips, then said, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”
Chapter 6
Franks marched Blaze through a series of corridors to a security door that led outside to the main compound. He dismissed the other guard with them, assuring him he could handle Blaze on his own, then roughly pinned Blaze against the wall. “What the hell is the matter with you!” he demanded. “Believe me when I say I did you a massive favour by not mentioning your stunt on your way to meeting the governor. And then you had the nerve to march into his office and smash his bloody face in! You do realise you just signed your own death warrant, right?”
“Calm down, Frankie,” Blaze replied. “If anyone is leaving this rat-hole in a body bag, it sure as hell ain’t gonna be me.”
“Care to bet your life on that, shithead? Because by the end of the night you’re gonna have to put your money where your arrogant mouth is.”
“As in—a deathmatch?”
“Let’s just say I hope you can fight as good as you talk shit.”
“I guess we’ll all find out tonight then, won’t we?”
Franks released his grip on him. “Yeah, I guess we will.”
They stepped outside into the sunlight. Blaze was momentarily blinded, before taking a moment to observe his new surroundings. The boundary walls were around two-hundred metres long, with an eight-feet-high wire-mesh fence lining the entire inner-perimeter, with enough volts running through it to kill. There were several tall, narrow concrete buildings inside the northern wall that resembled a suburb of rundown apartment blocks. These showed their age with numerous long, crumbling cracks in the foundations. On the ground, in front of one of the blocks, were patches of dried blood—still visible from a recent scuffle between two rival gang members that had escalated into an all-in-brawl, resulting in three casualties.
Franks noticed Blaze counting the cell blocks. He said, “There are six blocks, all ten storeys high, with twenty-four cells on each floor, and two inmates in each cell. If you can work out how many men are in all of them if they were at full-capacity before we get to your cell, I’ll forget about all those delightful insults you dished out to me earlier. But if you get it wrong, well, let’s just say you had better be good with numbers.”
Franks had barely finished speaking, before Blaze said, “Two thousand, eight hundred and eighty.”
Stunned, Franks replied, “Well I’ll be damned! You’re arrogant, you’re violent, and you’re smart. That’s a rare combination around these parts.”
Blaze grinned. “So, I don’t have to sleep with one eye open tonight, then?”
“I think if you ask around you’ll find that I’m a man of my word.”
“All right,” said Blaze, relieved, “I can live with that. So, which one of these skyscrapers is my new home?”
Franks chuckled. “Wishful thinking, mate. All those blocks are minimum security. Unfortunately for you, when you decided to be a hero and assault the governor, you forfeited your luxury apartment with a seaside view and room service. I’m taking you somewhere special.”
It was fucking worth it, thought Blaze.
He noticed two large buildings to his left that stood along the west wall. They were segregated from the rest of the compound by electronic security gates. One building had steam rising from a series of vents in the roof, which Blaze concluded had to be the kitchen. Of the other building, he wasn’t so sure.
Franks guessed what he was thinking. “It’s a metal workshop for the maintenance of vehicles and mechanical shit around here. It also has gardening tools for prisoners, as a reward for good behaviour, which keeps the grounds presentable and tidy. But you can forget about all that. After your reckless behaviour today, it’s entirely possible this could be the last time you ever set foot outside again. So enjoy it while it lasts...”
“Even if I win my fight tonight?”
Franks stopped walking. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, Bobby, but it’s for your own damn good. Normally when a new inmate arrives at Winterhill, the governor just says a few threatening words which usually makes them shit their pants and start showing some respect. If that’s the case, the inmate goes on his merry way and serves his time in relatively good conditions and safety. For the brave men who show some ticker, it’s five of the best with the brass knuckles to help push them in the right direction, which is normally enough encouragement for the majority of riff-raff I’ve escorted into that office over the years. If for some reason, a defiant inmate such as yourself goes down fighting and proves to be trouble from the outset, he has a rather, unique punishment lined up that takes care of the problem with exceptional results. And you, my friend, are a whole lot of fucking trouble.”
“Okay, Frankie, would you care to share the big secret with me, then?”
Franks sighed, and prepared his speech for the umpteenth time. It was one he secretly preferred to not have to give. But with a superior who had an appetite for cruel and sadistic behaviour, he had to follow orders or face dire consequences of his own.
Franks pointed as they approached a segregated building just inside the east wall of the compound. “Over there is a special unit for the sickest inmates at Winterhill—and I’m not talking about having the flu or a case of the squirts. I’m talking about mentally deranged, nasty pieces of shit who shouldn’t be allowed to coexist with anything else on the planet. It’s home to the most notorious murderers, rapists, and child molesters who will defile and kill you given the slightest chance.”
“Sounds like a few people I used to hang around with. I’ll be in my own cell, right?”
“For the time being, yes. But because you showed the governor you won’t be intimidated by anyone, he has arranged a special surprise for you.”
Blaze had a feeling he knew where the conversation was headed.
“Just how good are you in the boxing ring, Bobby?” Franks asked.
“I don’t do any of that boxing bullshit. That’s only for soft cocks. I’ve led a pretty rough life, and I can handle myself in a street brawl; that’s more my style.”
“Well I’m glad to hear it. Because tonight you are going to have a visitor in your cell, and believe me, he lives and breathes just to kill people.”
“So why are you telling me? I figured you would be endorsing my demise?”
Franks sighed. “Look, I’m happy to knock you around, and do anything necessary to keep you in line, but I draw the line at sadistic murder. I guarantee that if you don’t die tonight, you will most likely be in a wheelchair for the rest of your life—sucking up your meals through a straw.”
“I won’t be needing a wheelchair or a straw. Just bring a mop and bucket to clean up the mess,” said Blaze.
“Whatever you say, hero.”
They walked in silence until Blaze said, “Tell me something, Frankie: is there anyone in the special unit that isn’t a complete nut-job?”
Franks thought for a moment, before he answered, “Actually, there is one guy: Danny. He’s a similar case to you.”
“In what way?”
“He isn’t completely insane.”
“What’s he doing in there with all the crazies, then?”
Franks exhaled loudly through his nose. “His wife and five-year-old daughter were brutally murdered, and he was convicted—serving two life sentences. He still claims his innocence, but it makes no difference now...”
“Why?”
“He did the same thing as you. He gave some lip to the govern
or after he called him a child killer. After Danny took a beating from the brass knuckles, I underestimated his strength by relaxing my hold on him for just a second. He took the opportunity to charge at the governor, slamming him backwards over his desk.”
“That’s fucking priceless!” Blaze laughed. “I’m gonna have to get to know this guy.”
“You will. He’s in the cell right next to yours.”
They came to a halt as they reached their destination. Franks opened the door to the pit of despair. Blaze put on a brave face. “Let’s go meet my new mates,” he said.
The vile and taunting words from the inmates pierced Blaze’s ears as he walked deep into the bowels of the foul-smelling, single storey building, constructed from steel-reinforced concrete. It had twenty-two spacious cells, purposely built larger than standard size to house the fighting exhibitions. They were twelve feet square, with eleven cells either side of a concrete walkway down the centre of the large room.
Blaze completed his walk of shame down the aisle to his cell. It was waiting with an open door at the far end of the unit. All kinds of obscenities, death threats, and offers to be his lover at night were aggressively hurled at him by the other inmates. Blaze held his head high, with a blank expression on his face. I’m gonna kill all of you fuckers.
Franks slammed the cell door shut, locked it, and removed Blaze’s restraints through the bars without any hassle, much to his relief. Blaze gazed around his cell. He saw a single bunk bolted hard up against the concrete wall opposite the cell door, with a mattress so thin it looked as if it were suffering from anorexia. There was a stainless-steel toilet in the corner that smelt like a dead animal that had been left to rot in the sun for days on end, along with a stainless-steel sink with only one tap: cold. A wall of white steel bars separated him from the inmate in the cell adjacent to his. He didn’t like the idea of another prisoner being able to thread a whole limb through the sizeable gaps between them, so he sat on his bunk against the concrete wall behind him; a haven for the moment.
Franks double-checked the door to Blaze’s cell, making sure it was secure, then looked Blaze in the eye before he left, and said to him, “For what little it’s worth, Bobby Blaise: welcome to The Wolves’ Den.”
Chapter 7
“I’ve got dibs on the baby-bitch!” said a deep and raspy voice from within The Wolves’ Den.
Looks like it’s time for introductions, thought Blaze.
The voice came from the seven-foot-tall giant standing at the door of the cell directly opposite Blaze’s on the other side of the walkway. His abnormally large muscles that made up his entire upper-body were trying their best to burst through the standard-issue, faded green shirt and matching thin trousers that he and all the other inmates were wearing.
“What’s your name, sweetie pie? I can’t tell you enough how much I’m looking forward to trying a slice of you tonight,” he said to Blaze, and licked his lips.
“Go fuck yourself,” Blaze replied.
“Ha ha!” the giant roared. “We’ve got ourselves a feisty one! I can’t wait to see you bucking on the end of my love-stick tonight, baby! Now, I’ll ask you once again. What’s your name, boy?”
After a few moments of silence, he finally said, “It’s Blaze. What’s yours, Frankenstein?”
The giant laughed. “Everyone calls me Nugget.”
“Is that because you always have a lump of shit on the end of your needle-dick when you pull out of one of your bitches?”
The other inmates snickered, causing Nugget to slam his fists against the bars of his cell. “Shut the fuck up! or I’ll kill all of you maggots!—starting with you, Blaze!” He eyeballed him, and raised his index finger, slowly running it across his Adam’s apple.
“I’ll be waiting, bitch.”
The inmate lying down in the cell adjacent to Blaze’s looked about Blaze’s own age. He sat up, then said, “You better cut that shit out, man. He nearly killed me when I got thrown in here, and I didn’t even think about pulling any of the dumb shit you just did.”
“You’re, Danny, right?”
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“I appreciate your concern, but I’m not afraid of anyone—least of all that giant sack of shit.”
“Well you should be. He knocked me out cold and raped me senseless. Then after he gratified himself, the governor let Bulldog and Poochie out of their cells, leaving me at their mercy. Between the three of them, I nearly bled to death out of my gaping asshole.”
Blaze screwed up his face as he pictured the bloody scene. “Shit, that sounds nasty. How did you survive that intimate little orgy?”
“I landed a few decent blows to Nugget’s face before he wore me down with his strength. I gave him a blood-nose and a fractured jaw which saved my life.”
“Really? I’d have thought something like that would’ve just pissed a guy like him off.”
“Yeah, you would think so, but he likes it rough in the sack, and assured me he wouldn’t let me die so we could play again some other time.”
“That’s fucking sick.”
“Yeah, he said it would be a waste to throw away such a ‘tasty dessert’ after only one serving.”
Blaze felt his anger brewing as Danny described the gory details. “Which two assholes in here are Bulldog and Poochie?”
Danny pointed them out. Poochie resided a few cells down from Nugget towards the centre of the room. He was heavyset, with faded tattoos covering both of his arms. He gave Blaze a dirty grin, showing off his rows of black, rotting teeth that smelled as rank as they appeared.
Bulldog was physically fit, with athletically-toned muscles protruding through his rough, dark-brown skin. He silently stared across the room from the cell adjacent to Nugget’s. He stood and stepped toward the door of his cell. “What the fuck are you looking at, white boy?”
Blaze ignored him and turned back to face Danny. “Jesus, they are some ugly pieces of work.”
Danny grinned. “Nothing but the finest in here, man. Nugget is a convicted killer and rapist, Poochie is a homicidal paedophile, and Bulldog was convicted for torturing his victims before hacking them to death.”
“Thank you, Danny.”
“For what?”
“For giving me a reason to want to be in this shithole.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Blaze stood up and walked to the door of his cell. “If any of you cum-chuggers so much as think about putting your dick near my asshole, I’ll rip the fucker off!” he shouted.
“Oh, and Poochie...”
Startled, he looked up from his bunk. “What?”
“You’re mine, baby.”
Danny stood up, groaning as he arched his back. He took off his shirt, revealing his ripped upper body. “Shit it’s hot; I hate summer,” he complained. “It’s a fucking furnace in here!”
Blaze noticed his tall, wiry physique and naturally-tanned skin. “Damn! You’re in bloody good shape. No wonder Nugget’s got a hard-on for you.”
Danny chuckled. “Yeah, it’s a necessary evil to stay fit in here. You never know when the governor will randomly choose you for a fight, or even a deathmatch when he’s in the mood. At least he gives us an hour every day to work out in the compound.”
“You mean to say he lets you all train so you put up a decent fight for his own pleasure?”
“Yeah...something like that...”
Blaze quietly said to Danny, “One day I’ll take care of that asshole. You have my word on that.”
They both sat in silence with nothing more to say until Blaze asked, “Is it true what that guard, Frankie, told me about you? You know—about your wife and kid?”
“Why do you care?”
“Well, he said that you and I have certain things in common. And I don’t know about you, but I’d rather have a friend in here than an enemy.”
Danny ran his fingers through his long, stringy, golden-blond hair, and exhaled heavily as if all of a sudden he felt the weigh
t of the world on his shoulders. “Yeah, it’s true, but I swear I never killed them. Everything I ever did was for them. I was framed for their murders, but I can’t prove it. So I’m stuck in this shithole for the rest of my worthless fucking life.”
Blaze’s instincts told him Danny was telling the truth. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said.
“Thanks,” Danny muttered. Then after a moment’s silence he asked, “So what brings you here?”
This time it was Blaze who exhaled heavily. “That is the world’s longest fucking story...”
Danny was instantly intrigued. “Man, after the way you just introduced yourself to Nugget, I’d sure love to hear it.”
“I’m really not much of a storyteller.”
“Come on, man.”
Blaze thought for a moment. He realised he had something to offer, and that he needed something from Danny in return. “All right, I’ll tell you—but only on one condition.”
“Name it.”
“Come close, Danny, I don’t want any of these bitches listening.”
Blaze whispered through the bars into Danny’s ear, and when he was done, Danny extended his hand through the bars into Blaze’s cell for him to shake as he said, “You have got yourself a deal, my friend.”
Chapter 8
Elizabeth’s throat was dry. She always felt this way before revealing her troubles to Father Meyer.
“What is it you wish to confess, my child?” he asked her.
“I have failed my son,” she replied. “I am not fit to be called his mother.”
“And how is it you think you have failed him?”
She hesitated, before blurting out, “I have honestly never loved him as a mother should.”
He paused, then said, “What makes you feel this way?”