But Murphy protested. “But, sir, if you would just hear me out…”
Spector punched him in the chest.
Murphy collapsed to the ground, gasping for air.
The head of security turned to Barrett. “You better get him out of here this instant or you both will be donating an extra pint today.”
“Yes, sir,” said Barrett. He grabbed Murphy by the back of his fatigues and dragged him away.
The two emerged into the main compound with Barrett still dragging Murphy across the ground.
Murphy got a hold of his breath, dug his heels into the dirt, and after Barrett released him, awkwardly stood on his own.
“Wow, that was a close one,” said Barrett. He tossed Murphy the football.
Murphy initially fumbled the toss, but when he finally got ahold of the football, the prisoner threw it angrily across the compound.
Barrett watched Murphy storm off.
He turned to Matt and Tyra, standing nearby, and flashed an upside-down V with his index and middle fingers. It was the sign that they had all agreed on if someone saw Murphy trying to tell Spector about their meeting.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” said Tyra.
Matt didn’t say a word as he watched Murphy move slowly across the compound.
After his silence became unbearable, Tyra asked, “What are we going to do?”
“It’s my fault. I’ll take care of this problem.”
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
All he could do was nod.
“First of all, it’s not your fault. Second – there’s another option.”
He shook his head. “I wish there was. Believe me I’ve already thought about it. There is no other option.”
Her eyes, like Matt’s, were watching Murphy walking across the compound, headed to the barracks building.
“I’ve also thought about it, Matt. What I’m trying to say is that it doesn’t have to be you.”
When Tyra approached Lincoln Grouse in the mess hall, he was mentally in the middle of planning the death of another prisoner.
“Hey, Lincoln, how is it going?”
Grouse was so startled to hear her voice, and then to see her sitting so close to him, he dropped his fork onto the floor. He bent over to pick up his utensil, but when he came back up he couldn’t look at her, nor could he even move.
“What you doing?”
“Relax. I need to talk to you.”
Grouse tried his best to start eating, as if Tyra’s presence in his space wasn’t freaking him out.
“Talk to me about what?”
“Killing someone.”
The scowl that Grouse had been wearing since – well, since he had become a prisoner – disappeared.
“Murphy.”
She looked away, almost embarrassed by how obvious what they were contemplating was… to a killer.
“Taking Murphy out makes a lot of sense. You should be proud. It’s the smartest thing I’ve heard you say since you’ve been here.”
Tyra used her plastic fork to poke and push at the food on her tray.
“Glad you approve, Lincoln. So I take it that you can make this happen?”
“Pretend you just emerged from a time machine and now you’re walking around. The first thing you’ll notice is that Murphy is dead.”
She kept poking at her food, afraid to look up and see the enthusiasm that was undoubtedly lighting up Grouse’s face.
“Wait a second. I need to know something,” said Grouse. “Is this coming from you? Or my bunkmate?”
Tyra looked over to Matt, sitting just a few tables away. He had been uneasy about Tyra approaching Grouse, and was watching to see what happened.
“It’s coming from both of us.”
“Really? So you’re saying he requested my services?”
“Yeah. That’s right.”
Grouse turned to Matt and gave him a nod.
“It’s not just us. Everyone at the meeting today is down for this.”
“Well, you’re all making me feel bad for all the shit I’ve been whispering behind your backs.”
He hoped she would laugh, because he intended it as a joke. But she didn’t even crack a smile.
“It needs to happen tonight. After we donate, everyone will head back to the barracks for a shower. Murphy is always one of the last to take his shower. Barrett, Juarez, and I will corral the other prisoners when the time is right. We’ll make sure you have the entire area to yourself.”
“Beautiful.”
He started to get up.
“Grouse…”
He drew a heavy breath and sat back down.
“There’s one more, very important detail…”
The noise of a dropped tray by one of the prisoners working behind the food service counter caught everyone’s attention in the mess hall… including Grouse. His face quickly settled into a fugue state, one that had a scowl attached to it.
“Grouse? Grouse…?”
The scowl on his face was still there when he looked over at her.
“You have a problem with someone serving the food? Who? Hoffman?”
“What’s it to you?” His voice was louder than a whisper and a few of the other prisoners looked over.
She moved closer to him before responding. “I’m asking for you to do something… something really important. But it looks like you can’t even keep your priorities straight. That’s what it is to me.”
Grouse wanted to explode at her words, but he managed to control himself. What Tyra was requesting was just too good for him to pass up. He picked up the rock-hard roll on his plate and stuffed it in his mouth before he could scream himself out of a job.
“What’s your problem with Hoffman?”
Once he managed to swallow some of the sourdough in his mouth, he answered her. “That son of a bitch tried to poison me.”
“You can’t be serious?”
“I was in line for breakfast a week ago, and when it came to my turn, Hoffman suddenly decided to switch serving trays. He dished out my grub from this other steel container, then he closes the tray and goes back to serving the next guy in line from the other tray.”
“Maybe he was giving you the kosher meal,” said Tyra.
“I’m not a fucking Jew.”
“I was kidding,” said Tyra.
“So you think this is funny?”
She stood up.
“No, but listening to you makes me realize that our idea was a huge mistake.”
Tyra walked away from the table, and across the mess hall. Every step she took, she expected Grouse to stop her. But when she arrived at the garbage bins, dumped her meal into the trash, then exited the mess hall, the psycho prisoner had not budged from his spot on the bench.
Tyra was almost halfway across the compound when she heard Grouse’s voice.
“Wait up…”
He approached her with his head down.
“Look, what I said was true. Hoffman is trying to kill me…”
“What… I can’t hear you…”
Grouse lifted his head and locked eyes with her for a split second, before looking back down.
“I can put my beef with Hoffman in the freezer if it will make you happy.”
“Lincoln, none of this makes me happy. We’re all just interested in getting the hell out of here. Now are you a part of that, or what?”
He nodded.
“We’re going to need you to strangle him.”
It was a small man that made the humiliating walk across the compound. But now Tyra’s words allowed him to stand tall again, and meet her eyes with a face flushed with excitement.
“Did you say ‘strangled’?”
“Yes. The way he dies needs to match the scenario we’re planning for the first escape.”
“That will not be a problem. I have a soap-on-a-rope underneath my bunk. My kid gave it to me for Father’s Day five years ago. I’ve been waiting for the right time to use
it.”
“That’s great…”
He started to walk away, but then turned around.
“Don’t you want to wish me luck?”
There were times in the Green Zone when some of the new arrivals would be frightened about some rocket fire or an explosion.
The other state-department personnel always elected Tyra to be the one to offer a warm hug and some comforting words. She usually said something like, “It’s going to be all right…,” or…, “this is going to be a piece of cake.”
Her last resort was to say, “Look at me; I’m still standing, right?”
Tyra’s effort usually settled the newbie down.
Now, standing in the middle of the compound, a warm hug was out of the question.
And any words of comfort or wishes of good luck would be redundant.
What Tyra had asked Grouse to do was like asking a fish to jump into the ocean and… swim.
But still, all she could think about was being free.
“Yeah, for sure, Lincoln. All of us wish you… good luck.”
Then Tyra looked around for a place to sit down, feeling completely unsteady on her feet.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The prisoners had begun to line up outside the white building for their blood donation.
Matt was standing with Barrett and Chong in the middle of the line. All three were nervous, because there was no sign of Murphy. Juarez had been the last one keeping an eye on the traitor, but he wasn’t in line either.
Tyra eventually emerged from another part of the compound, and took a place in line next to Matt.
“How are you feeling?” he asked her.
“How should one feel after negotiating their first hit for hire?”
After her answer, Tyra caught herself, making sure she didn’t look like she was going through some kind of meltdown. The last thing she wanted to do was hand Matt an excuse to exclude her from the first escape.
“Look, I just want to tell you how much I appreciate what you did. I mean, I already have enough shit that I’m trying to square away.”
Tyra felt uncomfortable listening to Matt trying to express himself emotionally – the long pauses between just a few words; the way he was digging the right heel of his boot into the dirt; and the way he avoided eye contact with her.
But she held her tongue until he was finished.
“I heard what you said… and I appreciate it. But, here’s the thing… Matt, look at me…”
Matt froze, then cast his eyes in her direction.
“I know it’s probably been mostly guys you’ve been running around with for… probably forever,” said Tyra. “I’m not a guy, but there’s some advantages that come along with that fact… advantages perhaps you might be overlooking. One of them is that you can… talk to me… about anything.”
Matt looked away.
Tyra saw his reaction… then endured his silence… before switching to plan “B.”
“Look, I probably should have said something sooner. Now I feel bad, because part of the deal I made with Grouse was for you to make his bed for the next six months.”
Matt looked up at her and chuckled.
“Where is the motherfucker?”
Barrett’s words not only broke the eye contact between her and Matt, it was the first time Tyra realized that Murphy wasn’t standing in line with them.
“He’s not here? “
“No sign of him, and we’re due to go into the dairy farm any second,” said Barrett.
They all scanned the compound.
The silence was broken up by Chong, the blind prisoner.
“Want me to go look for him?”
The group broke out in nervous laughter.
Tyra then caught sight of Juarez emerging from the alley near the prisoners’ mess hall.
But he was alone.
“I was following him all around the compound for the entire day and at one point, I could just tell he knew what I was doing,” said Juarez as he joined the others in line. “So I handed the surveillance off to Tiello. That was about forty minutes ago.”
“Tiello” was Vittorio Salatiello, a young and muscular Italian who had been visiting family in the States when the takeover occurred. Hearing what Juarez had done made Tyra feel better about the situation. She was confident Tiello would be able to handle Murphy if he got out of line.
The doors opened to the dairy farm. Goons rolled out from the main entrance and began to establish their positions up and down the line of prisoners.
“Okay, juice boxes, let’s start moving into the building…”
The line surged forward, but Matt, Tyra, and the others stood their ground, waiting for a sighting of either Tiello or Murphy.
“What are you juice boxes waiting for? A private invitation!”
One of the goons was in their faces about the gap in the line.
They all acted as if the guard wasn’t speaking to them.
“Start moving or all of you will be heading to the infirmary!”
When he still couldn’t get their attention, the goon shoved Juarez.
“There’s Tiello,” whispered Tyra.
The Italian was entering from the north side, nearest the black tower.
Alone.
But then Murphy appeared, just a few feet behind him.
Tiello knew enough not to approach Juarez or Tyra, instead grabbing a place at the back of the line.
Right in front of Murphy.
When he got a chance, the Italian threw out his chin in their direction. Everything was all right.
The goon slapped his baton hard against Barrett’s wide back. He and the goon stared at each other until Barrett shouted out, “C’mon, boys and girls, it’s time to give back to the community. Two pints is all they ask…”
When Matt stepped up to be examined by Dietz, he acted like he was dizzy.
“You don’t look good?” said Dietz.
“Exactly. Now pretend like you need to examine me for a few more minutes,” said Matt, as he looked at the line behind him.
The camp doctor did as he was told, eventually motioning to one of the goons to divert the other prisoners standing in his line.
Matt started to cough.
“Okay, first you pretended to be dizzy, now you’re coughing,” said Dietz. “Please settle on something so it doesn’t look like you’re making it up as you go along…”
Matt started blinking his eyes uncontrollably.
“There must be something wrong with your ears. Clearly you’re having difficulty hearing a word I’m saying to you,” said Dietz.
He turned, blinking his eyes, and looked in all the lines for Murphy, but didn’t see him. “Where the fuck is he?” said Matt under his breath.
“Murphy?”
“Yeah…”
In between checking Matt’s blood pressure and writing down the figures, Dietz continued to check the lines of prisoners.
“I’m sorry to hear you’re feeling ill,” said Dietz, as he shone the light into Matt’s eyes. “I wish I could be more help…”
He then clicked off the penlight and motioned to one of the goons.
“He’s good to go…”
Matt’s eyes widened with surprise, which Dietz saw even though he was no longer shining a light toward them.
“Murphy just entered the building,” the doctor said under his breath. Then in a louder voice he said to Matt, “Look, your eyes will be fine. Just stop whacking off so much…”
Matt entered his donation stall and began disrobing.
“Are you there Ty?”
“Yeah, right in the next stall,” she answered.
“Any sign of him?”
“No, not yet.”
Two of the goons entered his stall and looked to make sure Matt had plugged himself into the blood-donation machine.
“Mind if I do the honors?”
“Yeah, go ahead,” said Matt. “Glad I could bring some sunshine to your day.”
Th
e goon flipped the switch on the machine and exited the stall.
Matt grimaced at the initial sting of the needles plunging into his skin.
“There he is…”
Her words got him to look up, but he couldn’t see above the stall door.
Matt carefully stood upright, knowing that if he pulled any of the blood plugs from his body it would send a signal to the main control room and it would trigger a response from the goon squad.
He finally saw Murphy in a stall directly across the way from Matt and Tyra. It was actually on the other side of the dairy-farm building, with about fifty feet dividing the two areas of blood-donation stalls. Smack in the middle of the building was the CCC security office, a glass-encased edifice two stories above all the donation stalls.
“Do you see him?”
“Yeah, I see him.”
“And…”
“And we have a problem.”
Murphy was not wired up to give blood. Instead he was talking to a goon. When the guard left Murphy’s donation stall, he was making a beeline to the main security room.
“Any ideas?”
“Where's Grouse?”
“He’s not yet in the building and it will be too late when he gets here.”
Matt looked around. He tried to think of something… but nothing was coming to him. It probably didn’t help that his blood was rushing from his body so fast the red tubes were starting to blur.
“We can't wait for tonight,” Tyra said, her voice just above the hum of the blood-donation machines.
He narrowed his eyes to see that the goon who had been talking to Murphy was headed upstairs to the building’s security room.
“We got to do it now. I’m going to disconnect from the donor machine.”
“Matt, you won’t get twenty feet from your stall before the goons are all over you.”
“You’re right. That’s why you need to get Juarez or Barrett to take care of Murphy. I’ll create the diversion.”
“Matt… be careful...”
He didn’t hear her. Matt was already removing the pads from his body… while he began screaming at the top of his lungs.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Matt’s screams were finally drowned out by the building’s alarms.
Relict (Book 1): Drawing Blood Page 10