Locked Up

by GB Williams

  ‘Keep him away!’ Brett was screaming. ‘Keep him away, or I’ll do it, I’ll slash ’im.’

  Charlie listened, but he looked at Robbins. Evidently, the officer wasn’t happy about the situation, but to Charlie, it was obvious – all his training, all his instincts were to keep Robbins and everyone else back.

  ‘You,’ Robbins grated, ‘are not the one with the power.’

  ‘No,’ Charlie agreed, ‘the man with the knife and the hostage is the one with the power, and right now, that is Richie Brett, and he wants you to back away, so please, back away.’

  Behind him, Brett continued to scream for Robbins to back off. With a glare at Charlie, Robbins did just that.

  ‘Keep going.’

  Robbins backed up again.

  Glad the man was several steps away, Charlie finally turned and faced Brett again. He saw now that Brett’s eyes were wide and red-rimmed, his lips badly chapped; the man had been chewing and sucking on them too much.

  ‘Okay, Richie,’ Charlie said carefully. ‘Officer Robbins has moved back like you wanted. What’s all this about?’

  ‘Things are wrong.’ Brett focused on Charlie. He spoke in a horse whisper, his eyes moving from side to side as soon as he’d spoken. ‘They’re coming. They’re coming. They’re going to kill me.’

  ‘No one’s going to kill you,’ Charlie assured him. ‘We just want to help. I’m not asking you to let your hostage go, but can you loosen your grip a little?’

  ‘I’m in control.’ Brett moved back. If anything, his grip tightened.

  ‘Yes,’ Charlie agreed, ‘yes, you are in control. But, you need to loosen your grip, or your hostage will pass out. Then, he’ll fall, and you’ll fall, you’ll lose control. Just ease your grip a little, okay?’

  Brett looked around, made sure no one was near him. ‘I’ll cut you,’ he threatened the crowd, waving the knife around. ‘Any of ya comes near me, and I’ll cut you.’

  ‘It’s okay, Richie,’ Charlie told him. ‘No one’s coming near you. Just tell me why you’re doing this. What do you want?’

  ‘Teddington,’ Brett said, the knife wobbling as he pointed it in Charlie’s direction. ‘I want Teddington.’

  Know the feeling, Charlie thought. ‘She’s not here. She’s not working at the moment.’

  ‘I want Teddington!’ Brett screamed and waved the knife tip way too close to his hostage’s face. ‘Get her here.’

  ‘Richie, mate,’ Charlie spoke, trying to keep the smile on his face, ‘Teddington isn’t here.’

  ‘Get her here!’

  ‘Alright! Alright. Hold on.’ Charlie felt his heart hammering.

  The only way to deal with a hostage taker was to at least make them believe they were in control. He walked backwards towards Robbins, making sure he kept Brett in view, and his voice down, he spoke to the man who looked like he’d rather tear his throat out then help him.

  ‘Is there any way to get hold of Teddington?’

  ‘For that scrote?’

  ‘No,’ his controlled the volume so Brett couldn’t hear, ‘for the guy who’s got a knife pointing at his eye.’ Charlie clenched his fists, kept them tight at his side and tried again, his voice low. ‘Look, just at least make it look as if you’re going to call her, get her here. I can stall him, and maybe even talk him down, but he has to think we’re working with him, not against him.’

  Officer Norman came down the stairs. ‘I’ll see if we can get a call out to her,’ he was answering Charlie but making sure his voice carried to Brett. ‘But even if I can get through, she’ll take at least an hour to get here.’

  ‘Tell her to move faster. I want her here now!’ Brett screamed.

  Since Norman was already on his way, and Robbins was useless, Charlie moved back towards Brett. ‘You heard that, right?’ he spoke gently. ‘Officer Norman has gone to get that call made. They’re going to call Teddington. But, remember, she’s still recovering from a gunshot wound. She may not be able to get here very quickly. These things take time.’

  ‘But, she’s coming?’ Brett said. ‘She’ll come?’

  ‘We’re working on it,’ Charlie said, risking moving slightly closer. ‘Why do you want Teddington? Isn’t there anyone else that can help you?’

  ‘No!’ Brett shouted. ‘No. Just her. Only Teddington. I want Teddington.’

  He was sounding like a child – a spoiled, selfish child – but there was a tone of desperation that worried Charlie. It also worried him there was a lunch service that should be starting but wasn’t, and there was a limit to the length of time the action was going to distract the best part of two hundred hungry men from filling their bellies.

  Charlie tried not to think of all the bad things that could happen. In the meantime, he had to stall. ‘So, you trust Teddington?’

  ‘She’s not been replaced.’

  That threw Charlie. Technically, she had been replaced; all her shifts were covered. ‘Replaced?’

  ‘She’s not one of the zombies,’ Brett confided. ‘Not like these lot. They’ve all been replaced. The Lion got to them. They’re just zombies. Most of them are zombies.’

  While Brett’s insanity was distinctly to the fore, Charlie kind of knew what he meant. ‘Most of them?’ he asked. ‘So, some of us are still …’ He searched for a word, somehow ‘normal’ just didn’t fit. ‘… Human?’ That was questionable, too.

  ‘Some.’

  ‘What about me?’ Charlie asked. ‘Am I still human? Can you trust me?’

  Brett looked at him, his eyes narrowed, and his head tilted. ‘You look alright, but stop moving closer. I don’t want to talk to you. I want to talk to Teddington.’

  ‘Then, talk to me.’

  Surprised by the voice, Charlie twisted and saw Teddington passing through the last gate into the wing. Her voice wasn’t the only surprise. He was still more used to her in uniform, but she wasn’t in uniform now. By God, no. She wore skin-tight jeans, heeled knee boots, a tailored jacket, and a white top. Her hair was loose, hanging in curls to her waist. She wore make up. She looked good, feminine, attractive. Hell, just plain sexy. Undoubtedly, he wasn’t the only one noticing; his wasn’t the only jaw dropping. She must have metal heels, given the way they clicked as she walked across the floor, getting closer, and all-consuming of attention.

  She stopped beside Charlie, her attention firmly on Brett. She licked her lips and took a deep breath as she spoke again. ‘You said you wanted to talk with me. Well, I’m here. Talk to me.’

  Charlie couldn’t stop looking at her. He half suspected he was drooling. He had to get over it.

  It’s not real.

  He closed his mouth, swallowed and concentrated back on what was important right now – Brett. Brett was looking at Teddington like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

  ‘Teddington?’

  ‘Yes, it’s me. I’m not working at the moment, so I’m not in uniform, and I figured this talk you wanted to have was too important to wait.’

  Brett was frowning, he was also swaying back and forth, the knife making a worrying sawing action before the hostage’s face. A hostage who was surprisingly quiet, given how terrified he obviously was, tears and snot running from him, dripping on the floor. He’d wet himself, too. ‘He said you could be some time. You were only a couple of minutes.’

  She shrugged. ‘You got lucky. I was on site when Officer Norman called me. I popped in to sort out a few things with the Guv before I come back full time.’

  ‘Will it be soon? Will you be back on the wing? We want you back on the wing.’

  Her pause was so long, Charlie found himself turning to look at her. He watched her swallow and lick her lips.

  ‘I’m not sure, Richie. Is that what you wanted to talk about? My return to duty?’

  ‘No.’ He frowned. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Okay, then let’s talk, but let Pearson go.’

  Pearson, of course. Matthew Pearson.

  Her voice was calm and gentle, reason
able. But, Charlie could see she wasn’t as calm as she was trying to make out. Her breathing was deep, she was managing it, but being so close, he could hear her swallow, and more frequently than was her norm. Her left hand was in her jacket pocket. He could hear paper crackle.

  ‘He said you got shot.’ Brett waved the knife towards Charlie again. ‘But you look alright to me.’

  Without a word, Teddington reached to her own jacket fastening. Slipping the two buttons free, she removed the black jacket.

  There wasn’t a man in the place who didn’t react to the sight of bare shoulders, a tightly laced corset … and the things it did to her cleavage. Lust was an audible gasp.

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, boys,’ she addressed the wing as a whole. ‘Just put it in the spank bank. You ain’t never seeing this again.’

  What only a few of the men would bother to see, was the remaining bruising and the irreversible scarring of the gun shot. She turned her focus onto Brett, and her hand with the jacket came up. Automatically, Charlie took the jacket, and she stepped forward, careful to move slowly and openly.

  ‘Look. See?’ She pointed to the damage on her shoulder. ‘I was shot, but I’m recovering.’

  Brett peered a little closer, mumbled something.

  ‘Okay, Richie, you have my attention, I’m here. What do you want to talk about?’

  ‘They’re changing, all changing.’ Brett moved forward, dragging Pearson with him. ‘He’s changing them, turning this into his hive.’

  Her heel clicked as she took the next step, one more, and she stopped. ‘Okay, they’re changing. Let Matthew go, and you can tell me who’s changing, and what they’re changing into. And, who’s changing them.’

  ‘No.’ Richie pulled Pearson back. ‘He’s staying here. He’s my protection.’

  ‘May I move closer, Richie?’ she spoke softly as she did so. ‘Okay, Richie, who’s changing? Tell me who’s changing.’

  ‘They all are.’ He was moving nervously from foot to foot, his eyes darting around the room, full of terror.

  She waited, but Richie didn’t elucidate. Another careful step, as she spoke, ‘Richie?’ Her use of his name brought his attention back to her. ‘What are they turning into?’

  ‘Zombies.’ He leaned forward, his voice a harsh whisper, as if he was confiding in her.

  Charlie heard sniggers in the crowd behind them. He turned his head to shush them, his hard look pinning the perpetrators to silence.

  ‘What about Pearson?’ Teddington asked softly. ‘Is he a zombie?’

  The knife, which had been wavering in the direction of the prison officer moved, pointed back at the sobbing man’s face. ‘He is. He’s just like all the rest.’

  ‘What about me?’ she asked. ‘I don’t think I’m a zombie. Am I?’

  He tipped his head to look at her. ‘No … no, they haven’t turned you. You and Bell got out at the right time, you two haven’t turned.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Though he couldn’t see her face, Charlie would bet she was smiling at Brett. That winning smile that filled him with joy and never lasted, but he wanted it to. He wanted to make her smile until it never stopped.

  ‘You think zombies are dangerous, right?’

  Brett nodded. The maniacal gleam in his eyes had dimmed a little. He was transferring his allegiance from the psychosis to his trust in Teddington.

  ‘And you know I’m not a zombie, right?’

  He nodded.

  ‘So, let’s do a trade. You let the zombie go, and you use me as a hostage, okay? A straight swap. You’ll be safer then, won’t you?’

  Dear Lord, Charlie couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Was she seriously suggesting that she would willingly walk into the arms of danger? And in an oh-so reasonable tone? He couldn’t just let her put her life in harm’s way. ‘Ted—’

  The way she waved him off and scowled over her shoulder at him, cut him dead. But, for that brief second, they connected, and unless he was very much mistaken, she glanced meaningfully down at her jacket, which he still held. Her attention switched immediately back to Brett.

  ‘Richie?’ she asked. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘They’re trying to turn me,’ he said. ‘They’re trying to make me into one of them.’

  ‘That’s not going to happen,’ she reassured him. ‘I’m not going to let that happen.’

  She was close now, an arm’s length. If Brett lashed out, she was close enough to get gutted. He hoped the corset was made with steel boning that, at least, might minimise the damage. She raised her hands to waist height, wide and open, non-threatening, welcoming. ‘How’s your stomach?’

  What’s Brett’s stomach have to do with anything? Charlie realised his heart was beating every bit as fast as if he were still chief negotiator, but instead, he was just plain scared. Given what else Teddington had been through lately, this was the last thing she needed. He couldn’t reach for her, so he pulled her jacket tighter, bringing it to his nose, he caught that scent of apples again.

  ‘It’s a bit dodgy, actually.’

  Charlie wasn’t interested in Brett’s internal plumbing. He hugged the jacket closer, heard that faint crackle of paper.

  ‘Like you’ve been sucking on metal?’

  Brett frowned. ‘Yeah. A bit. Now you mention it.’

  ‘And your head?’

  Charlie saw movement to his right. Robbins had shifted – he was glaring at him. Swallowing, Charlie loosened his grip on Teddington’s jacket, slipping his hand into the pocket as he did so.

  ‘My head hurts.’

  ‘Like it’s in a vice?’

  Charlie frowned. Teddington obviously knew something he didn’t.

  Brett sucked on his top lip, something he always did when nervous.

  ‘You remember these feelings, don’t you, Richie? This is what happened last year when you forgot to take your meds. Do you remember that?’ Her voice was calm, comforting. ‘You forgot to take your meds, and you thought we were all infected? Remember? Did you forget to take your meds again?’

  Brett looked uncertain. ‘They wouldn’t give them to me.’

  Teddington reached out, her hand went carefully around the wrist waving the knife around. ‘They’re horrible zombies, but not me, remember, I’m your friend. I’ll get the meds. I’ll keep you safe from the zombies.’

  And just like that, Brett nodded. He let go of Pearson, who scrambled as far back as the architecture would allow him, and Brett was sobbing onto Teddington’s bare shoulder. The knife stayed a while, but as sobs wracked his body, Brett dropped that, too. Charlie was vaguely aware Teddington was still talking to Brett in soothing tones. He sobbed out some more sentences as she ushered him away. Mostly, Charlie was aware of a sense of relief the danger was over, and she was still in one piece.

  24

  As Teddington and Brett departed, Charlie heard all the conversations twittering around him. Not quite normal, but more like it, a cross between the old normal and the new. There was no way the screws could stop the inmates talking about what had happened.

  ‘Don’t,’ Robbins snarled at Charlie, as he snatched Teddington’s jacket, ‘ever try to assert your dominance over mine again.’

  Dick. Charlie ached to smash Robbins’ stupid face to a pulp. ‘No, Officer Robbins. May I return to the lunch line now?’

  The way the man’s eyes narrowed, it was clear he was considering other options.

  ‘Back in line, Bell.’

  Charlie looked to the other officer at the command. ‘Of course, Officer Norman.’ He was well aware of how Robbins eyes bored into his back as he turned and retook his place in the line.

  ‘Jeez,’ the inmate in front of him turned and said to Charlie. ‘Teddington is one sexy bitch, huh? You shag her while you were out?’

  Disgusted by the tone and the fact the other man had his hand down his trousers, Charlie felt his lip curl as he snarled the negative, glad to be so much taller than the norm, so he could stare straight
ahead and not have to see what the little pervert was up to. He was worse than Partridge.

  ‘Christ, how’d ya stop yourself? I’d’ve been on her before she could’ve said ouch from the gun shot.’ There was controlled laughter and mutters of agreement all around. ‘It wasn’t like she could get away – you were handcuffed together.’

  Charlie remembered the feel of her body curled up beside his on that single bed, the press of her butt against his groin. He swallowed, and tried not to think about it. ‘Lucky for her, then, it was me she was cuffed to, and not you.’

  ‘How did you get out of the handcuffs?’ This time the question came from behind him.

  Charlie didn’t bother turning to see who’d asked. ‘Bolt cutters.’

  It was a lie. As the Doc had peeled back Teddington’s blood-soaked blouse and bra, he’d taken a pin from her hair and picked the lock, but there were some skills it was best not to reveal to a bunch of convicted criminals. The swell of her pale breast, the colour and pride of her nipple, was an image that haunted his dreams and too many of his waking moments. He pushed them aside, lest he end up as obvious as the man in front of him.

  Talk about zombification, Teddington thought, as she sat through the computer training. She shrugged it off as the predictable result of having been an IT programmer herself before Sasha’s death had torn her life apart.

  Since she was completing the tasks in a third of the time of everyone else, she spent most of her time either showing Turner how to do what they were being shown, or playing with the reporting facilities. This was supposed to be a copy of the version going live on Monday, with all data entered. She did a search on the name Leo. Since the training version had less restrictions than the live one would, she checked both inmate and officer data. Nothing came up, not that she’d expected it to. Just to be nosy, she viewed the personnel file of Jones, Peter. It was virtually empty. She checked her own. Same lack of data. No point in restricting access to data that wasn’t there.

  ‘Wish I could type half as fast as you,’ Turner grumbled, as he used two fingers to tap out the data entry he was under instruction to input.