Diesel Therapy (Selena Book 2)

by Greg Barth

  She looked over at me and smiled. “I like you too, Selena. I wish we could be friends outside.”

  Before guard number two came through and confirmed the count, I knew what I had to do. Even if this was a setup, I had to go through with it. Nothing inside the fishbowl was real. Carla would be going home someday. She thought in terms of the real world outside.

  I needed to do the same.

  “Who knows,” I said. “Maybe someday.”

  She smiled at me.

  After the count was complete and reconciled, I told Carla that I needed to go to the bathroom and that I would join her in the TV room after my normal walk in the rec yard.

  I walked in a daze down the hallway from my cell to the bathroom. I passed by the row of phones along the wall. I never used them. I stopped walking and looked at them. On a whim I walked over to one and picked up the receiver and put it to my ear.

  “Collect or card?” a voice on the other end said.

  “Uh, collect,” I said.

  “What number?”

  I gave the number that Malucci had me memorize.

  A few seconds later a female voice answered the call. She listened to the brief recording advising that the call was from a federal prison and the conversation was subject to monitoring and recording. She accepted the charges.

  “Hi,” I said. “Um, this is Selena.”

  “Hello, Selena. How are you?”

  “I’m good,” I said.

  “Is there something I can help you with?”

  “Today’s the big day, huh?”

  Silence on the other end of the line.

  “Right?” I prompted.

  “Big day?”

  “That’s what I hear.”

  “Is today your birthday, Selena?”

  “No.”

  “Do you want me to arrange a meeting for your lawyer? Or is there anything I can help with?”

  “No. I’m fine. Just, you know, tell everyone I said hi.”

  “I will, Selena. You hang in there, okay? Let us know if you need anything.”

  I hung up the phone. I stood there staring at it. I had been foolish. There was no way they would acknowledge anything over the phone, especially on a monitored line. No. That would only tie them to whatever might happen.

  Or.

  Or I was being set up and nothing that was about to happen had anything to do with Pete Malucci.

  Of course there was also an option three, wasn’t there? Pete could be the one setting me up. That seemed most unlikely.

  I left the phones and made my way down to the bathroom.

  No one showered at that time of the evening—five a.m. was the earliest shift for the shower—but the toilet stalls were open.

  I walked down to the last stall on the left.

  My loose canvas shoes made no noise on the tiled bathroom floor. I stepped into the stall.

  I pushed my khaki scrubs down to my knees. I sat on the toilet and relieved myself.

  I took a deep breath and considered my options. I had nothing to risk, or so I thought. I was pulling what amounted to a life sentence. If I went up against Chav and won, the worst that could happen was that my sentence would be extended. I would go to max and be less comfortable than I was currently.

  If Chav came out on top, then I would likely be either dead or incapacitated.

  The best case scenario would be that I could overcome Chav and escape. Then I could stop the horrible things being done by my family.

  I lowered my left hand to the cold tile floor and felt around. My fingers found something loose and hard along the bottom of the toilet. I picked it up and brought it around to my lap to examine.

  It was a shank. Someone had taken a long nail and punched it through a wooden handle. The handle looked like a short length of wood taken from a mop. The nail had been ground to a needle-sharp point. It had been fashioned in such a way that the wooden handle crossed the nail like a capital T. I held the wooden handle in my right fist. The nail extended between my middle and ring fingers for a good two and a half inches like a spike. It was clear what this was designed to do. The intention was to punch your victim repeatedly with the spike to weaken them until you could kill them—kill them either with the spike itself, or in some other fashion.

  It was a brutal, ugly looking thing.

  Flush it. Even if you go through with this thing, you don’t want to be anywhere near this.

  But could I go up against Chav unarmed? What if she had a weapon herself?

  I didn’t want to do this, but I didn’t see a choice. I was haunted by memories of what had happened to me. Carla’s story had awoken a need within me. If that kind of thing was still going on, I had to make every effort to stop it.

  And if I failed? What could they do to me? Send me to prison?

  I made up my mind. I stood up from the toilet. I placed the t-shaped handle firmly between my butt-cheeks, the spike pointing away from me. It rested there and seemed to stay put. I pulled my pants up. I left the stall and paced back and forth across the length of the bathroom floor a few times. The shank stayed in place.

  ’

  T HIRTEEN

  Selena

  CHAV WOULD BE tidying up the kitchen, washing dishes, taking out trash, something along those lines.

  I walked down the prison wing we were housed in. I passed common areas: the TV room, a room where people got together to play cards or dominoes, and the library. I made my way down to the mess hall.

  The lights inside the dining area were dimmed. An inmate pushed a mop across the tile floor.

  She looked up at me. “Everything’s closed down for the night”.”

  “It’s all good,” I said.

  “You looking for Chav?” she said.

  This caught me off guard. I stopped walking and looked at her.

  “She’s back there.” She gestured toward the serving area. “She’s with somebody but shouldn’t take long. I heard some howling a minute or two ago.”

  I nodded like I knew what the hell she was talking about and resumed walking.

  I went into the kitchen. I walked past the serving area. The kitchen was clean, the ovens and stovetops off for the night.

  A light was on in the back. I crept up quietly.

  I got to the edge of the entrance to the back room. I paused and listened.

  “Mmmm, yeah. Just keep doing it like that. I’m almost there,” I heard someone say.

  I stood there and waited. The sounds coming from the back room got pretty interesting, but I was in a totally different frame of mind. I stood there and tried to calm the pounding in my chest. The person close to climax eventually got where she wanted, and I waited as they made small talk.

  “Thanks, Chav. Two books, right?”

  “It’s two for everyone else. For you it’s just one.”

  “That was awesome.”

  I saw movement and stepped back into a dark corner where the shadows would conceal me.

  An inmate came walking out from the back room. She walked right past me and kept going out of the kitchen.

  I came out of the corner and entered the back room. It consisted of a small area where dishes and trays could be rinsed off in a sink before being loaded into a large, commercial dish washer. A light was on.

  Chav must have some clout to get a good job in an area like this.

  She was washing her face with her hands in the large sink.

  The room smelled like pussy.

  “Chav,” I said.

  She jumped up and turned to me. “Holy shit, kid. You startled the hell out of me there. You don’t go sneaking up on somebody like that. Not in here.” She spoke with a coarse whisper.

  “I didn’t mean to,” I said.

  She towered over me. Her face was wet. Her short, dark hair glistened with beads of water on the sides above her ears. “I’ll let it pass. Just because you’re so damned cute. Now let me see...” She looked around the room. “We’ll need to set you up on the edge of this s
ink, I think.”

  “I’m not here for that.”

  “You’re not? Hmmm. Well that’s too bad. I was looking forward to going down on you. Maybe another time? I bet you’re tasty.”

  “Sure,” I said.

  “So what can I do for you, shorty,” she said.

  I swallowed. “I have a message for you.”

  “Oh, I see. A message. Sure, I’ll listen to your message.” Her posture stiffened. She dried her hands with a towel. “But then you’re going to hear one from me. So you think about it. You have two options. One is, you sit your skinny ass on the edge of this sink while I snack on your snatch. The first time is free. You’ll love it. The other option is, you deliver your message, and then I deliver mine. Choose wisely.”

  My mouth was suddenly dry. “Gina,” I said. “You need to leave Gina alone.”

  She shook her head and blinked her eyes at me. “Huh?”

  “Gina. The new girl. Leave her alone.”

  “Wha…? Who the fuck is Gina, kid?”

  “The new girl. The one you’ve been putting pressure on.”

  “Who put you up to this?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said.

  “Look, I know who you are shorty, alright? I know you’re a tough one, and I know you’ve got enemies. What you need to understand is that I’ve got enemies too. Somebody is pitting you against me. That ain’t good for you. I hate to see this. You seem so nice.”

  “Why would they do that?” I said.

  “To get rid of both of us. One way or the other.”

  “I’m just supposed to deliver a message.”

  “I like you, girl. And I think you’re all mixed up on who’s a friend and who’s an enemy, so I’m being nice and giving you a second chance. Back off, okay?”

  “Chav, it’s not personal.”

  “Yeah? Tell me how the fuck it’s not personal?”

  “I don’t even know you.”

  “That’s obvious. If you knew me, you’d know I’m a lover, not a fighter. But I can fight.”

  “Then this is how it is,” I said.

  “Okay. I get it. Line drawn in the sand. You’re on that side, I’m on this side. Just so you know, kid. This good thing we’ve got going here? We do this your way, tonight? It’s gone. They’ll put us both in seg for a month. Watch and see.”

  “I really don’t have a choice.”

  “Fine. Decision made. You had your second chance. You go tell whoever’s pulling your strings that I’ll leave this mysterious Gina chick alone. Okay? But since you’re so loyal, now I’ve got to deliver my own message.”

  “I’m listening.”

  She shook her head. “It ain’t that kind of message.” She brought her fists up.

  “You don’t want to do this. It isn’t necessary.”

  “That train done left the station. I’m a lot bigger than you, kid. I’ll be okay. Now take your medicine.”

  “I’ve killed a lot bigger and meaner than you.”

  “Yeah? Where’s your shotgun, though? Huh?”

  I put my left hand up in front of my face and backed away from her. I took my right hand and reached into my pants. I brought the shank out just as she swung at me.

  Her fist caught me square on the nose. Pain exploded across my face. I fell backwards and landed hard on my ass. Blood and tears ran down my face.

  She loomed over me.

  I checked my nose with my left hand. “Fuck,” I said.

  “You’re not who I thought you were, kid.”

  I started to regret not opting for the oral pleasure on the edge of the sink. “Fuck,” I said again.

  “Do I have your attention? Have we cut through all the shit?”

  I nodded while trying to stanch the flow of blood streaming from both nostrils.

  “Good. Now. You wanna fight, fuck, or run a footrace?”

  F OURTEEN

  Selena

  I TOOK TIME out to wash the blood off me at the kitchen sink, then made my way to the laundry.

  The door to the laundry room was unlocked. I stepped inside. The room was empty that time of night. Everything was contracted out to a third-party vendor. The few machines in the facility were in various stages of disrepair. The laundry room was a place to bundle and load dirty laundry and receive the clean back for distribution to the inmates.

  It was dark inside. I walked down the aisle between the folding tables. At the back of the room was another hallway that turned off to the left. I followed the hallway. A single light was on in the back.

  Janson stood at the back of the room next to an open loading dock door. A laundry cart overfilled with laundry bags sat beside her.

  “Jeez, you really did it, didn’t you, Carson?”

  “I did,” I said.

  “We don’t have much time.” She grabbed a laundry bag from the cart. She opened the top of it. “You need to get in here. Get in the bag, and I’ll put you in the back of the truck. I’ll stack these other bags over you. You’ll be down the road long before ten o’clock count. The truck will stop later to transfer you to a car they’ll have waiting.”

  I stood there looking at her. I held the shank in my right fist.

  “Don’t just stand there, idiot. You’ve got to get moving,” she said.

  “I’ve got a better idea, Janson. You get in the bag instead.”

  “What? That’s crazy.”

  “Isn’t it? Get in.”

  “Look, Carson. There’s no time for games. This is your chance. You just took care of Chav, so now you’ve got to get away. You don’t want to stay here and squander this opportunity. God knows what kind of trouble Q-tip went through to set this up. This is your one opportunity.”

  “Even still. You’re going in.”

  She shook her head. “You’re fucking stupid, Carson. I’m not pulling hard time like you. I’m not fucking that up. If I was in your shoes, hell yeah, I’d do it. Now get in the goddamned bag.”

  I held the shank up in my fist. “No,” I said.

  She sighed. “Alright. We’ll do it your way. I’m not alone, you know?” She turned her head to the side and said, “Ladies.”

  Two women stepped around the corner to the loading dock. They were carrying wooden table legs in their hands, held like clubs.

  “So that’s the plan? Get me in the bag and beat the shit out of me?”

  “No, just one good blow to the head. Then you’d get caught by the guard at the sally port gates.”

  “I see.”

  “Now we’re just going to hit you first, then put you in the sack. Either way, the outcome’s the same.”

  “Did you stop to think that maybe I’m not alone either?” I said.

  There was movement behind me as someone walked into the room.

  “Hi girls,” Chav said in her trademark coarse whisper. She stood beside me and placed a hand on my shoulder. “She’s cute, ain’t she?”

  “Chav,” Janson said. “Fancy meeting you here. I guess Selena got caught up in your hermaphrodite wiles.”

  “I’m no hermaphrodite, Janson. I’m just a woman that’s well endowed—or so they say. Not sure I live up to that reputation, but nobody’s been disappointed by my tongue yet.”

  “Suits you, I guess. I hear that Chav is British slang for trash. Is that true?”

  “All night long, I’ve had to put up with gossip. Finally I hear something that makes sense. Trash is an expectation I can live up to. “

  “No worries,” Janson said. “You’re going to have a totally different reputation after tonight.”

  Chav held up her right fist and cracked the knuckles with her left hand. “Which one you want, Carson?”

  “Janson,” I said.

  “Then don’t worry about the queens of clubs. Come on, bitches.”

  Chav made the first move. She stepped up to the girl on the right. I wanted to tell her to wait for them to come to us. I knew there would be cameras, but the cameras would be trained on the dock door as all exits we
re monitored. No time to call out to her.

  The girl swung the table leg at Chav’s head. It was a weak swing. Chav was taller and stronger than the girl. She deflected the blow with her arm and caught the crude, wooden club with her other hand and snatched it away in one strong move. She brought the club down on the girl’s head.

  Janson stuck her hand inside the waistband of her prison issue pants. Her hand came out clenching a shank of her own. She lunged at me.

  I stepped to the side and attempted to deflect her thrust with my left forearm. I felt the shank slice into my arm. I came around with my right. I was aiming the spike at her temple. She moved her head just in time. She exposed her neck and I tried to correct enough to strike her there. Instead, I pierced her cheek with the spike.

  I pushed her off and she stepped back. We had both been bloodied.

  “Who’s behind this, Janson?” I said.

  “Fuck you, Carson”.”

  “I hope whatever favors they promised were worth all this.”

  She lunged again. She came right at my face with her shank. I let her come in close. At the last instant, I leaned into her thrust and dodged to the right. She sliced along my scalp. I clenched her in close with my left arm. She stabbed at me repeatedly, sticking me in the left shoulder blade.

  I gave her an uppercut to the gut hard with the shank.

  She grunted.

  I drew back and punched again, burying the spike deep into her solar plexus.

  She continued to stab at my back. She tried to pull away, tried to get her blade near my throat.

  I held her close and continued to punch at her sternum with the spike.

  Finally she wriggled free and backed away. Her face was ashen. She looked down at her crimson covered stomach. She put her hand to the front of her shirt. She looked up and met my gaze. “Please don’t kill me,” she said.

  I stepped forward and punched her hard in the face with the spike, buried it deep in her cheek below the eye.

  She fell to the floor hard.

  I looked around. Chav stood to the side holding the table leg in her hand. The other two girls were on the floor. She dropped her club. “Get rid of the shiv, Carson. They’ll beat us if they catch you with it.”