Lights Out

by Nate Southard

  Timms jumped when his cellphone rang, nearly yelped with surprise. He checked the display, and sure enough, it was Governor Graham. Taking a deep breath, he punched the Talk button.

  “Governor.”

  “You’ve got to be shitting me, Warden.”

  He shook his head. “I wish I was, ma’am.”

  “How much do those bastards have?”

  “Everything.”

  He heard her grumble on the other line. It was better than the scream he’d expected. When she spoke again, her voice was flat and even.

  “What are you doing, warden?”

  “I’m trying to open the lines of communication. I want to hear if they have a list of demands, see if we can shut this down peacefully.”

  “Do you really think I give a fuck if this is put down peacefully or not, warden?” He thought he could hear her fingers constrict around the phone, but that might have been the grinding of his own jaw.

  “Governor, I think the--”

  “I don’t care. I want this over and done with before it becomes a goddamn circus. I don’t give a damn if you have to bring in the fucking marines. This gets stopped dead, and it gets stopped ASAP.”

  “This might get stopped a lot faster if you were here. Showing you care about the situation could tell the inmates we mean business.”

  “If I wanted to do your job for you, warden, I wouldn’t have become Governor.”

  “So--”

  “No. I’m not setting foot near that pit again unless I absolutely have to, and I don’t. You get to fix this one. Don’t come crawling to me.”

  “Right.” He wondered if this was the sort of thing Brass had gone through during his phone conversation.

  “Ron, listen to me,” Governor Graham said. “It isn’t too late for you to salvage this. You handle this situation right away, there can still be a position for you on my staff.”

  He couldn’t believe it. Was she just toying with him now, trying to string him along for the hell of it?

  “If this is still going on tomorrow, though,” she continued, “I will personally see to it that you are unemployed for the rest of your goddamn life! You won’t be qualified for a McJob by the time I’m through with your ass.”

  He tried to think of a reply, some way to reason with her. Instead, he said, “Yes, ma’am.”

  The line went silent.

  He shoved the phone into his pocket, looked up to find Brass watching him, waiting. The officer must have heard at least part of the Governor’s demands, but he was good enough to ask, “Well?”

  Ron ran his hands through his hair, trying desperately to think of some last ditch solution. There had to be a way of climbing out of this latest hole without getting covered in shit.

  “Warden!”

  His eyes snapped up and found Brass pointing through the gate. Ron followed the man’s hand, looking to the prison’s entryway, and saw figures approaching. The faction leaders. They walked side by side, their gate casual. A fifth figure moved in front of them.

  “Freeze! Hands in the air!”

  Timms jumped as Brass shouted the order. He turned to see the officer bring his rifle up into firing position. All around him, more SORT officers rushed in, their weapons ready for action. One of them tried to usher Timms out of the way, but Ron shrugged him off.

  “Lower your weapons, dammit!” he ordered.

  “Warden?”

  “I said lower them!” He kept his eyes on the man in front, the one who continued to creep forward, his hands up in surrender.

  Darren.

  He stepped forward, approaching the gate. His eyes caught Darren’s and he saw a strange, subdued fear in them. Behind his friend, the faction leaders wore blank, even stares.

  “That’s close enough, Father,” Ribisi said, and Albright came to a halt about twenty feet from the gate.

  “You letting him go?” Timms asked. “It would go a long way toward getting me to trust you.”

  “I’m afraid not, Warden.” Sweeny this time, that cocky tone ripe in his voice, thick as syrup. “We brought the priest out to deliver our demands. Nothing else.”

  “Are you okay, Darren?”

  “Yes. We’re being treated well.”

  “Is anybody--”

  “I don’t think so. A few guards got roughed up, but nobody’s seriously hurt.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “We didn’t do anything to your officers, warden,” Ribisi said. “We’re not stupid.”

  “Do you think you can keep this prison? If you do, then you are stupid.”

  Albright shook his head. “They don’t want to hold it, Ron.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Diggs leaned forward, giving Albright’s shoulder a rough nudge. The priest jumped at the inmate’s touch. “Tell him, preacher-man,” the banger said through a smile.

  Timms watched as Albright took a deep breath, eyes going skyward for a second as if he were praying or trying to remember something important.

  “In light of the recent violent deaths within Burnham State Maximum Security Penitentiary,” Darren said, “And the administration’s inability to keep the inmates of Burnham safe, we demand to be moved to a different correctional facility immediately and until such time as Burnham is proven safe for inmate habitation. In addition, no inmates are to be charged with additional crimes for their part in the riot, and they are to receive no unfair treatment because of their participation. If these conditions are met swiftly and with honesty, all members of the prison staff will be released at the time of transfer.”

  Timms met his friend’s eyes, saw a sense of relief there, and also a look of anticipation. Maybe the riot had shaken his faith. Or maybe it was something else.

  “Well?” Marquez asked, breaking the silence.

  “I’ll need time,” Timms told them.

  “Ron, don’t,” Darren said.

  “Are you sure they’re treating you all okay?”

  “Yes, but they aren’t willing to wait. They want out of here right away.”

  “Well, this isn’t something I can do right away. It takes planning. The State’s prison system is stretched thin already. I need to find a place to move them to. Then, I’ll need to arrange and organize transportation. Not to mention, I’ll have to clear it with the Governor, and I don’t like the odds of her agreeing to anything.”

  Albright took a step toward the gate, and Timms could see the plea in his eyes.

  “Dammit, Ron, don’t make these men wait. You’ve jerked them around before, but don’t do it now.”

  Timms dropped his eyes to the ground, shook his head. He couldn’t believe it. No way in hell, could this really be happening. It was crazy, impossible. When he raised his head again, Darren was still looking at him.

  “Tell me what I’m thinking is wrong, Darren. Please tell me you didn’t help orchestrate this.”

  The chaplain turned away, suddenly unable to meet his eyes.

  “Jesus Christ, Darren! Have you gone insane?”

  “I’m doing what I have to, Ron.”

  “What a bunch of bullshit!”

  “You want to know what’s bullshit, Ron? Bullshit is bowing down in front of the Governor for the sake of your own career instead of doing the right thing and getting these people out of here!”

  “I did no such--”

  “Twenty people! More than twenty, Ron! And that’s just the ones we’re sure of. We’ve still got people missing. Well, guess what? I can tell you where they are.” He pointed back toward the prison’s massive concrete structure. “They’re in there, and as soon as the sun goes down they’re going to come out of hiding!”

  Ron snorted a sharp breath. “You have gone crazy, haven’t you?”

  “No, Ron, I’m going on faith. Faith that there’s something awful inside that prison, and faith that you won’t do a damn thing to try to stop it!”

  “I’m trying to stop it!”

  “You’re trying to help the High and
Mighty Governor Graham sweep it under the rug! You know you could get these people out and to safety, but you won’t do it because she says so.”

  “That’s unfair.”

  “The truth usually is.”

  Ron stepped forward, wrapping his hands around the gate’s bars. “Dammit, Darren! Don’t you know what this means for you? You’re going to get charged! You’ll be found guilty, too, and they’re going to send you away for a long time. Do you want that for yourself?”

  Albright nodded. “My life compared to so many others...It’s worth it to me.”

  “It better be. The guards? The unit managers? Are they in on this?”

  “No. They didn’t know until it got started.”

  He held the priest with his eyes. “It was just you, Darren? You and those four?”

  “Yes.”

  “I think you’re bullshitting me.”

  “Think what you want. Or what the Governor tells you to think. I don’t care anymore.”

  “You don’t--”

  Albright closed the rest of the distance to the gate, suddenly nose-to-nose with him. Ron didn’t flinch.

  “I do. I do mean it, and don’t you dare tell me any differently. You don’t get to doubt me anymore, Warden. You had your chance to try and do some actual good--”

  “I did try to do some good.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have stopped. Now, it’s our turn. You didn’t want to handle the situation, so we will.”

  “I’m bringing the State Police in, Darren. One call, and I’ll have hundreds of them here, armed to the teeth. Do want to deal with that? Do you want your new friends to?”

  Albright’s eyes bored into him, deathly serious. “If you’re going to bring them in, bring them in quick. Before sunset. They’ll do more good that way.”

  “Darren--”

  “We’re done, Warden. You have our demands.”

  Timms watched his friend turn away and join the four men who were already returning to the prison. None of them looked back to the gate or spoke to each other. Together, they looked strangely like five soldiers marching off to battle. He wondered if he should be going to battle with them.

  “Warden?” Brass said in his ear.

  He didn’t bother facing the officer. “Make the call. Tell them to get here right away.”

  ***

  Darren nearly collapsed under his own weight once he was back inside the building. His stomach rolled, and his head felt suddenly light and then absurdly heavy. He leaned against the wall and breathed deep gulps of air. His vision went blurry, and his head spun.

  “Father, you okay?”

  Marquez’s voice, but it sounded far away. He felt himself slide down the wall.

  “Get him!”

  Darren didn’t recognize the voice at all this time, but he felt hands on him. They dragged him down the hall--his feet squeaking as they slid across the tile--and around the corner. There, they eased him to the ground. He heard voices, anxious and worried, but he didn’t care.

  He closed his eyes. Time for a nap.

  Suddenly, he felt a pair of fingers enter his mouth, rub across his teeth. A stabbing pain then coursed through him as fingernails dug into his gums. He let out a small shriek, and his eyes flipped open as he jolted out of his stupor.

  Morrow crouched over him, wiping his fingers on his pants leg. His face was etched with concern, but a small smile crept across his face when he saw Darren awake.

  “Welcome back. Enjoy that vacation?”

  “What the hell happened?”

  Marquez stood behind Morrow, nodding. “You passed out, Padre. Musta got a little too worked up out there.”

  “What happened with Ron?” Morrow asked.

  “The man was great.” Ribisi this time, standing against the wall and lighting a smoke. “The warden caught on, but the chaplain here didn’t back down, stuck it right to him. Gotta tell you, Father, I thought you were gonna punch his fucking block off.”

  “Thanks,” Darren said. Morrow helped him sit up, and pain throbbed through his head once before disappearing. “Great bunch of good it did, though.”

  “What’s the deal?” Morrow asked.

  “There isn’t one. He’s bringing in the State Police, says there’ll be a few hundred here within a couple of hours.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “Might be. We could certainly use the firepower.”

  “Maybe,” Marquez said, shaking his head, “But I’m thinking they’ll just come in and shoot anything that moves. That’s gonna be us.”

  Darren climbed to his feet. “It doesn’t matter. They’re coming either way. We’ll just have to deal with it when it happens.”

  “Speaking of,” Marquez said, “I’ve got an idea. Something we can do if it looks like we’re going to lose.”

  “Great. I’d like to hear it,” Darren said.

  “Yo!”

  Darren turned to find a younger Sicilian at the end of the hall, a cluster of assorted inmates behind him. They looked excited, their faces lit up with something that could be enthusiasm or terror. Several bounced on the balls of their feet.

  “That’s Gino,” Ribisi reported. He raised his voice. “What is it?”

  “We got something to show ya!” Gino answered. He tried to smile, but the expression died in its infancy.

  “Show us what?”

  The young man’s eyes grew deathly serious. “We think we found them.”

  Five

  “It was one of the low guys found it,” Gino explained as he hurried them down the corridor. They had to squeeze through the throng of inmates and guards who had crammed themselves into the hallway. “We were looking near solitary, since that’s where the first guys got killed.”

  Darren nodded, following. Morrow chimed in, though. “Solitary’s on the second floor.”

  “I’m just talking this part of the building, okay? Hospital’s near here, too. It made sense to us.”

  “Fucking out with it, Gino.” Ribisi, his voice tense.

  “So one of the guys finds me actually in solitary, where I was checking. He knows I’m just under you, so I’m the guy to go to. He brings me down this way.”

  “Down where?” Darren asked.

  “Down here, Father.”

  Gino jostled the last few inmates and guards aside and presented a closet, its doorway surrounded by discarded boxes of paper and other supplies. Darren was about to look closer when the smell hit him, a clinging stench like rotten meat and garbage left out in the sun. He recoiled, his hand jumping to cover his nose and mouth. He saw Marquez and Ribisi do the same.

  “The fuck, Gino?”

  “Tell me about it,” the younger inmate said with a grin. “Stinks to high fuck, right? Well, we started looking around, pulling out boxes, and look what we found inside.”

  Darren didn’t want to get any closer, absolutely hated the idea, but he did it anyway. He took a deep breath, filtering the foul air as best he could, and stepped forward. He moved slowly and cautiously, his eyes wide open. With each step toward the closet, he felt his pulse quicken. And then he was inside.

  His eyes burned, watered, and he could swear he felt the room’s stink grab hold of his skin like claws. The walls were bare concrete, like most of Burnham, but the floor was cracked and uneven. Even more out of the ordinary was a two-foot by two-foot hole in one corner. He leaned closer, peering down at the portal, and saw what looked like a dirt tunnel leading into the darkness.

  “Son of a bitch,” he whispered.

  “What is it?” Morrow asked as he appeared at his side.

  “A tunnel. They dug their way in.”

  “I doubt that very much, Father,” Ribisi said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Who were two of the first cons to go missing?”

  “Holy shit,” Morrow said. “Randy Lander and Dave Farabee.”

  “You think they did this?”

  Morrow gave him a look. “They called Farabee Digger Dave. He got ar
rested for tunneling into a bank. They must have been trying to dig their way out of Burnham.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “So, what then?” Gino asked, “Digger and Lander leave an open hole and a bloodsucker gets in, starts turning people?”

  “Lander was found this morning, one of them,” Morrow answered. “Something else happened.”

  “I think I got it,” Darren said. “They would have used demolitions when they were building Burnham, for clearing the land. One of them must have closed off a cavern or something–-there are caves all over that no one’s ever found.”

  “But that was almost thirty years ago.”

  “So what? We know these things aren’t normal. The one that started this could have gotten trapped, then Lander and Farabee tunnel right into the spot where it’s been waiting for thirty years, setting it loose.”

  Marquez spoke from the doorway. “And it comes up to find a whole new food supply right on top of its head, which is good, because it’s one starving motherfucker.”

  “So we take care of them while they’re down there,” Morrow said.

  “Fuck that, amigo. I’m sure as hell not going down there.”

  “We got gas?” Gino asked. “We could pour it in, burn them.”

  “We don’t know how far down it goes,” Darren answered.

  “Seal it up, then.”

  “Fuck that,” Ribisi said. He leaned forward, spitting down into the hole. “I want these fucks. I want this to be finished, whichever way it goes. What I don’t want is to spend the rest of my life worrying that they’re going to get free again, not when they’re directly beneath me. I say we take ‘em out.”

  Before he had a chance to think about it, Darren found himself nodding. “Anton’s right. We’ve come this far. Let’s go the rest of the way. We don’t have anything else to lose.” He caught Morrow’s eye, and his friend nodded.

  “I always liked you, Padre,” Marquez said. “When this is done, how about I get you some tequila, maybe have a nice senorita come in to give you a blowjob?”

  “Let’s just live through this, first. Come on, we have a lot to do before sundown.”

  “Amen,” Ribisi said. “I want to get this place back to normal as soon as possible.”