(2,970 Words)
Deirdre presses her back against the chair and fantasizes about cutting the smirk off of Christian’s face. For the fourth time in as many visits, the inmate winks at her and says, “You sure we haven’t met on the outside?”
“I’m sure.” Deirdre keeps her voice pleasant.
She has no intention of telling this jerk that they could have met when she was receptionist for a local law firm. Truth is, she doesn’t remember him. After twelve years on the job, Deirdre had seen so many of his type that they all seemed the same. To have finally quit that job so she could study criminology full time had been a hard earned dream.
“If I’d met you before, Christian,” Deirdre’s classmate, Mary-Louise says from her chair next to Deirdre, “I’d definitely remember.”
Her giggling makes Deirdre want to puke. Twenty year olds are so easily fooled by charm and good looks. Give it a decade. If she’s lucky, she’ll learn something about men.
“And I’d remember you, darlin’.” Christian leans across the wooden table that separates him and the other inmate, Zachery, from Deirdre and Mary-Louise. “Even if I didn’t want to.”
“Lockdown! Lockdown!” a man shouts from the other side of the door.
Before anyone can move, the prison guard, Al, springs out of his chair by the exit. He locks the door, then stands in front of it. At six foot five and over three hundred pounds, his body becomes an ample shield.
“What’s going on?” Mary-Louise grips the edge of the table.
Al’s cell phone rings. Christian looks at Deirdre. Deirdre focuses on the older inmate, Zachery, who sits across from her. He returns her stare, and seems unphased by the urgent need to return prisoners to their cells. But then Zachery’s heavily lined face rarely gives anything away.
Keeping his eyes on the inmates, Al listens to the caller then says, “Just friggin’ great. Hell of a welcome back from vacation. Keep me posted.”
“What’s happening?” Mary-Louise demands.
“Has someone escaped?” Christian’s deep green eyes widen with curiosity.
Al pockets his phone. “No one ever leaves here unless we let them, you know that.”
Deirdre believes him. Even smells are trapped inside this place . . . sweat, disinfectant, floor polish, mushy Brussels sprouts.
“Then what’s the problem?” As Mary-Louise moves her arms, her silver bracelets jingle.
“Couple of restless inmates, that’s all.” In the corridor, more voices holler. Dozens of footsteps run past their door.
Watching Al’s stony gaze, Deirdre senses that the situation’s more serious than he’s let on. Her heartbeat quickens. She looks at the plywood chairs stacked against the walls in this tiny, windowless room. There’s no place to hide and only one way out. The ventilation in here is lousy, but this is the only space Al’s supervisors would give him for these meetings.
“Two more dissatisfied customers,” Christian remarks. “All this place is, Deirdre, is a holding pen for guys who need to rethink their career moves.” He grins. “Put that in your essay.”
Deirdre cringes. How she regrets revealing that her main reason for participating in these biweekly chats is to gather data for an essay about prison life from an inmate’s perspective. Since then, Christian’s teased her with half-truths about the prison. Zachery’s the one who provides useful information, which annoys Christian. Deirdre was hoping to wrap things up tonight so she wouldn’t have to come back.
The inmates she’s met have been polite enough, but only model prisoners are allowed to participate in these visits. Besides, Al’s always here. Other than being a diversion from the monotony of incarceration in British Columbia’s most antiquated medium security institution, she can’t see any real benefit for inmates in these get-togethers.
On the other side of the door, something crashes to the ground. Mary-Louise jumps while Deirdre’s face grows warm.
“Relax, ladies,” Christian says. “Nothing to worry about.”
“How would you know?” Al asks.
He raises his hands. “Hey, Boss, I’m just trying to help.”
Zachery stares at the Bible Deirdre loaned him. Last month, someone tried to flush the prison library’s Bible down the toilet, one page at a time. Zachery studies all kinds of religions. He’s the most spiritual man Deirdre’s ever met, and her father is a Reverend.
“I thought we’re supposed to leave if there’s trouble.” Mary-Louise’s face is filled with fear.
“I’ll get you out when the powers that be tell me to. Try to stay calm, all right? Talk about movies or something.”
Deirdre understands the cynicism glazing Al’s words. Between classes, they’ve discussed his battles with supervisors, their amusement over his criminology courses. They only let him launch this volunteer program to discourage naïve, bleeding hearts from applying for work here.
“Trouble’s in remand, Deirdre,” Christian says. “That’s in the east wing on the other side of The Fort.”
“I know.”
The noise is too close to be in the east wing. She’s researched Fortmouth Prison, also known as Fart Mouth, or simply The Fart. Every time Deirdre passes through the gates of this dank structure, anxiety wriggles into her pores like hungry leeches.
Her other reason for coming here was to see if she’d like a career in corrections. Even before tonight, she realized the answer is no. When she began studying crime and criminal behavior eighteen months ago, she assumed she’d find meaningful work in this field. But choosing the right job isn’t as easy as she thought it would be.
When Al’s phone rings again, Mary-Louise’s eyes bulge. Deirdre worries that the poor kid will lose it completely.
“Chill, sweet thing.” Christian reaches across the table. His fingertips graze the girl’s hand. “You’re safe here.”
“No touching.” Al glares at him as he answers the phone.
Deirdre watches Christian sit back in his chair and give Mary-Louise a reassuring wink. How confident and bold he is in his neatly pressed shirt. Inmates with clout have clean, ironed clothes while the rest trudge around in wrinkled garments. Al said the younger guys envy Christian’s status, although Zachery is the man they look to for advice.
“Deirdre, you still haven’t told us what you did before you went back to school,” Christian remarks.
“Why don’t you tell us about your career choices,” she replies. “What will keep you from coming back here?”
He brushes his hand through thick waves of brown hair. “You will, darlin’.”
“I doubt it.”
“Keep me informed.” Al disconnects the call and places his chair in front of the door.
“Well?” Mary-Louise spins the bracelets around her wrists. “What now?”
Al sits down, but doesn’t answer her.
“Please, I have to know.” The young woman’s bulging eyes are glistening.
“It’s just a silly protest.”
“Is it?” Christian asks.
Deirdre sees Zachery furrow his brows and cross enormous arms. Beads of sweat appear at his hairline.
“Zachery might know about hunting, fishing, and totem pole carving,” Christian says to Deirdre, “but he doesn’t know everything. Hell, he still doesn’t get that packing a knife isn’t legal in the city. Some people never learn.”
Zachery turns to him. “Tell them the truth about what’s happening here, Christian. It’s the only way to free your soul.”
Anger flashes across the younger inmate’s face. “You’re not my priest, so don’t tell me what to do.”
Al says, “What’s going on, Christian?”
The man rolls his eyes. “See what I have to put up with, Deirdre?”
Deirdre doesn’t respond. Why should she? The man grabs women’s purses for a living. Al told her all about it.
“Deirdre, I’m talking to you.”
“Talk to me,” Al says.
“Talk to the girls, Boss. Tell these pretty ladies how riots spread faster than brush fires on a windy day.”
“Riot?” Mary-Louise gapes at Al, then shoves back her chair and jumps up. “I have to get out of here.”
“Sit down,” Al tells her. “You’re safer in here than you would be out there.”
The little room is so hot that even the painted green bricks have begun to sweat. Deirdre’s read that men have died in this place. She wouldn’t be surprised if the sound and the stench of death have been absorbed by the walls.
“You knew this was going down, didn’t you?” Al says to Christian. “That’s why the other two didn’t come tonight, and why Deirdre had to ask two volunteers to stay home.”
“It’s not my fault the male-female ratio is supposed to be equal for these tea parties. I don’t make the rules.”
“Zachery, what do you know about this?” Al asks.
“He doesn’t know anything,” Christian answers.
Al keeps his eyes on the older inmate. “Heard any rumors, Zachery?”
Zachery pauses a moment, then shrugs. “Punks mouthing off. Seems they want more books for the library.”
“But the cutbacks happened three years ago.”
“Guess everything finally got read.” Christian smiles at Deirdre. “Shouldn’t you be taking notes? Maybe you’ll get a nice gold star on your essay.”
In the distance, a man screams. Everyone looks at Al. Mary-Louise starts to whimper.
“You aren’t hoping to use that fancy diploma to work in prisons, are you?” Christian asks Deirdre.
Deirdre ignores him. Right now, criminology feels like the worst mistake of her life.
When Al’s phone rings once more, Christian sits upright. On the other side of the door, shouts and banging come from different directions. Mary-Louise grips Deirdre’s hand. Deirdre swallows hard. She keeps her eyes on Zachery who looks concerned.
When Al hangs up two minutes later, he sits down. Leaning forward, he rests his elbows on his thighs and watches Christian.
“You have lots of perks in here. You’re also supposed to be getting out in two weeks. Why screw it up?”
Christian’s expression is blank. “I haven’t.”
Al raises his cell phone. “Word is you masterminded the chaos out there.”
“Bull.”
For the first time tonight, Christian avoids Deirdre’s gaze. She didn’t know about his pending release, but then inmates and visitors aren’t allowed to share much personal information, including last names; a rule Deirdre appreciates.
“Everybody knows you usually get what you want around here.” Al’s voice grows quiet. “Why plan a riot?”
“I didn’t, I swear.”
The humid air reeks of sweat.
“Won’t be long before they launch the tear gas, Christian.”
“Oh God!” Mary-Louise hugs herself and tears begin to spill.
“I’m telling ya, I don’t know nothin’,” Christian insists.
Zachery slides the Bible in front of the young inmate. “You’re Catholic. Put your hand on this book and say you don’t know nothin’.”
As Christian’s expression hardens, his youth and charm vanish. “Why did you even come tonight?”
Zachery pauses. “To make sure the girls don’t get hurt.”
“You should have stayed in the Queen Charlottes, man. Living’s healthier up there.”
Outside, metal scrapes against metal. Something smashes against the door. Al bolts from his chair and Mary-Louise sobs. All eyes focus on the door until the noise gradually fades. Deirdre takes a deep breath, but can’t get enough air. When Al’s cell phone rings Christian scowls.
Al sits down as he listens to the caller. “I see,” he murmurs. “Thanks for the info.”
“More good news?” Christian remarks.
“They found your cell mate, Davy, dead in the shower.” Al watches him. “Looks like he fell and hit his head.”
Mary-Louise gasps.
“How many times have I complained about that slippery floor, Boss?”
“Why would he take a shower at this time of day?” Al asks.
“Maybe he wanted to hide when the riot broke out. Last I saw, he was sleeping on his bunk.”
Deirdre sees Zachery lower his head. Al notices the gesture.
“You could be here till your sixtieth birthday for withholding information, Zachery,” Al says.
The older inmate’s black, shoulder length hair partially conceals his face until he looks up at Deirdre. Slowly, Zachery turns his upper body to face Al who’s still guarding the door.
“While you were on holiday, Christian’s fiancée came by. Visit didn’t go well.”
As Mary-Louise wipes her eyes, she turns to Deirdre and whispers, “Fiancée?”
Deirdre shrugs. She didn’t know.
Al says, “What happened, Christian?”
“Nothing.” He smiles. “Everything’s hunky-dory. She’s marrying someone else, that’s all. No big deal. Deirdre’s my girlfriend now.”
Bile rises up Deirdre’s throat.
Al presses four numbers on his phone. “I want to know what happened when Christian’s fiancée showed up while I was away. . .Yeah, it’s important. Talk to Jeff.”
At the mention of another guard’s name, Christian smacks the table with his hand. Mary-Louise recoils and starts crying again. Deirdre has met Jeff. His reputation as staff gossip is well earned.
Aware that Christian’s gaze is zeroing in on her, Deirdre’s stomach lurches. Outside, the ruckus dies down. Zachery opens the Bible and slowly turns the pages without actually reading them.
“I – n-need to go to the bathroom,” Mary-Louise stammers.
“You’ll have to hold it,” Al replies.
Minutes pass. More shouts erupt down the corridor. Except for Mary-Louise’s whimpering and jingling bracelets, no one else reacts. Deirdre keeps still, determined to stay calm.
When the phone rings again, faces turn to Al with apprehension. As Al listens to the caller, he begins to frown. After he disconnects, he leans back in his chair and rubs his forehead.
“Word is that your fiancée supplied you with certain items your cellmate came to depend on.” Al’s gaze remains fixed on Christian. “When Davy heard she wouldn’t be back, he got mad. Threatened to rat you out if you didn’t find him another supplier. Is that about right?”
“Nope. You’ve been given bad info by jealous bastards out to get me.” Christian turns to Deirdre. “I know a few guys who need to rethink their career moves big time.”
The cell phone rings again.
“Oh goody, more clues.” Christian slouches.
While Al listens, his massive chest expands as he inhales half the room’s air. He releases the air in a long irritated sigh. “I don’t think that’s the way to go . . . but . . . all right, fine. You’re in charge.” He shoves the phone in his pocket and peers at Christian. “You paid some guys to remove Davy’s body from your cell the second the riot started, and you wanted the riot to go down tonight.”
“I told you, Boss, I’ve been bloody set up.” Green eyes spark with anger.
Beside Christian, Zachery keeps turning pages of the Bible.
“If Davy died before he showered,” Al remarked, “it’ll show up in the autopsy.”
“You know, I’m real tired of everyone gettin’ on my case.”
As Christian reaches under his chair, Al unlocks the door. Deirdre hears something tear. A second later, he’s removing tape off the blade of a paring knife.
“Oh no!” Mary-Louise yells.
“Too bad you aren’t allowed to carry a weapon.” Christian watches the guard. “Maybe you should’ve searched this place once in a while; not just us, Boss. That mistake’ll probably get you fired.”
Outside, another object crashes against the wall. Voices curse.
“Deirdre?” Mary-Louise grips her arm.
“It’s all right,” she murmurs. “Just breathe.”
“Your plan wasn’t to have me fired,” Al says to Christian.
“True.” The inmate flashes him a cold smile. “I could have ended your career any time, but then I wouldn’t have been able to visit these pretty ladies.”
Zachery closes the Bible. He turns to Christian.
“What did I ever do to you?” Mary-Louise shouts between sobs.
“Nothing, sweet cheeks. You’re only here because of bad luck.” Christian turns to Deirdre. “You should have kept your receptionist’s job. Criminology’s not a good career choice for you. Most of the jobs require patience and good people skills.”
Deirdre’s face burns. She’s not sure which makes her angrier, that he’s known about her job all along, or that this loser is passing judgment on her.
“Of course,” he adds, “I could teach you.”
When he starts to chuckle, she blurts out, “Maybe you shouldn’t be mugging senior citizens for a living. It doesn’t get much lower than that, Christian.”
He pricks the table with the knife. “You’re right. I need a fresh start, which is why I’m leaving with you right now.”
Mary-Louise shifts away from Deirdre. Deirdre’s stomach heaves.
“You know that won’t happen,” Al says.
Christian glares at him. “We’ll see.”
He moves around the rectangular table. Deirdre puts her hand over her mouth and swallows hard. More noise erupts on the other side of the door. Footsteps pound down the corridor.
“Christian,” Zachery says, “don’t--"
“Shut up!” Christian glowers at the inmate, then turns to Al. “Move the chair away from the door.”
“No.”
“Do it!” He raises his weapon and steps behind Mary-Louise.
Reluctantly, the guard complies.
Christian strokes the young woman’s blonde curls. Sweat stains seep down her lavender tank top.
“Stop it, Christian,” Deirdre says.
“You’re just as self-righteous as Zachery, aren’t you, Deirdre. Think you’re better than everyone.” He moves behind her. “Come on, babe, time to go.”
Panicked, she looks at Al, who moves forward.
“Stop!” Christian grips Deirdre’s shoulder. “Look, Boss, we’re touching. Ain’t that a kick?”
“If you don’t drop the shiv, you won’t get out of here alive.” Al clenches his fists. “They’re looking for an excuse to shoot.”
Christian squeezes her shoulder harder. “Get up, Deirdre.”
She tries to stand, but the strength has left her legs. Nausea overwhelms her.
The inmate hauls Deirdre to her feet. “I said move!”
Zachery stands and starts to lift the table. Before it crashes onto its side, Mary-Louise leaps out of her chair. Deirdre breaks free of Christian and scrambles to the nearest wall.
Al kicks the chair away and raps twice on the door. The door flies open.
A guard aims his rifle. “Freeze!”
As Christian lunges for Deirdre, his chest explodes. Cool air fills the room, but all Deirdre feels is the splash of warm blood on her face.
THE END
