Arcadia (Book 1): Damn The Dead (22 page)

Chapter 33

“I have a problem.” Char was in the front corner of her cell, close to Ross. “Can you hear me?”

“Are you talking to me?”

“Don’t be an ass,” she said.

“You attacked me,” he said.

The lights went out in the prison an hour ago. There was no movement below on the first level.

“Did I hurt you?”

No response.

“Did you get punished?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“No harm, no foul,” she said.

A silence fell between them. She was sure he wasn’t going to talk anymore. She turned to walk back to her bed when he said, “What’s the problem.”

“Lou.”

“What about him?”

“He’s going to have me alone tomorrow morning, while you guys have breakfast.”

“Alone?”

“I have a bad feeling,” she said.

“Shit.”

“Yeah. Shit.” It was a no win situation. If he attacked her, and she defended herself, it wouldn’t even be a he said, she said situation. It would be his word against hers. He was a foreman and she was a convict sentenced to prison for murder. No one was going to believe her. “What do I do?”

“Haven’t been any women down here before. Not as prisoners. You’re the first. I don’t have a clue,” he said.

She let out a despairing sigh. “Should I tell Kyle in the morning?”

“He seems to like you,” Ross said.

“I’m not going to get raped. Not here. Not by him,” she said. She wasn’t talking to Ross. She was just speaking out loud. 

Something hit the bars of her cell.

Char jumped.

“What was that?” Ross said.

“I have no idea,” she said. She worried they were being too loud. She didn’t want to wake a sleeping guard. Whatever struck the cell was on the walkway, just outside of her bars. She knelt and pressed her face against the bars. She saw what it was. She reached through the bars. The wrapper crinkled in her hand.

“What is it?” Ross said.

She looked toward his cell. His arm was sticking out from between the bars, and he held a small mirror in his hand. He was watching her.

Char stood up and walked back over toward the wall she shared with Ross. “A granola bar.”

Ross didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. They both knew the food came from Gonzales. “It’s better to have friends,” she said, speaking in a whisper. “You said it yourself. You are out of here in a month. Unless I find a way out of here, I’m looking at three long years. I can’t be afraid all the time. Turns out my biggest problem wasn’t going to be the scary gang down there.”

She wanted to cry.

“The river,” Ross said, “it isn’t a safe way out of here.”

“Do you know of any other way?”

“There isn’t. The elevator is the only thing I’ve seen. There are some other tunnels around here, but they could lead anywhere. They could be blocked off. I saw them bring wrought iron sections of fence down here a while back. Lots of it. I never saw it again. If I had to guess, they used it to block off tunnels,” Ross said.

“That’s crazy. What if there is a collapse and they need to evacuate?”

“There were door sections, too. Warden, Kilmer, they must have keys. Probably the guards too. There’s no way you’re getting your hand on those. It’s not like the old westerns where they left the giant key ring on a hook by the cells, and we string our belts together and knock them off and drag them to within reach,” he said.

“Ross. Please, tell me about the river.”

“It runs fast. It’s cold. It’s dangerous.”

“I don’t belong down here. The people of Arcadia might think they’ve re-established democracy, but they haven’t. My trial was a joke. The public defender I was assigned, a joke. There are no appeals. The jurors are biased residents at best, because they sure as shit weren’t peers of mine. I just want to leave. I get out of here, I won’t look back. I’m not a danger to people. What I did was in self-defense,” she said, and told Ross about what had happened, how Broadhurst kidnapped and tortured her friends.

“I’m sorry all of that happened.”

“Ross, is the river accessible?”

“When I first got here, I spent months trying to map an escape. I know I have no wife or job to go back to. The mayor will find me work, I suppose, but I won’t have anything as good as a janitor, if you can imagine that.”

“And you found a way out?”

Again, there was silence from Ross’ cell.

“Ross?”

“Yes. I’d found a way out.” He reached an arm out. “Take this. You’ll need it, but if things go south—”

“I didn’t get it from you,” she said.

#  #  #

Char found it difficult to sleep. Her mind was filled with too many thoughts. They jumbled inside her brain making it hard to concentrate on any one idea. Ross had given her an out. It was not a complete escape plan, but the potential was there. She had no idea what would happen if she was caught. She supposed time would be added to her sentence. She’d only been down in this hell hole for a few days. That was already far too long. Weighing the idea of freedom against the risk of more years tacked on seemed worth it.

If she had been in the wrong, she might respect the sentence. She’d do the time, whether she believed in this dystopian government or not. Her father was a dispatcher for 911. He had hung out with police officers and had been raised to respect the law. Given the situation of the world, she doubted he’d have been disappointed in her plan.

She wished he were still alive. She’d give anything to talk to him. Not just about whether it was right to carry out an escape plan, but just to hear his voice. He knew how to comfort her, and she never felt safer than when she was with him. They had some of their best talks fishing. Cash hated fishing. He’d stay home with their mom. The two of them would get up early, and they’d stop for coffee and doughnuts and head down to Charlotte. They sat in those sports chairs, side-by-side and cast into the Genesee River along the pier at the beach. He’d told her the best part about fishing together was that she was not squeamish about hooking her own worm, or wrangling a fish off the hook. Sometimes they would sit for hours and just quietly fish. The silence between them was never awkward.

“Got a boyfriend?” It was always one of his first questions. She always said no. She used to wonder how’d he react the time she said that she did. She would never know.

“I miss you, daddy,” she said, and wiped tears from the corner of her eyes.

When the lights came on inside the prison, she climbed out of bed. She put on her Carhartt and retrieved her mask and gloves off the shelf over the toilet. She needed to be prepared, but without looking anxious. There was no way anyone, other than Ross, would suspect a thing. She was too new for them to know her personality. Part of her suspected no one cared about how she behaved. If the guards and the warden kept a close eye on anyone, it would be Gonzales and his men. They looked the dangerous part. The issue she face was that eyes were on her because she was the only female. It made her different. Different could be as unwanted as looking dangerous.

The routine was already stale.

She listened for Kyle, and heard him climbing the staircase. He walked so heavy. His boots fell hard on the metal walk. She didn’t think he’d be able to sneak up on someone if he tried. She heard Ross’s cell swing open. The hinge whined as it moved.

“We’re going to have to get some oil on that thing,” Kyle said.

“It’s the moisture down here. Everything will rust up eventually.”

Kyle appeared in front of her cell. He did not say good morning, or a single word as he opened her cell. She stepped onto the walk, and out of the way so he could close and lock it back up.

“You will not be joining the others for breakfast this morning,” he said. “Follow MacNeil down the stairs, but not to the picnic tables. Understood?”

She nodded. “Sir?”

“What?”

“Can I have permission to use the restroom before we go down?”

“Use it. Wait for me outside the door when you finish. We clear?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

Kyle Newstead walked away. Char wanted to see if Ross was staring at her. It took mental strength not to move. She kept her eyes on the guard, anxiously waiting for the signal. The thought that she could be an hour from escaping filled her. The energy from the thoughts made her limbs tingle.

Following Ross down the stairs, he went toward the picnic tables. She went toward the locker room.

Her heart beat so fast that she felt it bang into her ribcage.

She breathed in. Breathed out. In. Out.

The temptation to look back and see if anyone watched her felt strong. She didn’t. She stepped through the doorway. She ran to the air vent she’d seen the other day and she climbed onto the cabinet. She removed a screwdriver from her Carhartt. She had no idea where Ross got it from, but was thankful he had it.

Four screws secured the grill over the vent. It would be a tight fit, and she wasn’t sure how she’d be able to move swiftly once inside, but didn’t care. As long as she was making strides away from the Cog, she didn’t care.

The first screw came loose easily. The second did as well. The third took some time.

“Let’s go, McKinney!”

It sounded like Kyle was standing behind her. She almost dropped the screwdriver.

The fourth screw was tight. Rusted. She pushed the screwdriver in tight and tried twisting it loose. It was stubborn and it wouldn’t budge.

“McKinney! We’ll add extra time to end of shift if you don’t step it up!”

She held the handle in both hands and pushed using all of her weight.

“McKinney, don’t make me come in there for you! McKinney?”

“I’m just about done!”

That might buy her a minute or two. She needed to hurry. If he came in here, if he caught her, the plan to escape wouldn’t just be thwarted, it would be crushed forever. She’d never get out.

Chapter 34

“McKinney! McKinney!” Kyle Newstead said.

Char emerged from the locker room. “It’s my stomach. I’m sorry,” she said.

She caught Ross’ eye. He stared at her from the picnic table. Everyone was staring at her.

The screwdriver was in her pocket, the screws were  mostly secured back in the vent cover, finger tight. She’d just managed to loosen the fourth one. She had run out of time. She’d never have gotten all four screws out, climbed into the vent, replaced it, and wiggled her way out the other end. Never. It was best not to rush an escape, but to wait for the best time.

Kyle nodded, thumbs jammed into his jeans pockets. “Come on. We’ve wasted enough time.”

Char walked ahead of the guard. They reached the elevator shaft that would lower them to the work floor. It was nearly impossible not to feel depressed about failing. There was no point in masking the emotions. Newstead could assume she was depressed about being in prison, or missing breakfast, or on the rag. It didn’t matter.

“I want to say something.” She waited until she was alone with Newstead. “I have a bad feeling about Kilmer. I know saying this could put a target on my back with all of you, but the way he was looking at me, I don’t trust him.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, McKinney.”

“So you believe me?”

Newstead laughed. “Fuck, no. Lou’s good people. He comes to work every day. He stays late. He puts in six, sometimes seven days a week here making sure things run correctly. You guys, you come down and work until nine at night, but guess what? Kilmer don’t go home at nine. He’s even got a room down there. Sleeps here a lot of the time; the other foremen, they don’t have his kind of dedication. You’ve been here all of what? Three or four days and you’re going to throw around accusations because someone was looking at you funny? You’re a girl. Don’t tell me people haven’t stared at you because of it in the past. This is prison, McKinney. Who started a fight yesterday? Was it Kilmer? No, it was you.”

The lecture lasted until the elevator car stopped.

Kyle opened the gate. Char stepped off.

“Don’t make waves, McKinney. Just go work. No one’s going to bother you.”

She put on her mask and turned away.

She hoped he was right. She might just feel apprehensive about Kilmer because of the life changes that are constantly thrust at her. A guy fantasizing about a woman was not uncommon, she knew. It was likely, actually, that all he had been doing was fantasizing. She might have been overreacting. In a way, she now wished she’d never said anything to Kyle. Kyle would always have that in the back of his head.

Always
was relative. She still did not plan on remaining at the Cog long. She was going to get out. Eventually, this would be nothing but a part of her past.

Kilmer waved her over with his clipboard. He waved at Kyle.

She did not turn around, but heard the elevator gate close. The hum of the elevator motor chugged, and she knew Kyle was on his way back up. Her mouth and throat went dry. She felt cumbersome and ill equipped to handle herself in the gloves, jacket and mask. It was clumsy.

As she walked toward Kilmer, she saw behind the first row of mills that circled the pillar-generator, the infected. They lumbered ever forward on the belts. The meat that dangled on wire in front of them couldn’t be that irresistable. She had no idea how long they survived down here. A part of her felt sorry for them. It was a small part. Killing them seemed more humane.

“Come with me,” Kilmer said.

The stationary bikes were idle.

No one walked on the first row of mills.

Where was he taking her?

She followed behind him. Her gloved hand was stuffed in her jacket pocket. Even with her hand inside the glove she could feel the screwdriver’s handle. If it came down to it, she’d kill him.

There was a doorway by the back west corner of the work floor. He unlocked and pushed it open. “Inside,” he said.

She thought about stabbing him now. It made more sense just to get it over with.

Her intuition had not been wrong.

Kyle had been wrong.

There was no denying a hunger in a man’s eyes. Women picked up on that kind of thing. She figured it was an instinct they were born with.

“What’s in there?”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s where I told you to go.”

Char knew her pulse was quickening. She felt her face grow hot, and knew behind the faceplate her cheeks were reddening. She grit her teeth, walked past Kilmer and into the room.

It was his room.

There was a bed and dresser, and another door that presumably led to either a closet or a bathroom.

“Take off the jacket,” Kilmer said. He pulled his mask off and set it down on the dresser.

“It’s cold in here,” she said.

It wasn’t. It felt like a sauna. With no mask on, with the smell of sulfur all around her, the odor that stood out most was his cologne. Sweat and Old Spice. Her grandfather always wore Old Spice. The scent used to give her wonderful memories. Now those would be forever charred.

“Take off the jacket. Now.”

She pulled her hands out of her pockets. She took off one glove, and hid the screwdriver inside it, before she unzipped her jacket.

“Hurry. Get that jacket off,” he said. He had on a polo shirt. He pulled it off. His undershirt was yellowed at the armpits. Chest hair protruded out of the top of the neck. He shoveled his fingers through his hair. “You know what this is. Get out of those jeans.”

“You don’t want to do this.”

He moved fast. In a single, fluid motion, he stepped forward and open handed her across the face. It caught her hard on the cheek and chin. It caught her off guard and her head whipped to the side from the blow.

She dropped the glove, her weapon.

“Shut your mouth,” he said. He grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked down on the jacket, pulling it off her. His breath stunk of coffee and fish.

She ran her tongue over her bottom lip. The blood tasted like licking a penny.

“The jeans,” he said.

She fumbled with the button. Her eyes darted around the room. There was nothing she could use. She lowered the zipper.

He was breathing heavy. He couldn’t contain his excitement.

“Get the fucking pants off now and get on the—”

Someone knocked at the door. Three fast, hard raps. “Mr. Kilmer, are you in there?”

Lou punched the air. He smoothed his hair with the palm of his hand. “Ah, just a moment,” he said. Lou pointed at Char. His lip quivered as he mouthed the words, “Get dressed.”

She zipped and buttoned her pants. She picked up her jacket, put it on, and carefully retrieved her gloves.

Lou opened the door. “Yes?”

It was Kyle. He peered over Lou, looking into the room. Char just stared at him. Her hair was wet with sweat. She knew her lip was still bleeding, and possibly swollen.

“I forgot I was supposed to get a new zombie count for the warden. I was wondering if you had the nu—am I interrupting something?”

“No. Not at all. She, ah, McKinney was just—what did you need?” Kilmer said.

“Latest zombie count. I know the mayor’s kid brought two down yesterday.”

“Four.”

“Four? I thought it was two,” Kyle said.

“Two at a time. Four total,” Kilmer said.

“Should we do a walk-around? Get an accurate head count for Hermann? You know how them engineers are. He likes to have all the numbers in front of him so he can do all his math shit.” Kyle laughed, but his eyes never stopped staring at Charlene.

She wanted to cry, and thought she might if he didn’t look away soon.

“McKinney, we all set here?” Kilmer said. “Why don’t you get back to work? First bike on the end. I’ll be keeping my eye on you.”

His authoritative voice trembled. He knew it. She knew it. They knew that Kyle caught it as well.

She walked out of the room, went directly toward the bike she’d been instructed to use. The infected on the mills along the end seemed to watch her as she passed. Was it possible that the milky and clouded-over eyeballs of the infected were filled with pity?

She climbed onto the bike and started pedaling.

She never looked up.

She never looked up until the other prisoners started showing up and were assigned bikes and mills.

She hoped Ross was next to her.

He wasn’t.

Gonzales was. She knew that Kilmer put Gonzales there as a threat. The gangbanger didn’t bother her, but Kilmer didn’t know that.

“Thank you for the granola bar,” she said, after a while. “I appreciate it.”

“It was my way of thanking you first,” he said.

That was it. Seventeen words only. The bond was there. Formed. It might not be unbreakable, but it was more than they’d had before.

When Kyle returned to escort them back up for dinner, Char was thankful. Although she was still upset, she knew that part of her belly ache came from hunger. She never thought she’d find herself looking forward to an M.R.E. In truth they weren’t all that terrible. Some of it just tasted like flavored cardboard, but right now, even cardboard with a little salt and pepper sounded like a gourmet meal.

She climbed off her bike.

Kilmer dropped a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Not you.”

She shuddered and knew that if she was forced to stay, the punishment would be worse.

“Lou,” Kyle said, “can I see you for a second?”

“Keep riding,” Kilmer said.

Char sat on the bike seat and placed her feet on the pedals.

She watched Kyle and Lou walk toward each other. They closed the distance fast. Kyle placed a hand on Lou’s shoulder. Char could not see Kyle’s eyes, but knew he was looking at her while he talked with the foreman.

After a moment, Lou turned around. “McKinney, go on. It’s dinner time.”

Char was apprehensive. She cautiously got off the bike again. Kyle waved her toward him. “Let’s go, McKinney. Step to it.”

She walked toward them.

Lou stared at her the entire time.

She wished her breath would fog up her faceplate. She did not think she could handle seeing him anymore, not ever again.

Kyle led her to the elevator shaft.

“What happened?” she said, when they had begun ascending.

“Told him you already missed your two meals,” Kyle said.

“Thank you.”

Kyle nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen earlier. Are you all right?”

“I’m looking forward to my shower tonight,” she said. She felt dirty. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to scrub away the filth. It was inside her. There was no way that she knew of to clean it.

“Don’t tell anyone, but I’ll give you a few extra minutes in there tonight. Okay?”

“Thank you, sir,” she said.

“Not a word. Got it?”

“Mum.” She said, and twisted an imaginary key in front of her faceplate and tossed the imaginary key over her shoulder.

#  #  #

Char tore into the M.R.E.

Ross sat next to her with his elbows up on the table, his hands in front of his mouth. He whispered, “I was surprised to see you this morning.”

She ate the cheese tortellini with a thin plastic spork. “I had trouble with the screws on the vent.”

“I don’t want to bring it up, but Kilmer—”

“He didn’t touch me. Almost,” she said. “Kyle came back.”

Ross nodded. “Now what?” he said.

“Now, let me eat. I’m starving,” she said. She knew that Frank and Chris listened to what they said, but guessed they had no idea what they were talking about. It was better that way. They had never really gotten around to how long each of them was sentenced, and honestly, she didn’t care. Not at this point.

Gonzales Morales and his men got up from their table. They walked toward Char and the people seated at hers.

The man stopped by her, holding his tray in lowered hands. “Take my granola bar. Save it for later.”

She reached for it, looking up at him. “Thank you,” she said.

They filed away, emptied the M.R.E. bags and wrappers into the trash and set down their trays.

“What just happened?” Frank said.

“He’s not such a bad guy,” Char said. He was though, and she knew it. He reminded her a lot of Antonio Velasquez. Gonzales was a dangerous man, and fearing him made sense. Keeping one’s distance was best. All she’d ensured was a connection. It was there now. Once again offering her a granola bar proved the connection was soundly established.

They stood up with their trays. “Few more hours down there,” Chris said, “and showers. I love shower day.”

“Only time I can take a quick shit without anyone watching me,” Frank said.