Chapter 11
Scott shifted on the lumpy mattress again and peeked over the edge. Halfway through yesterday he’d gotten a roommate. The man, Billy Chadwick, was in his mid-thirties, but looked like he’d been around a lot longer than that. Apparently he’d been here before if the interaction with the guards was anything to go by.
The foul smell from the toilet drifted up and he tucked his nose into the less than fragrant mattress. He’d happily given up the bottom bunk when Billy had started heaving and crapping on the toilet. No way did he want the man puking over the side of the bunk from the top. Or shitting his pants as he tried to climb down to get to the toilet. The guards didn’t care that Billy had somestomach issues.
Right now he should be at Jack’s having a cold one and roughhousing with Jonathan. Or shooting the shit with Nick, Keith, Chris, or Drew. Or attempting to get Heather backed into a private corner and messing with her mind. The way she totally messed with his.
“They’re gonna come get me,” Billy wailed from below, his scratchy tone like fingernails on a chalkboard. He’d been spouting off dire warnings since he’d shown up twenty-four hours ago. “Don’t letthem take me.”
“I think I’d be happy for them to take you right about now,” Scott muttered under his breath. Aside from a few stretches, he hadn’t slept the last two nights. The first night had been constant lights flickering on and off every half hour while inmates randomly yelled profanities at the guards as they did.
“They’ll get you too.” Apparently Billy had heard his words. Like he cared what some nutjob ranted about. If someone wanted to take him away from here, he’d welcome it.
“Throw you in a hole. Keep you there with no light or food. All tangled up in your own nightmares.”
Scott tried to ignore the rantings, but some of what the man said struck a nerve. There’d been a time he’d been stuck in a hole with no light or food. Afghanistan. It was during the shelling of a village they’d been working to evacuate. The whole damn building had fallen down around him and some other men from his unit. He’d been wedged in between concrete walls, his arm twisted underneath his body,unable to move.
Sitting up, he shook his head and tried to get the images out of his mind. Not that the images were clear. It had been pitch-black for the two days he’d been stuck there. Sound, though. There’d been plenty of sound. More shelling, letting him know his unit wouldn’t be able to get to him until it stopped. Groans and screams of others who had also been trapped nearby. More injured thanhim. Like Todd.
They’d been working together when the shelling started. Todd had pushed him ahead as the rubble rained down. Hadn’t mattered. They’d both been caught in the debris, buried under tons of concrete and steel. Civilians had also been trapped, their cries of pain echoing throughout the destroyed walls.
Two days of listening to the sounds of agony and despair and having it slowly stop as each person succumbed to their injuries. That had been almost more painful to hear. Praying these people were simply unconscious but knowing the real possibility of what had happened. He’d managed to get out with a broken arm, a few broken ribs, a slight concussion, and dehydration. Guilt too. Tons and tons of guilt. For living when manyothers hadn’t.
Staring through the bars out into the cell block, he gave thanks that he had that view from this tiny space. He’d found small enclosed areas now sent him into a place he didn’t like. Made him feel weak and vulnerable, like he’d been while trapped in the rubble. This room was small, but at least it had the open front. Sure, that wasn’t a ridiculous thought. He was somehow thankful for iron bars locking him in. But at least it gave the illusion of being able to get out, breathe.
“Aarrgh.” Billy groaned and hefted himself to the toilet again.
Scott tried to block out the sound of the man’s distress. The smells from the unit were bad enough without his roommate adding even worse to this small space.
The rustle of fabric preceded a fewchoice swears.
“They shut the damn water off.”
“What?” He twisted on the bunk gazing down to where Billy stood turning the tap. No water flowed and the toilet was full. Good thing he hadn’t been able to stomach much of the nasty lunch they’d delivered.
“Why would they shutthe water off?”
Billy shook his head as he rocked back and forth. “Bad things happening. They gonna come now. Gonna get us. Get us, get us, get us.”
The sound of metal doors being opened and inmates rumbling objections echoed down the cell block. What the hell was going on? For the next hour, cells were opened and curses lit the air. All the while the foul smell of the unflushed toilet churned his stomach, reminding him of some of the placeshe’d served in.
“All right, we need to search the cell,” one of the guards thundered as he slipped the key into their lock and turned.
“Search the cell? What for? We haven’t left it since we got here.” What were they looking for?
“Got a report of a shank in the unit. Every cell, every inmate has to be searched.”
“Every inmate?”
“Shut up,” the guard snapped pulling on a pair of rubber gloves. “I don’t like doing strip searches any more than you’ll like it, but it’s regulations.”
“Strip search?” Shit, it had been bad enough when they’d patted him down at the police station. “I thought someone in ‘safe keep’ couldn’t be strip searched because we haven’t beenarraigned yet.”
“Not without probable cause, but a shank in the unit is enough reason. Both of youstep outside.”
Billy scurried past him and stood in the hall while Scott moved behind him. Four more guards stood there surrounding them. Another set of guards did the same thing on the other side of the block. The first guard went in, flipped up the mattresses then looked inside the toilet tank, avoiding the bowl. Yeah, he totally understood that. The contents were vile.
“Okay, Billy, you first. You know the drill. Everything off, one piece at a time, and hand them to me.”
