Chapter 2 - The Empty Bunk
At count, Officer Ellis Ward ordered everyone inside. I stood in line with my fingers closed around Rhea's note, while Brandi grinned three places behind me.
“Still got your attitude, Calder?” she murmured. “We'll fix that after lights-out.”
My cell smelled of soap and old paint. Hazel Price, my fifty-six-year-old cellmate, knew every unattended door. She stared at my soaked shirt.
“Who got to you?”
“Brandi.”
“Then don't sleep near the bars.”
I showed her the note. Her eyebrows lifted at the handwriting, then she slid it back without touching it.
“Rhea doesn't give warnings for fun,” Hazel said. “What did you say to her?”
“My father's name.”
“Lord help you.”
At dinner, I asked to see the shift supervisor. Ward laughed. “You think this is a hotel?”
“I received a threat. I want it documented.”
“Everybody gets threatened their first week.” He pushed my tray back. “Eat.”
I ate because I didn't know when I'd get another chance. Across the room, Rhea sat facing a wall, speaking to nobody. I realized she was watching our reflections in the dark window.
When the nine o'clock count came, Hazel folded her blanket with unusual care. “Get your shoes on,” she told me.
“Why?”
“Because you're not staying here.”
Ward appeared at our door. “Calder. Medical check. Move.”
“I didn't request medical.”
“Lieutenant Colson did.”
Hazel stood in front of my bunk. “She's feverish. I told the nurse.”
Ward frowned. “Since when?”
“Since the yard.” Hazel pressed her palm to my forehead and winked where he couldn't see. “You want to move a sick inmate without nursing clearance, that's your report.”
He swore and left to make a call. We had bought minutes, not safety.
May you like
A metallic scrape sounded from the corridor. Someone had already unlocked the maintenance door opposite our cell.
Through the narrow window I saw a wheelchair waiting in the dark. On its seat lay a white plastic body bag.
