Lights Out (19 page)

“You know this?”

“No one ever has, ma’am. We’ve got a yard lit up like daylight, two fences topped with razor wire, and a forty-foot concrete wall. Healthy men couldn’t make it out, let alone two under medical care, not in some spur of the moment dash.”

Darren watched the Governor’s eyes crinkle as she squinted. She rubbed her temples. He hoped her headache was a good one.

“These aren’t the first to go missing, right?”

“That’s correct,” Timms said. “Lander and Farabee disappeared a few days ago, right when the murders began.”

“Are they suspects?”

“They were non-violent offenders, both of them.”

“And one of them turned up last night?”

“Lander, in a manner of speaking.”

“But not the other?”

“No.”

“And others have vanished prior to last night, both inmates and staff?”

Ron slouched. “Six. All of them deceased and then missing.”

“So we’ve got, what, more than twenty people missing--either living or dead--and they might still be here?”

Ron nodded.

Darren inhaled deeply, waiting for it.

“Then why the
fuck
haven’t you found them?”

Her words echoed through the cavernous room. The staff remained silent, as if afraid to speak until the angry sentence had died away. Darren watched his co-workers. Many of them sat with bowed heads, acting like scolded children. Ron appeared to be searching for something far away, past Governor Graham and her rage.

“We’ll find them.” Darren heard a hint of malice in his friend’s voice, but he couldn’t tell if it was directed at the Governor or the missing men.

“You bet your ass, you will. Aren’t there surveillance cameras in this place?”

“They’re too old,” Morrow said. “The images are just about worthless. We can hardly make out anything during the day, let alone after sundown.”

The Governor leaned forward, her expertly plucked eyebrows drawing together. “I suppose you feel that’s my fault.”

“No, ma’am.”

Darren could see the lie on Morrow’s face. He wondered if the Governor could.

Graham kept her eyes on Morrow for a long moment before turning away. She motioned one of her assistants closer, and a man in a drab suit stepped forward. “Set up a press conference out front in twenty minutes,” she told him. “Warden, I want you there.”

“Sure.”

“Here’s our official story for right now. Some inmates have gone missing, but there’s no reason to believe they’ve escaped prison grounds. In their escape attempt, there were some injuries, some possible deaths, but we have not identified any of the victims at this time. Until these men have been found and their victims’ identities known, we are letting no one in or out of Burnham.”

The Governor looked up, using her eyes to pin each staff member for a few seconds. “Anybody have a problem with that?”

A few “No’s.” A lot of shaking heads.

“Good. Go do your jobs. I have to see about getting the feds in here to wipe up your shit.”

“Governor, if I could?”

Darren felt amazed at the sound of his own voice. It seemed so small in the cafeteria. He suddenly felt tiny himself, and the Governor’s burrowing eyes didn’t help matters much.

“Yes, Father?” Her voice sounded the slightly bit softer than it had previously. People were usually more respectful when they suddenly had a black and white collar staring them in the face. One of the job’s few perks.

“We’re currently under lockdown. We were allowing prisoners out of their cells for meals until the events of last night. Now, I understand it’s necessary in order to help resolve these matters. I’m afraid if we don’t find a way to end the lockdown soon, however, we may see the inmates grow even more hostile.”

“You’re concerned about this as a priest.”

“I also serve as the prison’s psychologist.”

“I see,” she said. She looked to the ceiling for a moment, and Darren could almost see her lining up her thoughts.

“Let me tell you what I think about the matter, Father. The men in this prison are convicted criminals, and I don’t give a damn if they’re kept in two-foot wide pits dug out of fresh manure. If I want all State convicts to wear pink dresses and wallow in cold slop fourteen hours out of the day, then that is what they will do. These people have no rights in here, no privileges, nothing an actual human being deserves.”

“Ma’am, whether you like it or not, these men
are
actual human beings.”

“Not unless I say so.”

She left without another word, motioning for her gaggle of assistants to follow.

“You heard the woman,” Ron said in a gruff voice. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. The faster we solve this mess, the faster we can all go home.”

Most of the staff groaned their agreement. They stood and shuffled out of the cafeteria, whispering to each other as they moved in small clusters. Morrow stayed behind, not bothering to stand yet. When Darren caught his look, he decided to do the same.

“You two coming?” Ron asked.

“In a minute,” Darren answered. “I need to calm down a bit.”

“Don’t let her get to you. She’s been a bitch since she was a lowly State Senator.”

“Right. Thanks, Ron.” He saw the troubled look on his friend’s face. “Follow your own advice, okay?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“You don’t mind me asking, Ron, how bad was it?”

Something awful flashed in the warden’s eyes, and he knew it was terrible even before Morrow spoke.

“They were ripped apart,” the guard said. “I’ve never seen anything that bad. I’ve seen stabbings, hangings, beatings, and gang rapes, and none of it compared to this. Hell, none of it was even close.”

“We’ll find who did it, though,” Ron said. “We’ll get things back to normal around here.”

When Morrow spoke again, his voice was flat, hopeless. “No, we won’t. We’re not coming back from this, not without some serious scars. This place isn’t going to be the same for years, if ever.”

Timms shook his head. “Oh, that’s bullshit. This place is the same no matter what happens.”

“I wish I had your optimism.”

“Tell me about it,” Darren said. “Tell me what happened.”

“Two men, bangers--this was in Unit B--got dragged out of their cells. I mean, the door to their cell was ripped clean away. Whoever...Shit,
what
ever got hold of them--”

“That’s enough,” Ron warned.

“They were found all over the place. I mean it, Darren. They were in cells, smeared across the floor. We found a hand on the third level landing. The cons are saying monsters did it.”

“I’m serious, Ray.”

“So am I.” Morrow whirled on the warden, his nostrils flaring, anger burning in his eyes. “You saw what was left behind. Don’t treat me like I’m crazy, dammit. Not when you saw it, too.”

“I saw a bunch of gruesome murders, nothing more.”

“Don’t do this, Ron. Don’t brush this aside like it’s some faction trying to prove they have juice. Goddammit, I lost five C.O.s!”

Darren watched as Ron leaned forward, getting right in Morrow’s face. Anger flashes in his eyes, right alongside desperation.

“What the fuck do you want me to do? You want me to take ‘monsters’ into a press conference as some sort of explanation? I’m trying to save my goddamn job, here!”

“I think,” Darren said, afraid to step in, but knowing he had to, “We’re more worried about saving lives.”

Ron’s jaw dropped for a second. He took a step toward Darren. “You think I’m not? I don’t want another drop of blood spilled. Not one! Fuck you for saying otherwise!”

“You want it to end, do something.”

“What? What’s your miracle solution, Father?”

“Can’t we get the men out? We can move them somewhere else while we turn this place upside-down. At least they’ll be safe.”

“And put them where? We’re the biggest prison in the State, and we’re full to bursting. Nobody’s got room for all the bodies we have. Like it or not, this is a situation we have to deal with as is.”

“What would we do in case of emergencies? Chemical agent, natural disaster? There’s got to be something in the books for that, right?”

“There is, Darren. What there isn’t, is a goddamn protocol for monster attacks!”

Darren looked to Morrow for support, received a weak shrug in reply. He returned to the warden. “We need to get the faction leaders in on this.”

“No way.”

“They can help, Ron.”

“No, they can’t. They can look for whatever angle works for them, and they can exploit it.”

“We have to try something different, Ron. Nothing’s worked so far. People dying, bodies up and disappearing. Even a lockdown didn’t stop it! It’s time to try something new!”

“Getting in bed with Sweeny and Diggs? Marquez? Anton-fucking-Ribisi? You’re out of your goddamn mind!”

“But--”

“No!” Both of the warden’s fists came down like sledgehammers on the table. “I’ve made a decision, and it’s fucking final. You can toe the line or get the fuck out! At this point, I really don’t care. Make your choice and stick to it, okay? If I don’t see you doing your jobs when I get back from this press conference, I’ll expect your resignations on my desk by this afternoon.”

The warden’s footsteps echoed through the room as he left, muttering to himself. Darren shared a long look with Morrow.

They were on their own.

They sat in silence for a moment, both afraid to say what was on their mind. Finally, Morrow let out a sigh.

“Do you believe in evil?”

Darren nodded. “It comes with the job.”

“I don’t mean that. I’m not talking about Satan or the evil that men do, that sort of thing. I’m talking about shit that’s real, but weird.”

He turned the word over in his mind. Weird. It brought all sorts of possibilities with it, possibilities he wasn’t sure he liked. “How weird?” he asked.

“I talked to some of the cons this morning, when I first got here. I was just asking what the fuck had happened. Most of them wouldn’t talk, but the few that did, they kept bringing up the same thing.”

“And it’s weird?”

“It is.”

“But they believe it?”

“I’ve known these assholes forever, Darren. I can tell when they’re lying, and I can tell when they’re scared. Trust me, they’re too frightened right now to do anything but tell the truth.”

“Okay.” Darren snatched a cigarette from his pack, offered one to Morrow. The guard refused, so he lit his smoke and continued. “What about you, Ray? Do you believe it?”

Morrow’s nod was slow, but sure. “Yeah, I do. I think I believed it before they did.”

“What did they tell you?”

Morrow paused. The air between them hung still for a moment. “Maybe I should have them tell you.”

“Okay. That’s good enough for me. I need to talk to the faction leaders, figure out what’s going on and how we can handle it. There’s got to be something we can do to set everything right again.”

“You heard Ron.”

“We both did, and I think we both know what that means.”

“Yeah.”

Darren looked around. They were alone. He leaned in a little closer.

“The press conference starts in about five minutes. Can you have the leaders in my office?”

“I think so.”

“Seriously, Ray. Can you?”

“Yeah.”

“You and me. If we’re going to do this, we’ve got to know we’re in it for the long haul, right?”

“Yeah. I’m in. I want this over.”

“Good. Five minutes.”

They stood and left, their footsteps echoing a strangely lonely rhythm.

***

Timms sneered at himself in the greasy bathroom mirror and tried to keep the tears at bay. He was losing it, losing every last bit of control, and there wasn’t a single goddamn thing he could do to stop the slide.

“Bullshit,” he spat. “Total fucking bullshit. Pull it together.”

But he couldn’t. He’d been trying for the last three days, and all he had to show for it were at least twenty bodies dead or missing. When he closed his eyes, he saw a pillar of fire that had once been his career. It had been a promising career, too. He’d taken good care of Burnham, keeping everything quiet and controlled. A few more years, he might have ended up in the Governor’s office. Who knows? Maybe he could have been Lieutenant Governor someday. The sky was the limit.

But now the limit was on fire, and sooner or later it would just be ashes scattering in the breeze.

Unless, just maybe, he could salvage this complete fucking wreck into something that looked like a win. But how on Earth was he going to pull off a trick like that? It was like losing both arms and then becoming a major league pitcher.

He ran the cold water and splashed his face. Fatigue weighed on him, but a hot core of manic energy burned in his chest. The feeling was desperation, and he knew it. Maybe if he tried to quell it, to push it down to a manageable level, he could use it.

He closed his eyes and let his mind wander.

How to turn this clusterfuck into a triumph? What could he do? There had been losses from every faction, and quite a few from the staff, as well.

Casualties in every war.

He opened his eyes. Warfare; that was it. The gangs had gone to war, had gone absolutely apeshit trying to kill each other. The war was so out of control prison employees had been caught in the crossfire.

And how do you stop a war?

You get rid of the leaders.

He could push to have the faction leaders sent away. It didn’t matter where. They could be transferred to different corners of the state for all he cared. What was important was that they’d be gone. There would be a power vacuum in their absence, but he could keep the lockdown going for as long as two weeks, let everybody stew. When the inmates were finally allowed to roam, they’d be more concerned with establishing new leadership than killing each other, and he could sweep in and stomp on everybody. Everything would go back to being quiet, normal, and he’d have total control.

Some of the others might not like it. The unit managers might be concerned about short-term violence. Morrow would feel the same way. Darren would blow a gasket, something about lying and prisoners’ rights as human beings. And Ray and Albright both would accuse him of trying to bury the real problem. They were telling him monsters had come to Burnham, though, and no matter how grisly the recent murders had been, he refused to believe that kind of bullshit. He had to live in the real world, one where people were killed on a daily basis by means that were anything but supernatural, and he had neither the time nor the will to even entertain such ridiculous notions. Ron liked Ray and Darren, had considered them close friends for a long time, but this was outside of their friendships. This was work, and whether they liked it or not, he was in charge. He’d told them the truth after the meeting. They could toe the line or they could leave. He didn’t have time to coach them along. Maybe they would understand that, and maybe they wouldn’t, but in the meantime he had a prison to run and a career to nurture, and he couldn’t let personal feelings get in the way of that.