Chapter Two

Ryan leaned back in his chair and crossed his ankles on the desk. His brown eyes were fixed on Alfie’s, and he rubbed vigorously at his chin.

The small patch of hair irritated Alfie. For some reason, Ryan kept his chin dimple unshaved. It reminded Alfie of a hairy arse crack. It was the only patch of hair on his head other than his bushy eyebrows.

His shift had ended, but Ryan had asked for him to stay behind. The rest of night shift lingered in the lobby, pretending they were busy when actually they were nosey as hell.

“I’ve got some good news for you,” Ryan said.

Alfie’s throat tightened, and he forcibly swallowed. “What?”

Ryan hummed. Then a broad smile stretched his thin lips. “I’m changing your shift. I’m moving you to H-wing.”

Alfie widened his eyes. H-wing, that wasn’t just a step up, but a giant leap. He would be surrounded by hard-case criminals. Not just repeat shoplifters and drug addicts. H-wing was full of violent men. Those in there for GBH, serious assault, rape, manslaughter, and in the case of Nate Mathews, triple murder.

“H-wing, if you think I’m ready, I’m all for it.”

Ryan nodded. “I think you are. You, Marie, and Glen. You’re all gonna swap with the night staff on H-wing. They deserve a break.”

“Wait … night shift?”

Ryan snorted and closed his eyes in an extended blink. Another thing Alfie found irritating. A lot could happen in a blink like that, and the pens littering the desk were tempting to throw.

“You didn’t think I’d move you on to H-wing and put you on days? You’d be dragged into a cell and violated, and although that might knock some sense into you, it would drag my name through the mud.”

“Another night shift then?”

Ryan popped his lips, then removed his legs from the desk. “Yep, you just don’t have the experience.”

“Will you at least consider me for holiday cover?”

Ryan shook his head. “Let’s just see how this goes.”

Alfie opened his mouth to protest, but Ryan wagged his finger sternly. “Enough, Rookie. I’ve put you on nights, accept it. Henry, Dan, and Ben are swapping to G-wing, and you Marie, and Glen are on H. My decision is final.”

Alfie pressed his lips together, then stood from his chair. After a curt nod, he left the office and moved into the lobby. Marie, Henry, Glen, and the twins gathered around him, wide eyed and pale. Even Henry looked more blanched than normal.

“So, what he say, fish?”

“It’s Alfie, and we’re moving to nights on H-wing, you, Ben, and Dan are on G.”

The twins smiled and clapped their hands. Marie and Glen shared a worried look, but Henry just shrugged.

“It more pay,” Henry said to them.

“More insults and threats.” Marie added this with a shudder.

One of the twins snorted, then muttered, “Oh yep, definitely more of that, but these ones mean it.”

Glen rubbed Marie’s shoulder. “We’re all in this together. It’ll be fine.”

Alfie turned his head and inwardly tutted. All in this together. That included Glen and Marie shacked up in the toilet, and Henry, their senior officer, asleep in his chair. The greatest team of unity ever.

Alfie turned at the squeeze of his shoulder.

Henry looked up at him and offered a weak smile. “Don’t listen to the things they’ll yell. Just do your job and none of them will get you.” Henry stopped talking but didn’t release Alfie’s shoulder.

Marie and Glen moved away to talk between themselves, and Henry turned back to Alfie with a serious expression.

“No riling them up.”

Alfie drew his eyebrows together. “Riling them?”

“No opening the hatches on the doors and teasing them with your face, blowing kisses and that kind of stuff.”

Alfie brushed Henry’s hand from his shoulder. “Why the hell would I do that?”

“You might find the thought of frustrating them funny, but I’m telling you now, they’ll find a way to get you back, and it won’t be pretty.”

Alfie scrunched his face and stepped back from Henry. The old man had always thought it was strange Alfie wanted to work in a correctional unit at such a young age. After four months, he had come to a sordid conclusion, and no amount of telling him he wasn’t interested in sexual thrills from the prisoners convinced him.

“I’m just here to do my job,” Alfie said.

Henry nodded. “Exactly, keep that stuff private, express your fantasies in the comfort of your own bed.”

Alfie shook his head and went to swap his keys for his house ones. He walked out of Larkwood, kicking out at the curb in frustration. He was too annoyed to sleep and curled up on the sofa with a bowl of cereal.

****

The protocol for H-wing was the same as G. Any inmate at high risk was regularly checked throughout the night. They were kept in the lower cells for easy access. Between 4 AM and 6 AM, there was the dreaded roll call. Every prisoner had to be accounted for, and that meant waking them and asking for their names. The inmates of G wing whined, whinged, and called Alfie every curse word they could think of. It wasn’t pleasant, but Alfie could handle their name calling.

At 4:30 on their first shift on H-wing, Henry stumbled from the office with a yawn. “It’s time for H’s roll call.”

Alfie nodded and took the clipboard of cell numbers and names from him. “Should I radio for Marie and Glen?”

He frowned at the thickness of papers, then looked to see Henry holding the other clipboards, only he wasn’t holding any.

Henry clacked his tongue to the roof of his mouth, then bunched his cheeks in a pitiful expression. Alfie waited, not knowing what the hell was happening on the old man’s face. He worried it was a stroke until Henry finally spoke.

“The thing is, Ryan wanted you to do the first roll call alone.”

Alfie rocked back on his heels. “Alone?”

“Yeah. Said it might scare some sense it to you. Get you to rethink your career.”

Alfie stared through the gate into the gloomy prison. One hundred and fifty violent men were the other side.

“It will take me forever.”

Henry tapped him on the shoulder. “Sorry, Fish, but it’s the captain’s orders.”

“Fine.”

Alfie unlocked the gate and relocked it behind himself. Henry returned to the office and pushed the green glasses back up the bridge of his nose. If one of the prisoners had escaped and lurked in the shadows, Alfie doubted Henry would be much help even if he was awake. Alfie breathed deep through his nose and walked up to the first cell.

He knocked his fist to the cell door firmly, and the metal rattled louder than intended. “Name?”

The man beyond the door roared and flung something at the door. A barrage of curse words immediately followed, spoken harshly and fiercely. Then began the threats. The threats of disembowelment, of rape, and brutal murder.

“I just want your name.”

“I’ll carve it in your face, how about that?”

Alfie shuffled and tapped on his clipboard. “Name?”

“Tony Blair.”

Alfie rolled his eyes. “Yeah right, Tony Blair … and I’m Obama.”

He scanned the top of the list and froze when the printed name was indeed Tony Blair.

“What the hell did you just say, wise guy? You took the piss out of my name.”

The door rattled with a hard thump, and Alfie’s eyes snapped to the hinges. They held, but Alfie still shot a cautious look back at the gate to the lobby. Marie and Glen still hadn’t returned from their night time lovemaking.

Tony’s roars and possession flinging woke the man in the neighboring cell. A brief conversation of mainly swear words and grunts went back and forth, and then the insults started from cell number two.

It was destined to be the longest roll call of Alfie’s entire life, and he was on his own. Unlike G-wing, they didn’t hurl abuse, and then shove the duvet over their heads and go back to sleep. They stayed awake, encouraging each disgusting taunt.

It wasn’t the first time he had heard their grumbles. He had listened to their roll call when he worked on G-wing, the storm that gathered momentum, sometimes lasting until unlocking at seven. H-wing didn’t complain about the racket, that was inmate suicide.

Cell seventy-eight had a particularly growly resident who fixated on Alfie’s mum. He described horrific details of what he would do to her once he got out, barking with laughter after each gory fantasy. The seventy-seven prisoners before him all jeered their agreement, laughing like a pack of ravenous hyenas.

Alfie sighed slowly and pinched the top of his nose. “Well good luck finding her. I’ve looked for ten years, but maybe you’ll have more luck.”

It was the first time he had replied to one of them rather than repeat the same old, ‘what’s your name’.

Mr. Growly paused, as did the rest of the rabble. “Smart arse,” he said, finally.

Alfie smacked his lips together. “No smart arse on the list. Try again.”

“Daniel Greaver.”

“Thank you.”

He moved on to the next cell and tapped the door. The next inmate started with the insults, no longer focused on his mum, but his dad. Alfie bunched his lips and listened to the inmate graphically describe fucking his dad. He reiterated his dad would love it, and beg for more, hoping it would anger Alfie, but he only shrugged.

“My dad might enjoy all that stuff. Don’t know and don’t care. Exactly his sentiments for me…”

That stumped the man in the cell, and he gave over his name with a huff. Alfie continued up the metal stairs, then asked for the names of the next thirty prisoners, one by one. It was a job that took the three of them twenty minutes on G-wing, and the insults were said with less venom, less promise. An hour passed, and Alfie was finally on the home straight.

Two more prisoners left, he knocked on the cell door 149. The voice momentarily stunned him. Not the aggressive deep tone he was expecting, but higher, and softer. The feminine voice told him to go hang himself, and he looked over the railing, then shrugged.

“I didn’t bring my rope.”

The man in the cell laughed, deeper than his spoken voice.

“You could use your intestines after I cut you open.”

The nearest inmates howled with agreement and boomed their hands together.

Alfie grimaced, then smacked his lips together in distaste. “Sounds messy. I’d feel bad for the poor guy that would have to clean it up in the morning…”

“That’s my job, and I think I’d enjoy it.”

Alfie snorted and shook his head. “Name please?”

“Tyrone Gear, but I’d prefer if you call me Queenie.”

Alfie ticked off Tyrone but didn’t move on from the door. He stewed the name in his head before nodding.

“Queenie it is.”

Queenie was one of the few that didn’t continued to hurl abuse his way. His cell fell silent, and a smile twitched on Alfie’s lips. He moved along to the next door, and before his fist struck the metal, a hissed word seeped through.

“Freshman.”

Alfie took an unconscious step back. With all the violent threats and foreshadowing of rape, he had forgotten about Nate. Even when Ryan told him he was to move to H-wing, the disappointment at a nightshift blinded him from the most notorious inmate.

Nate hissed the word again, and Alfie blinked when he realized the whole prison had gone silent. The sudden muteness was eerie, and he leaned over the railing to see the lobby below.

Marie and Glen both stood behind the gate. They peered up at him with their mouths open, and Alfie shrugged with a matching expression.

“Freshman…”

Alfie jolted at the voice. Nearer than before. It sounded like it rushed through the cracks of the door. A whisper of wind only meant for him. All the other prisoners had kept their distance. They’d hurled insults from their beds or threw whatever possessions they had at the door.

He knew Nate was out of bed, pressed right up against the metal. The door stood between them, and Alfie’s eyes lingered on the hinges and the chunky lock. He was safe, but he didn’t feel it.

“Name,” Alfie said with all the confidence he could muster.

“I could say a name, but how do you know it’s really me? How do you know that any of the guys that answered you are who they said?”

Alfie was momentarily stumped. Nate was right, one hundred and forty-nine prisoners had answered him. Had given him the correct name for the cell, but it didn’t prove it was them. He didn’t know what any of the prisoners looked or sounded like.

“I’ve got you thinking, haven’t I, Freshman? Maybe to be on the safe side you should open the hatch, check it’s really me.”

Alfie shook his head. “I know it’s you.”

“Oh? How?”

By the shiver of his skin, the sinking in his gut, and the chill at his neck. The voice, Nate’s masculine purr, affected him, and his body reacted.

Nate couldn’t see him, and he couldn’t see Nate, but he remembered the look, the way he dragged his irises over Alfie’s body. The naked feeling that lingered long after Nate stripped him with his gaze.

The prison heated up around Alfie, and after a few seconds, he released the fire in his cheeks. He wiped a hand against them, hoping to disperse the blush, but it persisted.

Nate chuckled, then he spoke with the same drawn out voice.

“Nate Mathews.”

Alfie rolled his shoulder and shook his head. “Thank you.”

He ticked the last name off, then turned on his heels and rushed along the corridor to get to the stairs. No voices followed him, and he was overly aware of his own, slightly panicked, footsteps.

He only relaxed once he was the other side of the gate.

“That was odd,” Marie said. She looked to Glen, then to Alfie.

“Did Nate say something to you?” Glen asked.

Alfie shook his head. “Nothing horrible.”

In fact, out of all of them, Nate was the only one that hadn’t threatened him. Alfie didn’t know why, but it scared him more than the promises of violence.