“Thirsty, motherfucker? You’ll be thirstier in hell,” one of them taunted me.
“You shouldn’t’ve bumped off old lady Compton,” muttered the other guard. “She was a bitchy old bag, but she was the old man’s secretary.” He shook his head, as if he knew something I didn’t. “Those people out there are gonna burn you alive.”
The first guard spat green phlegm on the bread. “There’s a little more to eat.” The guy smiled, but had a pitying look in his eyes. “Don’t turn your nose up at that. It’s the best you’ll get. They’re sending you to the Wasteland with all those fucking helots. Nothing but scorpions and Undead out there. I’d hate to be in your shoes, asshole.”
“Don’t worry. I can take care of myself,” I muttered, not looking up. It wasn’t a threat. I just wanted the two idiots to go away and leave me alone.
The Aryan looked at me for a moment, trying to decide if that was an insult, kicked the bread out of reach, and headed down the hall with his buddy, leaving me alone.
How did everything go to hell so fast? That morning, I’d had a boat, a plan, and I was about to get my hands on a drug worth its weight in gold. Twelve hours later, I was rotting in jail, about to be put to death.
So much for your fucking plan, wise guy. What’s next?
I was dripping with sweat. It must’ve been ninety degrees in there. I felt dangerously dehydrated. I looped my shirt over the water jug and tried to drag it, but I only managed to knock it over. You idiot! I watched helplessly as the last drop of water disappeared down a drain in the center of the aisle.
I dropped to my knees and leaned against the bars. My mouth felt like it was full of straw. I was so thirsty I couldn’t think straight. After half an hour, I realized there was water in the toilet bowl. It tasted salty and was a weird color. I couldn’t ignore the fact that I was drinking out of a toilet, but at least it was liquid.
I took small sips to make the water last longer. The small amount didn’t quench my thirst, but it revived me a little. Then I started thinking about how to get out of this mess.
Breaking out of jail was out of the question. The locks were too complicated for me to pick. Plus the police station was surrounded by guards and that angry mob. They’d tear me apart like a pack of dogs for a crime I didn’t commit. Greene’s strategy was twisted and evil but shrewd. By killing Mrs. Compton, he eliminated a witness and made me the most hated person in Gulfport. No one would believe a word I said. I’d sound like a desperate murderer making up a crazy excuse. My only friends outside those walls were Lucia and Prit… if they were still alive and hadn’t been jailed as accomplices.
I ached all over from the beating. My suit was in tatters and covered with stiff, dried blood. My infected blood. That thought made my head spin. I leaned into the bowl and threw up over and over until I’d emptied out what little I had in my stomach. I hugged the toilet, shaking.
Someone’ll have to disinfect all this when I go, I thought as I looked at my saliva on the toilet bowl. I didn’t feel anything yet, but I knew TSJ was rushing through my veins. In a few hours, I’d show the first signs of the virus. I wondered what it’ll be like to change into an Undead. Would I realize what was happening? My curiosity surprised me. Picturing myself becoming one of those creatures, burst veins covering my skin, was too much. I clung to the toilet shaking and gagging, but nothing else came up.
The easiest thing would be to get it over with. Spare myself the terrible indignity of becoming a being with no control over itself.
What’re you thinking? That’s suicide.
So what? It’d be best way out.
You can’t. Life means too much to you. Don’t do it.
It’d be better than… that.
You don’t know that.
Shut up, dammit. Shut up, shut up, shut up!
I cradled my head in my hands as I lay on the floor, moaning. I had to do something or I’d go crazy. But what? I had nothing I could use to end my suffering. When they threw me in jail, they took my watch, my shoelaces, and my belt. Those Aryans had spent too much time behind bars to overlook a single detail.
Losing my watch hurt the most. It was an old, beaten-up Festina, but it was all I had left from my old life. Adding to my agony, I had no way to gauge time, since the light was always on in my cell.
After a couple of hours, I felt the first muscle cramps and a tingling in both arms, like when you fall asleep with your hand pinned under your body. The pain was mild at first, but unsettling. I knew what it meant—the change had begun.
I wiped my sweaty forehead with my shirttail. The stifling heat must be the first sign of the infection. Greene was sweating profusely before he took Cladoxpan.
A horrible thought crossed my mind. They were going to leave me here, locked up like a rabid animal, until the infection transformed me into an Undead. Then I’d be a carnival sideshow, a monster. Dads in Gulfport would bring their kids to see me, to teach them about the monsters outside the Wall. They’d throw popcorn and rotten vegetables at me.
I was going crazy. I furiously scratched my arm. Was that itch the next stage in my transformation, or was it just anxiety?
Suddenly I heard a bolt pulled back on the upper floor. Footsteps started down the stairs. Like a cornered animal, I looked around for something to defend myself with, but everything was either bolted down or welded to the walls. It dawned on me that my infection could be my weapon, so I tore at the scab on my forehead. It hurt like hell, but hot blood started flowing down my face. I soaked my fingers in that blood and waited. I’d flick my infected blood on the first person who showed up. If I was going to die, I’d take someone with me.
The footsteps came closer. I knelt down, hiding my hands behind my back, ready to pounce. Then I saw Malachi Grapes backlit by the fluorescent light.
“Hello, lawyer.” Grapes’s voice mocked me. The evil fuck knew I was trapped. In his arms was a frightened, squirming, wild-eyed Lucullus, horrified by the defeated, bloody figure eyeing him from the other side of the bars.
31
I froze. That was the last thing I expected. Lucullus yowled when he recognized me and tried to get free of Grapes’s iron grip.
“Let my cat go, asshole!” I shouted. “Drop him now or…!”
“Or what? What’re you gonna do? I could break his neck while you watch—”
“No! No, don’t do that, please!”
“Then sit at the back of the cell. Keep your hands where I can see them. No surprises.” The bastard was one step ahead of me. He had on safety glasses in case he got splashed.
I did as I was told and sat on the cot, looking from Grapes to Lucullus. When my little buddy heard my voice, he tried even harder to escape. The Aryan had two deep scratches on his arm. Lucullus had put up a good fight.
“Y’know, in prison, my attorney was always on this side of the bars,” Grapes said with a wicked smile. “This is a nice change.”
“I’m surprised you had any visitors. Even your lawyer.”
Grapes laughed smugly. “I wish I could’ve brought your slut or that Commie dwarf to say good-bye. But they’re smarter than you. Can’t find them anywhere. The only one at home was this flea-bitten cat. Figured you’d like to see him.”
“Don’t hurt him, please.”
“That depends on you. Tomorrow morning, we’ll put you on the deportation train,” he said slowly, as if he were explaining something to a child. “You need to behave yourself until then. If it was up to me, I’d’ve put a couple of slugs in you by now, but the reverend has a different punishment in mind. He decided you should die alone, slowly. Give you time to think about the deep shit you’re in.”