This is a teaser chapter for a new story I am working on. I hope you enjoy it.

A Dangerous Game

Prologue

Callen stepped carefully from the prison bus, the fetters around his wrists and ankles severely limiting his movements. He shuffled into line keeping his gaze firmly on the dirt of the prison yard. Any long-term inmate knew better than to look the guards in the eye. The chains were starting to chafe the skin around his wrists and the knowledge that he was about to be locked in a cell wasn't doing anything to improve his sour mood.

He obediently followed his fellow inmates to the processing center where his shackles were removed and he was ordered to strip. The search was thorough, invasive and every bit as unpleasant as he'd expected. He gritted his teeth and reined in his temper. If he chose to resist he could do a significant amount of damage in the few seconds before he was overwhelmed. Only the thought of solitary confinement deterred him. He was handed a white t-shirt, dark blue pants and a matching top that looked and felt like medical scrubs. The only consolation was that he hadn't been sent to a prison where the uniform was an orange jumpsuit.

Once the paperwork was complete he collected a set of clean clothes, a blanket and a small bag of toiletries. He was destined for the maximum security wing. Door after door opened and closed taking him further away from freedom and sending a chill down his spine. He had never liked to be confined or to have his actions controlled.

Everywhere he looked there were security cameras and armed guards. The lights were dazzling, reflecting from the steel of the bars and the white walls. His arrival was met with curious stares from the other prisoners, some speculative and assessing while others were openly feral. He feigned disinterest. It wouldn't be long before he had to prove himself and he couldn't afford to show fear or weakness.

He was ordered to stop in front of a cell which was no larger than eight feet by ten. It contained bunk beds, a toilet and a small sink. The electronic lock clicked before the door slid open.

"Welcome to your new home," the guard said.

Callen unwisely raised his head, his mouth set in a hard line and his stare glacial. The guard rested a hand on his baton.

"You don't want to give me any trouble," the guard told him. "We were warned about you."

He swallowed hard and backed down reluctantly. The top bunk was already occupied. He paid no attention to his cell mate and dumped his small pile of belongings at the foot of the bottom bunk. He waited for the door to close before lying down, hands behind his head and eyes shut. The springs above him creaked.

"Name's Frank Mitchell. My friends call me Mitch."

"I'm not your friend," Callen said.

There was a long silence. "You'll need one. The last man who was put in this block didn't last a week."

"I can take care of myself."

"If you say so. What're you in for?"

"Why don't you shut up and mind your own business." Callen squirmed around trying to find a comfortable position on the lumpy mattress. "Look, I've only got a couple of weeks left on my sentence. I just want to do my time and get out. "

"Why'd they move you here?"

Callen sighed and sat up. "Are you always this fucking nosy?"

Mitch swung down from his bunk giving Callen his first good look at the man he'd be sharing this small space with for the next three weeks. Frank Mitchell was medium height, powerfully built, with sandy colored hair, pale blue eyes and a nose that had obviously been broken at least once. His age could be anything from forty to fifty and the pasty color of his skin indicated that he had been incarcerated for some time.

Mitch studied Callen and then nodded. "You look like you can take care of yourself. What job did they give you?"

"Kitchen, starting tomorrow. Anything else you want to know?" he asked sarcastically.

"Got a real attitude, haven't you? I wouldn't get too smart with the guards if you want to get time off for good behaviour."

"I've done my full sentence. People like me don't get early parole," he said bitterly.

A bell rang and the cell door opened. Callen raised an enquiring eyebrow.

"We get an hour's recreation in the yard every day," Mitch told him. "Make the most of it."

Callen stood up. "Better than the last place." He walked out to join the line of prisoners who were standing quietly under the watchful eyes of a dozen guards. They were led outside where he squinted up at the sun, happy to feel the warm air on his face.

The yard was surrounded by high walls topped with razor wire. There was a guard tower in one corner and several armed guards strategically placed around the perimeter. One heavy metal gate led deeper into the prison complex, providing no avenue of escape. The area contained two basketball courts, several tables and benches and absolutely no shade. There had to be over a hundred men, some gathered in groups, others seeking what solitude they could find in the overcrowded facility.

He strolled over to one wall, leaned his shoulder against it and crossed his arms. His hard gaze wandered around taking everything in while he listened surreptitiously to the conversations close to him. His relaxed stance was deceptive. He was on display and he knew it. He'd already identified the likely candidates who would try to test him; men who saw this prison as their hunting ground and who wouldn't welcome another predator.

It wasn't long before half a dozen Latino men of varying ages approached him. He straightened up, arms now hanging loosely at his sides. The largest man walked right up to him, invading his personal space. Callen returned his stare without the slightest hint of fear or apprehension.

"Fresh meat," the man said with a cruel smile.

"What do you want?" The noise around them was dying down and he wondered how long it would take for the guards to interfere.

"Respect."

Callen laughed at him. "You're out of your mind."

He was ready for the attack, twisting away from the hands trying to grip his arms. He landed a couple of hard punches and backed up breathing heavily. They approached him more warily the second time, trying to force him back against the wall with no way to escape. So far no-one had tried to stop them. Callen side-stepped and grabbed the man nearest to him, twisting his right arm behind his back and putting him in a chokehold. He applied enough pressure to keep the man under control.

"You want respect? Look for it someplace else." He shoved the man away from him as three of the guards finally took charge, herding the Latino gang away from him. He raised his hands to show that he wasn't looking for trouble.

"You just forfeited your recreation time," one of the guards said.

"Are you joking?" Callen asked incredulously. "They attacked me. I was only defending myself."

"It didn't look that way to me. Inside, and keep your mouth shut unless you want to lose all your privileges for a week."

Despite his defiance, he knew this was a battle he couldn't win. He turned toward the cell block door, cursing under his breath. It was only once he was back in his cell that he allowed himself to relax. Soon enough he'd have to put his guard back up. He'd shown his teeth but that didn't mean that he was safe.

Tbc

Caroline

November, 2012