Chapter 2
Bright rays of morning sunshine streamed down through the barred windows of the infirmary, causing Murphy to flinch and open his eyes. His first instinct was to look around and find Connor and it took his brain a few moments to catch up to where he was and why he was there.
Murphy allowed himself to lay there for a few minutes, letting the events of yesterday wash over him, before pushing himself into a sitting position and surveying his surroundings. The infirmary was peacefully quiet and the only member of the prison staff he could see was a guard posted up at the door. Geno was still passed out in a bed in the far corner and Murphy smiled darkly at the sight of his brother's work. Connor had really done the bastard in.
"Good morning, Murphy."
Murphy jumped at the sound of a voice on his left side. His arm came up automatically into a defensive position and his right hand curled into a fist at his side. He was surprised when he was met with Dr. Schneider's friendly face.
"Whoa, easy there. I didn't mean to startle you." Dr. Schneider raised his hands in a placative manner as he pulled up a chair and took a seat next to Murphy's bed.
Letting out a slow breath, Murphy tried to calm himself, the adrenaline still coursing through his system. "Sorry, Doc," he apologized, averting his gaze down to his hands. "I'm a bit on edge apparently."
Dr. Schneider nodded in understanding. He was well aware of Murphy's reasons for being so tightly wound. "No worries. It's fine, Murphy." He gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before getting down to business. "How's your head feeling this morning?"
Murphy reached a hand to the back of his head, gingerly testing the wound with his fingers. "I feel like I've been hitting the bottle all night playing one of Connor's stupid drinking games, but the nausea and dizziness are a bit better."
"Good. That's a good sign." After a quick examination of Murphy's pupils he nodded in satisfaction. "Very good. I'm feeling confident about releasing you from my care this morning." He hesitated as if he wanted to say more.
Murphy picked up on the other man's hesitance and narrowed his eyes. "Something else on your mind, Doc?"
Dr. Schneider sighed. He had been doing this job for ten years and it was his general rule to not get too emotionally invested in his patients. However, in this case he felt it was his duty as a doctor to say something. After a few more moments of indecision, he made up his mind and continued speaking. "I heard you and Connor talking yesterday and I believe he's right. You wont be safe out there by yourself. How about you let me talk to the warden. I can recommend that he put you in protective custody until your brother and friend are released back into gen pop."
Murphy started shaking his head before the doctor had even finished speaking. "I appreciate your concern, Doc, I really do, but I'm not a coward and I won't run and hide like such."
"It's not cowardly to want to live to see the end of the week. Your pride will only serve you so far in this situation."
Murphy laughed. "Now I know you've been talking to Connor."
Dr. Schneider sighed and leaned back in his chair. "It's your choice, Murphy. I just hate to see you endanger yourself needlessly. You could become seriously injured or worse. Much worse."
"Well, it's a good thing I have an excellent doctor standing by, now isn't it?" Murphy grinned in an attempt to lighten the situation.
Leaning forward, Dr. Schneider rested his elbows on his knees and fixed Murphy with a serious gaze. "I've been working here a long time and I've seen firsthand the brutality that some of these men are capable of. If they get a clear shot at you, they won't hesitate to take it. These people here, they don't play games."
The smile slipped from Murphy's face and he grew deadly serious. "Neither do I."
Dr. Schneider was taken aback by the intensity in the other man's eyes. It was easy to forget that, despite their friendly smiles and easygoing attitudes, these boys were ruthless murderers. Not wanting to push the issue further he broke eye contact and relented to Murphy's fierce gaze.
"Like I said, it's your choice" Standing from his chair he prepared to leave, "I'll go inform the guards that you're ready for them."
"Hey, Doc," Murphy called as the doctor began walking away. The man turned and looked back at him once more. "Thank you for caring enough to try."
Dr. Schneider gave a half smile and nodded. "Just doing my job," he said before walking away.
Once he was gone Murphy sighed to himself and lay back down against the pillows. Closing his eyes, he used this opportunity to say a little prayer and mentally prepare himself for the days to come. He was startled out of his thoughts by a guard kicking the foot of his bed.
"Let's go, MacManus."
Murphy cracked one eye open and grinned up at the guard. "Well good mornin' ta ya too." He laid the accent on extra thick.
The guard wasn't amused. "On your feet, let's go," he repeated the order again, louder this time.
Murphy rolled his eyes and slowly gained his feet. "Well aren't you a fucking bright and happy ray of sunshine, officer…" he squinted in an attempt to read the man's name badge, "Jones, is it?"
The guard's eyes turned angry and he reached up and smacked Murphy hard in the side of the head. "You better watch your fucking mouth, inmate," he said as he grabbed Murphy's arms and yanked him around to slap the cuffs on his wrists.
Murphy cringed and sucked in a breath at the abuse to his recently obtained head injury. "Christ, I was just fucking joking around."
"Does it look like I think you're funny?" he growled. Once the cuffs were in place the guard pushed him, none too gently, towards the exit.
Murphy glanced back over his right shoulder at the man's angry face. He smiled to himself and wisely chose not to answer the rhetorical question. This one was obviously not a fan. Murphy decided it wasn't worth trying to make conversation with the guard guiding him through the prison and resigned himself to walking the halls in silence.
The Hoag Maximum Security Prison was located twenty-eight miles south west of Boston, Massachusetts. The compound was situated on a thirty-two acre lot with a twenty-foot concrete wall surrounding the entire perimeter. The wall was fixed with eight guard towers and five strands of electric wire across the top. The prison itself consisted of four buildings. Cellblocks A and B were in one building, blocks C and D in another. Both cellblock buildings were connected to the main structure, which held the infirmary, cafeteria and kitchen, guards' quarters, armory, a small library, and few classrooms for educational programs. The fourth building, which was located off the far north corner of the main structure, was for housing inmates in solitary confinement and those under psychiatric evaluation.
Officer Jones led Murphy through the halls of the main building until they reached the barred entrance to cellblock D. All cellblock entrances and cell doors were controlled electronically through the control room in each block. Pulling his prisoner to a stop, Jones signaled into the D block control room to the guard on duty and within seconds the cellblock door slid open with a bang.
Each cellblock contained twenty cells split into two levels. The cell doors were kept open for two hours in the morning and two hours in the evening, allowing the inmates' access to roam their block or make use of the tables on the ground level.
The other inmates' had already been served their morning meal and were taking advantage of their two hours of morning free time when Murphy was pushed into their midst. A hush fell over the group of convicts and he could feel the eyes on him as officer Jones removed his handcuffs and turned him loose.
Murphy looked around at the sea of unfriendly faces before squaring his shoulders and very calmly making his way to his ground level cell at the far end of the block. As he walked, a few of the inmates' stood to their feet and followed threateningly in his wake. Murphy glanced at them over his shoulder but showed no fear, continuing his slow, steady pace.
When he arrived at his cell, Murphy quickly ducked inside and let out a long, shaky breath. He looked around the tiny eight by ten enclosure before taking a seat on the bottom bunk and placing his back against the wall. He sat like that for a long time, his eyes never leaving the entrance, prepared for anything.
A few prisoners came and hovered outside the door but no one made a move to enter. Some of them stood whispering amongst themselves, others just poked their heads in long enough to offer up a malicious grin before laughing and walking away. Murphy didn't respond to their intimidation tactics. He remained where he was on the bottom bunk with one foot on the floor, the other propped up on the bed with his arm draped casually across his knee, and stared unflinchingly out at the circling sharks.
/ / /
Connor paced the length of his small isolation cell over and over again. He tried counting his steps, attempting to give his brain something to focus on, but lost count somewhere around six hundred and eighty seven. Kicking the concrete wall in frustration, he lay down on the small single bed and relaxed back into the thin pillow. Staring up at the ceiling, he finally succumbed to all the negative thoughts that had been trying to have their way with him since he was tossed into this hole.
He thought about Romeo and felt a stab of guilt. He understood that the man had made his own decision about getting involved with the Saints. Hell, he had begged to be let in, but he still felt responsible for the safety of his friend. Connor was afraid of failing him… the same way he had failed Rocco. He knew if Rocco were alive today, the man would have no regrets about the way things went down, but that didn't ease the pain of Connor's guilt.
His thoughts continued to spiral down a self-condemning path as he thought about Greenly and his Da, two more people who had lost their lives in the name of their mission. Connor knew he shouldn't carry the weight of these deaths on his heart. They had all known the risks and they had all died for a cause they believed in. Greenly had used his dying breath to tell him and Murphy that helping them had been the proudest day of his life.
Despite the loss of good lives, Connor would never regret the choices that brought them here. This was the way it had to be. It was the Lord's plan. If they hadn't done the things they had, then who knows how many more innocent lives would have been lost. The people he and Murphy had killed didn't deserve to walk this beautiful Earth. The world was a safer place without them.
Connor sat up with a sigh and scrubbed his face with his hands as restlessness overtook him once more. Gaining his feet he continued pacing. Thoughts of his brother entered his mind. He missed him. He couldn't remember the last time that he was apart from Murphy for any real length of time and his brother's absence left a gaping hole in his soul that could only be filled when they were together, the way they had been their entire lives.
Sure, he and Murphy had fought often enough. Occasionally their arguments would take a turn for the worse and develop into a full, knock- down, drag -out brawl, but more often than not, their squabbles were over something stupid that might result in a quick wrestling match on the floor before ending with good natured taunting and a toast over a bottle of whiskey.
Still, it never mattered how many times they beat the shit out of each other, they never once considered going their separate ways. They weren't just brothers, they were twins. He and Murphy came into this world together, and if Connor had any say in the matter, they would leave it the same way.
Most people didn't make the twin connection as they were fraternal twins and really looked nothing alike. Connor had lighter hair, bordering on blonde, and Murphy's was more of a dark brown. However, the brothers had one physical feature that they both shared and that was their striking blue eyes.
Connor felt sick to his stomach at the thought of Murphy out there alone. His brother had always been the more impulsive and quick-tempered of the two. Murphy always managed to find trouble more often than Connor, but no matter what, Connor was always there to back him up. Until now. Now Murphy was by himself and that thought scared the shit out of him. It wasn't that he doubted he brother's abilities. He knew that Murphy was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, and if a conflict arose, there was no one else Connor would rather have at his side. However, this situation wasn't just some random bar fight. A majority of these people were in here for violent crimes and Murphy was severely outnumbered.
Connor couldn't be there for his brother like he had been their entire lives and it was eating away at him. All he could do now was sit inside this fucking cell while the most important person in his life struggled to survive.
Connor's pacing grew more violent as his thoughts grew darker. He hadn't felt this helpless since the Checkov incident.
He didn't like to think about that, but the more agitated he became the less he could control the direction his thoughts took him. He remembered the way the handcuffs bit into his wrists as he fought with everything he had to get loose. The helplessness he felt as he watched those fucking Russians drag his brother out to the ally to execute him was all too similar to what he was feeling now. At the time, he had managed to channel all of his fear and rage into finding the strength to escape, but now Connor was faced with those same desperate emotions and nowhere to channel them.
Desperate for an outlet, he began beating uselessly on the steel door of his solitary cell. He would pace to the back wall then back to the door and each time he came to the door he would punch it as hard as he could. He continued this until he ran out of energy, blood running freely down his hand, dribbling onto the floor. Exhausted, he collapsed onto his bed, cradling his injured hand until eventually his troubled mind slipped into an equally troubling dream.
/ / /
"MacManus, you have a visitor."
Murphy raised his head up off his pillow and stared in surprise at the guard on the other side of the bars. "A visitor?" he asked in disbelief. The guard nodded once in affirmation.
Murphy's cell door had just been closed for the afternoon and he was relieved at finally being able to relax and let his guard down for a bit. However, if he truly had a visitor he knew this was a conversation he needed to have.
There was only one person on his and Connor's visitor list and it was Father Sibeal MacManus, their uncle. Father Sibeal was a very influential member of the Catholic Church, not just back in Ireland, but here in Boston as well where he had many friends and connections. Their uncle had been the one to inform them of the murder of Father McKinney, which was the event that led the brothers out of retirement and back to the states. He was a good man, and for the most part, supportive of his brother and nephews' mission.
Murphy stood to his feet and put his back to his cell door with his hands through the bars so the guard could cuff him. Once the restraints were in place, he stepped forward and waited for the guard to radio into the control room to open his cell. The door slid open and the guard motioned for Murphy to step out in front of him, directing him toward the cellblock exit.
The other prisoners came and stood at their cell doors, watching as Murphy was led past. He kept his eyes forward and paid no attention to the glares and mumbled threats that were thrown his way.
"You seem to have made a few friends during your stay," the guard commented once they were clear of the cellblock.
Murphy laughed at the man's sarcasm. "Aye, all puppy dogs and rainbows, that group." He could hear the guard chuckle behind him and smiled to himself. It was nice to interact with someone who wasn't out for his blood.
They walked the rest of the way in silence and upon reaching the visitation room the guard removed the cuffs and directed him over to where his visitor was waiting.
Murphy sat down across from his uncle and stared at him through the thick plate of glass that separated them. The older man looked relieved to see his nephew alive and well. Father Sibeal picked up the phone and Murphy followed suit.
"How are you holding up, Murphy? Is everything all right? They told me Connor was in isolation and couldn't be seen. What happened?"
Murphy held up his hands, halting the barrage of questions before addressing his uncle. "We're all right, everything is fine. Things are a bit…hostile to say the least, but we're hanging in there. There was an altercation with another inmate yesterday and it landed Connor in solitary confinement. He should be out in a week or so."
"And you? Are you doing all right on your own?" he asked, slightly alarmed by the situation.
"Aye, for now."
Father Sibeal nodded. "Good. You boys just need to hang in there a bit longer. I wanted you to know that you have people working on this for you on the outside."
Murphy looked puzzled. "What people?"
"You boys have gathered quite a following. The public is pretty much divided down the middle, but you have half the city of Boston demanding your release. There's been a steady stream of protestors outside the prison since the day you were taken into custody. You also have the backing of the Catholic Church. It took some convincing, but, with the exception of a few members, they are prepared to support you. We have contacted a very good lawyer and he believes he can make a case for your release. He will be wanting to meet with you boys soon to discuss a strategy."
Murphy took a few moments to absorb everything his uncle had just said. He wasn't sure how he felt about the protestors and the show of public support. He supposed it was good to have people on their side but the last thing he wanted was to be idolized and have their lives paraded around and exposed by the media. Anonymity was important and Murphy knew Connor would agree.
Father Sibeal gave his nephew a few minutes to process the information before he continued speaking. "There's more," he paused until Murphy looked up at him, "I've been working closely with an old friend of yours. He believes it is a good idea to have a secondary plan in place in case the lawyer's efforts fall through."
"Friend? What friend?" Murphy asked, thoroughly confused.
"I'm afraid I can't really say anymore on that subject. Not here. You just have to trust that everything that can be done for you boys is being done."
Murphy relented his curiosity and nodded. "Thank you, Father."
"I promised your Da, if anything happened to him, I would keep an eye on you boys. I intend to do just that."
Murphy felt a pang of sadness at the mention of his Da, but he managed to give his uncle a grateful smile.
"As soon as Connor gets out I will set up a time for you boys to meet with the lawyer and we will go from there. I should probably be going now, I have to meet with…" Father Sibeal stopped himself and looked around before continuing, "…well, I have a meeting. Would you like to take a moment to pray with me before I go?"
"Aye," Murphy said, and he closed his eyes and bowed his head, allowing the Father to lead them in a prayer. When they were done he crossed himself and looked back up at his uncle. "Thanks again, Father, we really appreciate all you're doing?"
"Take care of yourself, Murphy. I'll be in touch." With that, Father Sibeal hung up the phone and stood to leave.
Murphy watched the older man walk out the door as the guard came to replace his handcuffs and escort him back to his cell. He was silent on the way back as he considered everything Father Sibeal had said. He felt like he was left with more questions than answers. When his uncle had said "secondary plan" was he referring to breaking out? Murphy wasn't sure how he felt about that. He and Connor both believed that they were in this place for a reason, but could they really do more good inside this prison than out on the streets? At least in here the convicts were locked away from innocent civilians, as opposed to the criminals who were still free to roam the city. Murphy was conflicted and he desperately wished he had Connor here to consult with.
Once Murphy was locked away back in his cell he plopped down on his bottom bunk and closed his eyes. It was still only early afternoon and the mid-day meal wouldn't be served for another hour. After lunch, was a full hour of yard time followed by more cell time, dinnertime, then two more hours of free time before lights out. Murphy knew he would need his strength to stay on his toes and make it through the rest of the day, so he allowed himself to drift off into a light sleep.
/ / /
When he awoke it was to the sound of every cell door in the block opening simultaneously. It was lunchtime. Since the guards couldn't cuff them and walk them all separately to the cafeteria, the inmates were lined up together and escorted as a group with four or five guards as entourage.
Unwilling to turn his back on them, Murphy waited at the door of his cell until the other prisoners were lined up then he took a spot at the end of the line. The walk there was uneventful and when they reached the cafeteria the guards backed away, standing along the perimeter of the room to keep watch while the inmates ate their meal.
Murphy waited in line and accepted his tray of food with a nod in thanks before turning and scanning the area for a safe place to sit. Spotting an empty table in the far corner he made his move. About halfway to his destination Murphy glanced to his left and caught sight of a large, bald headed man with an unidentifiable neck tattoo, eyeing him like a piece of meat. When the other man saw he had Murphy's attention he flashed him a dangerous smile and patted the empty seat next to him in invitation. Murphy narrowed his eyes and shook his head at the man before passing the table up. The inmate who had offered up the seat glared at Murphy's retreating back and turned to whisper something to the other members of his group.
When Murphy reached the empty table he sat down and began to lightly pick at his meal. His head still ached fiercely and the food in front of him churned his stomach, but he forced himself to take a few bites anyway. He stiffened when he felt someone sit down across from him and looked up to find himself face to face with Tattoo Neck.
Setting down his fork, Murphy leaned back and stared coolly at the man across the table. "Is there something I can help you with?"
"I saved you a seat," Tattoo Neck nodded in the direction of his table.
"Not interested," Murphy said calmly.
Narrowing his eyes the other inmate set his elbows on the table and leaned forward threateningly. "I couldn't help but notice you're all alone now. Alone is a dangerous thing to be in this place. How about you come sit with us and we'll see to it that no one bothers you."
Murphy laughed in disbelief. "And I suppose you'd be willing to do this out of the kindness of your heart, eh?" he asked sarcastically.
Tattoo Neck removed his arms from the table and leaned back into a more relaxed position. With a grin he replied, "Ah, well you know you can't get somethin for nothing, especially in this place. However, I'm not an unreasonable guy. We'll offer you our protection and all I ask in return is that you let me call you mine. Being able to have one of Boston's Saints as my bitch is payment enough." He laughed as Murphy's eyes turned deadly.
"As I said before, not fucking interested." Murphy leaned in closer before continuing. "I would face down this entire prison by myself before I even considered getting mixed up with a piece of shit like yourself." Murphy had been trying to keep a cool head but he had no tolerance for the games this asshole was playing.
Tattoo Neck turned angry and looked as if he wanted to take a swing him, but he managed to calm himself down. "Fine, have it your way, you Irish fuck. I'll just let them kill you and with you gone that fucking brother of yours will be all on his own. But don't worry, I'll be sure to make him the same offer I made you."
Murphy had heard enough. He knew there was no danger of Connor ever making such a deal, but he was tired of listening to this vile man talk. Quicker than Tattoo Neck could react Murphy flipped his tray of food into the other man's face. His meal went flying in all directions and both men jumped to their feet. Murphy looked as if he was about to launch himself across the table when the sound of a guard's baton smacking down on a hard surface echoed through the cafeteria. Both inmates stopped in their tracks.
"Make one more move and you'll both be headed to solitary! Sit down! Now!" The guard looked prepared to take further action should the two men decide to ignore him and continue fighting. Luckily for him, both inmates stood down.
Murphy grinned tauntingly at the man across from him who was slowly making his way back to his original table. Tattoo Neck muttered something unintelligible under his breath but there was no mistaking the threat in his eyes. After gathering what he could of his scattered lunch Murphy took his seat and tried to ignore the many sets of eyes that were on him.
The rest of mealtime passed without incident and when it was over the inmates were moved outside for an hour of yard time. Murphy was a bit uneasy about being back in the outdoor enclosure but he played it cool. As much as it bruised his pride he followed Connor's advice and stayed close to the guards. He posted himself up by the entrance, keeping his back to the fence and his eyes on the other inmates. Murphy maintained that position for the entire hour and it was a relief when the guards finally lined them up and led them back to D block.
The inmates were directed back into their cells and a quick head count was taken before the doors were closed. It was mentally exhausting, constantly keeping his guard up, and when Murphy's cell finally closed, he collapsed onto his bed, passing out instantly.
That evening, after an uneventful dinner, the inmates were left to roam the cellblock for their two hours of free time before lights out. Murphy remained seated on the floor of his cell with his back against the far wall and his eyes on the doorway. His nerves were shot and he had chewed his thumbnail down to the quick as he often did when he was under stress. When the guards finally turned out the lights and closed the cellblock up for the night, Murphy crawled from his spot on the floor up into his bed and lay on his back, staring up at the top bunk above him where Connor normally slept. He knew that, somewhere in the prison ranks, there was a Saints supporter because he and Connor had been assigned to the same cell, with Romeo in the cell directly across from them where they could keep an eye on him.
Murphy wondered how Connor was holding up. He knew his brother was probably going crazy in isolation and would be willing to bet that his twin had already worn a groove in the floor from endless pacing. Connor never could sit still when he was anxious, a habit that often drove Murphy a tad crazy. Having his brother gone was like missing a piece of himself and it left him with an acute sense of loneliness. Connor was his best friend and the one person in his life who had always been there when he needed him. Their Ma may have never divulged her closely guarded secret of which twin was born first, but it really didn't matter because Connor had always filled the big brother role much better than he did.
Murphy rolled over with a sigh and allowed thoughts of his family to relax him and carry him into sleep.
/ / /
Over the next three days Murphy stuck to his strategy of remaining close to the guards and staying in his cell as often as possible. Aside from dirty looks and mumbled threats, no one had made a move on him yet.
It was on the morning of his fifth day alone that Murphy could sense a change in the air. In the cafeteria at breakfast he could feel the eyes and hear the whispers but when he looked they would avert their attention. Looking around the dining hall, he noticed the only inmate who would meet his gaze was Tattoo Neck, and his expression was less than friendly.
Murphy kept his senses sharp and tried to ignore the tension but his instincts were screaming at him that something wasn't right.
After breakfast the prisoners were taken back to their cellblock for free time and Murphy took up his usual spot on the floor against the back wall of his cell. About halfway into their two hours he raised his head sharply as the sound of a scuffle and shouting reached his ears.
Standing quickly to his feet Murphy crossed the length of his cell and leaned out the door, trying to see what was happening. It appeared that two inmates had gotten into an argument and were now brawling it out on the floor while the guards attempted to separate them.
Focused on what was happening at the other end of the cellblock, Murphy was completely unprepared when two men came out of nowhere and slammed into him, forcing him to the back of his cell. He may have been caught off guard but he recovered quickly and began fighting back.
One of his attackers was attempting to pin him up against the wall and Murphy brought his elbow down hard on the back of his head.
"Son of a bitch!" the recipient of the elbow cursed.
"Hold him, damnit!" the other inmate growled.
Murphy kicked out at the one who spoke and nailed him in the stomach, doubling him over. After the inmate recovered from the kick he rushed forward and punched Murphy in the face in an attempt to subdue him. The blow barely slowed him down and he continued to fight like a cornered wildcat.
Murphy saw the man who had punched him pull a shank from his pocket and aim for his midsection but the makeshift knife never met its mark. He had managed to push away the man that had been holding him against the wall and used the opportunity to deflect the stab and punch his attacker in the side of the head. Two against one was an unfair fight in any setting, but in such tight quarters it was impossible for Murphy to fend off both assailants at the same time and he quickly found himself being pressed back up against the wall.
The inmate with the shank recovered from the blow to his head. Raising his weapon, he prepared to take another stab, this time in Murphy's heart. Murphy saw the prisoner's intention and desperately grabbed the man's arm while simultaneously attempting to fight off the inmate keeping him pinned to the wall. He lacked both the strength and the leverage to fend off the incoming spike but managed to divert it up away from his heart and into his shoulder. The pain was intense and Murphy cried out in rage.
"Fuck! Fuck you! Motherfucker!"
The shank was ripped from his shoulder and brought back, ready to be plunged into him again, when the guards finally caught on to what was happening and spilled into his cell. Using their batons they beat his attackers to the ground and slapped handcuffs on their wrists before yanking them up and hauling them out. Murphy allowed himself to slide down the wall till he was sitting on the ground. Gripping his injured shoulder, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back, taking deep breaths as he tried to calm his racing heart.
Chapter revised 10/16/17
