Judge Huntington had finally gotten hold of Warden Thomas, who been out for the evening with his wife. A page to get in touch with his assistant at Rikers accompanied this. Warden Thomas was not very happy about having his evening ruined, but, if this prisoner was, in fact, in danger… well, he needed to get back to the prison right away.
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McFadden was furious. He had intended on taking his time with Goren, making his agony last all night, really punishing him. He'd barely gotten started; all he'd got to do so far was dislocate the guy's shoulders and bat him around a little. And now this stupid fuck guard Sanders goes and takes him out. Well, it didn't matter, he was still going to get what he deserved, conscious or not. Of course it would be a hell of a lot better if he was awake.
"Wake him up!" he ordered, getting more agitated by the minute.
Watching in amusement, the guy who had produced the duct tape held up his hand. "Relax, McFadden. I've got it covered." He then pulled a small bottle of ammonia spirits from his bag, the same one that held the duct tape and rag, and god knows what else. "Thought we might be needing this."
McFadden didn't know whether to be pissed at the guy for waiting so long to produce it, or kiss him just for having it. He decided on neither, grabbing the bottle from his hand. He knelt down by Bobby, opening the bottle and holding it close to his nose. After a few seconds Bobby started gagging; between the ammonia irritating his nasal passage and the gag still stuck halfway down his throat, he began choking, trying desperately to get a breath. McFadden was enjoying it too much, watching Bobby's fear escalate as he struggled to breathe. Finally, he pulled the rag from Bobby's mouth. Bobby continued to choke a little longer, then gradually the choking slowed; his breaths coming in smaller gasps.
"Welcome back, Bobby," McFadden purred. When it became clear that Bobby would make it, he pulled him into a sitting position and replaced the gag. Bobby's little ordeal had been interesting, McFadden thought. Maybe that's how he'd eventually kill him.
Bobby leaned his head back against the bars, still breathing laboriously, exhausted from his difficulty in breathing, and the trauma he'd already been through. His face hurt unbelievably, with the shards from the shattered cheekbone cutting intothe surrounding areas, the pain from the broken bone shooting all the way through his head, which was now pounding furiously. He could feel the left side of his face swelling.
He tried to move his hands and arms to adjust his uncomfortable position, but his arms ached excruciatingly, too badly to even attempt to help move himself. And he found that his hands had lost almost all feeling, the circulation cut off from the extremely tight taping of his wrists. But at least that prevented his broken hand (from hitting the guard) from hurting as much. He was miserable, and they'd barely started with him.
"Ready for some more, Goren?" McFadden asked.
Bobby was so out of it he barely heard him, apparently ignoring him. That pissed McFadden off even more. He kicked Bobby hard in the ribs, then did it again. "Anybody else want a shot at this fuck? Before the real show starts?"
Within seconds two of the inmates, eagerly waiting their turn, were on Bobby. One of them yanked him back to his feet, while the other began using him as a punching bag, concentrating on his face and kidneys.
Finally McFadden decided Bobby was "ready", it was time.
"Get him down," he said, practically drooling in his eagerness, watching Bobby's eyes. "And get those pants off of him." Sadist that he was, seeing the fear in Bobby's eyes was a turn on for him. He could get off on this.
Then one of the younger unseasoned inmates suddenly got scared.
"Hey, man, I ain't up for this!"
"What the fuck you saying, boy?"
The kid was starting to panic. "Look at him, man! He's… I thought we were gonna rough him up some—I ain't up for murder! Or…this!"
McFadden's eyes narrowed. "You some kind of pussy ass cunt or something? You crossing me boy!" He hated traitors about as much as he hated cops.
"What? No, man! I just never—" he was cut off as McFadden suddenly hit him hard in the face. The kid dropped, and McFadden grabbed the broom handle and snarled, "It's either you or him!"
The kid started to protest, nearly crying, begging, and McFadden grinned. "Okay, your decision. First you, then the cop." Then the other inmates were on the kid, and Bobby, only semi-conscious, was only vaguely aware as McFadden started in on the kid. He thought he was screaming "NO!" through the gag, then he blacked out again.
Not long after the inmates started on the kid, the guards arrived. They never got back to Bobby. Thanks to the determination of Alex and Joe getting something going, Warden Thomas had things back under control. The guards had swarmed the protective cellblock, and taken the inmates back into custody, beating some of them, including McFadden, into submission. Lennie Sanders, the guard, had convinced them he was a victim himself, and since there were no other witnesses, except the inmates, he escaped everything. He was taken to the hospital for his broken jaw, along with Bobby and the young inmate, both seriously injured. The guard was hoping, for his sake, that their injuries would prove fatal.
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Alex and Joe were seated in two of the not-so-comfortable chairs at Mt. Sinai Hospital, waiting for news on Bobby. Every so often, one would get up, pace around a bit, then sit down again.
"I hate hospitals," Alex muttered, talking to try to take her mind off Bobby, and what was happening with him. She was very anxious, having absolutely no clue as to his condition.
"Yeah. Me, too." Joe said.
"Every time I come here, it's cause somebody's hurt. Well, except for when I had my nephew."
Had her what? How could… never mind. Joe was too tired to even ask her what the hell that was all about.
A grim looking Captain Deakins arrived, "Well?" he asked impatiently.
"Don't know yet," Joe said.
Alex continued. "All we know is that Bobby, some guard, and another inmate were all brought in, and they seemed pretty worried about Bobby and the inmate." It was obvious how worried Alex was.
"God!" Deakins groaned. "What the hell happened?"
"They…got to him, Captain. Just like Bobby said they would." There was no mistaking the angst in her voice and on her face. "He told us, Captain! He told us, and we failed him. We tried to get help, and no one gave a shit!"
"There's going to be hell to pay for this," Deakins murmured, a low intensity to his voice.
"How about some good coffee?" Joe offered. They had coffee in the waiting room, but by now it was like sludge.
Deakins and Alex both nodded. "Thanks."
About an hour later, a doctor came through the doors to the waiting room. "For Robert Goren?" he asked.
"Yes!" Alex answered, as they moved to him.
"Are you family?"
"He has no real family. I'm his captain, I've got the authority."
"Okay then. Well, first off, he's going to be alright—"
There was a collective sigh of relief. The doctor gave them a second, then continued. "But he has suffered a severe beating; some fractures, dislocations, a lot of bruising. There is a facial fracture that is of some concern, and that will require some surgery. He was brought in here unconscious, and that is also a concern."
"But you said he's going to be alright?" Alex reiterated.
"Yes, I believe so. But as I said, there is some concern about the facial injuries. A bone in his face was shattered, we won't know how much damage there is or how it will affect him until the surgery. We'll know more after that."
Deakins nodded. "There's one question, Doctor…"
The doctor looked at him questioningly. Deakins continued. "He was…um…threatened with sexual violence?"
"No, no, nothing like that. Somehow, in his mass of injuries, he escaped that."
Another rush of relief.
"Thank God! Is he awake now?" Joe asked. "Can we see him?"
"He's awake, but in a lot of pain. He's on a painkiller now, so he'll be pretty groggy. As soon as we get him settled into a room, you can see him. But just for a few minutes. His surgery is scheduled for tomorrow, and he'll need all the rest he can get. And just so you know, he looks pretty beat up," the doctor warned them.
About an hour later, Bobby was in his room. The three of them walked slowly in, not quite knowing what to expect. The doctor had been right, he looked like hell. The entire left side of his face, including his eye, was swollen, and had turned a nasty shade of purple. His lips were also swollen and bruised, and a small amount of blood still trickled from his nose. He was shirtless, to accommodate the slings on both arms from his dislocated shoulders, which were also bruised and swollen. His upper body was wrapped tightly due to the broken ribs, and there was a cast on his left hand, broken when he hit the guard. They couldn't see any more, since there was a sheet covering him from the waist down, but they figured he had ample bruising all over.
Despite the doctor's warning, the three were shocked at Bobby's appearance. He appeared to be unaware of their presence, slightly dozing, eyes closed. His breathing seemed labored. They could see bits of residue from the tape used to bind him still on his wrists.
"Hey, Bobby," Alex said softly.
He opened his good eye. He mumbled something resembling "hi" and nodded slightly, acknowledging them. He winced. The movement made his already pounding head pound even more.
"Hey, buddy," Joe said. "Don't try to talk, it's okay."
"We just wanted to see you, let you know we were here," Deakins added. "We're not staying. You try and get some sleep, and we'll be back again in the morning."
Bobby didn't say anything, appeared to be struggling to stay awake and keep his good eye open.
Alex kissed him gently on the top of his head. "Go to sleep, Bobby," she said softly. Her words were unnecessary. He was already asleep.
tbc