A/N: Chapter revised 4/22 for minor plot elements and spacing
Rain drizzled outside the drab gray walls. The wind whipped through the trees and rattled the ancient windows. Booms of thunder shook the building, as fierce lightning illuminated the cold, sparse room.
Jackson starred up at his bunk mate, Harris' threadbare mattress. It was covered in various stains, showing its age and use. It didn't smell great either, but they'd both gotten used to it over time. He guessed it was somewhere close to midnight, and rolled over with an anxious sigh. Six days. Six days was all that stood between their reunion.
When he closed his eyes, she was all he saw. It made time pass both slower and faster, and was his only real release from the torment of daily life. His hand subconsciously reached for his neck, but as always, the cool touch of metal was no longer there. Cradling his hand against his chest, he softly rocked back and forth, willing himself to fall asleep.
His eyes sprung open and a wave of panic washed over him. His body went rigid while his vision struggled to adjust to the darkness of the barren room. Harris' soft snores would've lulled him back to sleep, if not for the hair on the back of his neck standing up. He'd been here long enough to know something was wrong. Even the air smelled wrong, like something rotten and sinister lurked just beneath the surface.
The strange noises that woke him definitely came from the cell across the hall. It belonged to two old timers that spent as much time on the outside as in, Delgado and Kessler. Both knew better than to cause a ruckus after lights out. Especially tonight, with that asshole guard, Sanchez, assigned to their block.
Sanchez was the king of the dicks, known for flaunting his authority and offering a beating to anyone that stepped a toe out of line. On some occasions, he'd beat someone just because he was a sadistic fuck that enjoyed suffering. Most just endured the beatings, not out of fear of the guard, but because they didn't want additional time added to their sentence.
Jackson had been on the receiving end of one of Sanchez's late night "parties" when he first arrived. He'd pissed the guard off by asking him a question during bunk inspection. That ignorance caused him a broken finger and bruised ribs, but he'd gotten off lucky compared to some of the others. Since then he'd done his best to give Sanchez a wide berth.
The corridor that housed the A Block cells was dimly lit, but a woman, perhaps ten years his junior, stepped out of their cell. She wore a long white coat, her pale blonde hair spilling down over the lapels. She certainly wasn't what he was expecting to see after waking in the middle of the night, and he briefly wondered if he was dreaming. Scribbling furiously onto her clipboard and muttering to herself, she stepped out of view.
His mouth went dry as he watched Sanchez dragging one of the old timers out of view. The inmate, Delgado, hung as limp as a puppet without strings, his long salt and pepper hair draped over his face. Another man, dressed in some type of dark uniform with a rifle slung over his back, followed suit, roughly dragging Kessler by his shirt collar. Kessler's already pale face appeared ashen, but Jackson couldn't be sure if he was alive or dead.
Jackson struggled not to give himself away. He'd been inside long enough to know this wasn't normal and he didn't want to share the same fate as them. He covered his mouth with his hand, whether to keep from screaming or breathing too loudly, he couldn't say.
More dragging sounds and grunts came from just out of his view. Someone impatiently tapped their foot against the acoustic tile, sending small tapping reverberations through the hall.
"Can we hurry this up? We have more stops and I need to make it back before dawn," the female voice said.
"We'll be out in ten minutes, Connor and Phillips are waiting in the ambo," said an unfamiliar male voice.
"I can't wait to never step foot in this hellhole again."
"That'd be a damn shame, Miss B. You certainly brighten up my evenings when you visit," Sanchez flirted, his raspy voice raised an octave.
"I assure you, the feeling is not mutual," the woman replied in a bored tone. "And that's Mrs. B. Or Dr. B."
"That's okay, I don't mind that you're married."
A shadow crossed over Jackson's cell, and the woman came into view once more. Disgust marred her features as her lip curled back in a sneer.
"Epps would kill you without question on my order," her voice had a low, dangerous tone. She brushed off the shoulder of her white jacket and took a small step back, out of Jackson's view.
"I'm sorry Doc, I didn't mean to offend."
"With the field tests proven, you have the potential to become a very rich man. I suggest you don't screw it up by pissing me off. Learn your place, and Epps won't have to escort you to the lab," she said, words laced with venom.
"Yes ma'am," Sanchez replied, wheeling Kessler's gurney past Jackson's cell.
After Kessler came the female doctor in the lab coat, staring straight ahead, wearing a haughty expression. The black clad guard followed, pulling the gurney with Delgado strapped in. Jackson noticed that in addition to the wrist, leg, and body straps, Delgado and Kessler looked like they were gagged. 'Still alive then,' he thought as their footsteps headed down the hall toward the infirmary.
"What the actual fuck," he said quietly to himself. He forced himself to count to ten before heading over to the cell door. The bars felt cool to the touch, and the telltale whirring of machinery alerted him that the gate was being opened. The building was old and outdated, and things tended to break frequently or never get fixed at all, and the sound stopped almost as suddenly as it started.
The gate was a good twenty feet away from his cell and around a short corner wall, but when he pressed closer to the bars he could see the end of Delgado's gurney and the man clad in black.
"Fuck," Sanchez said.
"Keep your voice down."
"Too late for that. I have to call the main office to come down and unlock it manually."
"So why haven't you?" The doctor asked impatiently.
The group lowered their voices and Jackson held his breath, trying to make out their muffled conversation. Wrapping his fingers around the bars, he pressed his face as close as he dared while keeping them in sight. Sanchez's radio crackled loudly as he made his request for assistance.
Tension rippled through Jackson's body and he nearly froze in place when the uniformed man looked toward his cell. Prison had reconditioned his fight or flight response to one action: stand your ground. He lost precious seconds as the adrenaline pumped and fear took over. He pulled his fingers away and tip toed as quietly as he could, back to his bunk.
Heavy footsteps thundered closer as the woman called Dr. B asked what was happening. Jackson gingerly laid himself on the bed, careful for the creaky springs at the foot. He kept his eyes open, peeking through the tiny slits as the guard reached his cell. Hoping to convince them he was asleep, he let out a soft groan and smacked his lips together. It was something Harris often did while sleeping, and Jackson loved ribbing the older man about it. He just prayed it was enough.
"Thought I saw someone ma'am…" Epps trailed off.
Epps' keen eyes scanned Jackson's bunk as the clacking of high heels got closer. "And?"
"Could've just been my eyes. It's like a dungeon in here." At that exact moment, a bolt of lightning flickered in through the windows down the hall, casting an eerie glow.
"The weather doesn't help."
"Should we take em anyways?" Epps asked, gesturing to Jackson and Harris.
Dr. B shuffled through the pages on her notebook. She used her finger to keep place as she skimmed the page, lips pursed in concentration.
"Don't bother, they're scheduled for Friday. Unfortunately useless for G, but they have potential for the Tyrant program."
"I'd almost feel sorry for these poor bastards, if they weren't such scum," Epps said as they headed back to the gate.
The machinery whirled back to life, but Jackson barely heard it over the pounding in his chest. His mouth tasted like fear and ash as he swallowed a giant lump in his throat. Friday was five days away. He was supposed to be released on Saturday. After ten years here, he was supposed to finally go home. Whatever this doctor planned for him, he couldn't allow it. He had to figure out a way to stop them from taking himself and Harris. Failure wasn't an option. The thought of never seeing her sweet face again nearly tore his heart in two.
He had to get back to Rebecca, no matter what.
