CHAPTER 49

2 weeks later, Finn had managed to pay off a corrupt guard and he had bribed the guard to bring the 100 packs of soup to Romero's cell. In return, Romero had slipped him a cell phone. That night, Finn sat in the prison library and he called Santana.

"I can't believe I'm hearing your voice." Finn remarked.

"I know. It's so amazing." Santana replied.

"So, how's everything? We didn't really get a chance to talk this month?" Finn asked.

"Well, things are good. We had our three year Glee club reunion two weeks ago. Everyone really misses you."

"Yeah? How is everyone?" Finn asked, eagerly.

"Pretty good, I think. Man Hands and Hummel are pretty much the same - both Broadway obsessed divas."

Finn nodded and didn't say anything. Santana raised an eyebrow.

"What?" Finn asked.

"Well, that's the first time I've called Berry Man Hands in front of you without you getting mad and correcting me."

Finn laughed.

"Well, I am in prison, Santana. The language used here is a lot worse than Man Hands." Finn commented. Santana giggled.

"Yeah, so they're the same. They both still live in New York, trying to make it on Broadway but failing. Puckerman's in the Air Force now actually. He's a recruiter."

Finn whistled.

"Wow, attaboy Puck! Way to clean up your life." Finn remarked.

"Yeah, so he's good. Um… Mercedes is in L.A, Tina in Rhode Island…"

Finn cut her off with the burning question that was in his mind.

"Bella? How's she doing?" Finn asked. Santana sighed.

"Well, she's at Yale with Fabray. She misses you A LOT. She's in Lima right now for summer break and she's badgering me to let her come during Visiting Day next month."

"But you told her no, right?" Finn asked, nervously. As much as he wanted to see Bella, he knew it would make things so much more complicated between them. Their relationship had ended relatively amicably and on decent terms and he didn't want to ruin that.

"Yeah, I told her no. I can invite her next time if you want." Santana offered.

"No, no. Not having her here would probably be… easier."

Suddenly, Caleb ran into the room.

"Finn, Finn, Finn, Finn-Finn-Finn-Finn-Finn-Finn." He whispered, pointing at the door behind him. Finn knew exactly what that meant and his eyes widened.

"I gotta go." Finn whispered into the phone before closing it around the book he was pretend-reading. Moments later, the prison warden walked into the room, his eyes blazing. "Hey Warden, what's up?" Finn asked, cheerfully, as the warden stormed into the room.

"What the hell are these?" He snapped, taking out two packets of ramen soup from his pocket. "I found them doing a sweep of your bunks."

"Oh, uh… we got those at the commissary." Caleb stammered.

"Picante Beef. You think I don't know that picante beef is a street flavour?!" He shouted. "I was being kind to you by putting you two in protective custody, but if you're gonna bring contraband into my prison and flaunt my rules, pack your bags! You're going to Fox River State Penitentiary!"

Finn's heart dropped. Fox River was a MAXIMUM security lockup in Illinois. Only the baddest criminals were thrown in there. If he entered that penitentiary, the odds were about 90% that he would die at the hands of one of the inmates, not old-age.

"Fox River? Warden, you can't be serious! Please, no!"

"Too bad, Hudson. Don't do the crime if you can't do the time."

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BUZZ!

The loud alarm buzzer sounded as the doors to Fox River swung open and Finn and Caleb were shoved inside.

"I can't believe we're here." Finn murmured to Caleb. "A 'child-murderer' and a cannibal? Everyone's gonna be trying to kill us."

"I know! What are we gonna do?" Caleb cried.

"You're a psychopath. You can protect us in there, right? I mean, you killed and ate a bunch of people."

"They were children, Finn. Weak little children. One conk on the head was all it took."

"Damn it. I can't believe I'm friends with a cowardly cannibal!" Finn exclaimed. They could feel every eye in gen-pop on them as they were admitted into the facility. Going from protective custody to gen-pop was like entering the prison all over again. After a thorough, invasive strip search, they had their beige protective custody jumpsuits taken away from them and replaced with bright orange one instead. After that, all of the new inmates were made to stand in line with their personal information clipboards in their hands. Security called them one by one for their check-in. Unfortunately, this was the point where Finn and Caleb were split up. A slightly overweight, fuming looking guard called Finn up and Finn walked over to him.

"Name and back number." The guard snapped.

"Hudson, Finn. 94941." Finn replied. 94941 was his official prison number. Anyone in the world could search that number on a National prison database and find him.

"Are you a religious man, Hudson?"

"Never really thought about it."

"Good, 'cause the Ten Commandments don't mean a box of piss in here." The guard, who's name tag read Brad Belick, spat. "We got two commandments and two only. The first commandment is you got nothing coming."

"What's the second commandment?" Finn asked.

"See commandment number one." Bellick replied.

"Gotcha." Finn murmured. Bellick raised an eyebrow and scowled at him.

"You talking out the side of your neck?" He growled. Finn's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Come again?" He asked.

"I said, are you being a smart-ass?" Bellick snarled.

"Just trying to fly low, avoid the radar, boss." Finn replied.

"Well, there isn't any flying under my radar." Bellick warned him.

"Good to know." Finn replied. After Bellick had finished signing him in, he was brought to his new cell in Cellblock A. Conditions here were absolutely horrendous - a thousand times worse than in protective custody. There were three floors of cells, one set of stairs leading to the higher ones. Dozens of guards patrolled the hallways even though the prisoners were all locked in their cells. Finn watched intently and studied the prison. He saw marijuana cigarettes being surreptitiously passed around between the bars of the cells. He saw some guys doing press ups in their cells. But the one thing he noticed with everyone was that they were all sweating profusely. The A.C was 'broken', so all of the guys were in just their wife beaters and pants.

"Yo, Fish! What are you looking at?!" one of the inmates in the cells opposite him shouted. "You look kind of pretty to be up in here, man."

Finn didn't respond. He was being called 'Fish', as that was prisoner slang for the new-inmate - the new fish in the tank.

"I suggest you take a seat, Fish." Finn's cellmate, a Latin man named David Martinez, suggested from his top bunk. "Ain't nothing to do up in here but serve time. Ain't nobody gonna serve it for you."

Suddenly, Finn heard a blood-curdling scream from one of the cells opposite. Finn and Martinez looked out to see one of the prisoners having shivved his cellmate. Martinez put his hand on Finn's shoulder.

"Welcome to Prisneyland, Fish." He remarked as they watched the guards tend to the nearly dead man and they listened to the roaring shouts of every single one of the hundreds of prisoners locked in their cell block. Alarms rang out, guards bellowed, prisoners were shoved roughly into their cells and locked in. Finn knew one thing for sure, this place was hell and he NEEDED to get out.

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The next morning, the prisoners were allowed yard time and for the first time, Finn was among them. Him and Martinez walked together as the older man explained to him the layout of the yard.

"Trey Street Deuces got the hoops." He said, pointing to a bunch of colossal African-American men who were playing ball.

"Nortenos got the bleachers." Martinez gestured to the bleachers, where a latin-american gang sat.

"Woods got the weight pile." He finished, pointing at the gym set up at the back of the yard and the white-supremists middle-aged men who were using it. "The C.O.s got the rest. I'm telling you, the guards are the dirtiest gang in this whole place. The only difference between us and them… is the badge."

"Who's the pet lover?" Finn murmured, pointing to an elderly looking man sitting alone in the corner of the yard, a kitten in his arms.

"He'll deny it, but he's D.B Cooper." Martinez replied. "Parachuted out of a plan 30 years ago with a million and a half in cash."

"Doesn't look like the type." Finn remarked. Martinez chuckled.

"Who does?" He replied. Finn's eyes scanned over the yard, familiarising himself with his surroundings. It was like he was back in the military, casing his surroundings before he would burst into a room, guns blazing. Examining every inch of his new environment. Every inmate's habits. Every guard's habits. The water/sewage system. Electricity system. Finn knew he wanted to break out of this place eventually but to do that would be no simple task.

"Who's that?" Finn asked, pointing to the other side of the fence, where a man sat, alone.

"Him? Oh, that's Linc the Sink." Martinez replied.

"Excuse me?"

"Lincoln Burrows. Nicknamed Linc the Sink cause he'll come at you with everything but the kitchen sink." Martinez remarked. Finn looked at Lincoln intently. Something that Finn had acquired over the many months in the Army was the ability to look at a man and immediately be able to tell if he could be trusted or not. From the first time Finn met Jack Daniels, there was something that told Finn not to trust him and in the end, he was right. He got the same 'don't trust' vibe from every single person in the prison, EXCEPT Lincoln. Finn could tell that Lincoln had been in the prison for a long, long time and if anyone could help with the escape, it would be him.

"Man killed the vice-president's brother." Martinez said. "And in a month, he's getting the chair, which means no one up this river is more dangerous than him, 'cause he's got nothing to lose now. What are they gonna do? Kill him twice? No! In one month, his sentence is over."

"Lucky bitch." Finn muttered under his breath. Martinez raised an eyebrow.

"What? You want to take his sentence."

Finn nodded.

"I'm in here for life, no parole. I'm going to die in this prison. Might as well make it sooner than later. It's like you said, I got nothing to lose. Is there a way I can get to him?"

"Oh, definitely not." Martinez chuckled. "The only time those boys on the row get out is for chapel and P.I."

"P.I.? What's that?"

"Prison Industry." Martinez replied. "The guys that get along get to work. You know, painting, scrapping, making mattresses, you name it. I wouldn't get excited, though, if I were you, Fish. You're sniffing none of P.I."

"Why's that?"

"'Cause John Abruzzi runs it."

Finn raised an eyebrow.

"John Abruzzi John Abruzzi?" He asked.

"John Abruzzi John Abruzzi." Martinez nodded. "Hey, why you wanna see Burrows so bad anyhow?"

"Because he's the one who's gonna help me escape…"