Chapter 9

Callen's therapy session left him feeling emotionally drained and dejected and he had wandered outside, ignoring the calls of Joe who was ruling the pool table. He sat down on the grass, back against the brick wall that separated him from freedom. If he turned to his left he had a view through the metal fence of the grass on the outside. No matter what anyone said, the grass did look greener on the other side. He stared longingly at the sight, wishing he knew how he could escape. Raised voices brought him back to reality and he looked across the basketball court to see that Pollack had been woken from his doze in the sunshine. It looked as though someone had thrown the ball at him. Callen figured that was a pretty brave move and he hoped whoever was responsible had hurt Pollack and would not get caught. The boys were all animated in defence of their innocence, raising their arms and gesturing wildly. Callen stopped watching after a few minutes, as Pollack seemed to have focused on one boy, a tall seventeen year old, and was pushing him back indoors to face his punishment.

Callen closed his eyes and let the warm sun wash over him, feeling the calming pull of sleep that Jessop had denied him earlier that day in class. If he could bottle this moment then he could easily survive Southgate. But life was never that easy or that simple, at least not for him and minutes later, a shadow crossed his face and he opened his eyes. Matty B stood over him. Callen wondered what the hell he wanted. Matt and his gang had pretty much left him alone since he'd come out of isolation, probably because they knew the officers were making his life a misery. Either that or they were biding their time, however Callen doubted they had that much intelligence.

"You got something of mine," Matt said accusingly.

"Like fuck I do," Callen replied, instantly on edge, his previous exhaustion forgotten. He had always figured the aggressive approach was the only way to deal with bullies, which was probably one reason why he was involved in so many fights.

"You retarded or something? That pack of smokes," Matt enlightened him. "I want you to get them now."

"No," Callen had no idea why, after a few weeks, Matt now wanted the cigarettes to which he had no claim, after all Callen had laid down the bet and won fairly.

"What d'ya mean?" Matt took a step closer.

Callen quickly scrambled to his feet, keen to avoid the first kick that would soon head his way if he remained on the ground. "I mean I won that pool game and then you screwed me over." Callen prodded Matt in the chest, keen to make sure Matt was reminded that he was no easy mark. "They're mine."

"That's not how it works," Matt retaliated by pushing Callen against the wall. He took a step closer, his height giving him the advantage over the shorter and younger youth. "You don't smoke so I reckon you still got 'em. Give 'em to me."

Callen looked past Matt and saw that Pollack was back outside again, this time scanning the perimeter for groups of teens he could harass. There was now a very real risk that Pollack would see the exchange between the two boys and decide to make an example out of him again.

"No," Despite the COs presence, Callen decided he'd had enough of Matt and shoved him back, deftly moving to his left so he could no longer be backed up against the wall. He could now easily step out of Matt's reach should he decide to throw a punch.

Matt stumbled slightly and then rocked forward, grabbing Callen's arm to prevent him from walking away. The motion caused Callen to turn towards him. "We're going back to your cell and you're gonna get them for me, or you'll get what Southerby got."

"Bullshit" Callen replied, shaking off Matt's arm and moving a step closer to him. "You didn't kill Jake, he killed himself."

"Maybe, but I can still make you bleed to death," Matt held his ground and smiled a sickly sweet smile that revealed his crooked teeth. "Now, you're gonna get those cigarettes and then I want you to get me another pack tomorrow. You're gonna be my supplier."

Callen looked at Matt in amazement. "Get lost. Even if I was gonna do what you said, if I lift them too often the COs'll get suspicious."

"Does it look like I give a fuck? It's not my problem, asshole."

It was now Callen's turn to shake his head. If life wasn't tough enough, Matt was now trying to make it impossible. He might as well just knock on Director McKenzie's door and ask if he could serve the rest of his time at Southgate in solitary, just to get it over with. No matter how good a pick pocket he was, he would get caught in here...unless...he could steal the cigarettes and plant them on someone else straight away. That would work, he thought, hating the way he sometimes actually enjoyed solving ridiculously difficult problems. Callen then realised that he should actually start working on the greatest problem of all, escaping this dump.

"Fine," he gave in. It was sometimes just easier to at least give the impression that the other guy was in control. He would let Matt have that one pack and then set him up with the next. "You stay here and I'll get 'em. Bring them out in five."

Matt let him go and Callen walked a few paces, scanning the outside area for any signs of Pollack. He spotted him again leaving his post and approaching the entrance to the recreation room, at which point Callen instinctively spun around and leapt towards Matt. He clenched his fist and swung his right arm to land a vicious punch to Matt's right cheek, quickly followed with a knee to the groin. With Matt doubled up in pain, Callen kicked him to the floor and placed a foot on his chest, pressing down hard.

"Listen asshole," Callen leaned over him. "You'll get that one pack from me and then you're gonna leave me the fuck alone. If you or your gang come near me again, I'm gonna make you wish you'd never met me, understand? Understand?"

Matt snivelled in agreement, and Callen gave him a swift kick before walking away with a smug smile, wondering what Woodley would have made of that encounter. Idiot shrink, he thought with a shake of his head, sometimes violence was the only answer. Callen was thankful that Matt's gang were elsewhere that afternoon, but he figured Matt would once again seek his revenge, this time with backup. But if he did, he would be ready. Callen had seriously had enough of being told what to do and if Matt wanted a war, well he could have one.

Back in his cell, Callen dug his hand into the side of his mattress and pulled out the pack of cigarettes. It was currently the only item he had stashed and he was grateful the COs had not seen fit to search his cell since he'd been incarcerated. Callen shoved them in his pocket and then placed his hands in both front pockets to mask the shape and sauntered outside, scanning the area for Matt. He was no longer on the floor but had made it to the benches by the basketball court, where he was gingerly touching his face and leaning over in pain. Callen allowed himself a smile of satisfaction and he casually glanced around for Pollack; he had returned outside and was once again focused on the game of basketball and the passionate shouts that emanated from the twenty or so youths that were still playing. Instead of walking over to Matt, Callen headed back to the same spot he had occupied earlier. He sat down again and waited to be approached; there was no way he was going to make anything easy for him. Once again he leaned back and closed his eyes, day-dreaming of ways to permanently ensure Matt and his gang left him alone.

Callen waited about ten minutes before the sun disappeared, however when he opened his eyes this time, he found Pollack casting a shadow over him. "Stand up," he ordered.

Callen rolled his eyes and sighed, figuring he'd better obey. He took his hands out of his pockets and withdrew the cigarettes, palming them. He placed his hands just under the top of his thighs, slipped the pack beneath him as he pushed himself up, quickly moving his feet to stand on the pack. He had no idea if Matt had managed to squeal to Pollack, or if it was always his plan to set him up or if this was just another move by the COs to persecute him. Out of the three options, Callen was leaning towards the middle one.

"Turn around, place your hands against the wall and spread your legs," Pollack did not give any reason for wanting to search Callen.

"Why?" Callen stalled, trying to see past Pollack. He had not been searched at Southgate before, and he could only think that Pollack wanted to do it now because he had been given a reason; Matt and his gang.

"I think you've got cigarettes on you and they're banned,"

Callen stared at Pollack. "Bullshit, everyone smokes and you just ignore them,"

"Just enforcing policy asshole, now turn around."

"I'm clean," Callen answered, still stalling and refusing to obey Pollack.

Pollack took a step towards Callen, his face flushing red with anger and the frustration that he had still not broken this kid.

"What is it with you? Do you enjoy getting hurt? Now turn around before I make you."

Callen remained facing Pollack. The stand-off lasted seconds until Pollack decided he'd had enough. He took hold of Callen's arm and twisted it behind his back, forcing him to turn and face the wall. Callen grimaced, twisting and shuffling his foot forward, praying the cigarette pack would stay hidden beneath the sole of his plimsoll. Pollack shoved Callen against the wall, taking hold of the back of his head so he could push his face in to the bricks. Callen struggled, nearly wrenching his arm from its socket and scraping his face against the wall, while Pollack kicked Callen's legs apart.

"Stand still or I'll get Wells to help me. I think he's taken a liking to you and I'm sure he'd enjoy patting you down more than me..."

"Fucking pervert," Callen muttered as he stopped struggling, knowing that Pollack understood exactly who and what terrified him. Pollack systematically and thoroughly patted Callen down. Two hands ran down each arm with close attention paid to the cuffs of his sweater. His chest and back were cleared with Pollack making sure nothing was hidden in the waist band of his trousers. Two hands were run down each of his legs – his ankles and sock line were also found to be free of contraband.

"Am I good?" Callen asked, turning around. He was sweating with nerves and adrenaline but knew he was not safe until Pollack left. "I told you I was clean. Maybe you should go and search Matty B's cell and then search him, or are you just his bitch, doing whatever he tells you?"

"I thought we warned you to keep your mouth shut. Y'know, next time it'll be a cavity search performed by Wells, and I just know he'll be real thorough." Pollack smiled grimly. "And then you'll be the bitch, screaming for mercy."

"It'll never happen," Callen replied, quickly thinking that if he continued to antagonise Pollack, it could be his chance to obtain evidence of abuse at Southgate. "But I reckon you COs know all about that, I bet you bend over real well for Director McKenzie."

Pollack's breathing increased as he listened to Callen's words, and without warning, he punched Callen hard in the side, causing him to double over. Pollack opened his fingers, stretching them before he balled them tight, preparing for his next move. Callen took advantage of the slight delay in Pollack's attack. Holding his breath, he channelled all his strength into a football tackle, charging directly at Pollack's chest; a move he knew would leave no marks and have little effect, except to rile the CO further. Pollack staggered slightly and Callen took a step back, deliberately taking his time to prepare to follow through with a right handed uppercut. By the time Callen swung, Pollack was already blocking the attack, and he countered with two quick punches to Callen's stomach, causing the fifteen year old to fall to the floor. A swift kick finished Callen off and he curled up to protect himself, gasping for breaths that were almost too painful for him to take.

"You're a stupid fucker," Pollack spat. "And a worthless piece of crap. You must really hate your life to have done that to me."

Pollack left him lying there and walked away, calling for Matt. Callen remained still, his knees pulled in to his chest, wheezing as he struggled to get enough breath in to his lungs. He squeezed his eyes tight in an attempt force the pain to die away and tried to focus on revenge. Callen hoped Matt was about to get his second beating of the afternoon, this time by Pollack. It was about time he got a dose of his own medicine. Callen knew Matt had set him up just now, and for that, he would make him pay. Wil Emmerson was dealing drugs in direct competition to Matt, and Callen knew he could persuade Emmerson to help set up his rival for an almighty fall, or even put him out of business entirely. And if Emmerson wasn't willing, Callen would get the drugs from one of the other youths he knew dealt. Revenge would be so sweet and the bastard would not know what had hit him. He would start lifting personal items and weapons from other inmates and officers, planting them in Matt's cell. He would align himself with the various gangs at Southgate and drop very subtle hints and lies that would cause Matt to get a beating, from other kids and the officers. Oh yes, Callen thought, revenge would be so sweet and so easy. And as for Pollack, Callen would speak with Woodley and his social worker, showing them his bruises - hidden on his torso - and also tell them about the threats made of sexual abuse. They'd all started the war, and he was going to win each battle along the way until he was victorious.

Having channelled some of his pain into thoughts of revenge, Callen raised his head slightly to orientate himself. He had fallen close to the join between the brick wall and the metal fence. Holding his breath to try and stifle the pain, Callen shuffled a few inches towards the join and tested how tightly the fence was attached to the bricks and how deep the foundations were. The side of the fence was secured to the bricks but the foundations were non-existent.

Pollack had punched him hard and breathing was still not easy. Damn, he thought, how was he going to muster enough strength to pull the fence away? He had no answer to his own question but he suddenly realised this could be his one and only chance of escape. Callen listened to the background noise. He could no longer hear Pollack shouting for Matt but there seemed to be an increasing amount of noise from the basketball court. It seemed that the passionate game from earlier was becoming heated. Maybe lady luck was finally on his side.

Callen grimaced slightly as he changed position and realised he had fallen on top of his cigarette pack, which had remained hidden from Pollack. Callen took that as another sign that his luck was in and he placed the pack in his pocket, taking a deep breath. The pain was easing somewhat and Callen managed to brace his legs against the brick wall and tug at the fence. He repeated the action several times until the fastening popped out and the bottom of the fence curled up slightly. He assessed the size of the gap. He may be small but not even he could squeeze through that space. Moving his hands higher he again pulled at the fence. The next clip came away with ease and Callen glanced back quickly to see if he was being watched. He did not linger too long on the scenes behind him but managed to observe a crowd on the basket ball court, focused on their game and making a lot of noise.

Lifting the corner of the fence, Callen crawled underneath and within seconds he was on the other side. He made a half hearted attempt to pull the fence back down, and he partially succeeded until the lure of freedom overwhelmed him. He rolled behind the wall and satisfied he was through, he stood upright, wincing with the effort. He stretched gingerly, willing the last of the pain to disappear and he walked quickly along the edge of the wall. When he reached the corner he peaked round and saw the car park. Visiting hours had started and there were a number of cars neatly parked between dull painted lines on the asphalt. The safest and easiest way for him to escape was to drive out and then he could just follow the open road until he reached some town, somewhere no one knew him and he could start again.

Callen put his daydreams to the back of his mind. He was still a stone's throw from his place of incarceration and a long way from safety. He crept into the car park, using the sides of cars as cover. He had nothing to help him break in to a car and no time to try and find something suitable. Instead he had to rely on someone leaving their car unlocked, and anyone who trusted that all the criminals were on the inside deserved to have their car stolen. Callen tried the doors of several cars until he got lucky on his third attempt with a light brown station wagon. He opened the driver's door and slipped inside. Keeping low, he moved his hands to the area beneath the steering column, feeling for the wires that would enable him to hotwire the car. Seconds later he had pulled and twisted the wires together and the engine roared in to life. He sat back on the seat and shifted it forward so he could comfortably reach the peddles. Glancing around, Callen put the car in drive and calmly exited Southgate.