Breaking the Terrible News:

Paul placed a crooked finger on his bottom lip. He bit it once or twice as he gazed upon a man's body, neatly placed inside the closet. It was sprawled inside, among the many boots and coats alike; a prison uniform was placed over the head of the corpse. An investigator removed the dirty clothing from the body, and observed the man with his eyes wide open, staring into the abyss; and his mouth gaped slightly. The forensic investigator continued to examine the body as Hal brought Paul over to the right and whispered:

"So," Hal started. "This is the doing of your petty prisoner?"

Paul nodded, "Yes, sir. I firmly believe that. I confirm that rather."

Hal crossed his arms, "I want to know why that man was alone. There was nobody around to check on the guard, for hours on end? There was no person of higher authority there?"

"It was all a part of the schedule. There was only one prisoner. We didn't think that he would attempt to do such a thing."–

"Well, then I'm going to have to change that schedule." Hal continued to shift his eyes towards the body, and then straight back to Paul. "We learn off of our mistakes, do we not?"

Paul agreed.

Hal continued his speech, "The thing is, is that now that man is on the loose. He's most likely out of the prison, and he's probably amidst the everyday population. Only you know how dangerous this man is, don't you?"

Paul shrugged, "I'm not sure sir."

Hal's jaw dropped to the floor. "Not sure? What in the flying fuck are you unsure about? A guard is dead, he killed a guard."–

"But not with his bare hands," the forensic investigator interrupted.

Both Paul and Hal neared the body. They focused on the investigator, who was holding the victim's jaw with great force. He pulled forward, revealing a small red prick near the corpse's collarbone. The investigator took a deep breath before speaking, "Looks like our friend here, was not strangled…but injected."

"Injected?" Hal questioned.

The investigator nodded, "Yes that mark can only come from a needle. I don't know what he was injected with, but it's most likely a poison."

Paul's ears perked. "Poison…but where did he obtain poison, let alone a needle?"

The forensic investigator tossed some suggestions into the ring. "This isn't really my department, but I'd say the lack of security, and body searching would do the trick. Once the prisoner is inside that cell for the very first time, they could easily take their smuggled belongings out from their pockets, and stuff them under a pillow."

Hal and Paul both stared at the man, flabbergasted.

The investigator shrugged, "What? I come here at least once a week." The man pulled a cigarette from his back pocket, and lit it with a match. He blew a puff of smoke into the air. Paul was not impressed. He didn't mind others smoking, but on his block, that was an unacceptable action. "Now, police will take the body to my lab, and confirm the cause of death there, alright? Now, I suggest that you better start on finding this man, before he kills more people. He's on Death Row for a reason."

Paul carefully watched the investigator leave the scene. The door slammed, and Paul glared at Hal. "Well, we better find that man. If he knows the right people, or even gets his hands on a gun, then there will be no stopping him. He's a strong manipulator, with a weak body. We do not know what an offender like him would do next."

Hal nodded. "I'll make sure the prison keeps a good eye inside Cold Mountain. He's probably near the area, considering that we found this poor soul late this evening."

Paul sighed, "I'm going to round the boys for a cup of coffee. There are no more prisoners in E block for the moment, so I think security is really unnecessary at the moment. I've got to tell them what's going on, because I have a bad feeling."

Hal squinted, "A feeling?"

Paul could barely understand his thought, but in the end, he kept it to himself, "Never mind."

The four guards were gathered at Paul's farm; some drinking coffee; others with stronger tastes. They all sat around a small table. Brutus and Harry both had cards strewn into their hands, whilst Dean was lounging backward, feet on the table, with a cigar between his fingers. Paul had a distorted look upon his face. He bit his cheek, then his tongue, wondering how on Earth he was going to tell his friends what was occurring at the mile. But no matter how you sliced the situation, they all had a right to know; for they worked right alongside Paul.

Brutus placed a card down on the table quietly. He shifted his eyes towards Harry; who bore a perplexed expression upon his face. "My god Brutal, you beat me."

Brutus chuckled, "After years, and years of practice, I've done so!"

Dean leaned forward, "Oh Brutal, Harry is a little shaky. He hasn't got much practice. You know, with his days off and all."

Brutus shook his head, "He's had more than enough time to practice on his leave." Brutal snatched the cards upon the table. He shuffled them into his hands.

Meanwhile, Paul gazed upon his fellow companions. "Guys, there is something urgent that I have to tell you."

Brutus stared blankly at his coffee, his hands still shuffling the cards. Harry and Dean couldn't bear to take their eyes off of Paul. "What is it?" Brutal piped up.

A shiver travelled down Paul's spine. It took a lot of courage, but it didn't take long for the words to come spilling out of his mouth. "Freddie, our prisoner, escaped yesterday. The guard got too close to the bars, and so Freddie injected him with a poison of some sort. He took the guard's clothing, and used it to escape during shift changes; nothing was unusual until approximately seven o'clock in the evening."

There was an awkward silence for the longest time, until Harry leaned forward, "So, what do we do?"

"Well, I have a disturbing suspicion," Paul blatantly said.

Dean bit his cheek, "And what is that suspicion?"

Paul couldn't hold his beliefs hostage anymore. "Freddie hates the four of us…he hates…all of us. We placed him into that cell; that cell which held him prisoner until his death. Like any other prisoner, he hates us. But now that he's escaped…" Paul trailed off.

Brutal finished the sentence, "You believe that he's going to come after the four of us, and attempt to kill us?"

Paul didn't know what to think anymore. "I cannot confirm that. For all I know, he could have a vendetta against the whole world for sentencing him to death. He's got to entertain himself, and his way of entertaining is inflicting pain onto others. Rage and revenge is now in the mix."

Dean added sarcastically, "Well, I'll be sleeping with one eye open tonight."

Paul sneered, "I would hardly call this a humorous situation, because you may have to. Hal has issued a warning for all civilians over the radio. We have to protect our families and our friends."

Brutal asked the final question, "What are we going to do?"

Paul answered, "He needs to be retrieved; dead or alive. We are cops too, technically speaking. We hold a weapon upon our belt. Now, I'd prefer if he was alive, so we can go back to our normal duties, and carry out his sentence while holding our heads up high. But if you are threatened in any way, or if he's going to pose a threat to any sort of human life, rid of him. Just make sure that you are armed at all times." Paul paused momentarily before continuing, "Continue your everyday lives for now. I'm sure we will cross paths with Freddie. Unfortunately, the mile is still open, and we are going to retrieve that prisoner from the infirmary next week. Be careful, all of you. I'd hate to see you all dead."

Chapter 15 is next...