Convict Blood

by Ward, Vivian

  “Are you looking for someone?” A male voice asks me, slightly startling me.

  “Uh, yes,” I hesitate. I remind myself that I need to be careful who I trust and what I tell to whom. “I’m looking for Henry Easton.”

  “Henry Easton,” the man shouts over his shoulder.

  We both wait, but there’s no answer.

  “Sorry, mate, he might not be down here yet. They’ll be bringing more of us down here as the night goes on.”

  “Thank you,” I reply to him. “Maybe I’ll try later.” I begin to move away but the man stops me.

  “What’s your name?” He asks.

  “Vic,” I say. “Victoria Easton.”

  “William Norton. Nice to meet you,” he says. Lizzy begins to fuss in my arms, hot and hungry—just like the rest of us. “You got a baby?”

  “A feisty one,” I reply.

  “So, who’s Henry?” He asks.

  I don’t like how nosy he is but I don’t know any other male prisoners so it might be in my best interest to begin making friends with one in hopes to find my husband. “My husband,” I answer him, offering Lizzy my breast. “I have to go,” I excuse myself from our conversation before he asks any more questions.

  At least now if and when Henry gets down here, he’ll know that I was looking for him. Right now, that’s all I care about: finding my husband.

  * * *

  Over the next couple of days, our conditions don’t improve. The food is very limited—hardly enough rations to feed the rats scampering about our feet—and tastes worse than sweat sock soup, which is what I presume they’ve been feeding us because I don’t know of any edible foods that taste this awful.

  But the food is the least of my worries, at least for now. I still haven’t been able to find Henry and I’m dying to know where he is. He was right in line behind us until I was pulled out for ‘not cooperating’. The thought makes me roll my eyes because it’s absurd. I didn’t think about the crew having a manifest to keep track of everyone. If Kent would’ve simply told me that, I would’ve given him Lizzy’s name.

  I wish I could talk to one of the guards or Marines on the ship but they won’t even come down in the prison hulks because they’re too disgusting. They have certain prisoners come up to retrieve the food and bring it back down to us.

  What I wouldn’t do to get up on that deck with Lizzy in my arms for some fresh air and sunlight.

  It’s so dark and musty down here. The air barely moves and it amazes me there’s even enough oxygen for us to survive.

  “That’s a beautiful little girl you have there,” a woman says to me.

  Pulling Lizzy closer to my bosom, I say, “Thank you.”

  I don’t know who this woman is but she’s one of the convicts that are allowed upstairs to do chores—and I’ve heard rumors as to how she was able to get the privilege to go up there. No one has spoken her name but I’ve heard her referred to as The Whore quite often.

  “What’s her name?” She asks, cooing at Lizzy.

  “Elizabeth,” my answer is curt. Why do these convicts want to be so friendly? Most of them stay to themselves and mind their own business, but some are just too nosy for their own good.

  “I’m Charlotte,” she smiles. “Charlotte Coombs.”

  I nod, acknowledging her name. Charlotte The Whore, I think to myself. But I sort of feel bad for thinking that way of her. For all I know, the rumors are just that: rumors. It doesn’t mean they’re true but she does seem a bit free-spirited.

  She also seems genuinely nice.

  It would be nice to make a friend or two since my sentence is so long but what if others are only forming friendships for their benefit—to see what they can gain? Or what if we become really good friends and she dies? Then I’d have heartache on top of losing a friend.

  But then reality kicks in and I consider something I hadn’t thought of just yet. What if I die? Who would take care of Lizzy then? I doubt Henry could do it on his own—if I can even find him.

  Maybe having a friend wouldn’t be so bad at all. At least she’s not like the large woman who walks about the prison hulk, mumbling to herself as she stares at people. I’m not sure what her crime is but I wouldn’t be surprised if she murdered her entire family in her sleep. She’s very overweight and has circles as deep as the moon under her cold, dark eyes. Her hair is always disheveled and it makes me think that sleeping with one eye open might be the only way I survive down here.

  “Victoria Easton, but you can call me Vic,” I smile.

  “Elizabeth is really cute,” she lets my baby’s tiny fingers curl around her index finger.

  “Thank you. We actually call her Lizzy. She’s almost nine months old,” I tell her.

  A few of the other women are giving us sneering looks, almost as if I should be ashamed of talking to Charlotte, but I pay them no attention. If anything, I’ve always defied other’s opinions and I’m not about to change now.

  I’m interested to know how she’s able to go up on deck, so I decide to ask her about it. I’d give about anything to take Lizzy up there and feel a nice gentle breeze on our skin and get away from the stale air and rats.

  “You have to get in good with one of the guards or Marines,” she says in a hushed tone. It’s almost as if she doesn’t want the others to overhear.

  “I’d love to take my baby up there,” I confide in her. “These are no conditions for a baby to live in.”

  “Hell,” she snickers. “These aren’t living conditions for any human being. What’d you do to land yourself here?”

  Ashamed of my crime, I fall silent as I think about how I should present it to her.

  “I’m in here for murder,” she finally confesses to me, and it shocks the hell out of me!

  A female murderer?

  It’s almost unheard of!

  Well, except the crazy lady who I believe would—and could— wipe us all out in our sleep.

  “Murder?” I ask, making sure to keep my voice low. The last thing I want is for the others to know that I’m slowly befriending a murderer. What would they think of me then if they’re already giving accusing glares of befriending a whore?

  “Yes,” she sighs. “It’s not as bad as it sounds, though.” Her tone is matter-of-fact and I don’t know how she’s being so nonchalant about it. “My dad’s friend—acquaintance,” she corrects herself, “tried raping me. Even though it was self-defense, that’s not how the majesty saw it. All they cared about was a poverty-stricken girl killed someone of power, and that’s all there is to say about that.”

  She grows quiet, deep in thought. “You killed someone of power? Who was it?” I ask.

  “The bastard’s name is Earl Clifford,” she hisses. “And if I had to do it all over again, I’d have done it before he got inside my body—before he had a chance to know what I felt like on the inside.”

  “I’m so sorry, Charlotte,” I murmur. I can’t imagine being raped and God only knows what she endured.

  “You should feel sorry for that fat bastard. His fake wig stunk to high heaven and the sweaty pig shouldn’t have put his cock where it didn’t belong. I’m just glad they didn’t hang me. That’s what they were originally going to do but my dad pulled some strings to get death taken off the table because of my age and being female.”

  We sit in silence for a bit before she asks me about my crime again.

  “Theft.” It rushes out of my mouth before I can stop myself. My crime doesn’t seem nearly as bad as hers.

  “You look like a saint,” she laughs. “Why would you steal? And what did you steal?”

  My eyes flutter before locking my sights on my precious baby. “My husband was out of work and we couldn’t feed ourselves, so I stole food. Got caught, obviously.”

  “That’s not so bad,” she smiles. “I’d have done it, too.”

  “I just wish I hadn’t dragged my husband with me when I was stealing. Now we’re both here.”

  “Have you seen him?” She a
sks.

  I shake my head, tears welling up in my eyes as a hard lump forms in my throat. I’m unable to answer her.

  In a kind gesture, she wraps her arm around me. “Vic, I’m going to see if I can get you and Lizzy on deck for a bit, but no promises. Everything is completely up to the Marines and guards that watch over us.”

  “Oh, I’d be forever grateful! Do you think you can help me find my husband? I tried looking for him yesterday but never found him.”

  “When was the last time you saw him?” She asks.

  “We were all lined up along the shore, boarding the rowboats. He was in the same line as Lizzy and me, but I talked to a man named William and he couldn’t find him on the other side.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything,” she says.

  Shortly after, I rock Lizzy to sleep in my arms and that’s when the guards open the door from above and call out a few names—Charlotte is one of them.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” she whispers as she walks past me.

  * * *

  “Victoria Easton,” my name booms from up on deck later in the day. It startles me because nobody else is being called—just me.

  With wide eyes, I stare at Charlotte, frozen in fear. She shrugs her shoulders and is just as confused as I am. I begin to make my way up the stairs and that’s when he stops me.

  “Leave the baby,” his voice thunders.

  I stop dead in my tracks. Why would I leave my baby? Who am I going to leave her with?

  Charlotte scurries over to the steps and holds her arms out to take Lizzy. “I’ve got her.”

  I can’t imagine why they’re calling me, but maybe it’s so I can see Henry! Eager to know what’s going on, I reluctantly hand her my most precious possession in the world: my baby. “Don’t lay her down. I don’t want the rats chewing on her blanket or biting her,” I explain to Charlotte.

  “I’d never,” she gasps, shaking her head.

  Nodding, I hand her over and begin climbing the stairs again. The sunlight burns my eyes as I near the top of them. I hadn’t realized how long it’s been since I’ve been in actual light. It might have only been a couple of days but when you’re locked in complete darkness, it does quite a number on your eyesight. Squinting my way up the steps, I take in a deep breath and am relieved to have fresh air that doesn’t smell like human waste.

  On deck, my eyes try to focus and adjust to the bright light that almost forces them shut. They sting and the sunlight is almost unbearable. After almost a minute, I can finally open them—just barely—to see who’s called me up to the deck.

  And that’s when I immediately want to run back down the stairs.

  “Well, well, well,” says the Marine. “We meet again.”

  It’s Officer Kent. The same man who pulled me out of the line and separated me from my husband, and now he’s separating me from my daughter.

  “What is this about?” I ask in a clipped tone, keeping up the facade that I’m tough and that nothing bothers me. In reality, I’m shaking on the inside and terrified of this monster.

  He looks around and that’s when I do, too. There are a few male convicts working on deck, repairing some of the rails. He makes sure none of them are within earshot and yells at them to hurry with their work.

  “A little birdie told me that you wanted upper deck privileges.” A wry smile spreads across his face, exposing his teeth.

  I wish that I could punch him right in the throat and knock the air right out of him. I want to claw his eyes out. I want to tell him to piss off, but I don’t. He could be our ticket to fresh air and maybe a chance at some better food. Charlotte doesn’t make too much of it since she knows how hungry we are down in the hulk, but she’s told me how sometimes they’ll give her cheese and crackers while she’s up here. It might not sound like a big deal but it is. It’s a huge deal compared to the tiny bits of slop and scrap that they feed us.

  But I don’t even know if I can trust this man. He made a big deal out of nothing when I didn’t want to give him Lizzy’s name. I can’t believe I’m about to do this, but the words escape my lips before I can stop them.

  “That’s right,” I say, attempting to stand a bit taller, even though I’m embarrassed. I feel like I’m groveling for air and scraps, but if it means bettering myself and my daughter, I’ll beg all day long.

  “Tell me why I should help you. What are you going to do for me?” His wicked eyes gleam and his teeth flash at me again. They’re so white—almost too white. Maybe it’s just the sun.

  Appalled at his response, my mouth drops open but I quickly shut it. He clearly has the upper hand here but I won’t give him the satisfaction of playing his games.

  “Because you want to be a decent human being,” I say through clenched teeth. “Because you know that my baby and I are stuck down in that disgusting rat’s nest with no fresh air or sunlight and because we’re starving down there.”

  A slight grin tugs at the corners of his lips. “I could help you, but if I’m not getting anything out of the deal, I don’t see why I should go out of my way.”

  He grabs hold of my wrist and pulls me close to him. Despite his rough exterior appearance, he smells good; like soap. What I wouldn’t do to have a bath. It’s been weeks since I’ve gotten to properly bathe myself or Lizzy.

  “So tell me, convict,” the word rolls off his tongue with disgust and hatred. “What are you going to do for me?”

  His hard cock pokes into my belly and I can practically smell the pheromones he’s emitting. My mouth goes dry and a thick knot forms in my throat, rendering me unable to speak.

  He’s suggesting sexual favors.

  Our silence is broken when he snaps around, dragging me by the waist back to his private cabin. I open my mouth to call for help but his strong, thick hand crashes down over my mouth.

  “Shhhh,” he hushes me. “Don’t make a sound.”

  My mind races as I begin to imagine what he’s going to do to me, what he’s capable of, and what he might do to my baby girl. With my heart racing, I begin to prepare myself for what’s to come.

  I can practically smell her fear and seeing her big, doe eyes staring up at me as I throw her onto my bed makes my cock surge with lust.

  Before she became a convict, I have a feeling that she was an ordinary housewife. I can envision her washing clothes, folding laundry, cooking, cleaning, and taking care of her baby.

  What she doesn’t realize is that I’ve had my sights set on her since all of the convicts were lined along the shore. She doesn’t look like the rest of the lot. There’s not a hardened feature about her. Her face is small and feminine, her voice sweet and high. She can try to fool me all she wants with her tough-guy act, but I know she doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.

  Her body.

  Fuck.

  I don’t know what she looked like before she gave birth, but motherhood has been good to her. Her ample hips and soft curves makes me want to explore every delicate inch of them. I noticed her when the prisoners were standing in small groups as she nursed her baby. She was being modest—like I said, she’s sweet and innocent, and she doesn’t belong with this lot but that’s none of my business—and even though her breast was barely exposed, I couldn’t turn away.

  There was something about her. The way she held her baby, the way the breeze blew past her shirt, exposing a little more of her breast each time, and the way she smiled made me unable to take my eyes off of her.

  And when she refused to talk to me and give me her baby’s name, I liked the fight in her. She might be innocent compared to the rest of the women on this vessel, but she’s a fighter.

  Towering over her by almost a foot and outweighing her by almost double her weight, she didn’t back down—not even for a minute. She was insistent that I not find out her baby’s name. Hell, she barely wanted to tell me her name.

  Why?

  That’s something I’ve been asking myself over and over. Why wouldn’t she give me her name? What is s
he hiding?

  “Wh—what are you going to do to me?” She asks, scurrying to the other side of the bed.

  I want to laugh at her. Tell her how pathetic she is and that I’ll do damn well what I please to her precious little body. Here, she’s nothing more than a convict and that doesn’t give much regard to one’s status. Why should I care about her? She’s just another convict. She’s a warm hole with a wet mouth.

  But she’s different.

  It pisses me off that she’s different. She’s not special but she thinks she is. “I should whip you,” I growl. “You’ve been nothing but trouble since I met you, Victoria.”

  Her eyes widen when I use her name. Startled, she gasps.

  “Then do it! Go ahead and whip me, or let me go! I could just leave, you know,” she says, eyeing the door.

  Her tone sends chills up my spine. It almost reminds me of when my ex-wife and I used to fight. I fucking hate it and I will not tolerate it. Not for a second.

  I glance back at the door, too. She could leave if she tied or really wanted to. It’s unlocked….but there’s one problem.

  “How the hell do you suppose you’ll get past me, Victoria? Have you not noticed that I can dominate you in every form imaginable?”

  Gritting her teeth, she leaps off the bed in an attempt to pass me. I’ve had men—my size and bigger—charge past me in military training. Catching her is easier than swatting a fly. I laugh at her feeble attempt to escape.

  “You’re a monster! Let. Me. Go!” She demands, her tiny fists pounding into my chest.

  “Keep fighting,” I say, my mouth near her ear. “I like a girl who fights.”

  “Ah!” She hisses and tries to get away from me but I have a tight hold on her and I refuse to let her go.

  Swatting her ass, I can feel the heat and sting on the palm of my hand when I remove it from her bottom. Her head snaps up as her body tightens, and now I finally have her attention.