Convict Blood

by Ward, Vivian

  After what seems like an eternity of twisting and my fingers becoming raw, I’m nowhere near close to having a key. But I’m not done yet. I notice it’s getting darker outside, which means he’ll return soon and I don’t have much time.

  Panic sets in and I begin searching the walls and ceiling. There has to be an old nail sticking out somewhere or something. Even if it’s just a tiny piece of broken wood that I could whittle into a key.

  You’ve got to be kidding me.

  How is there not one nail? Not a single one! And absolutely no splintered pieces of wood! What’d they do? Sand the whole damn thing down before they put us on here? This is insane!

  But I’ve got to get out. I just have to!

  Glancing around the room again, my eyes lock on the tiny porthole. It’s my only option. My last option. I just hope my butt can fit through it! I guess it’s a good thing that I’ve lost some weight during my incarceration because only a tiny fairy could fit through that window—but I’ve got to try. It’s that, or be stuck here until he decides to let me be with my daughter.

  Maybe he’s trying to kill her, I think to myself. My blood boils at the thought and if he were in front of me right now, I’d snap him in two! It wouldn’t matter how much bigger he is, if he were trying to kill my baby, I’d have enough adrenaline to kill all of the Marines on this ship!

  Desperate to get back to my baby, I try to pry open the tiny porthole. It’s rusted shut and almost impossible to open. But then I think about Lizzy and how much she must miss me and how hungry she probably is, and it gives me that surge of adrenaline that I need to do the job.

  I pull with all my might, my hands locked on the rusted steel. Needing more strength, I plant my feet against the wall and give it one more hard tug.

  “Arrrggghhh!” I grunt, pulling it until it snaps off of the window.

  Holding the piece of rusted metal in my hand, I stare at it in disbelief. Are you kidding me? I think to myself. How could I be so strong that I ripped it off but the damn window is STILL shut?

  “For fuck’s sake!” I mutter to myself.

  But then a new idea dawns on me. It’s perfect! I can use this piece of rusted steel and fashion it to make a key to fit the keyhole. Using the edge of his steel bed, I push back the mattress and begin sharpening one of the edges. Rusted, red flakes are flying all over, discoloring my skin and I know I have to be careful not to cut myself as it starts getting sharp. The last thing I need is an infection because I doubt they have any medicine on board.

  But all I can focus on is perfecting this key so I can get out of here and get back to Lizzy. It’s the only thing that matters. Once I have her, half of my battle will be over. Then, I can finally start looking for Henry again. If Henry knew what was going on right now, he’d rip this Marine in two with his bare hands.

  I’ll break Victoria one way or another. Taking her to my private sleeping quarters was my best idea ever! Now I’ve got her right where I want her—literally and figuratively. Sooner or later, she will bow to me. A mother can never stay far from her child for too long and as much as she’s begged and pleaded to get back to her baby, I know it won’t be long.

  When I left her alone to think about things, it was purely for my benefit. Hearing her mention her husband, Henry, made me wonder if she was telling the truth or not.

  It’s common sense that you should never trust a convict but I see no reason for her to lie, unless she’s just a prude and doesn’t want to exchange sex for fresh air, a chance at more food, and new clothes for her and her baby.

  When they brought supplies on the boat, we were given food for everyone on board, water, clothes, and a limited supply of certain medicines; though, those are kept under lock and key by the doctor. Even as Marines, we were told that we were not to abuse food and medicine because it has to last everyone on the ship during the length of our voyage until we can meet up with the supply ship periodically. There’s another boat traveling with our fleet—five of us in total—and it carries most of the supplies since it doesn’t house prisoners. It’s strictly supplies and more Marines so that we have enough security when we dock.

  I’ve spent the last few hours investigating whether or not she has a husband and if he’s on this ship. When we did intake, all of us Marines were split up to record everyone in small groups to make the process go faster. If I’d have taken in a second Easton, I would’ve noticed.

  Sitting in the officer’s quarters, I’ve poured over many sheets of paper, searching for Henry Easton but, so far, have found nothing. My neck is stiff and my eyes are growing tired, but that’s not why I stop searching. I hear some chatter that puts me on alert.

  “I don’t know where she went,” I hear Digby say to another one of the Marines.

  “Either she’s dead down in the hulks or she’s hiding somewhere on the ship. We’ve got to find her but it might have to wait until morning because it’ll be too dark to see if she’s down there at this time of night.”

  “Even with candles? You think it’d be too dark?” Digby questions.

  That stupid fucking idiot. I know they’re talking about Victoria, she’s the only convict that they’d be looking for because I have her locked away in my room. And he’s going to get me in trouble if I’m caught with her.

  “We can try but with the amount of excrement and straw on the floor, it’ll be too hard to see. At least if we wait until morning, we’ll have a tiny amount of light if we leave the door open before we go down,” the other officer says. “We need to have the hulks cleaned out—for reasons just like this—but nobody is willing to do it.”

  “But the women said that baby’s been crying all day and it’s driving them mad! Surely, a riot will break out soon if we don’t do something about it,” Digby says.

  I have to act fast because there are several punishments that I could face for having a convict in my room. Not only that, but she could be in trouble, too. It’s one thing for me to hold her in my room for a bit and give her a few lashes, but I would become enraged if anyone disciplined her. I took it easy on her. These other officers? They’d make an example out of her—and me. There would be blood, open wounds, and public humiliation.

  I’ve seen it before and it’s sickening how cruel some of them can be towards these prisoners. Criminal or not.

  “I’m sure there’s some explanation,” I intervene, asserting myself into the conversation, trying to talk them out of looking for her.

  “What explanation could there possibly be?” Digby asks. I want to tear him in two. Either he knows exactly where she is or he’s just a damn fool.

  Shrugging my shoulders, I say, “There’s no way a prisoner could be hiding on the ship. There has to be another reason or explanation. Maybe the mother is sleeping or just sick? Or maybe the baby’s sick? There’s no telling.”

  “Maybe we should call the doctor,” Digby suggests. “If there’s a sick mother or baby, we need to get them help.”

  Frustrated, I want to reach out and choke him for suggesting such things. Why would he say that? He’s making this much more difficult than it needs to be and I’ve had it with him.

  “No,” I quickly belt out, shutting down that idea. “It could be a trick. Nobody’s sick because if they were, everyone would have it,” I try to reason with him, even though I know for a fact that many of the convicts are sick.

  The two look at each other before returning their attention to me and for a moment, I’m relieved, but I can’t tell for sure whether they bought it or not.

  “Kent is right,” says the other officer. “The convicts could all be in cahoots with one another. For all we know, they could be planning to try to ambush us and take over the boat.”

  Digby, for the first time in a long time, is speechless as he considers this explanation. Not only is he a pushover, but he’s also a damn idiot. He’d believe almost anything if you sold it to him well enough.

  “Yeah,” he mumbles, stewing it over. “You might be right, mate. Let’s go a
head and wait until morning so we have more light to see down there.”

  All of us nod in agreement but I can tell Digby is still worried about the situation. Now he’s afraid of three things: a riot, a sick mother and baby, or an ambush. If I didn’t know the situation, I’d probably be worried about those three things as well, but I’ve been an officer long enough that I know how to use my training. And the other officer has already forgotten about it; he couldn’t care less.

  I quickly make my way back to my room, ensuring that I go unnoticed so that I don’t draw any extra attention to myself. The last thing I need is for someone to catch me acting suspicious or transporting a convict back down to the hulks at this hour.

  On deck, there are a couple of officers standing alongside the railing, talking. It worries me as to how I’ll sneak her past them to get her back down in the hulks. Approaching them, I can smell rum in the air and notice that they’re quite drunk. They won’t be a problem.

  “Good evening, mates,” I nod to them.

  “Kent, come have a drink with us!” One of them sways and staggers as he makes his way toward me.

  “Yeah, come on and have a drink with us. We’ve got plenty for the night.”

  Bloody idiots.

  “Nah,” I hold up my hand and shake my head. “That stuff gives me a headache when I drink too much.”

  “Aw, come on, mate! Don’t be like that. Just have a few sips—a small nightcap.” He waits for my response but when I don’t answer right away, he says, “It’ll help you sleep like a baby tonight.”

  After seeing Victoria spread across my bed with her rosy ass cheeks, I know I’ll be up all night thinking about her and what I should’ve done to her in that moment.

  The thought of having some rum is tempting, but I don’t have much time. If those women start making a ruckus down there with that baby crying, it’ll be all over for both of us.

  “Okay, just a bit,” I say. “I don’t want a splitting headache in the morning.”

  They pour me a small cup’s worth and I take a swig, letting the warm liquor linger in my mouth, burning my tongue.

  “Good stuff, aye?” He smiles, showing his rotting teeth like the drunk that he is.

  Nodding, “Bloody oath,” I say, attesting to how good it is.

  “Have another, mate,” he offers, pouring more in my cup before I can stop him.

  “Last one,” I insist, holding up my cup.

  “Ah, crikey mate, don’t be that way,” he slurs.

  “If I have too much more, you’ll have to send the booze bus after me,” I joke. “Cheers.”

  After two cups of rum, I can feel the effects of the alcohol as it makes my nose partially numb. Wherever they got their rum, it’s bloody good. I’ll have to have some more another night when I’m not trying to sneak a convict out of my room.

  “I’ll catch you some other night. Thanks for the nightcap, mates,” I say, leaving them to continue drinking by themselves.

  Strolling down the deck, it takes me a few minutes to get back to my room. As I make my way to my door, and that’s when I hear an odd sound coming from the inside of the room. Listening for a moment, I almost wonder if I’m imagining it from the alcohol or if it’s actually real.

  The sounds coming from nature make it impossible to tell. Unsure as to what it is, I quickly remove my keys from my trousers and place the key inside the skeleton hole.

  I don’t know how, but I didn’t hear his heavy boots as he approached the door, nor did I hear him unlock it. Quickly spinning around, I do my best to hide the rusted piece of iron behind my back.

  The fact that I’m still here—and have been trapped inside this room for most of the day—has my blood boiling. I want to take this corroded piece of metal and stab him right in the neck, just like I envisioned earlier. How sweet it would be to murder him for taking me away from my daughter. I can already taste his metallic blood in my mouth. To say I’d love to bathe in it would be an understatement.

  I want to kill him.

  But something about him seems off, just from his movement. Is he hurt? Maybe I won’t have to kill him. All that would do is add more time to my sentence and it might possibly take me away from Lizzy forever. I don’t know if it’s possible on the ship, but I know in jail, they’d put you in solitaire confinement if you did something too bad. The thought of never seeing Lizzy again takes my breath away and makes my heart physically ache. I’d never be able to live with myself.

  I could just rush him and run out of here. Nobody would even know it were me—unless I got caught by some of the other officers on board. Surely, I could find my way back to the hulks. In fact, I know I can. I’ve been in here all night listening to both prisoners and officers walking around the ship. It’s very easy to tell when they’re by the hulks because you can smell the rot wafting up when they open the door.

  It’s disgusting.

  “What are you doing?” He says, coming closer.

  His feet stumble but he grabs hold of his small dresser to catch himself from falling. What in the hell is wrong with him?

  “Nothing,” I lie.

  I’m a horrible liar.

  No matter how pissed I am, I know he’s a danger to me. His sheer size alone is enough to make me cower but what’s more intimidating is that I know he has Military training. With that background and his size and strength, he could easily overpower me, which is why I can’t wrap my mind around the fact that not only am I willing to kill him, but I actually have a plan.

  Maybe having a plan is the only thing that’s going to save me. The minute my baby’s image flash through my mind, all I see is red but the minute I glimpse up at his broad shoulders, chiseled chest, and muscular arms, I begin to tremble and shake. My whole body wants to recoil and hide.

  But I can’t.

  I won’t.

  Because having Lizzy in my arms is too important and I must stand up to him. I have to make it back to her. It’s the only thing that matters right now. I’ve been locked up in this stupid room for far too long and I’m more determined than ever to get back down to her.

  His glossy eyes lock in on me and I swear I see a dark glint in his deep blue eyes. He looks wicked! Almost possessed. There’s something dangerous lurking in the air and his eyes are laser-focused on me.

  A few steps closer, he stops just before the bed and says, “Let me see your hands.”

  My heart races and my hands begin to sweat as my fingers wrap themselves even tighter around the rusted piece of metal in them.

  Unable to speak, I hold my breath as I anticipate his next move. Now that he’s closer, I can smell alcohol on his breath as he expels a hot burst of air in my face. This is it, this is my chance—maybe my only chance.

  My adrenaline spikes and I can practically hear my heartbeat thumping in my eardrums as I leap off the bed. Everything moves at warped speed and before I know it, I brandish my weapon, aiming it straight at his jugular.

  “Aaaahhhh!” I scream, my nostrils flaring as I show my teeth. I feel like a wild animal out of control as my entire body tenses, preparing to attack him.

  His eyes grow wide as saucers as he watches me lunge at him. The look of shock on his face sends waves of pleasure through my body. I will take great pleasure in his suffering because I’ve had enough.

  Enough abuse of his power.

  Enough separation from my daughter.

  Enough being locked away as his prisoner.

  In one swift motion, a grin flashes across his face and instead of backing away from me, he comes closer. His hand grabs hold of my arm, stopping it mid-air, as his hard, solid chest crashes against mine. Both of our hearts are pounding so hard that we can feel each other’s heartbeats as we stand against one another. Our breathing matches, too; fast and out-of-breath.

  The realization sets in that my attempt to attack him has failed miserably and my body begins shaking uncontrollably. My legs suddenly feel weak and my knees begin to wobble, but I do my best to back into the corn
er of the room to get away from him.

  It’s no use. Even with alcohol-laced breath, he’s still quick on his feet and fast approaching, giving me no time to put adequate space between us.

  Sweat dripping from his reddened face, his lips curl as his hands wrap around my throat, shoving me against the wall, knocking my makeshift key-shank to the ground. He kicks it away, far out of my reach. My head and shoulders smack the wall with a powerful force but it’s nothing compared to the lashing that I received earlier.

  “Did you think you were going to attack me?” A burst of sinister laughter escapes his wide throat.

  Wrapping his strong hands around my throat, I’m paralyzed in his grasp. A barely audible whimper leaves my lips. I can’t think. I can’t speak. I can’t breathe. His grip isn’t cutting off my air supply, but I’m frozen with fear. My body is inoperative, refusing to do anything I tell it.

  “Nothing to say?” He leans in close to me, his breath hard on my neck, tickling my ear. The alcohol is the only thing I can smell and I hate it.

  He’s drunk.

  Refusing to answer him, he takes it upon himself to restrain me even more. “Turn around convict. Face the wall!”

  With no choice in the matter, he spins me around, pushing my breasts against the wall. His body presses against mine, preventing me from any free movement. He has complete control over my body.

  Grabbing my wrists, he forces them behind my back, making my shoulders feel like they’re going to pop out of their socket. “Ahhh,” I whimper.

  “That’s it,” he says, a hint of a smile and satisfaction in his tone.

  “Please, stop,” I plead with him. “I just want to get back to my daughter.”

  “And you will—after I’m done with you.” Oh, god, not another lashing. I can’t take two in one day. “You think you’re so good with your hands?” He asks, pulling my shoulders even tighter.