Zombie Lockup Series (Book 3): Caged 3

by Buda, Chuck

  Warden Gorgon laughed out loud. “No. Leave BJ in the hole. We can get to the bottom of his confession.”

  Muncie rolled his eyes and twisted the door knob. Stepping through to the hallway, Gorgon called after Muncie once more. Muncie waited for his instructions.

  “Bring me the older one. The one Turk has an affinity for?”

  “Melvin? The old fuck?”

  Warden Gorgon clapped his hands together. “Indeed. Bring me Melvin. I think I know a way I can get Mr. Turk’s attention. Maybe he will finally come around to our way of thinking.” He wiggled his eyebrows at Muncie like an excited kid.

  Muncie groaned and slammed the door shut behind himself. The Warden stepped behind his desk and stared out the large window. The empty stretch of horizon looked ominous. Time was running out. Soon Warsaw Prison would be faced with a true test. One which couldn’t be easily manipulated through words and threats. The world outside would become part of the inside. And he knew Muncie was correct. Out there, it would be every man for himself. Even the Warden would be exposed as a helpless lump of flesh and bone. Susceptible to the same scourge as the others.

  More work needed to be done. His plan for an undead army might have to be supplemented with a suit of armor for himself. A protective layer beneath the layers of skin and muscle.

  As quickly as the thought arose, Warden Gorgon pushed the notion of infecting himself aside. It was an option he could consider. But not now. Only when the end came near.

  Until that moment, he had to work feverishly on his only survival plan. He had to complete his mission quickly. Before the hordes arrived. And before Muncie figured out how to overcome his tyranny. Everything was eventual. Especially death.

  Chapter 12

  Jack hoped BJ could get to Jonas before the shit hit the fan. Part of him hoped BJ lived long enough to make it to Jonas, period. Desperate times had everyone in the prison acting strangely. Jack was good at reading people and situations and even he found it increasingly more difficult to predict the behavior of Muncie and the Warden.

  Several guards marched alongside Jack through the halls of the prison. Muncie showed up at the hole, announcing Jack’s return to C-Pod. Before the shock of the statement reached Jack’s brain, Muncie jabbed his stomach with a baton. He owed Muncie another one now.

  “What are you going to do with BJ?” Jack spoke without making eye contact.

  Muncie snorted. “The fuck do you care, Jack? You got what you wanted.”

  “True. I was longing for a trip to the hole and an extra beating. I love the accommodations in this place.” Jack’s sarcasm was extra thick.

  Muncie shoved Jack’s back with his night stick. Jack grinned to himself. He enjoyed getting under Muncie’s skin even if it didn’t get him anything else. The game itself was a pleasure, especially now.

  Jack had been surprised when the guards dragged him to the hole. He never suspected they would’ve included him in the process of removing BJ from C-Pod. Jack made a mental note to expect the unexpected in the future.

  As they were taken from the pod, Jack had seen the terror in BJ’s eyes. He felt sorry for forcing the kid’s involvement in the plan. Jack grew to like BJ in the short time they had been together in the slammer. But business was business. And Jack had to utilize whatever resources he had in order to escape this madness. BJ’s connection to Jonas could provide the perfect fulcrum for getting out. It was the only chance they had at this juncture. Warden Gorgon and Muncie had matched wits with Jack each step of the way.

  While in the hole, Jack worked on several ideas down the road. If Jonas played along with BJ’s false information, then Jack wanted to be prepared for the follow-up. Sitting in C-Pod with all the other prisoners made it difficult for Jack to think and concentrate. There was always just enough noise or distraction to keep him from getting serious work done.

  They arrived at the door to C-Pod. Jack glanced through the window on the door. He caught a surprised look on someone’s face. Almost immediately, the word spread about his return. Inmates scrambled out of their rooms to witness Jack’s homecoming.

  Muncie swung the door open and shoved Jack through the threshold. Jack landed on one knee before sliding across the floor. He rolled over to catch Muncie’s shit-eating grin. His black eyes laughed silently.

  “No place like home, huh Jack?”

  Jack dusted himself off and rose to face Muncie. “Home is where the heart is, Muncie.”

  Muncie chuckled. “Oh, yeah? And where’s that, Jack?”

  Jack slowly raised his index finger and pointed at the middle of Muncie’s forehead. Muncie’s smirk evaporated and he growled as he lifted his baton over his head to club Jack.

  Rather than get himself injured, Jack ran a few steps to the side. As soon as he moved, Jack realized the optics of his avoidance made him look weak in the eyes of the other inmates. More importantly, it made him look weak to Muncie.

  Muncie laughed out loud and lowered the baton. He spat a lump of phlegm on the floor and pointed his baton at the far wall of the pod. Jack’s initial thought was that Muncie was being cute and calling his homerun shot like Babe Ruth. Then the dread settled in Jack’s belly. Muncie was pointing at someone with his stick. Jack spun in the direction of Muncie’s gesture.

  Melvin.

  Standing alone in the doorway to his room, Melvin’s expression slumped to mimic his posture. His eyebrows raised up, wrinkling his forehead as the terror consumed him.

  Two guards hurried to Melvin’s side. They gripped his arms and began to tug him toward Muncie.

  “No way, Muncie. This has nothing to do with him. This is between you and me.” Jack held up a hand to plead for Melvin’s case.

  Muncie continued to laugh. “Don’t worry, Jack. We’ll take good care of the old man, won’t we, fellas?” None of the guards responded to Muncie’s question.

  “What are you going to do with him? He hasn’t played a part in anything. He’s just an old man.” Jack winced at his comment. More for Melvin’s feelings than for the truth of it. He watched Melvin’s head hung down with dejection. Jack knew Melvin was beaten already, before Muncie took him away and tortured him or hurt him. Jack had a gut feeling he would never see his good friend alive again.

  “I’m just following orders, Jackie-pooh. Nothing personal. This time.”

  Jack lunged forward. He stopped himself short of attacking Muncie. “This makes things very personal, Muncie.” Spittle flew from his lips as he found it difficult to control his rage. Jack’s breath came out in gasps as the adrenaline surged through his system.

  Muncie tapped the baton against his palm. He nodded his head over his shoulder so the guards would continue to remove Melvin from C-Pod. “I’ll keep that in mind, Jack.” He glared at Jack and turned to follow his men out of the pod. As Muncie reached the door, he shouted without looking in Jack’s direction. “You’ll see the old man again. Trust me.”

  The door to C-Pod slammed shut and the tumblers fell into place with cold clicks.

  Jack stared after Muncie’s ghost. He was again shocked at not being able to predict events and behavior. He felt lost. If Jack couldn’t rely on his instincts then he was as good as dead already. Those same instincts kept him alive on the streets and in the pen. What was he supposed to rely on now?

  Swede’s shadow draped over Jack’s feet. He looked up into Swede’s face.

  “Leave me the fuck alone!”

  Jack stormed to his room and left Swede dumbfounded in the center of the pod. He heard the men whisper behind him. They questioned Jack’s leadership and his sanity. The undercurrent of turmoil thickened in the air. Jack understood he could add an uprising to his list of problems now. But one thing at a time.

  Melvin.

  Jack fought back tears as he worried about his friend’s safety. He realized they found his one true weakness. And now they were going to use it against him. His mind raced to figure out a way to get Melvin back. And to avenge his reputation.

  Chap
ter 13

  Warden Gorgon felt dizzy. The constant draining of blood was beginning to take its toll on him. Dr. Shipley warned him it wouldn’t be safe to donate blood with such frequency. But Gorgon had to speed up his timeline.

  Especially with Muncie threatening to take over.

  Dixie swabbed the puncture mark with a cotton ball full of rubbing alcohol. The smell turned his stomach. The Warden had not eaten much, preferring to conserve resources. And he couldn’t demand austerity of his men without joining in the pain. The only thing keeping the Warden from passing out was the sight of Dixie’s cleavage.

  He watched Dixie shake her ass as she left him on the gurney. Dr. Shipley quickly reached the Warden’s side.

  “You look pale. Are you feeling okay?” Dr. Shipley adjusted his glasses.

  The Warden closed his eyes to summon his strength not to vomit. Inside his darkened eyelids, the room spun and dropped away beneath him, adding to his nauseated state. “I’ll be fine.” He had to lie to keep his doctor from drugging him. Or worse. Refusing to take more of his blood.

  “Where do we stand now?”

  Dr. Shipley sighed and sat down upon the gurney. Gorgon was displeased with the invasion of his personal space but he had little strength to complain about it.

  “With your recent donation...I believe we have enough platelets to double our serum.” Dr. Shipley stared at his own hands, fumbling his fingers while lost in thought.

  “Problem?”

  The doctor grimaced. “Not a problem. Just...I think your methods of forcing the woman to fight the zombie were...”

  Warden Gorgon allowed the pause in the doctor’s train of thought. He didn’t care to hear Dr. Shipley whine some more about infecting healthy people. But the doctor would learn the true reason shortly.

  He tried to sit up but the lights swam along the ceiling. Warden Gorgon pretended he had only adjusted his position. “Your interests only lie in your work, Dr. Shipley. Not in how I manage my prison.”

  “I understand, but...”

  “Shipley. I need you to keep your head in the game. I’m tired of reminding you how important your work is to all of us surviving this storm. If you lose focus then I will have to replace you with someone more apt to continue.”

  Dr. Shipley chuckled as if he couldn’t be replaced. The Warden knew there was no replacing Dr. Shipley, but he had to keep the man in check.

  “You don’t think you are replaceable? I assure you, doctor, you are very replaceable. And so am I. Better to work with the devil you know, right?” He glared into the doctor’s glasses.

  Dr. Shipley began to protest but must have thought better of it. He closed his mouth and huffed under his breath. The Warden hoped his veiled threat was understood.

  Gorgon ordered the serum to be administered to all the inmates of A-Pod. Dr. Shipley shot up to his feet with hands on his hips. He argued the idea was incongruous with preserving life. The Warden argued, back. Infecting the prisoners was necessary to their survival. The fact that resources were limited and dwindling, and the potential threat of a prison uprising were strong reasons to apply the serum to healthy bodies.

  The doctor demanded to know how the Warden could kill innocent people when they had no knowledge of their chances for survival. Wasn’t his job to save lives? If people became victims of the sickness, then yes, the doctor would happily administer the serum to stave off the rot and keep the monsters under control. But he wasn’t about to execute a whole pod on the whims of another man.

  Warden Gorgon allowed the doctor to finish his rant. Then he brought the hammer down.

  “Sacrifices need to be made, Dr. Shipley. I don’t enjoy making difficult decisions but it is my job to protect this prison and the lives within it. Condemning a few in order to stretch the supplies is critical. Would you rather volunteer yourself to save people?”

  Dr. Shipley blinked quickly and avoided the Warden’s glare.

  “The guards from A-Pod will assist your staff with the injections.”

  “And where I am supposed to keep all these patients? There’s no more room in here. And quite frankly, I don’t want to worry every minute that Dixie or Samantha will be bitten.”

  The Warden forced himself to his feet. His knees buckled and he felt the fibers in his thighs twitch. “The prisoners will be returned to A-Pod where they will be kept safe. We shall continue to experiment with the control commands. You can even throw the rest of these things into A-Pod. That should give you more room to maneuver and less stress. Hm?”

  Dr. Shipley appeared to soften at the thought of ridding his offices of the undead but still expressed disagreement with the Warden’s orders.

  “Look. The bottom line is, the chances of these men catching the disease is likely. The chances are high for all of us. But if we can take precautionary steps to reduce the chances, then we need to act swiftly. You have noted yourself that little help is coming from the outside world. If anything still exists.”

  He let the words hover in the air like the stench of decay. The Warden had made his case and left little room for disobedience. The doctor could disagree all he wanted. Gorgon knew Dr. Shipley wouldn’t sacrifice himself on principle. He would do whatever it took to survive...just like everyone else. Hippocratic oath be damned.

  Warden Gorgon remembered Muncie’s threats. Eliminating inmates and placing them in his own direct control would assure Muncie’s failure at a coup. Best not to reveal his hand until it was absolutely necessary though.

  “And do me a favor, Dr. Shipley. Avoid sharing this plan with anyone, will you?”

  Dr. Shipley dropped his jaw. “How can I keep something like this quiet? The guards will know and so will my nurses. Anyone with eyes and ears will find out.” His hands waved around in dismay.

  “We’ll control the messaging. Once the guards from A-Pod return the prisoners, you will instruct them to line up for their “medicine” shots. Only, you will administer the serum to them as well. I will have someone I trust ensure the guards are thrown into A-Pod with the inmates once it is done.”

  Dr. Shipley laughed. “Muncie?” The sarcasm was strong. “You’re going to make me deal with him on top of all this?”

  Warden Gorgon smiled. “I said I would send someone I trust.” He turned slowly and began to work his way across the room. As the Warden got to the door, he stopped in his tracks and took a deep breath.

  The plan was rolling downhill now. And he wondered how much longer he could maintain control. Runaway trains were difficult to keep on the tracks. The Warden composed himself and left Dr. Shipley’s Infirmary.

  He held onto the cold, cement wall as he slowly felt his way down the hallway. The floor felt as if it were swelling and contracting beneath his feet. Warden Gorgon hoped the lack of blood would not slow him down.

  Chapter 14

  Muncie shoved Melvin down to the floor. He had grown increasingly more impatient with everything. The inmates, being trapped inside Warsaw prison, and Gorgon’s plans. Especially the drab colors of the walls and the floors. It had been far too long since he or his men had seen daylight or felt the warmth of the sun on their skin.

  The old man had been shuffling slowly through the halls. Muncie could barely suppress his urge to bash the man’s afro down with his baton. He imagined the curly hair soaking up the blood which leaked out from repeated blows. A crimson sponge of sorts.

  “Get the fuck up, you old nigger. Or I’ll give you something to really keep you down there.”

  Melvin gasped and attempted to lift himself off the cold floor. “Gimme a chance.” He pleaded.

  Muncie scoffed and pushed one of the other guards out of the way. He needed to rage against someone. Anyone. At this point, Muncie didn’t give a fuck who the opponent was. He would lay a beating on whoever stepped up. Even his own mother.

  He bent down and lifted Melvin’s chin up with the baton. Muncie pulled the baton closer, choking off the old man’s air. He breathed heavily into Melvin’s sideburn, tasting
the sweat and fear.

  “Not much longer now, you crusty piece of shit. Soon you’ll be one of those fucking rotten things, pissing and shitting yourself without a worry in the world.” Muncie chuckled. “I’m gonna love every minute of it.”

  Melvin choked. His wrinkled hands worked automatically to save himself from asphyxiation. Muncie pulled the baton tighter for a moment and then release his hold. Melvin fell to the floor, gasping for air and groaning.

  Muncie wiped the baton off on Melvin’s back, as if it were covered in slop. He inspected the hickory wood for any new imperfections. Satisfied the baton was still in perfect working order, Muncie continued to taunt Melvin.

  “Where’s your buddy, Jack? Ain’t around to take care of you now, huh?” Muncie spat a wad on the floor. “Just you and me now, you ancient fuck.”

  Muncie prepared to kick Melvin’s ribcage when he heard someone approaching from behind. He bit his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. He teetered on the edge of chaos. Muncie was going to find out why someone was loitering in his hallways without his permission. And how dare they interrupt his playfulness.

  Muncie’s eyes widened in surprise when he recognized the lanky black guard.

  Guyton.

  What the fuck is this asshole doing away from his post?

  Muncie stepped over Melvin’s body. He placed his girth in the direct path of Guyton. Muncie picked up on the nervousness in the man almost immediately.

  “So now. What brings you down here, away from your post? If you have to shit, you should use the can near your pod.” Muncie tapped his palm with the end of his baton.

  Guyton swallowed a lump, his throat bobbed furiously. “Just following orders, sir.”

  Muncie hated the thick accent. It always reminded him of some dope dealer. A person who should be imprisoned in Warsaw for running drugs into this clean country. Fucking Bob Marley wannabe motherfucker.