Poe (16 page)

Frida walked over to the nearest toilet, hiked up her dress, and sat down. From the hem around the garment’s arm, she removed a cigarette and a match.

Alex wanted to get out of there, but she didn’t want to raise any suspicions. So while Frida lit her cigarette, Alex sat on the adjacent toilet.

The smell of tobacco filled the air as Frida took her first drag, then held it out to Alex, butt first.

“I don’t smoke.”

Frida shrugged, took another puff. “Why are you in here?” she asked.

It took Alex a beat to realize she was talking about prison in general, not this particular room. “Assault. Or whatever the equivalent is here.”

“A…salt. I don’t know this word.”

“The police say I attacked someone with a knife.”

“Is this person dead?”

“If they were, I’m pretty sure I’d be here for murder instead.”

Frida considered her for a moment. “Did you do it?”

Alex purposely looked away. “What does it matter? They’ll find me guilty if they want to.”

“You have not gone to judge yet?” Frida asked.

“Not yet.”

“Many people here because waiting for same.”

“What did
you
do?”

“They say I try to leave country with few ounces of pot.”

“And did you?”

“Try but not succeed.” She took another drag.

“How’d you get that black eye?”

Frida unconsciously touched the fading bruise. “I hear in movie once. I walk into hand.”

“Fist,” Alex corrected her.

“Yes. I walk into fist. This is prison. It happens sometimes.”

Somewhere outside, a loud horn sounded.

Alex stiffened. “Yard time’s over?”

“You learn fast.”

Shit
. Alex flushed the toilet and stood up. “I probably should go see what my assigned duty is. See you later, I guess.”

“Check with guard near main building. He will tell you.”

“Thanks again.”

Alex hurried outside, but instead of heading across the field to the administration building, she circled back around to Building Two. There was a group of women approaching the door. She fell in behind them.

And sure enough, access to the cellblocks was open again.

* * *

T
HE LAYOUT OF
Building Two was exactly like that of Building One, and Alex found the front stairs right where she’d expected them. She glanced around to make sure no one was paying her any attention, then headed up to the second floor.

Keeping her gaze on the floor, she walked with purpose into block one of the second floor. She could hear a couple people talking to her right, and some movement ahead and to the left, but no one seemed to take notice of her.

She immediately noticed something different when she entered block two. While there were voices here, too, all activity seemed to be coming from a single cell toward the far end on the right.

She checked the numbers—241 through 250 on the left, and 251 through 260 on the right. The noise was coming from 259.

El-Hashim’s cell.

Alex slowed her pace, but kept on a course that would take her through the next door into block four. As she got closer to the occupied cell, the voices began to fall silent.

Tilting her head just a bit, she shot a sideways glance into the cell as she passed. There were four women inside. While one was turned away, the other three were staring out at her. Like the group of women who had been outside, these were all wearing head scarves that revealed only their eyes.

As Alex approached the end of the block, one of the women called out what sounded like a question, but Alex kept walking. As she passed through the door into block three, the question was repeated.

She picked up her pace and walked all the way into the back stairwell, where she stepped to the side and tucked against the wall.

Fadilah El-Hashim had to be one of the women back in 259, most likely the one who had turned away as Alex walked by. And judging by the way the other three cellmates had looked and acted, they were serving as El-Hashim’s protection. Two of them had been giants, both tall and wide, while the other was about the same size as El-Hashim.

Alex grimaced. Getting anywhere near the woman was going to be difficult.

A buzzer sounded throughout the floor. Alex could hear inmates leaving their cells and making their way toward the exit.

Take the stairs down or try for one more look?

She didn’t want to raise El-Hashim’s curiosity, but she also didn’t know if she’d get another chance to recon the area before making her direct approach.

One more look, then.

She exited the stairwell, and hurried over to the loosely forming line of inmates leaving block three.

As she passed through the door back into block two, Alex picked up her pace so that she was almost abreast of the woman in front of her, and could use the inmate to partially block her from view from El-Hashim’s cell.

Once she was parallel to the cell, she glanced over. The four women were still there, but none were looking out. She studied them as quickly as she could so that she’d be able to recognize them even with their faces covered.

Another three steps and the cell was behind her, El-Hashim and her friends out of sight. Alex was just starting to relax when a voice boomed, “Po-well!”

She craned her neck, looking ahead at the doorway between blocks two and one, and spotted one of the guards who had taken her to her cell last night, the one with the birthmark. He ran over and grabbed her by the forearm, yanking her out of line.

The words that spewed from his mouth were angry and loud. She didn’t understand them, but she knew they had ruined her smooth exit. Back at El-Hashim’s cell, the woman’s three protectors were stepping into the common area to see what was going on. They stared at her as if memorizing her face.

Way to go, Alex. Way to go.

Her assigned duty
turned out to be cleanup crew for Building One’s kitchen—washing dishes, cleaning a bathroom she hadn’t even realized was down there, washing more dishes once lunch was served, and making sure everything was clean before dinner prep began. Thankfully, her job didn’t extend into the dinner shift, and she was able to partake in a portion of the afternoon yard time the rest of the prisoners were already enjoying.

When she’d been in the yard that morning, she’d mainly spent her time getting a sense of the place, so now, as much as she would have liked to just find a quiet spot and rest, she used this second venture outside to delve more into details—memorizing distances, sight lines, doorways, and the like.

She’d been at it for twenty minutes when she realized she hadn’t seen Frida. She was happy to not have the distraction, but was surprised the girl hadn’t tracked her down. As she strolled around behind the central buildings, she found out why.

There was a group of around thirty women gathered in a semicircle against the back of Building Two. Some of the women jeered while others were laughing, their attention focused on someone in the center.

As Alex got closer, she realized they weren’t gathered around just one person, but at least two. Through the crowd, she could see glimpses of two bodies, and could hear one of their voices, loud and menacing.

A slap, then another, followed by a cry. The loud voice railed again.

Alex kept walking by, not wanting to get pulled into something, even tangentially, that might interfere with her plans, but then a different voice called out, the voice that had cried moments before.

“Alex!”

Frida.

Alex tried not to look over, but she couldn’t help herself. A few of the women had parted and were looking back in her direction. Through the gap of the semicircle, Alex could see Frida twisting around, trying to get out of the grasp of another, much larger woman.

“Alex, please!”

The woman yanked Frida’s hair and slapped her in the face.

Dammit
.

When she didn’t move right away, those who had twisted around to look at her closed the gap again, and refocused on the action in front of them.

She heard flesh hitting flesh, another cry of pain.

Dammit, dammit, dammit!

Lips pressed tightly together, Alex raced into the crowd. A murmur went through the onlookers as she pushed her way past them into the center.

“Let her go!” she shouted once she was clear.

The woman holding Frida snorted and pushed her to her knees, grabbing Frida by the hair. Alex sensed the woman was about to slam a fist into Frida’s face, so she took two quick steps forward and shoved the woman in the chest.

The attacker lost her grip on Frida’s hair and staggered back, almost all the way to the wall. The buzz of the other prisoners cranked up a notch as Alex took Frida’s hand and helped the girl back to her feet.

“Come on,” she said.

They’d barely turned to leave when Alex heard the other woman coming at her.

Shoving Frida toward a small break in the crowd, she said, “Run!” and ducked down just as the other woman reached her.

The nape of her neck tingled as the woman’s fist flew past her, less than an inch above her flesh. But momentum’s a bitch, and while the woman’s arm passed harmlessly through the air, the rest of her body kept coming. With a thud, her hip whacked into Alex’s shoulder, sending Alex toppling sideways toward the ground.

Cheers rang out as the woman stumbled over her but remained standing. She whirled around, undoubtedly expecting to take advantage of the fact that Alex was down, but Alex had rolled with the fall and was already on her feet again.

They circled each other, the woman big and strong and mean. There were probably few who had ever tried fighting back, and fewer still who had won.

But Alex was willing to bet the woman had never met a prisoner like her.

The woman’s face scrunched in fury; she yelled and charged. Her arms were stretched to either side, as if making herself look bigger might somehow intimidate Alex into immediate submission.

Alex waited until the last possible second before she moved to the side and grabbed the woman by the head. With a violent jerk, she yanked her forward, and the woman’s arm slapped into Alex’s side, fingers scrambling to grab a handful of dress. But the newly added momentum whisked her past before she could. She stumbled, fell in a heap, and tumbled into the wall behind them.

She lay there, stunned for a moment, then her eyes found Alex’s, hate oozing from every inch of her body. Slow and deliberate, she climbed back to her feet.

“You don’t want to do this,” Alex said. “Trust me.”

But the woman’s gaze didn’t waver. Even if she understood Alex, it appeared she wasn’t going to listen. As she took a step forward, something glittered through the air and landed at her feet.

Son of a bitch
.

It was a knife. And not a random piece of metal twisted into a homemade shank, but a real, honest-to-goodness knife—four inches of blade with a nice, comfortable hilt to grab on to.

Before the woman even started to lean down to pick it up, Alex raced forward. She knew it was too late to stop the woman from getting her hands on the weapon, but it wasn’t too late to jam a knee into her opponent’s face.

With a howl of pain, the woman grabbed her nose with her free hand as she staggered back a few feet. There was no trickle of blood. It was a downpour, rushing out of her nose and over her lips and chin.

Her eyes were truly on fire now as her gaze zeroed in once more on Alex.

Knife leading the way, she charged, swiping the blade through the air as she neared. Alex thought she’d given herself enough time to get out of the way, but as she dodged to the side, the tip of the knife sliced a shallow groove across her forearm.

She knew better than to allow the pain to influence her emotions, though. Fighting was about control, and the one who maintained control the best would win ninety-nine times out of a hundred.

The woman, bolstered by her success, came at Alex again, this time literally for the kill, Alex was sure.

The blade rose as the woman prepared to slash it at Alex’s neck. Not a bad target, but the execution was the problem.

As soon as the arm rose, Alex dived under it, getting behind her attacker. Before the woman could turn to try again, Alex grabbed the arm with the knife and yanked it backward as hard as she could.

Which was pretty damn hard.

The pop could be heard even over the cheers of the onlookers.

The woman sucked in a surprised, gut-wrenching breath, then dropped to the ground a quivering mess, her arm lying unnaturally at her side.

The crowd went silent.

A whistle blew, then another, the guards finally deciding it was time to come break things up. The knife had fallen onto the ground near Alex’s feet, and she quickly kicked it over so that it was lying next to the woman. The last thing she needed was another weapons beef.

The onlookers parted so the guards could get through, some wandering off, the show over. Two of the guards rushed over to Alex, while three others went to the woman on the ground.

Alex noticed that one of the guards had discovered the knife, but instead of showing it to his friends, he quietly slipped it into his pocket.

Another guard yelled at Alex, and she thought it was probably a question.

“She’s the one who attacked me,” she said, pointing at the woman on the ground. “I was only defending myself.”

The guard barked something at her, then grabbed Alex’s bicep on the arm that had been cut.

She winced and tried to pull away. “Careful, dammit.”

The guard seemed to notice the cut for the first time, which didn’t say much about his observational skills, considering she was bleeding all over the place. He quickly looked around, searching for the cause, then said something to the guards over by the woman. They looked around their area. The one who’d stowed the knife shook his head and shrugged.

Interesting
, Alex thought.

Apparently this bitch had a friend.

The guard grabbed Alex again, this time by the other arm. But before he and his partner could walk her out of the circle, Frida stepped in their way. The guard shouted at her, then she spoke, just a few words that were obviously difficult for her to pronounce. One of the other guards grabbed Frida and the five of them cut through the crowd, headed toward the administration building.