Imprisoned Read online

  Ari swallowed. Well, it sounded like her new boss had a very literal hands-off policy. It was a good thing she wasn’t even remotely tempted by porn.

  “Thanks for the warning,” she told Wheezer. “But honestly, I promise I’ll just do my job and leave all of Mr. Stubbins’, uh products alone.”

  “Ah, I know you will. You’re a good lad—a good lad.” And Wheezer clapped her on the back again. He sighed regretfully. “Of course, I’ll be sorry to see you go but being a fix-it is a big step up, so it is. Hopefully you’ll get more status and you won’t have to hide in Medic’s shadow so much.”

  “I’m not hiding in his shadow,” Ari protested, feeling irritated.

  “Yes, you are lad and it’s good he’s willing to let you,” Wheezer said seriously. “I heard about what happened in the trustee showers today. If Medic hadn’t stood by you, you’d be Tapper’s bum-boy by now and that you would.”

  Ari had to admit he was right. She might have been able to get in a few Ton-kwa kicks or moves against Tapper but in the end she was pretty certain the rest of the prisoners would have taken her down. Tapper held a lot of sway here at BleakHall—the other trustees wouldn’t have tolerated her disrespecting him.

  “That’s true, I guess,” she said in a low voice. “I just wish Tapper would leave me alone! Why can’t he just move on down his list and bother somebody else?” Not that she wished Tapper’s attentions on anyone else but still, it seemed he had been focused on her since she had gotten to BleakHall and she wished the sweaty, hairy gang boss would just move on.

  “I think what draws him is the idea that you’re a virgin-like,” Wheezer said thoughtfully. “You really shouldn’t have told him Medic didn’t take you. The whole of the prison was sure he would after what they thought they saw in the Rec Yard yesterday.”

  “What do you mean what they thought they saw?” Ari demanded, remembering what Tapper had said. “Lathe—I mean Medic—and I weren’t doing anything. I was upset and he was, um, comforting me.”

  “Well you know that and Medic knows that and I know that because I was watching Medic’s back, so I was,” Wheezer said, nodding. “But all the rest of the prison knows is that you and Medic were in the fuck-and-suck corner for a goodish amount of time. Nobody could see much because Medic’s such a big, tall fellow, so he is. But being as where you were and how close you were, everybody just kind of assumed.”

  “Well, they shouldn’t,” Ari protested. “I never…I didn’t…” She broke off, feeling her cheeks get hot with a guilty blush. No, she hadn’t done what the rest of the BleakHall inmates assumed she had with Lathe, but she had done more than she should have the night before. Especially if she wanted to keep her secret from the big Kindred.

  I didn’t mean to, though! she protested to herself. How could I know that letting him bite me would make me come?

  It was such a mess. She’d been trying to end it all and instead she’d started something she wasn’t sure she could stop or control with Lathe.

  “Doesn’t matter whether you did what Tapper said or no,” Wheezer told her, breaking her guilty chain of thought. “The fact is, ‘tis better to let the other inmates think so. If they believe that Medic is protecting you out of love rather than just pity, they’re much more likely to steer clear of you and let you be.”

  “Do you really think so?” Ari frowned. “Why would that be?”

  “Because a man in love will fight to his last breath to protect what’s precious to him. Whereas a man who’s just playing the big brother to a newbie because he feels sorry for the little guy getting picked on, well… He’s much more likely to get tired of the job and eventually turn a blind eye if the newbie gets roughed-up a bit-like,” Wheezer explained. “Does that make sense to you, boy?”

  Actually, it did. And it made Ari wonder how Lathe really felt about her. Why was he actually protecting her in the first place? Did he just feel sorry for her and would he eventually get tired of running interference to keep Tapper off her?

  “You’d better stay as close to Medic as you can,” Wheezer went on, apparently in lecture mode. “Yes, you should! And it wouldn’t hurt to let the rest of the inmates in the prison see the two of you together in the way they thought you was together on the yard yesterday, if you take my meaning.”

  “I do,” Ari whispered numbly. “Thank you, Wheezer. You’ve…certainly given me a lot to think about.”

  “Well, I like you, Ari-lad.” The old inmate clapped her on the back with one hard, wrinkled claw and grinned. “Now, I’m supposed to send you off to Stubbins now. So just you be a good lad and run over to the main stairwell by the entrance to the Mess Hall—that’s where the Spice Lords set up shop.”

  “But…how can I get there?” Ari asked. “I don’t have trustee status to let me open doors between the different parts of the prison the way you and Medic do.”

  “True enough. Though Mukluk promised to put you in the system soon.” Wheezer nodded. “Well, I’ll walk you over myself, then, so I will. Come on.” And with a nod at his second-in-command—an inmate with loose, hanging, rubbery lips and drooping eyelids—he led Ari out of the Laundry and down the metal hallway towards her new work assignment.

  Twenty-Four

  Lathe waited until he was safely alone in the Infirmary to check on the nanites’ progress. Going into the supply closet, he moved the cleaning equipment—a broom and a mop with light, non-lethal aluminum handles, some weak cleaning solution that couldn’t be used to poison anyone because it was so diluted, and a bucket of rags and soft sponges—also non-lethal. Under the bucket was a ragged bit of carpeting that had been there since before Lathe got to BleakHall.

  Under it, was something which hadn’t been there until he arrived. A hole just big enough to admit a male with his dimensions—he had programmed the nanites exactly—led down into the darkness. Reaching for the prison ID tag imbedded in his flesh, just between his clavicles, Lathe tapped a special sequence with the tip of his index finger.

  At once, the nanites responded. A pattern of silent vibrations played through the ID, informing Lathe that the nanites were working at eighty percent capacity at the moment, digging and flattening exactly two cubic feet of soil a day and lengthening the tunnel by a commensurate amount. At this cautious rate of speed, they avoided tripping the sensors that were all around BleakHall and were attuned to such escape attempts. Which meant the tunnel would be ready for use in five or six days.

  Lathe hesitated, then tapped a code on his ID, increasing the nanites’ speed to ninety percent. It was pushing things a little but should still be within the safe limits—just under the level of digging that would trip the prison’s sensors. He was taking a bit of a chance but he wanted to be out of here sooner rather than later. The scene today between Ari and Tapper convinced him that he needed to get the lad away from BleakHall as soon as possible.

  For a moment he wondered when he should tell Ari they were going. Should he wait until the night of the escape? Or should he warn the boy ahead of time? Let him know they would soon be running for their lives? Should he—

  “Medic? Medic where are you? Zzhould be here,” a gravelly alien voice called from the front of the Infirmary.

  Quickly, Lathe replaced the ragged bit of carpet and the rest of the paraphernalia that camouflaged the hole. Grabbing a bottle of disinfectant and a rag as cover, he exited the supply closet, trying to look cool and collected though his heart was slamming against his ribs.

  Mukluk was standing there waiting for him, an impatient look on his reptilian face. As always when he saw the head guard, Lathe felt the skin at the back of his neck prickle. He couldn’t be sure but he had a feeling that Mukluk must have had a hand in his brother Thonolan’s death.

  It’s probably a good thing I’m not sure, he told himself grimly. If I knew he was the one who had killed Thonolan, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from wringing his scaly neck!

  “Yes?” he said shortly, keeping his murderous thoughts to himself