A Glass Half-Empty Read online

  I watched all this happen in the space of about a minute and a half, and that’s when I realized that no alarm claxon had sounded, and that the guards around me were behaving in similarly strange ways.

  Whatever thoughts I had about faking an illness evaporated. The entire prison population looked as though they’d just gone completely crazy—prison personnel included. And as they were currently either finger-painting in blood or beating each other’s brains in, I decided the best thing to do was to get scarce.

  I ducked under my table, and was immediately joined by Murphy, who told me how beautiful the color orange was. “It rhymes with grapefruit,” he said. I stared at him, seeing the faraway, glassy-eyed stare in his eyes and the twitching of his mouth as he tried to articulate whatever it was he was experiencing.

  “Dude,” I said, “are you tripping?”

  “All through the tulips,” he sang. “I like tulips. They’re good for kissing. Like a frog.”

  I stopped trying to make sense of his blather and scooted back from him. Whatever was happening, I wanted no part of it. I poked my head out, witnessing the insanity intensifying all around me, and spotted my exit. The door to the cafeteria stood ajar, blocked by the body of a guard lying face down on the concrete, a splash of vomit pooling near his chin.

  I crouched, ready to spring for it, when Murphy’s hand grabbed my arm. “Don’t eat the cherries,” he growled, “they’re poisonous.”

  “Got it.” I pried his fingers off my arm and raced for the door. A moment later, I was on the other side. I was halfway down the corridor when the first gunshot rang out.

  Chapter 3

  I dove for the floor, covering my head with my hands. The sound of the gunshot rang in my ears and generated animalistic howls from the room behind me. What followed after it made me look up. Crazed laughter. Not exactly what I wanted to hear, but it sounded like it came from in front of me, not behind in the cafeteria. A second blast punctured the howling riot, followed by the noise of crumbling concrete spattering to the floor. I rolled to my feet and scurried down the hall. At the end, I glanced through the gate and saw a pair of guards aiming at the ceiling with their shotguns. They were clumsily following a reflected flash across the ceiling, made impossible by the fact that the reflection seemed to come from their own badges and moved when they did.

  This is crazy, I thought, and decided then and there that I had to do something before somebody got seriously hurt. Neither guard looked particularly aware of the other—nor of me. I stole into the room, greeting the one who turned my way with a cheerful, “Hey,” and earning just as happy a response from him.

  “Can I see that?” I pointed at the gun.

  His eyes brightened. “You wanna try?”

  “Shooting the lights, right?”

  “Fairies man,” he corrected. “Frickin’ fairies.”

  “Yowza!” bellowed his partner before blasting the ceiling with his shotgun. The noise echoed from the walls and made my ears ring. “Damn it, man,” he said, “they’re singing again!”

  “Well, go on, convict,” said the first guard. “Give her a whirl.”

  I shifted the gun in my grip. “I got a better idea.” I smashed the butt end into the back of his partner’s head. The man crumpled to the ground. I grabbed his weapon as he fell and turned back to the first guard. He stared at his friend.

  “You killed him,” he gaped, “that’s awesome!”

  “Think so? Then you’re gonna love this.” I beaned him with the gunstock.

  Neither guard would die—at least, not from anything I’d done to them. I figured they had a better chance surviving without their guns than with, though. After grabbing their keys, spare ammunition, and both guns, I hurried down the hall. Three more turns brought me face to face with the source of the insanity.

  “How’d I know you’d have something to do with this?” I gaped.

  “Duh,” Mel answered, “‘Cause I, like, warned you about it.” Her eyes lit up as she took one of the shotguns from me. “Sweet!”

  I gave her a quick once-over. She’d dressed in skin-tight black leather, accenting her curves, complete with matching boots and gloves. The tattoo of a rope decorated her throat, along with a noose on the side. The image of the rope ran up alongside her neck to disappear behind her ear. ‘Put knot here,’ was stenciled beside an arrow pointing to the noose.

  I furrowed my brow. “You mind telling me what the hell you’ve done?”

  “Is that a ‘Thank you’?” she spat, and stalked down the hall. I followed close on her heels.

  “It might be if we get out of here,” I retorted. Just then, a large Hispanic from D block lunged around the corner, wielding a kitchen knife. I grabbed Mel and threw her behind me, aiming my shotgun toward the floor. The explosion nearly jolted the gun from my hand, even as it blew the man’s foreleg clean off. He crumpled screaming, holding the bloody stump of his leg.

  Mel blasphemed. I snagged her arm, propelling her forward. When we rounded the corner away from the man, I shoved her against the wall. “Now might be a good time to tell me what you’ve done,” I bellowed, “before you get us both killed!”

  In reply she grabbed my face and pressed her lips to mine. The kiss took me by surprise. Hot, passionate, desperate. Feelings long dormant flooded my veins. I pressed into it, into her, forgetting everything. Where we were. Who we were. All that had transpired between us.

  But only for a moment. I pulled away. “No. Not here. Not like this.”

  She bit her lip and traced her index finger down my chin. “Just wanted you to know how I feel.” Then she ducked under my arm and moved away from me.

  “Hey,” I called.

  “LSD.” She propped the barrel of her gun across her shoulder, jauntily swinging her hips. “I spiked the water supply.”

  My eyes shot wide. “Where’d you get enough LSD to do that?”

  “You forget,” she turned and eyed me, “I got friends who owe favors—especially those SOB’s who took over for Gill.”

  “Gill?” I blinked, remembering Gill. An unshaven blond thug who used to run a trafficking ring: drugs, guns, tots for toys—you name it. Mel had tried to buy me a new ID through him until we both learned that he was part of the ring that took my kids—along with hundreds, hell, thousands of others. He was one of the reasons I’d wound up here in the first place, though I hadn’t known it at the time. I’d killed him when he tried to force Mel into prostitution and me into working for his network. A remote cell-phone bomb blew up his truck, distracting him long enough for me to grab his shotgun and put him out of the world’s misery. “What are you doing hanging out with that crew?” I said.

  She rolled her eyes. “Getting you out of here. Now let’s go!”

  I heaved a breath and followed as she led the way out of the prison.

  ***

  Once through the sally port, Mel turned a corner into the guard’s locker rooms. “Find something that fits,” she instructed. I laid my shotgun down on the bench and started opening lockers. Eventually, I located a pair of pants, shirt, and a set of boots that fit reasonably well. As I slipped out of my jumpsuit, I noticed that Mel had already put on a guard’s uniform over her leather, though she still wore the gloves.

  “Ain’t nobody gonna mistake either of us for guards,” I said.

  “Just got to be convincing enough to fool the cameras.”

  I snorted. “You kidding me? They’ve already got a record of everything that’s gone down today. What with your tattoo, they’ll have a full description of you ready for the eleven o’clock news.”

  She grinned and shook her head. “Already got it covered, Ger.” She slipped a hat over her head, tucking her hair up beneath it. “Tat’s a fake. And the guard get-up is to get you out without them realizing you’re gone.”

  “They’ll do a count.”

  “And they’ll come up with the right number. What they won’t know is how I got in or out without them realizing it.”

  “How did you get in and out?”

  “Perks of the job. You’re looking at the junior assistant to the county coroner. I got access to the truck, access to body bags, and best of all, access to corpses.”

  I slipped the guard hat over my head. “Do I even want to know what that’s about?”

  “Probably not the details. Suffice it to say they’ll find a body looks just like you in the infirmary.”

  “Just like me, huh?” I was suddenly conscious of my scars—the remains of my burned face and neck. How this girl—woman—could possibly see anything in me stunned me constantly.

  She came forward and straightened my tie. “Well, you did have a serious accident. Only this time, it was far worse. Trust me. They’ll think it’s you.” She kissed my cheek, and we hurried from the room.

  ***

  As guards we left through the infirmary. Mel pointed out the gurney where my changeling lay beneath a blanket. A grisly, meaty smell hung over the form, and I did not dare pull back the cloth to inspect her handiwork. The charred bit of hand I saw poking out beneath the shroud was sufficient to convince me she’d covered her bases. I still wasn’t clear how we’d get free until Mel introduced me to a thin, freckled young man hand cuffed to a rolling cart.

  “This is Larry.” She crouched behind him and lifted beneath his arms. “Larry, say ‘Hi’ to Ger.”

  Larry didn’t answer. His head lolled to one side, and a line of drool trailed down his chin. I grabbed his ankles and helped her load him onto the gurney. She pulled a body bag out and unfurled it.

  “What happened to him?”

  “Larry had a little too much Fentanyl. Another perk of the job. He’s our ticket back out.” Together, we stuffed Larry into the bag and zipped it shut.

  “How’s that
work again?” We rolled Larry to the double wide doors.

  “Well, Larry drove the truck and brought me inside.” She opened the doors. A white cargo van with a blue stripe around its middle and the words, “County Coroner” on the back waited on the other side. Mel opened the van, and together we loaded Larry into the vehicle. As she shut the doors she said, “Two go in with a gurney. Two come out with body bag. All the math adds up.”

  We crossed around to the front and climbed into the van. “And what about my body double?”

  “Burn victim,” she replied. A visible shudder coursed through her, and I decided not to push it.

  ***

  “So what’s the plan?” I said. We’d pulled into the parking lot of the public safety building and parked by the back entrance to the coroner’s office. I glanced nervously outside at the police cars lurking around the building. We climbed out. Mel went to the back of the van, where she removed Larry’s handcuffs and strapped them both to her left wrist, a masochistic bracelet. She grabbed an antiseptic wipe from a plastic tube and scrubbed the tattoo off her neck. As she worked, she glanced my way, caught me watching her, and actually blushed.

  It reminded me of how young she was, and how little business I’d had kissing her. I turned away.

  She touched my elbow and motioned me to follow. “Car’s this way.”

  I followed, with one more nervous glance over my shoulder. “We just gonna leave him there?”

  “I left an empty bottle of tequila on the floor. He’ll wake up in a few hours with a hell of a headache and no memory of what happened. His imagination will do the rest.”

  “And you’re not worried that when the cops come around asking questions that he’ll talk?”

  She grinned. “Drinking on the job will get him fired. Getting so drunk that he tried to rape me until I locked him in the van? That’ll get him sent up for good.”

  “You’d do all that to an innocent guy?”

  “If I need to discredit him.” Mel unlocked the door to a compact car. It looked like a slightly newer model of the Civic she’d owned when I’d met her. “Larry ain’t innocent,” she explained. “He’s been making passes at me ever since I took this job. Hell, that’s probably why I got hired.”

  We climbed inside and the engine purred to life. “Remind me never to cross you,” I said as we roared into the street.

  Chapter 4

  It was late by the time we pulled to a stop. I had expected Mel to take me to a roadside motel room where we could lay low and keep an eye on the news reports, but again she had something else in mind.

  And again, it surprised and disturbed me.

  She parked the car outside a brownstone apartment building in the University section of town. Down the street a brightly lit watering hole beckoned, with plenty of people laughing and enjoying drinks. Some tune I couldn’t identify rolled out into the street, and a few of the people moved in time to the music. Mel locked the car and started for the front steps of the brownstone, shifting her keys for one to fit the door.

  Wordlessly, I followed. She let me inside a narrow foyer before closing the door behind us and leading me up two flights of stairs. At the top, we passed two doors before coming to a nondescript apartment door marked 303. Mel was about to insert her keys into the lock when she spied a scrunchy hanging off the doorknob. An epithet sprang from her lips, and she raised her fist, banging on the door.

  A moment later, the door opened as far as the chain would let it. A pair of eyes peered into the hall. “Really, Misty?” Mel demanded. “Tonight? You got it so bad you couldn’t wait a day?”

  Misty, I thought, trying to remember what she looked like. Misty’s eyes flickered in my direction. “Oh my God, that’s tonight?”

  She slammed the door.

  “I only told you like five times,” Mel called through the wood. The chain rattled, and Misty flung the door open.

  “I am so sorry. I like, totally forgot.”

  “Save it for the cops.” Mel blew past her into the room. “Yo, Kevin! Time to bail.”

  Misty turned my way. “Wow.” She shook her head as if disbelieving her eyes.

  “Misty.” I remembered her now. “Nice to see you again.”

  “Wow.”

  I slipped by her in the room and saw Mel confronting a stringy haired, bare-chested young man with a stubble beard. “Seriously, Kevin, you need to go.”

  “Look, why you gotta keep bustin’ in on my games? This ain’t even your apartment.”

  “‘Cause you’re not supposed to be here.”

  “Hey, I don’t make the rules,” he said. “The thingy’s on the door. That means we’re using the crash pad. You don’t like it, you can go someplace else. Unless’n you’re wanting to join us.” He gave her a wicked grin.

  Mel punched his chest.

  “Ow. Just sayin’, you know? Hey there.” He nodded in my direction, as if suddenly aware I was in the room. “I was just playin’—oh damn!” His eyes grew wide in recognition.

  “Kevin,” said Misty, “you cannot say nothing.”

  “Kevin.” I said his name, struggling to place him.

  He pointed at me. “Y-you’re s’posed to be locked up, man.”

  “Yep.”

  “How’d you get ou… oh my God you broke him outta jail?!”

  Mel glanced over her shoulder and smiled apologetically. I nodded at Kevin. Mel sighed. “Like I said, you weren’t supposed to be here.”

  He shook his head, grabbed his shirt, and headed for me. “I am totally gone. I never saw a thing. Swear to God.”

  As he passed by me I swung my arm around his neck and spun him into a headlock. Misty shrieked at me, “Don’t hurt him!”

  I glanced at her long enough to wink even as Kevin struggled in my arms. “Try to relax, Kevin,” I said in his ear. “This will all be over soon.”

  A moment later, his body sagged against me. I looked up at Mel. “Got any more of that Fentanyl?”

  ***

  Kevin lay slumped on the couch, with Misty crouched over him, smoothing out his hair.

  “He’ll be fine,” I assured her. “It was just a sleeper hold.”

  She gave me a frightened, tear-stained glare.

  Mel didn’t have any more of the Fentanyl, so I knew Kevin would wake up any moment. She sat now at the kitchen table, her head in her hands. I moved to the door and slipped the chain over it before turning the deadbolt. Next, I went to each window and drew the blinds, shutting out the view of the sidewalk below. I took a moment to study either end of the darkened street through the slats in the blinds. No one and no vehicles looked particularly suspicious. I withdrew and turned around, tucking my palms beneath my arms.

  “So. Kevin.” The girls glanced my way. “What to do.” I heaved a breath. “I think I remember this kid. He was ah—” I wagged a finger at Misty, “—in your bedroom. And he had a gun. Wanted to make a citizen’s arrest as I recall.” I laughed, stroking my chin. “Yeah. That didn’t work out so hot. Does he still carry a gun?”

  Misty gave me a worried look. “I-I don’t know.”

  “Check his belt. Behind his pants.”

  Obediently, she reached for his side, then stopped. “He doesn’t have one.”

  “You’re sure?”

  She nodded.

  “‘Cause you’ve already seen what’s behind his pants.”

  She had the dignity to blush, but she gave me a look that suggested I was a bit moronic. I stared a moment at her curly blond locks, thinking of how much she’d grown since I’d last met her. Still such a young thing—full of that careless mix of maturity and stupidity that characterized new adults. I wondered how much my own children had changed in the years I’d been gone. Neither of them had had any contact with me during my incarceration. Not one visit, nor phone call, nor letter. Not even a postcard.

  Not that I could blame them. Last time I’d seen my kids, they hadn’t wanted anything to do with the monster I’d become. Me with the half-melted face and that murderous look in my eyes. Who could blame them?