Prison Bitch
11.
Riley moved fast up the stairs, while removing his jumpsuit and making sure to rip his inmate identification number from the breast pocket. He was in nothing but his underwear when he got up and behind the door, Sean was waiting for him with a new outfit, smuggled from the laundry room the day before.
"Who's best with needlework?" Riley asked.
Sean just gestured with his chin and a young Greenie began stitching Riley's number to his new uniform. At the same time, Sean got busy with the old one and threw it into the large fire started by the inmates.
"Now, boys, here's the number one rule of survival. Get on your bellies, hands behind your head. This party's about to pop and I bet it's going to be loud."
He barely had time to say those words. A blast of smoke and a deafening sound turned the small world of the prison around as the anti-riot forces began to pour in, shouting at everyone to get down.
***
"Can you explain how come you look dressed to the nines when almost every inmate got his uniform torn, or at least some part of it stolen or thrown away in that mess?" The warden was checking him out with vulture eyes.
"I'm a guy who cares about his appearance more than most," Riley offered, fighting the temptation to add a sly smile on top of that. "And I did lost my shoes." He looked down and wiggled his toes to make a point. Then, he nursed a little soot stain on the front of his prison uniform to make a point.
"People have seen you, O'Connor," the warden said. "Grabbing James Miller and dragging him away. Walking inside Augustus Flanners' cell."
"Who the hell is this Augustus dude?" Riley asked. "I've never heard of him."
"Don't play with me, inmate. You killed two people, two other inmates last night. You'll rot in prison. I'll see to it."
Riley kept a straight face. "Then that means that I need to inform my lawyer of these unfounded accusations. I bet that he will dismantle your case easily."
The warden pushed back in his chair with a harsh sound coming off his throat. He was seething. Riley knew why. A few people would testify against him, sure. But in the odd logic that guided the world inside versus the world outside, the fact that he, indeed, had killed those two in cold blood, made those few easy to convince to drop their confessions of what they might have thought to have seen. They surely preferred to stay alive, no matter what the warden promised them.
Of course, there could be loose ends somewhere. Things hadn't worked according to the initial plan. Dagger hadn't been in the books for getting lynched, even though he had dared to put his hands on Dylan. He had merely acted as a tool, which meant that Riley was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. That had been before, of course. The fucker had dared to go against him, and that had cost him dearly. Maybe it was a payback for all those pretty girls he had tortured and killed.
"I will nail you, don't think I won't, O'Connor."
Riley frowned. "Then I suppose I should call off my people in regards to selling that club you wanted me to part with just so that I could prove my willingness to donate to the charity of your choice."
"Get out," the warden boomed at him.
Riley didn't wait to be told twice. He turned on his heel and walked out, following the guard like a good little inmate. He had lived enough to know that as much as throwing a proud smirk of the guy would have made him feel good, it was too steep a price to pay.
No, he would play the role of the innocent from now on, that of the wrongfully accused.
***
"What's going to happen to Riley now?" Dylan asked timidly as the man who had saved him examined his cheek and pursed his lips.
The man's name was Cashel, and according to him, he was Riley's best friend. Dylan trusted him enough. As strange as it seemed, he was out of the prison and free in the most unexpected way. Sure thing, he was also a fugitive, hence their presence at that remote property that seemed to be in the middle of nowhere.
"He can take care of himself. And he has me." Cashel gave him a reassuring smile. "Now, I'm sure Riley would like your cheek back the way it was, but that might be tough to achieve quickly. Some serious plastic surgery might be needed, in my humble opinion."
Dylan touched his cheek warily. "Do you think he hates it? The way my face looks right now?"
Cashel shrugged. "I had no idea he was into dudes, and I've been his friend his entire life. So you're asking the wrong person."
Dylan examined his savior a little more. He had a lithe strong body, and his bony face seemed to belong to someone a lot less dangerous than what Dylan believed the man to be. His eyes were sharp, hidden by glasses now, and he kept his hair brushed over his head. It was hard to put him in a category. Dylan wasn't entirely sure if he didn't have to be afraid, after all.
As if he could guess his thoughts, Cashel smiled. "Any friend of Riley is a friend of mine. As for enemies, I guess you know how that goes, too."
Dylan hugged himself, a bit of cold seeping into his bones. "As he took me down the stairs, I think I saw someone. Dead. My... former owner. Do you think Riley--"
Cashel stopped him by winking at him while making a gesture with his forefinger against his lips.
Dylan nodded. "What am I going to do now?"
"See? That's the right question to ask. I ran a thorough background check on you. You don't want to go back to your family, I suppose?"
Dylan shook his head. "Even if I did want that, the police would look for me there, wouldn't they?"
"Smart kid," Cashel praised him. "Riley risked a lot to save you."
"I know. It's a bit... ridiculous, I guess." Cashel's sharp stare made him recoil a little. "He didn't need to put himself in danger over me."
"That's not up to you, kid. Riley always does what he wants. Nothing and no one can stand in his way."
"Then I'm grateful. He saved my life."
Cashel nodded. "You need some rest. Eat something. And I'll have a new set of papers done for you in a few weeks. In the meantime, I'm afraid I have nothing but my dull company to offer."
