‘Come in,’ she said.
The door opened an inch. ‘It’s me, Coley.’
Devlin wrapped the sheet around her. ‘It’s okay,’ she said.
Coley came in shyly. He looked at Klein sleeping, then at Devlin.
‘Things okay?’ he asked quietly.
Devlin smiled and nodded. From the mattress beside her came a grunt and Klein’s muffled voice.
‘What do you want, you old bastard?’
‘Came to kick you out into the yard, muthafucka. Grauerholz could do with some help and we sure as hell don’t need yo’ sorry ass.’
Klein raised his head and rolled over. He grunted and flinched as various injuries made themselves known. On his chest was a large bruise. Coley held up a pair of scuffed training shoes.
‘Figured you’d need these for when you decide to do us a favour and run.’
‘You are a fucking old woman, Frog, I ever tell you that?’
Coley threw the shoes on the floor. ‘They were Greg Garvey’s but he won’t mind you wearin’ ’em if you don’t. We’ve moved all the guys that would go up to Travis.’
‘You should’ve asked us to help.’
Coley ignored him. ‘Found this too, I was bagging your shitty gear.’
He held out a snub-nosed revolver. Klein sat up on the edge of the bed and took it.
‘Where did you get that?’ said Devlin.
‘I took it off Grauerholz this afternoon,’ said Klein.
Coley glanced at her and Klein caught it. He jabbed the revolver at Frog’s belly.
‘That’s right. I’ve been saving your black balls bein’ cut off all fucking day and you won’t even let me grab some Z’s.’
‘The lights just went on over in the blocks. Like Christmas. Thought you oughta know.’
‘Dennis did it,’ said Klein. ‘Goddamn.’
‘What does that mean?’ said Devlin.
‘It means all the blacks and Latinos locked down in C block are free,’ said Klein. ‘That doubles the odds, more, against Agry. Plus Agry’s crew’ve been getting ripped for hours. The guys from C are fresh and mad as hell. If Stokely Johnson gets it together they should be able to staple Agry’s balls to the hot plate, and he’ll have to pull Grauerholz out to back him up.’
Coley went back to the door and pulled it open. ‘Well, ole Stoke better be quick,’ he said. ‘Cause Grauerholz out there right now with ’bout thirty new guys, an’ they don’t look so ripped to me.’ Coley fixed Devlin with a heavy stare and pointed up at the ceiling, to the old mental ward above. ‘Just ’cause the good doctah back in town don’t mean I forgot that deal we made. You still got them keys?’
Devlin nodded.
‘Use ’em.’
Coley left and Klein stood up and started to drag his pants on.
‘How much is Frogman chargin’ you?’ he said.
‘What for?’ said Devlin.
‘To turn tricks in his hidey hole.’ He grinned and bent over towards her. ‘Listen, you want me to pimp for you I’m back on the street and lookin’ for work as of today.’
‘You bastard.’
She punched him in the bruise on his chest and Klein, pants around his knees, yelled, lost his balance and fell to the floor. Horrified, Devlin leapt from the bed and hauled him to his feet. She searched his face. It was utterly pathetic, she knew, but she was looking for some sign that she meant as much to Klein as he did to her. Given that his affection for Coley was generally demonstrated by insults and threats she wasn’t sure what she was looking for. Maybe the offer to be her pimp was such a demonstration. Klein put his hand to her face.
‘Do what Frogman says,’ said Klein. ‘If they break through go up to his hole, lock the doors behind you. I’ll get Vinnie to give you his radio. Don’t come down till you hear the riot’s over on the news.’
The prospect of sitting alone in the roof filled her with horror. Klein saw it.
‘I know you won’t like this, and I know how much ass you’ve kicked today, but if it gets hand to hand me and the guys will do better if we don’t have to look out for you over our shoulder.’
Klein was right. She didn’t like it. But she could see that he was right too about the fighting. She nodded. Klein picked up the revolver.
‘You done much pistol shooting?’
She shook her head. He swung open the cylinder.
‘Me neither. Look, there are five bullets in here and one empty chamber. I’ve had the hammer resting on a live round. That means four shots in a row and then a blank. When it clicks on the blank you’ll know you’ve only got one left.’
‘I never went for that stuff about shooting yourself rather than getting captured by the Apaches.’
‘Once you start shooting it’s easy to empty the gun in one. The blank’s just a reminder. What you do with the last slug’s up to you.’
He handed her the gun and she took it. It was lighter than she’d expected.
‘Save it for Coley’s hideout. If they do get through they’ll have to climb through that hole one at a time.’
‘I know what to do.’
‘And shoot them in the head from close range. That isn’t a Clint Eastwood piece.’
‘I said I know what to do.’
‘I just want you to survive this thing.’
Klein turned away and started to put his shirt on. Suddenly she loved him very much and with that a terrible anger surged through her.
‘You were safe,’ she said. ‘Why the fuck didn’t you stay there?’
Klein looked at her. ‘I tried to, but things turned out different.’
‘Did you come because of me?’
At the same time as she wanted him to say ‘yes’ she dreaded having to live with his death on her conscience. Klein sat on the bed and pulled on Garvey’s trainers.
‘You made it more important to get here, but I was already on my way.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know.’
Klein laced up his shoes. She couldn’t see his face.
‘Maybe this is just where I belong.’
Without needing to he undid the knot on his left shoe and tied it again, keeping his face down. Devlin walked over and ran her fingers through his hair. Klein put his arms round her hips and pulled her against him and she felt the stubble on his face against the skin of her belly. After a moment Klein let go and walked to the end of the bed and knelt down, still trying to hide from her the emotion on his face. He hauled the bed aside and pulled up a board. A minute later he held up an old Jack Daniels bottle filled with clear liquid.
‘Best in the big house,’ he said. He grinned, back in control. ‘Doherty’s Legendary Poteen. IRA guy, gun runner, brewed this up years ago. This must be the last of it.’
He stood up and walked past her to the door.
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘We’ve got a lot to celebrate.’
As she looked him in the eyes her heart squeezed. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘We have. I’ll be along in a minute.’
Klein twisted his lips into a grotesque shape and winked at her.
‘What’s that for?’ she asked.
Klein looked hurt. ‘That was my sullen sneer.’
He arched one eyebrow. Devlin burst out laughing.
‘Wet between the legs yet?’
Devlin, still laughing, made a circle with her thumb and forefinger and held it up before Klein’s face.
‘I know,’ he said. ‘I know.’
He opened the door and left.
Devlin got dressed and stuck the gun into the rear right-hand pocket of her Levis. She left her shirt tails hanging over the butt. Then she blew out the candles and went downstairs. On the way she passed Gimp Cotton hobbling down the steps on his plaster cast. His swollen, tattooed face twitched into what he probably imagined was an endearing smile. She gave him a wide berth.
‘All hands to the pumps, eh, Doc?’ he called after her.
Devlin ignored him and went into the sick bay office. It was empty. She
cut through into the shower room and stopped. The door to the dispensary was open. There Klein, Coley, Wilson and Galindez stood around the far end of the long lab bench drinking Doherty’s poteen from a variety of pharmaceutical flasks and specimen jars. Vinnie Lopez’s head popped into view, his emaciated face smiling as he held out his glass for a refill. As she watched Klein leaned over and said something into Wilson’s ear and Wilson laughed a big deep laugh and Klein punched him lightly in his bandaged belly and laughed with him. Then Coley pointed at Klein and said something with ‘this white muthafucka’ in it and Klein responded with something else that included ‘. . . looks like ten pounds of shit in a five-pound bag . . .’ and they all laughed, even the dour and quiet Galindez. As Coley recharged their glasses Devlin found herself crying again: because she loved these guys. All of them. These fucking men, demented one and all, incomprehensible, savage and tormented and profane, and laughing like crazy fools, a ship of fools adrift on violent seas. She loved them. And as they raised their glasses together she turned away and hid behind the door so that she might not spoil their moment with her tears.
Footsteps approached the shower room. She retreated further behind the door and scrubbed her face on her shirt sleeve. Galindez came in without seeing her and with his back towards her unbuttoned his flies and pissed in the wash basin opposite the showers. Devlin breathed quietly. She noticed that Galindez’s hair was scorched down to his scalp. He finished pissing, buttoned himself and washed his hands. As he turned, looking for a towel, he saw her and started.
‘Doctor Devlin.’ His dark face flushed with blood. ‘Excuse me. Coley said this was the place to . . .’
‘I’m the one should apologise. Please. It’s okay.’
She smiled, stupidly she felt. Galindez wiped his hands on his shirt. The handle of a screwdriver stuck out from his belt.
‘I owe you another apology,’ he said, ‘for leaving you in danger.’
‘That was my fault.’
He shook his head. ‘I broke regulations. I’ll report it all . . .’
His voice trailed off into an unspoken, ‘if we ever get out of here.’
‘When no one came for me I was afraid you’d been killed,’ she said. ‘I’m glad you’re okay.’
Galindez nodded towards the laughter next door. ‘They’ve already toasted you three times. Wilson reckons you should have your own crew.’ He smiled and raised his hand in a flourish. ‘And Klein calls you the Warrior Queen.’
This time she felt her face flush. At the same time she could hardly breathe.
‘They’re waiting for you.’
She reflexly jabbed her fingers through her hair. ‘I need to wash my face,’ she said. Why was she such a dork?
Galindez shook his head. ‘You can’t imagine what it means to them, you being here. Of course they’d rather you were safe and sound somewhere but . . .’
‘I wouldn’t be anywhere else on earth.’
Galindez looked at her with his black eyes. He hesitated, then pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pocket. He handed it to her.
‘If I don’t make it, and you do. To my wife. If you could . . .’
‘Surely.’
Devlin took the letter. Her hand trembled as she put it in her pocket.
‘Thank you. With your permission.’
Galindez offered her his arm. Devlin’s stomach fluttered and she stepped forward and took it. They walked through into the dispensary.
A ragged cheer and a burst of clapping greeted them as they emerged. As they walked the length of the room Devlin grinned foolishly through blurred vision. Klein opened his arms.
‘Is this the face that launched a thousand ships, and felled the topless towers of Ilium?’
‘Fuck you, Klein.’
She punched him in the chest and Klein fell against her, his arms around her neck.
‘Give her a drink, Frogman!’
A 200ml test tube two-thirds full of clear liquor was thrust into her hand. Klein unwrapped himself and kept one arm round her waist. She braced herself and took a slug of Doherty’s brew. On the way down it was as smooth as a single malt. She waited for it to blow her away but when it hit her empty stomach it sent a warm tingle rippling through her limbs. There was a strange, caramel after-taste. She looked at Coley.
‘Sweet potatoes?’ she said.
Coley nodded. ‘This woman is everything you say she is, Klein.’
‘Let’s hear a toast, Devlin,’ said Wilson.
There were calls of approval and a silence descended on the crew. Devlin’s head was already swimming a little from the alcohol. She looked at Klein an inch away and he nodded, his eyes flickering up and down her face. She looked at Coley, who was watching her gravely, and Wilson, who winked, and Galindez, standing quietly by the door. Finally she looked at Vinnie Lopez, sitting on a chair to preserve his strength and looking from one to the other of the older cons with a young man’s awe. His skin was like parchment, and over his ribs and clavicles it was almost transparent.
‘My toast is to Vinnie,’ she said.
Lopez’s face contorted with horror. ‘No way, man.’ He hauled himself to his feet. ‘You can’t do that! You can’t waste your fucken toast on a fucken scumbag!’
There was a murmur of reprobation.
‘You’re right,’ said Devlin. ‘You’re a scumbag.’
Vinnie wavered on unsteady legs. He glanced at Klein for understanding. Devlin pulled herself away from Klein, because she couldn’t say this while he was touching her, and she wanted to say it. She took a breath and looked at Vinnie.
‘You’re a worthless scumbag, shitting your life away in the toilet of the world,’ she said. ‘But this man came back when he didn’t have to.’
She pointed at Klein, but she didn’t look at him.
‘He doesn’t know why. But something inside him does, and so do I. It’s because . . .’
She paused as she felt her voice breaking up. They were waiting. She pulled it back together.
‘It’s because only if the most worthless shitting scumbag in the world is worth everything – everything – are any of the rest of us worth anything at all.’
She felt Klein’s arm loop round her waist and pull her hip against his. She still couldn’t look at him.
‘So my toast is to Vinnie Lopez. And all you other fucken scumbags.’
There was a pause and for a second she was convinced that she’d said something appallingly inept. Then Galindez raised his glass.
‘Scumbags,’ he said.
‘Scumbags.’ Coley’s voice reverberated with feeling.
‘Scumbags,’ said Wilson.
Klein clinked his glass against hers. ‘Scumbags.’
Glasses clinked all round and they drank. There was a sombre silence as each of them retreated for a moment into his own thoughts.
Then Lopez said, ‘The toast was for me too, you faggots, not just the fucken scumbags.’
The silence broke into laughter and jeers.
‘She might be fool ’nough to waste a toast on you but we sure as hell ain’t.’
‘Fuck you, Coley, you black fuck.’
Devlin felt Klein’s mouth near her ear.
‘Love you,’ he said.
Before she could look at him there was a crash and a whomping explosion from the ward. Glasses clattered to the floor. Galindez span through the door. Wilson grabbed the poteen bottle. Klein kissed her on the cheek and was gone. She followed them into the corridor. The wooden door shook as something crashed into it from the other side. Through the gate to the ward she saw the dancing light of flames then came another explosion and a flash, and close on its heels another. Before she could get into the ward Coley’s big belly shoved her from behind and sent her down the corridor towards the stairs.
‘Go!’
Coley dived through the flames now billowing from the gate. In each of his ploughman’s fists he gripped one of the steel bars dislodged earlier from the windows. Vinnie Lopez hobbled across
the corridor and plunged after him.
Devlin was alone.
The door juddered with frenzied blows.
Devlin pulled the gun from her pocket, cocked the hammer and walked back up the corridor and into the ward.
Inside pools of flaming gasoline threw up clouds of oily smoke, and amidst the smoke and flame men fought each other like wild animals. Up and down the aisle between the beds, pinned to bloody mattresses, beneath the gaping window frames where the foemen scrambled through, men slashed and kicked and coshed and battered each other in a struggle without quarter.
Wilson smashed the bottle across a bearded face and rammed the jagged stump of glass into the man’s crotch. As the man doubled over Wilson tipped him into a pool of fire. The alcohol in his beard caught light and he squirmed across the floor with his head wreathed in flame.
Galindez raised his arm to block a crowbar and she heard his bones crack as he stepped in, sharpened screwdriver rising, and with three frenzied thrusts perforated the guy’s gut.
An inmate in hospital pyjamas grabbed a man in blues round the knees and took him down and Deano Baines fell on him with a pair of scissors, punching holes through his chest. Then someone split Deano’s skull and Klein grabbed the guy’s head from behind and snapped his spine and snatched the meat cleaver from his hand. And two guys, with knife and chain, leapt from the windows and came at Klein together, and he took the one with the knife first, blasting a kick into his bladder so the knifeman bodily left the floor and crashed into a bed. The other’s swinging chain missed Klein’s bobbing head but ripped across his shoulder. Bleeding flesh gaped through his torn shirt. Klein half-stepped and kicked the chainman’s legs from under him, bearing down, roaring, the cleaver in his hand rising and falling above the chainman’s flailing arms to carve away his scalp and one ear and one whole side of his face which hung in an obscene flap from his exposed and bloody teeth. The knifeman staggered back in and his blade pierced Klein’s bicep from one side to the other and the cleaver clattered to the floor. Before he could feel the pain Klein backfisted the cocksucker in the face and ruptured his nose. Like a dancer Klein grabbed the guy’s wrist and whirled him into an arm lock and bar and cracked the elbow asunder across his knee. Then he took the guy’s knife off him, and showed him the blade, and plunged it down behind the left clavicle bone and into the mediastinum. Devlin turned away.