Correctional, page 25
I suddenly realised what he meant. “You’re saying you weren’t the bully, Dax was?”
“Yahtzee!” He smiled and clapped his hands together. “You got there in the end. It makes no difference, of course; truth is what people believe it is, not what actually occurred. Although, you’d do well in this instance to take heed. Leopards don’t become zebras just because the producers paint some stripes on them.”
I didn’t know whether I believed him or not. On the surface, Dax seemed like the stronger, more aggressive one and it wasn’t hard to picture him picking on the weedy, prepubescent Stone. But it was Harvey, not Dax, who had grown up to be a monster. It made no difference who started what when they were snot-nosed kids in the playground, the fact remained that it was Harvey Stone who ripped those little girls from end to end, and even the most bleeding-heart liberal couldn’t justify that, no matter how many times he’d been given a wedgie in his youth. Even if Dax had been the ‘bad guy’ of the two back in the day, he wasn’t now. Mass murder trumped stealing lunch money in anyone’s book.
“See what I mean about the irrelevance of truth?” Harvey tilted his head as he looked at me, as though he were adjusting the angle to better see my thoughts. “You’ve already weighed and measured it, and decided it makes no bearing on the present, beyond some amateur psychobabble about me internalising my victimhood only for it to fester until I became a perpetrator in order to try to find the power and control I had sorely lacked in my formative years. Nonsense, of course. Am I right?”
I nodded warily.
“But here’s what’s going to bother you in the days to come. Here’s what’s going to sneak into your paranoid, unsettled thoughts at 3am when the shadows contort on the walls and the noises outside are almost explainable, but not quite.” He leaned closer to me and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Which one of us tortured that hamster?”
18
Titch stumbled in through the fire exit looking sheepish, and his presence broke the eerie silence left by Harvey’s last question and snapped me back to reality. We got him clothed and marched him back to his solitary cell, the click of the door as it locked him in his lair reminding me that he had no power, not really. At least, not beyond spouting clever words and posing unanswerable riddles.
But still, I couldn’t seem to push his words out of my mind, no matter how hard I tried to rationalise them.
By the end of my shift, I had come to the shaky conclusion that I was simply too immersed in this strange, self-contained and decidedly artificial little world. Understandable, even Whitefield could feel like a reality all of its own when you were in the middle of a long shift; the petty concerns and politics that were so amplified within a closed environment could start to feel much more important than they objectively were. But when I was at Whitefield, I walked out of the gates and back into the real world when my hours were up. Here, I was totally immersed. No wonder I had lost perspective a little. I needed to remind myself that this was not real life, that there was another world outside the compound, one that Harvey Stone had no impact on.
I needed to reach out to that world, to anchor myself. I rushed back to my room and called Mel. She answered on the first ring. “Cal! Oh thank God, I was getting worried.”
The sound of her voice made me wish I was with her, which took me a little by surprise. As we had been distant of late, I had begun to wonder if our differences would prove too great in the long run. But when I heard her speak, I felt a pull towards home that I hadn’t been expecting. “I miss you,” I said, and I meant it.
“Why didn’t you answer my calls yesterday?” she asked, the relief at hearing my voice quickly turning to irritation that I had made her worry.
“I’m sorry, it was just really busy. Settling in, learning the ropes, you know what it’s like.”
“Yeah,” she replied. “Yeah, I get it.” Though the tone of her voice told me it wasn’t a good enough excuse in her eyes. “Never mind, I’m just glad you’re alright. So, tell me everything! What’s it really like there? What are the other guards like? What’s Dax like in real life?”
I tried to ignore the fact that she had asked specifically about Dax, and the queasy feeling that gave me after his lecherous comments about her last night. I began telling her about my arrival, and the farce of reshooting ‘spontaneous’ moments over and over again. She laughed and gasped in all the right places, and with her encouragement I found myself unable to stop talking about all the things I had seen and learned over the last twenty-four hours. Apart from my conversations with Harvey. I didn’t mention those. I don’t know why, perhaps I was embarrassed at having been so intrigued by such a monster. Or perhaps he was already getting under my skin.
“Well,” she said as our conversation dwindled to a natural close. “I’m pleased you’ve settled in alright. Miss you, though. It’s going to be surreal seeing you on TV on Saturday.”
Saturday. I felt a wave of nausea. Saturday was coming, and there was nothing I could do to prevent it. Nothing I could do to save Vincent from whatever horror Reynolds and his underlings had concocted. He should be my focus, his welfare should be foremost in my thoughts, not the ravings of a dangerous madman. He was the whole reason I was here, after all. I owed it to him to do whatever I could to ease his fears and make his life more tolerable.
I tried several times over the next few days to talk to him discreetly, but it was next to impossible in such a goldfish bowl of an environment. I was worried about his mental state: the closer we came to Saturday’s show, the more withdrawn he seemed. “I don’t think he’s coping,” I said to Carlos, nudging him and gesturing to the cell where Vincent sat motionless, staring at the blank wall and rocking, ever so slightly.
“So?” Carlos shrugged, “Who gives a shit?”
I did, but I couldn’t let on. To everyone else, Vincent was a sadistic bastard who had deliberately burned vulnerable children to death; of course they didn’t care whether he was suffering, they felt it was deserved. But to me, he was possibly the most selfless and honourable man I had ever known, aside from all his previous gang-related activities, of course. As I watched him descend further and further into an anxious abyss, at times looking almost catatonic with fear, I felt impotent and ashamed, unable to save him from this terrible injustice.
19
By the time Saturday night rolled around, I was starting to think that perhaps getting it over with would be the best thing for Vincent. Surely, the reality of the chamber couldn’t be as bad as the anticipation? He wasn’t a weak man, I reminded myself. Sure, the last few days had him scared but it was likely fear of the unknown. I was scared myself; I’d never been on live television before. In the outside world, Vincent had been someone to be feared. A leader, a criminal, a man who didn’t tolerate disrespect or shy away from confrontations – violent or otherwise. In all likelihood, he’d be relieved when he discovered the program was nowhere near as bad as he had built it up to be.
“Alright, guys?” Matt the runner rapped gently on the staffroom door, stepping in tentatively as he did so, the huge corporate-friendly smile he was wearing a direct contrast to his nervous, timid gait. “Aisling’s asked me to come and brief you on a couple of things ahead of the show, Cal. Would that be okay?”
“Sure,” I replied. It wasn’t like I could say no.
“Super.” Matt studied his clipboard. “So, first thing to be mindful of, and this is relevant to all you guys, not just Cal, is the size and nature of tonight’s crowd.”
“No shit,” Dax grunted, twirling the tip of his knife on the coffee table in a move that was rehearsed to perfection so that it seemed absent-minded. “I saw ’em lined up outside the gate a while back, there’s more than there even was for Stone.” He sounded pissed off about that.
“Quite.” Matt tried, and failed, not to keep flicking his gaze towards the shiny ‘heirloom’ Dax played with. I tried to imagine what must be running through his mind. Should Dax have a weapon, in here? Ought he be confiscating it, reporting it? Which would anger Aisling more, him turning a blind eye to Dax’s contraband, or him upsetting her star guard just before the big live show? He clearly couldn’t decide, so chose to carry on with the task he’d been instructed to do, rather than risk upsetting the apple cart. “To that end, UView want to assure you all that we have drafted in extra security, and even commandeered some of the guards from Whitefield to help out. Therefore, we are confident that despite the larger number of spectators, there is no increased risk to yourselves or the prisoners.”
“What did you mean by the ‘nature’ of the crowd?” I asked.
“Well,” Matt cleared his throat, “Felton’s crime was very recent, and very emotive. Feelings are raw. And… well, it occurred locally. Therefore, it’s likely to feel very personal to the audience. There may even be friends and family of the deceased children present, for all we know.”
“Jesus.” Carlos whistled. “A crowd of unwashed Hallow hooligans out for revenge. No offence, Cal.”
“None taken,” I said, but I was lying. The crowd was always predominantly from Hallow, given our location on the very edge of the river. Entry was free, so it had become a form of communal entertainment. Aisling may have bemoaned the fact that Hallow residents rarely picked up their phones and parted with their cash in order to vote, but they gave her a whooping crowd each week to bolster the atmosphere and aesthetics that she was always so concerned with. She relied on them. Carlos’ casual derogatory comment reminded me that although I was geographically back in Hallow, I was still surrounded by razzles whose prejudice against their southern neighbours was never far from the surface.
“Yes,” Matt nodded, ignoring our exchange, “like I say, with the increased security it shouldn’t pose an issue. But, it may be wise to be mindful of the depth of local feeling surrounding this one, okay?”
We all nodded, and Matt continued. “So Cal, I’m going to take you along the route in a moment, just so you’re completely au fait with it, alright? Plus we need to make sure you’ve memorised the code for the chamber door. Aisling wants you out front leading him in, and because of the high-profile nature of this one, she’d like Dax to be your second, if that’s okay?”
“Fine by me,” Dax said, trying to sound nonchalant, but I caught the glimmer of excitement in his eyes at the prospect of more camera time.
“Great.” Matt smiled again. “Cal, would you mind coming with me for a quick run-through before we open the gates to the crowd?”
I duly got to my feet and followed him to Vincent’s cell. He harped on about how Dax and I would go in when his name was called and attach the cuffs, being mindful of the positions of the static cameras in order to ensure the best angle. But I wasn’t really listening, I couldn’t take my eyes off Vincent. He was staring straight ahead, his arms covered in gooseflesh and his left knee jiggling, ever so slightly. I wanted more than anything to show him my support, to remind him that even if the world hated him, I was on his side. But I couldn’t.
As Matt led me outside and along the Perspex tunnel, pausing repeatedly to highlight the best places to look directly at the cameras, I wished with all my being that there was something, anything, I could do to reduce Vincent’s suffering.
Harvey’s cryptic words came back to me in a flash: ‘the question you’ll really be dying to ask me come Saturday’. I hadn’t had a clue what he was on about at the time, but now I knew exactly what that question was. How was he so unaffected? How was it that the horrors in the chamber did nothing to elicit any fear from him? Did he have some insight that could help Vincent? He’d hinted that he’d already given me the answer, hadn’t he? Something about the answer to both questions, the one I had already asked him and the one I would want to, being the same. I racked my brain, tried to pick through my memory of his odd, rambling metaphors for something that might be applicable. I’d asked him how he knew about Lez’s finger, that was the question. But, being Harvey, he hadn’t given me a straight answer. Instead, he’d said something about strings and atoms and truth being like GPS. Damn it, that didn’t mean anything at all. At least, not to a sane person. Maybe it was just as Dax said it was: he was simply too cold and emotionless to feel fear or remorse.
We reached the chamber door, and Matt watched me punch in the code with a solemn nod. “Perfect,” he said. “You’re gonna do great, Cal. Now, as soon as the chamber program is over, I’ll open the door to the camera run on the right-hand side of the room, and lead you through the warren and out the back to the limo. Then it’s just a short trip across the river to the Behind the Bars studio, okay? Your driver’s name is Josef, he’ll wait in the studio car park until you’re done and then whizz you back home.”
Home. It seemed an odd way to describe this macabre, artificial place filled with killers and chameleons, but I suppose it was apt. I was, after all, fully ensconced in all its horrors and deceptions now.
20
As I made my way back to the main building, two waving figures dressed in the navy-blue security uniform caught my eye. “Bodie?” I muttered out loud, recognising the messy hair as he jogged towards me followed by a shorter officer with a big grin and brown ponytail. “And Erin?”
“Hey, Cal.” Bodie panted a little as he reached me.
“What are you two doing on security?” I asked.
“They wanted volunteers.” Erin beamed. “We thought it could be fun, front-row view and all that. Plus we wanted to be able to cheer you on on your big night.”
“Oh,” I said, noticing how Erin placed her hand on Bodie’s shoulder as she bent forward a little to get her breath back. “Well, thanks, guys. I appreciate it.”
“You must be hella nervous,” Bodie enthused. “Millions of people watching you. I’d be bricking it.”
“Yeah.” I hadn’t been thinking too much about the viewers at home, I’d been more focused on the idea of getting through the crowd, and trying to help Vincent. “More worried about that lot waiting to get in, though. They reckon it’s a huge crowd tonight, and there could be trouble.”
“Never fear, Beanie boy.” Erin grinned. “That’s what we’re here for. Well, us and about another fifty security officers.”
Bodie nodded. “They’re definitely worried about this one,” he said, opening his jacket slightly and beckoning me to look. I peered inside, and noticed the shiny grey hilt of a gun protruding from his waistband.
“Jesus,” I hissed. “They’ve given you guns?”
Erin nodded. “All the security guards have them,” she said.
“Do you even know how to shoot?”
“Did a VR course this morning,” Bodie replied. “Erin’s a much better aim than me, but I passed anyway.”
“So you’ve never actually shot one in real life?” I asked, wondering if any of the fifty or so goons milling about with firearms stuffed in their trousers had any real-life experience at all, or if UView had decided to arm a bunch of glorified nightwatchmen who had done little more than play a shoot-’em-up game and send them to roam free amid a huge angry mob.
“No,” Erin replied. “And hopefully never will. They’re just a precaution, not to be used unless absolutely necessary.”
“Sorry, Cal,” Bodie said, noticing the look of bewilderment and panic I couldn’t keep off my face. “Didn’t mean to make you more worried, I thought it’d make you feel safer, knowing the security was armed.”
“Yeah,” I said, forcing a smile. “Of course it does.”
“Anyway,” Erin changed the subject, “what we really wanted was to ask if you wanted to go for drinks after the show, celebrate your big night?”
“Oh,” I said, “I’d love to, but I’ve got to go do that Behind the Bars talk show straight after. Not sure when I’ll be back.”
“No drama.” Erin shrugged. “We’ll be in The Parrot until late, just pop along when you’re back if you fancy it. Figured we’d go for an old-person’s bar, less conspicuous, now that you’re a star and all that.”
I winced a little. A star. I supposed I was, or at least would be after tonight. I wasn’t yet sure whether that was a good thing, or the worst possible outcome. On the one hand, stars shone. They lit up the night sky, provided guidance to those who were lost and in need of direction – and that was always what I’d aspired to do. But on the other hand, stars were only serene and stoic from a distance. If you looked closer, they were nothing more than swirling, burning, chaotic masses of gas and fire that would one day crash and burn, causing untold devastation. It’s funny how our perspective of things changes depending on our proximity to them.
Back in the cell block, it was dinner time and the trolley was wheeled in full of plastic trays. I looked for Dax but he was nowhere to be seen.
“He’s with Mo,” Titch commented, noticing me scanning the room. Nobody touched the trolley until Dax had taken Harvey’s food from it usually. “Recording some sound bites.”
I saw my chance and grabbed a tray. “I’ll take Harvey’s,” I said, moving swiftly before anyone but Titch, who I knew to be a firm disbeliever in the whole ‘Stone is a siren’ legend, could register what I was doing. I hurried down the corridor to his cell, and wasted no time on pleasantries.
“Okay, Stone,” I said as I approached. “You were right, I need to ask you a question.”
“But I already gave you the answer,” Harvey said, his eyes fixed on the hatch.
I let out a huff, unlocked the hatch and shoved his tray in gracelessly. “No more cryptic mind games. Just give me a straight answer. How do you do it?”
He took his tray slowly, sliding it from the hatch and placing it on the table with deliberate lethargy, making me wait. Then he turned to face me and looked me straight in the eye.
“Do you know how I know you’re authentic, Cal?” he asked.
