Already I could tell something was different out here. The corridors were mostly empty, save for the tired guards sitting at checkpoints. They looked like they hadn’t gotten much sleep lately either; their red, puffy eyes and the lingering scent of coffee in the air offering all the tell-tale signs. Back in D-Block, things weren’t much better. It wasn’t only the guards who looked like they hadn’t been sleeping, but the inmates, too.
The cell doors were open, and usually that meant D-Block would be flooded with prisoners eager to socialize—or conspire—with each other. Not a soul was out of their cell, and those inside of their cells looked like ghosts themselves; pale, with bags under their eyes. I couldn’t understand it. It was as if I’d come out of the hole and fallen into a world of zombies.
Sanchez dropped me off at the door to my cell. “Doors close at 10pm,” she said, “But we’ll keep the lights on for you.”
“Keep the lights on?” I asked, but she was already on her way back out of the block.
Shaking my head, I turned toward my cell and headed inside. It was quiet, and at first, I thought it was empty, but then I heard Alexa’s gentle breathing coming from the bottom bunk. She was asleep, her head tilted back on the pillow, her mouth slightly open, a little drool glinting on the corner of her red lips.
I approached, slowly, making sure I didn’t wake her up a second earlier than necessary. Kneeling by her side, I carefully reached for her hand and nudged it, but my fingertips had barely touched her skin when she jumped away, gasping for air. She scrambled on her elbows, bashing her head against the underside of the top bunk.
“Fuck!” she cursed, breathless, “Oh my fucking shit, I fell asleep?!”
“Sorry!” I said, reaching for her hand, “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
Alexa stared at me, blankly, like she didn’t recognize me. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot, and spooked beyond belief. “I shouldn’t have fallen asleep.” She tapped her cheek in an effort to wake up a little quicker. “Fuck, I shouldn’t have done that.”
My heart started to race. Something wasn’t right. First my abrupt ejection from the hole, then the tiredness of the guards and inmates, and now Alexa was freaking me out by chastising herself for falling asleep.
“Alexa,” I squeezed her other hand. “What’s going on?”
She seemed to take a breath or two and calm herself, as I had done earlier in the hole, but then she scowled. “Where the hell have you been?” she asked.
“In the hole.”
“Bullshit. You’re too clean.”
I showed her my nails. I hadn’t gotten all the grime out, so they were still black at their tips. “They gave me a shower before I got here. Look, smell the shampoo in my hair. Can you please tell me what’s happening?”
She narrowed her eyes. “You really have been in the hole, then?”
“Why would I lie to you?”
“So… you don’t know what’s been happening around here the last week?”
I shook my head. “Wait, I’ve been down there a week?”
Alexa moved closer to the edge of the bed, rubbed her eyes with her hands, then held onto my shoulders as if for dear life. “They’re dying, Six.”
“Who’s dying?”
“Inmates. One by one, night after night, someone else gets carted out of their cell in a body bag, and nobody is telling us why.”
CHAPTER TWO
My entire body flushed with dread cold as I remembered the day the cellblock got locked down. It hadn’t been that long ago, even if in the darkness of the hole, time itself seemed like a totally abstract thing without any real meaning. In my mind’s eye, I saw the prisoner’s body, naked, covered in sickly yellow and purple bruises.
Bruises similar to the one I had woken up from a fever dream with.
“Start again,” I said, staring into Alexa’s eyes. “Take a breath first, then start again.”
Alexa did as I asked, breathing deeply and shutting her eyes. When she opened them again, she looked more awake, and sharper than she had been a moment ago. “It started almost a week ago,” she said, “It was just like the first one.”
“The first what?”
“The guy we watched get dragged out of his cell. Remember? He was naked, and covered in marks.”
I doubted if I would ever forget that day. The sight of the dead man’s body, the vivid nightmare I’d had, the mark I had woken up in a panic with… thinking about it conjured the pain in my arm.
It had been huge, the clear impression of a monster’s claw left against my skin—dark, purple, and strangely cold. It had healed quickly, at least mine had. The dead man’s bruises, though… his injuries must’ve been too severe. Calling them injuries was a stretch, though, since no one had actually hurt him; not physically, anyway.
But he had died all the same.
“How many?” I asked.
“One every night, so… six,” she said. “But nobody said anything about the deaths. They just locked the cell down, brought in the paramedics, and quietly pulled the corpses out. Then, when they were done, they unlocked the cells and life continued as normal. It was fucked up, Six. The whole vibe in the cellblock changed.”
I almost didn’t dare to ask. “Azlu?”
“She’s fine. I mean, she’s alive. They took her down to the hole a couple of days ago, but I watched them bring her back up just before you came in.”
I nodded, relieved. “Sanchez came to get me. She told me the hole was off limits. That must be why they brought her up, too.” I perked up, hoping I would catch her in her cell, but I couldn’t see into her cell from my own.
“They want us to believe nothing’s wrong,” Alexa said, “They didn’t tell us why those inmates had died. Every day was just another day, you know? Shower time, rec time, meal time. But then night time came, and after the third death, most of us started dreaming about it when the lights went out.”
Another wash of cold pushed through me. “Dreaming about… it…”
She nodded. “Some call it the monster, the beast, or the nightmare. Others call it the devil. That’s the name they’re giving to the thing that attacked you in your sleep and put the mark on your arm.”
“I don’t know if that’s really what happened.”
Alexa rolled her eyes. “Now isn’t the time for denial. You know what happened to you that day, and now we know it too. I’ve seen it, Six. In my dreams. In our dreams. It’s always the same. I wake up to a sound near the cell. The door is open. I walk out into the cellblock, into the corridor just outside of the main door, and it’s there—prowling in the dark. Sometimes I run back into the cell, other times I try escaping the prison. I’m usually fast enough to keep it from touching me, but I’m getting slower. I can feel it.”
“Alexa…” I held her hand.
“I’ve talked to some of the inmates, the ones I feel like talking to, anyway. They’ve all seen it too. Some of them haven’t seen it for months, they say it comes and goes. But it’s back now, it’s hungrier than ever. The attacks are getting worse.”