Lifers 23

Both Vicky and Jill heeded what Mr Rob said to them,
and remained silent during the whole journey. Throughout that entire trip, Jill looked from the side window of the patrol car but saw no signs of life before they reached their destination, no houses, no major roads, no streetlamps, she didn’t even see another car or truck the whole time.

As they reached the outskirts of the place Mr Rob brought them to, she noticed a sign illuminated by the headlights of the car. The last part of which, had been defaced using red paint, and Jill didn’t like what it read. It really had to be some kind of sick joke.

Welcome to Martinsville.
Population: D 1 E 0 A 4 D

The patrol car pulled up at the front of a grey painted, wooden building; stencilled on the wall between a window and a door were five words.

“Martinsville Police Station and Courtroom”

The building consisted of only one storey, with bars over the only two windows visible, and a steel gate covering the only door. A small porch light was on lighting up the immediate area of the doorway, but no lights were on inside. The other buildings, the only ones she could see from inside the car, showed no signs of life at all. But it was the middle of the night, 1:25 am according to the illuminated dash-clock.

As he climbed from the patrol car Mr Rob grabbed his hat, and prior to unlocking the barred gate over the door, he checked with a quick glance through Jill’s window on his captives. He then disappeared inside the building. While he was gone, Jill looked for the inside handle on the car door, if she could twist herself around and open it, they could run. She had no idea where to, nor did she give a shit, but anywhere was better than where they were right now. But of course, the door had no handle. She looked across to Vicky’s door and didn’t find one there either, but she did see Vicky rocking back and forth like some mental-case in a straight-jacket. She’d gone, snapped.

A couple of minutes later, Mr Rob returned to the car opening the trunk. Jill peered through the back window and under the gap to see him pull the dead body out and take it inside. When he returned to the patrol car another minute later, he opened her door.

‘Okay, ladies,’ he said, half leaning in, ‘if you wouldn’t mind stepping inside for me.’

Jill slid across the seat and climbed out expecting Vicky to follow, but she didn’t. ‘Come on, Vicky, you have to get out,’ she told her.

Mr Rob went to get her.

‘Wait! I’ll do it.’ said Jill.

The big man moved to one side showing his upturned hand as an invite. ‘Be my guest,’ he said, smiling.
Jill put one knee on the seat poking her head inside the car. ‘Vicky, you have to get out. If you don’t, he’s coming in for you.’

Vicky stopped rocking to look at Jill; her face was pale, blank, emotionless.

‘Come on, Vicks. Please.’ Jill pulled back from inside the car and Vicky eventually followed.

Mr Rob slammed the door shut before pointing the way. ‘Inside, if you please,’ he told them.

Jill was first to enter the building to see two adjoining cells, each one no more than ten feet by ten feet, and positioned against the back wall. To the left of those cells a fluorescent tube not quite full of life, flickered, buzzed, and clicked in a bid to be noticed. Jill sniffed, taking in the odour surrounding her; damp, musty, rotting wood with the underlying scent of biological decay. Maggots, just like in the car.

Mr Rob cut their wrist restraints using a small pen-knife, after which, he pushed them in to the cell on the left and locked the door. He then left the room to go back outside; Jill heard the car start up and followed its progress around to the right-hand-side of the building. When he returned, he threw a small bunch of keys onto a desk in the centre of the room, and after pulling out a chair, he sat at it.

The only thing in their cell was a wooden bench attached to the back wall; the other three sides were bars. Vicky opted for the bench, and there she sat with her eyes firmly fixed on the floor. Jill chose to stand whilst she took a good look around. In the ceiling of the cell was long hatch, boarded over with what at one time must have been shiny metal, now most of it was rust coloured. A grey wooden door stood to the left of the adjoining cell, and the faded sign on it read,

“Courtroom”

To the right of that door was a notice board with different items pinned to it, the largest thing Jill could see was a map of the town they were now prisoners in. Under the window left of the entrance door, was a small cupboard with an empty vase resting on it. On the right hand side of the door was another window, and tucked neatly below that, was a small writing desk. The desk had papers scattered over it, and two pens on top, one lying flat on the papers, and the other in a pen holder. Also to her right, but on the cell wall behind, stood another door. Above this door was a clock; the time it showed was 1.33 am. The sign on the door below the clock read,

“Washroom”

Jill moved her attention to the centre of the room and the large desk, and still sitting there writing something down was Mr Rob, but all she could see was the top of his platter-sized hat. The stray boot lay on its side on the desk, and next to that was something resembling a cattle-prod. Although, not having seen one up close before, she could be wrong about that. But she didn’t think so. Also sitting on the desk was an old-style black telephone, and next to that the small bunch of keys. One of which, fitted their cell door.

Jill knew her next statement was going to be met with some form of ignorance, but saying nothing would get her nowhere, so she had to try. ‘We’re supposed to get one phone call each, and that’s the law,’ she said, then waited impatiently for a response. ‘Hey, I said-’

‘I heard what you said, missy,’ he finally replied, but didn’t bother to look at her.

‘So, do we get a phone call, or not?’

‘Not. Phones dead, has been for days now.’

She knew full well he was lying, she hadn’t expected anything less from the man. His actions so far weren’t exactly what she’d define as even close to orthodox. She had no option but to resign herself to the fact that neither she, nor Vicky, would be getting out of there any time before morning.

She continued to survey her surroundings.

In the adjoining cell she noticed three things. The first being four rusty ring-like shackles, all spaced out symmetrically and all bolted to the floor. In the centre of these rings she saw what looked like a large scorch-mark. Did he set fire to all his prisoners? Or was that just the very naughty ones? She didn’t bother to ask, she had a feeling she somehow wouldn’t like his answer.

The second thing she noticed was another long hatch in the ceiling; this one had two thick bolts holding it shut, and wasn’t boarded over. However, the third and most worrying thing in that cell, and it was something she couldn’t help but stare at, was the body of the man she’d hit and killed with Vicky’s car. The man’s arms and legs were flailed in all directions, making it look like a large dummy had just been dumped there. Without taking her eyes off the body, she backed up to the bench sitting next to Vicky. They were now physically closer to each other than they’d ever been before.

Vicky still stared at the floor of the cell, but Jill, now managing to remove her stare from the dummy, watched the man who’d put them there.

Mr Rob had finally removed his hat, his hair was dark and cut Marine style, and his face was severely scarred and pock marked. It had to be the worst result of teenage acne she’d ever seen. If someone had beaten the guy with a sock full of sharp rocks he couldn’t have looked any uglier.

He opened one of the drawers in the desk and produced a small, white, plastic-looking box, about the same size as a pack of cigarettes. Jill looked on as he, without removing his gloves, started to poke his thick, elongated fingers into his eye sockets. Before long, he’d removed two blue and white contact lenses that were big enough to cover the whole of each eye. And then, with a hideous looking smile, he stared at her.

Jill felt even less at ease after seeing him do this, his eyes now showed dark-red, oversized pupils, with what little white there was, looking heavily veined and bloodshot, and closer to yellow. And under the pale fluorescent hue of the strip-lights, his uniform looked worn and old, with huge sweat rings staining his underarms, and what looked like dark rust coloured splashes intermittently spread over the shirt.

Her mind started to think things through. No real police officer would allow his uniform to become that dishevelled, or drive a patrol car with an interior like the one sitting outside. Even disregarding his earlier conduct, Jill realised this was in no way just any ordinary case of arrest. She had a really bad feeling about this whole situation now.

A buzzing sensation in her pocket brought her mind back to focus. She remembered then what she’d picked up from the road. Mr Rob was still looking in her direction so no way could she just pull it out and answer it. She’d leave it until the right opportunity presented itself, then, whoever it was, she’d call them back.

At that moment the station room door flew open and Young Billy Fisher walked in carrying a shoebox. The same shoebox Jill took the flashlight from earlier. Mr Rob turned to face him as he placed it on the desk.

‘S’all there was, sir,’ said Billy.

‘What about luggage, or bags? Don’t want anyone finding them now, do we?’

‘There were some cases in the trunk, but I burnt em,’ he said, then walked back out.

Jill saw Vicky lift her head on hearing the voices, and just like Jill, she’d obviously recognised the shoebox. Mr Rob removed the lid and began to lift things from it.

Vicky rose to her feet. ‘Excuse me, where’s my car?’ she asked.

‘Leave it, Vicky,’ said Jill.

Mr Rob didn’t answer; he just carried on emptying the shoebox.

‘…and why has all my stuff been taken out?’

Jill whispered through gritted teeth. ‘Vicky, don’t do this right now!’

Again, Mr Rob didn’t answer. The first item he took from the box was a small, pink, flip-open cell phone, which he placed it in the centre of his right palm. Raising his hand to the side, he smashed the cell phone down on the edge of the desk, shattering it in to small pieces.

Vicky rushed to the door of the cell. ‘You fuck! You ugly fuck!’

Mr Rob shot to his feet and pulled his gun out; he then cocked the hammer aiming for Vicky.

‘Vicky, no,’ shouted Jill.

Mr Rob sat down again, but glared at Vicky as she backed up to the bench. Only when she was sitting did he release the hammer and place his gun on the desk. He then carried on with emptying the shoebox.

‘Please don’t give him a reason to come in here, Vicky. As long as these bars are between us, we’re relatively safe.’

Mr Rob stood and made his way to their cell door, reaching through the bars he looked at Jill, his fingers wagging. Jill looked at him once, then looked away, if she played it dumb and ignored him, he’d leave them alone.

‘Want me t’come get it, missy?’ he said, now pushing his face between the bars, his fingers still wagging.

Jill stood and walked over to him; she reached into her jeans pocket and handed him the dead man’s cell phone. As soon as she placed it into his hand, it began to buzz again.

Mr Rob looked at the small illuminated window and turned it to Jill. ‘Wanna say goodbye?’

The display flashed bright green and read, Larry K. ‘No, it wasn’t mine, it was his,’ she said, indicating with a head-tilt.

Mr Rob placed the cell phone on the floor and raising his huge foot, crushed it almost to dust. He then smiled at both girls before returning to his desk.

‘Where’d you get that?’ asked Vicky.

‘I found it, by his body out on the road.’

‘We’re not coming out of this alive. You know that don’t you?’

‘Don’t talk like that, Vicky. You’re scaring me.’

Vicky’s eyes widened. ‘I’m scaring you?’ she scoffed. ‘What about Herman fucking Munster out there?’

Even though their situation seemed dire, Jill managed a genuine smile at Vicky's remark; Vicky couldn’t help but smile back. ‘See,’ said Jill, ‘so long as we can smile, we’ll be okay,’

Jill returned to the bench to sit next to Vicky, then something stalled her, a rustling noise from the adjoining cell, something moved, she was sure of it. The dead man’s body held her gaze for quite a while. Vicky heard and saw nothing; her feet were now on the bench with her forehead resting on her arms.

Mr Rob pulled a set of keys from the box; the key fob attached to them was a photograph of Vicky and Jill on one side, and Vicky's mum and dad, and Brother Nathan on the other. He took the small pen-knife he’d cut their restraints with and prised the photo holder open. After flicking out the photographs, he pulled a lighter from his pocket setting fire to them. He then dropped the still burning pictures into the empty waste bin at the side of his desk.

Jill looked again at Vicky, who, thankfully, still had her head down. She was glad she hadn’t seen him do that. Another rustling sound, coupled with a twig-snap noise, caused her to look again at the body. Something was different about its position; the flailed limbs didn’t look as flailed as before.

Something had moved.