T265 accepted the help of the women of Stonewall to survive the aftermath of her rape. Now she must continue on in Perdition without any justice.
The Warden’s office was very much what most would expect from a pastor who clawed his way to power. Most of the adornments were plush and meant to comfort those who curried favor, while the plain chair T265 waited in was not.
The abundance of religious iconography and testaments of his humanitarian pursuits showed an utter hypocrisy, considering the horrors he wreaked upon the camp. The most offensive to T265 was the large Christ-less cross hung with prominence on the wall behind the mahogany desk, which glistened in the early evening glow from the windows.
The vice on her insides continued to squeeze since CO Calderon ripped her from the shower. The clothes still clung to her skin when he deposited her at the sitting table in the office. There was only one reason that came to mind why the Warden summoned her with such sharpness.
Someone ratted her out about the ranch.
Her mind was aflame with what to do next. Lying was her first inclination. There were no other witnesses, and Daxton would never claim it. Not with a T.
The slight whine of the office door heralded the sumptuous aroma of Saturday cookouts and apple pie that conquered the room. A young woman with braided blonde hair and a maxi-length floral dress scurried in with two plates resting on her left arm and a glass of lemonade in her right hand. The only recognition she gave T265 was setting the drink and plates on the table.
Excitement surged when T265 took in the sight of the large hamburger layered with cheese, lettuce, and tomato with a side of golden steak fries. It took everything she had to restrain her hands from seizing the healthy slice of apple pie on the second plate.
The young woman snuck a glance at T265 and recoiled in disgust. She stumbled back before rushing out of the room without acknowledging the Warden as he entered with his own plate.
Warden Waylon Nettle loomed over the table for a moment before he set his food and drink across from T265. The casual way he slipped off his gray suit jacket only made his presence more menacing. His deliberate movement to hang the jacket on the rack by the door devoured the seconds of T265’s anticipation.
The seared ribeye, with its sumptuous, marbled fat, seduced her attention toward the Warden’s plate. It glistened with its savory juices that danced with the brown gravy that pooled beneath it. The peppered aroma of the meal teased her tongue, which hadn’t been near such food for so many years, let alone tasted it. The gravy cascaded from the mashed potatoes, which she imagined had a balance of garlic, butter, and the tiniest bit of sour cream. Steam radiated from the broccoli that filled the remainder of the plate. The Warden’s footsteps punctuated the hum of the air conditioner as he returned to the table.
“I understand you ran afoul of Joe Daxton today,” Warden Nettle said with an ease T265 couldn’t place. His manicured hand placed a tiny, plastic spoon next to her apple pie. His chair scraped against the floor before he spoke again. “I can imagine that was unpleasant for you.”
T265 remained still. One wrong move or word would put her on the Spire. Her shoulders hunched as she tried to shrink herself.
“He’s being dealt with.” The Warden stabbed his fork into a floret of broccoli, brought it to his mouth, and spoke again. “You’re not in trouble, Steven.”
The name struck the air and shattered its decade-long exile. Even after everything she did to divorce herself from it, hearing it brought her some comfort. Fear kept her eyes on her plate as she nodded.
“Please, eat,” Warden Nettle urged. His steak bled onto the plate with the two swift strokes of the knife. “I was looking over your file, and is it correct that you were a project manager on the outside?”
“Yes sir.” The fry trembled as she snuck it from the plate and into her mouth. The salty crispness of it melted into her tongue once she closed her lips. The taste stirred something long dormant within her, something beyond hunger. The warm bun resisted her fingers when she seized the burger. The anticipation within her mouth ached to be satiated by the first real meal in five years. She bit into the burger to find an explosion of a cacophony of flavor. An ache for her dad’s bratwursts on a humid midwestern afternoon rumbled in her stomach. For a brief moment, she forgot she was in hell.
Warden Nettle nodded with great delight. “That’s good. We actually have a large expansion project coming up.” He set his utensils onto his plate and leaned forward. “I think you would be an asset to that work. What do you think?”
She almost dropped her burger at the notion. With her mouth full of food, the best she could do was nod, but made haste to finish chewing so she could engage in conversation.
“Excellent.” He resumed cutting his steak into bite-sized pieces. “I am sure it will be nice to get out of the fields. You will need to be a little more presentable for the administration building.” He pointed at her face with his fork. “Tomorrow morning, you’ll report to the barber for a good shave. I bet that will be nice.”
The thought of working indoors was overwhelming, but the promise of a clean-shaven face was damn near divine. With a few remaining bites of her burger remaining, she grabbed the lemonade. The sweet citric taste sparkled over her tongue.
“There is one more thing I need from you.”
“Of course.” Honestly, he could have asked for her kidney, and she might have said yes.
“I also understand you’ve become acquainted with one of the others, of your kind.” He caught her gaze and held eye contact. It pierced deep into her, refusing her desire to look away. “The others call him EmCee I believe.”
“Yes, that is true.”
“I would like you to be friends with him and just…keep an eye out.”
“Like spy on her?”
Warden Nettle jolted at the question. His lips pursed for a moment, but he recovered. “We could call it that. You see, Steven, keeping everyone safe is my mission. Even from themselves.” He set his fork onto his plate, but held onto the knife. “This, EmCee, will set the world on fire just to dance in the embers. He doesn’t care who else he drags into hell with him.”
“I understand.” T265 swallowed hard to consume the nature of the Warden’s intentions. Her gaze dropped to what remained of her thirty pieces of silver. Refusing the request meant returning to the fields, with a target on her back.
“Good, I expect a report within a week,” he said with a bounce in his voice and returned to finishing off his steak.
“Yes sir,” she replied and ate the last piece of her meal.
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