But there was something else weighing heavily on my mind. It was the gun, hopefully still hiding where I put it before rushing out. My stomach had only just settled after cleaning the last remaining shit smears and now did a double-take as I grabbed my tools and turned for the corridor.
7.
It was just as I left it, waiting patiently inside the milk carton. Transporting a milk carton between units wasn’t anything suspicious, the cargo a common one for crooks to be carrying. But while it may have been normal for crooks to carry them, spot inspections still happened, random prisoners picked up for searches.
It was a risk I had to take, one that couldn’t be avoided. I needed to get my lethal cargo back to the unit and into the hands of Frank before lockdown. I knew that if I timed it right, the chances of getting picked up for a spot search were virtually extinguished.
What I needed to do was leave the med wing 5 minutes before Control called for movement around the prison to cease. This would mean officers and crooks would all be rushing around to return prisoners back to their respective units. If they weren’t, it meant extra work for the screws once muster was complete. They would be required to escort prisoners back to units personally and as it took 2 officers to escort a single crook after lockdown, it wasn’t an easy task while everyone was trying to go home.
I managed to get through the first 2 gates with relative ease. There were 3 others walking with me, all headed to their respective units. We picked up another crook as we walked through the gym corridor, the prison library entrance just one of the many doors it held. The 5 of us looked to be transporting a hell of a lot of gear, with 4 of us carrying plastic bags.
My heart lay heavy in my stomach during that walk. As we reached the other end of the corridor, 2 Tactical Officers suddenly emerged from the gymnasium door, waving us over. So close. The screw at the gate had already opened the gate for us. I watched as the relative safe passage all but disappear as he closed it again.
“You boys look like you’ve got a hell of a haul tonight. Anything of interest?” one said, pointing at the guy in the lead and gesturing for him to open his bag. The other held out his hand for the milk carton he was carrying. My stomach did a double take as the bag was taken, opened and rummaged through by the screw.
The other one peeled the milk carton open and peered inside. A few drops of milk spilt to the ground. I recognized the second screw from a scar that ran down the side of his face. His nametag said “Brennan” but everyone called him, funnily enough ‘Scar’.
“Hey, do you mind?” the crook said, holding his hands out in a wtf gesture. The screw holding his milk carton didn’t respond, turning the carton this way and that, trying to find anything submerged in the milk.
When they were both satisfied, they handed the gear back to its owner, waving to the gate keeper to let him through.
“Next,” one of them said, turning to the next guy. My heart was pounding, the sweat no doubt close to dripping down my face. The next crook stepped forward, handed over his bag and milk and went through the same routine. He also complained about the spillage.
My fingers gripped the milk carton tighter again as the second guy was ushered away, safely on his way to the unit.
“Come on, come on,” the first screw said to the next guy. I felt a heaviness in my bladder, positive I was about to piss myself as both screws inspected their items. The screw with the milk carton suddenly mimicked a little cheer, tore the carton flaps all the way open and reached inside. The other screw lowered the bag and looked at what the other one was pulling out from the box.
“Well, well, well, what have we here?” A small bag was pulled from the carton, milk dripping from it. It was well enough sealed to protect its cargo, a fine white powder that excited the officers. The screw held it up, shaking it from side to side as the crook just smiled back.
“You put that in there. I never seen that before,” he said, waving a finger at the boys in blue.
“All good, Jase. Stand over there.” The screw pointed for the crook to move aside near the wall, then pointed at the next guy to hand his stuff over.
I swear I thought I was going to pass out. They were about to find me with a fucken gun in my possession. My days in Yellow Block were about to come to an end, of that I was sure. My heart was pounding so hard, I could feel it in every part of my body, knowing I was well and truly fucked.
Although my milk carton held pretty incriminating contraband, my bag was clean, holding a towel, some t-shirts and a few apples. The officers allowed me to take left-over fruit whenever I wanted and I always obliged.
I watched with sheer horror as the final guy was ushered towards the gate, then held my breath as their eyes turned to me. But just as I was about to step forward, both their radios suddenly came to life, the voice echoing down the concrete hallway.
“Attention all stations. Cease all movement. I say again, cease all movement. Count will
