Then there were those that had suffered injuries through assaults, some more serious than others. Sometimes, if available, they would be held in isolation cells, these scattered around the unit. Most of the time, I was able to mop the floors without supervision, the crooks being main streamers like myself. Other times, with those considered ‘protection’, an officer would open the cells and wait while I did my thing. It just depended on who the crook was. Being a billet required me to accept the fact I would come into contact with protection. If I couldn’t handle it and lashed out, I would effectively end my employment.
2.
The morning of that Thursday went like any other. For the most part, it was smooth sailing, my duties flowing with ease. I’d taken care of most of the mopping that morning, only a couple of cells remaining. A couple of deliveries had already happened, but the main one everyone was excited for, was the laundry truck, due in the early afternoon that day.
Clancy had slipped me a note saying there would be a couple of items for him aboard. Normally, his items would be aboard the food delivery vehicles, him being in the kitchen and all. But one of his suppliers also worked with the laundry company, hence why his shipment was headed my way instead.
It wasn’t unusual for Clancy and I to exchange goods with each other. The only difference between him and me was the fact he did the ordering of his deliveries, while I just accepted the deliveries. I was more like the prison postmaster, accepting deliveries and sending them to their intended destinations.
But everything that had been planned to arrive that day came to an end when a code was called 10 minutes before lunchtime muster. I heard it from where I was mopping out one of the vacant cells that stood near the officer’s station. A couple of blow-in officers were on duty that day, neither with any more than a few months experience. It always made the day a little easier having newbies in charge.
“Code Foxtrot, White Block,” was called by an officer sounding a little flustered. While it might not have sounded serious at the time, things were about to go severely pear-shaped for the officers.
“Attention all stations. Code Foxtrot, White Block. I repeat, Code Foxtrot, White Block. First responders to attend.”
A code foxtrot wasn’t an unusual code. It stood for ‘prisoner on prisoner fight’ and meant a couple of crooks were busy going at it, either over a disagreement or some argument over who took who’s apple, useless shit like that. Occasionally it was a little more serious.
3.
A second call came across the airways about a minute after the first call. This time it was direct from Control who had no doubt accessed the White Unit’s cameras and were watching whatever was unfolding. I hadn’t heard anything planned so had no inside information to go on.
“Attention all stations. Code Alpha, White Block. I repeat, Code Alpha White Block. Second response needed.” A code Alpha was an officer needing assistance, or in this case, the unit’s officers. I’m not sure whether the first responders had already arrived, but it meant whoever was in the unit was overwhelmed. It didn’t sound good for anyone caught inside.
“Something’s happening,” one of the screws in the station muttered to the other one who was busy reading the paper. He barely looked up in response. I was just walking past on my way to renew the water in my bucket, but decided to ‘reorganize’ the books on the shelves so I could listen in. Neither of the guys took notice of me, too caught up in their own world.
“CODE ALHA!” suddenly blared from the radio speakers, one of the screws jumping a little. Control answered almost immediately.
“Attention all stations. Code Charlie. I say again Code Charlie. All available staff to White Block.” Whatever was happening in White Block was now considered serious enough to lock down the entire prison. Every unit would now be locking their prisoners in cells as quickly as possible to free up staff.
I hadn’t heard a code Charlie called since the Traiforous girl incident. Whatever was happening in that unit was bad enough to call for all possible help. A riot maybe? I wasn’t sure.
The 2 screws went from cell to cell and locked crooks in. They returned a few minutes later and retook their seats, neither willing to run and help their comrades. One did look at me in a weird way, then nudged his partner.
“Do we lock him away?” he said, but the other just shook his head.
“Nah, he’s alright. You’re OK, yeah? Just keep doing what you’re doing.” I nodded and continued dusting each book, wishing I had a recliner and a bowl of popcorn to watch the proceedings.
3.
It was a hit that left 2 dead and 6 seriously injured. Within half an hour of the first code being called, 3 trolleys were brought up, ferrying the injured to holding cells while awaiting transport by ambulance. I was called on to help with getting bedding and stuff before being locked into one of the empty cells to wait for things to calm down.
The cell had a single bed and a television and for the next 2 hours, was happy to lay back and watch most of The Great Escape as it played on the prison’s dedicated movie channel. I couldn’t really complain, still on the clock and earning money while half-sleeping my way through endless scenes of Steve McQueen.
It must have been at least 4 by the time I was let out. Most of the injured had been taken to hospital by ambulance and a couple of other crooks who’d managed to avoid the worst of it were held in separate cells.
The screws were happy for me to finish mopping out
