snapped.
She gave a long-suffering sigh and rolled her stool back enough to stand up, marching to the corrections officer, who stood a full foot taller than her. “Perkins… That was your name, right? Listen here, I get that you’re new and probably not familiar with how things work around here, so let me clue you in. Out there, in the cells, you get to be the warden’s loyal foot soldiers, doing as you please. But here, this is my domain. Pamala-land, if you will. Here, I make the rules. I do as I please. So, if you’re going to continue to stand there, do so quietly before I have you beheaded.”
Perkins turned beet red to the tips of his ears, his fury instantaneous. “I’m the only thing keeping that inmate from raping and murdering you. You get that, right?”
The nurse—Pamela?—snorted. “I have drugs in here that would drop an elephant in thirty seconds flat. You get that, right?”
“Whatever, bitch. It’s your funeral.”
She made her way back to her stool and, once more, returned to her task. “So, you were telling me why you were beating up the walls.”
“I wasn’t, though. Telling you,” Cy reminded her.
She gave him a smile. “But you wanted to. So, why not unburden yourself? I’m bored. Coma guy isn’t really spilling the tea. Come on, humor an old lady.”
“You’re not old,” Cy said, realizing it was true. She had silver hair and a hard look, but her face was unmarred by any signs of aging, her skin creamy and plump looking.
She shrugged. “Humor me anyway.”
Cy shook his head at the woman’s stubbornness but found himself talking anyway. He didn’t tell her everything. He left out much of what was happening, focusing more on Rosie and her plight than on him and Nicky, but the woman smiled whenever he said Nicky’s name, like she knew his secret, like it was impossible to ignore how in love with him Cy was.
“I can take her,” Pamela said quietly, out of earshot of Perkins.
“What?” Cy asked.
She finished securing Cy’s bandage in place. “Rosie. I can keep her until you make other arrangements. It’s not her fault she was caught up in this.”
Cy gaped at the woman. “Why would you do that?”
She gave a furtive glance towards Perkins, then slipped her phone from her pocket, turning it to show him a picture. Three dogs sat on the couch wearing Christmas pajamas and Santa hats. She pointed at a German Shepherd. “That’s Marshall. He’s a retired K-9.” She pointed to a small pitbull with missing ears. “That’s Mama. She’s old. We rescued her from an abusive home situation.” Finally, she pointed to a furry brown dog so small Cy could have tucked it into his pocket. “That’s Goliath. He’s the alpha. He’s also a rescue.”
“So, you just rescue dogs?” Cy asked.
“Actually, yeah. My wife and I are typical California lesbians.” At Cy’s confused look, she gave a quiet laugh. “You know, vegan, hippies, rescue animals, our first date was a U-Haul. We’ve been rescuing animals for twenty years.”
“I don’t know if I’m ever getting out of here,” Cy said. “I don’t know if I can find somebody willing to take her if they add to my time. She’s a good girl. I don’t want them to put her to sleep because of me. Just because she flunked out of the service program.”
“Just let me handle it. Worst case scenario, I end up with yet another dog. My wife is used to that by now.” Cy didn’t even know what to say. It seemed impossible that a random stranger would want to do something like that for him or even for Rosie. She pulled something from the drawer. “I can only give ibuprofen until Dr. Mitchell writes orders, but I do have standing orders for some sleep medicine. I’m going to give you both so you can get some rest. Okay?”
Cy took what she offered, some small part of him relieved enough to close his eyes and relax. He still had no idea where Nicky was or if he was even okay, but at least they wouldn’t put Rosie down. Cy drifted off into a restless sleep where he ran through a maze constantly searching for Nicky but never finding him. Was this what torture felt like?
Webster woke with a start, jolting upright, his head just barely missing the bunk above. He was coated in sweat, his heart racing from the nightmarish images fading from his memory. The cold air made him shiver,