Page 23 of Endangered Species
Hours had passed since Cy had returned to their cell to tell Webster about Thor’s plot, but he still refused to let Webster out of his sight. Cy seemed…rattled. And that was worse than anything. Webster could feel Cy’s rage and fear radiating off him like the heat from a sunburn. There was a tightness to his features, a shift in his gait, almost like he was trying to make himself the bigger target, which would have been funny given his size if Webster wasn’t still reeling from the idea of being assaulted by a gang of white supremacists.
Thor and his buddies definitely took note. They laughed and gestured, making a show out of taunting Webster. Iggy and Jay noticed, too. And Preacher. He rarely sat with anybody for meals but was sitting at their table this time. Webster kind of wanted to believe it was a show of solidarity, but it might have just been to get a better view of the theatrics. It was hard to say with Preacher. There was a shaggy haired man with him who Webster had never noticed before.
It was like there was a feeling or scent in the air, like the smell that happens just before a lightning strike. The other inmates appeared restless, antsy, like they sensed something was about to go down. It was affecting the guards as well. They usually stuck to their posts by the doors during meal time but, tonight, they circled like sharks, their heads on a swivel, like they feared a riot.
While Cy seemed fixated on Thor and his gang, Webster couldn’t stop focusing on the guards. It was easy to spot the guards who weren’t in the know when it came to his status as a dead man walking. Kemp and Rogers were clearly pissed that things hadn’t gone as planned. Both Webster and Cy knew that meant they’d come back at him even harder now. Guys like Thor didn’t like having their plans ruined—but that was tomorrow’s problem. If the guards came for Webster tonight, there was nothing to be done about it. Webster was just grateful Kemp had worked dayshift with Rogers, so there was a good chance he’d be leaving soon.
After lights out, they stayed in their own bunks for much longer than usual. Webster couldn’t stop thinking about what might have happened to him if his attorney hadn’t stopped by. What could still very much happen to him. He’d been living in a weird headspace since he’d been locked up. A heightened fight or flight. Always on alert. But tonight felt too close. Like a bullet had flown past his head. His mouth was in a state of perpetual dryness, his pulse hammering in his throat. He couldn’t stop fidgeting, and every noise made him jump.
Being beat up—he could handle that. He’d taken a lot of beatings. Hell, he’d been jumped in the group home and in juvie no less than a dozen times growing up. Pain didn’t bother him. But it was the idea that they’d wanted to ‘pass him around’—something about that phrase had stuck in Webster’s head, and he couldn’t let it go. It had taken his thoughts from abstract to concrete quickly. He knew how brutal humans could be, had seen it a thousand times over. He didn’t want to die alone and in pain.
The creaking of the bed frame pulled him from his thoughts. When Cy slid in beside him, he scooted over to make room. Cy didn’t speak, didn’t even touch Webster until Webster curled into him, tucking himself under Cy’s thick arm, allowing the heavy weight of it to give him some false sense of safety.
“What would you do? If you were me?” Webster asked.
“What do you mean?” Cy whispered, his breath ruffling Webster’s hair.
“I mean, if you were in my situation, what would you do? If you weren’t the size of a refrigerator.”
Cy’s hand found his, his thumb caressing the sensitive skin on the underside of Webster’s wrist. “I’d do exactly what you’re doing. Wait it out. You said your friend is working on getting you out of here. Working on deciphering your program. We just have to keep you from being alone.”
Webster shook his head. “How? Tonight was dumb fucking luck. Tomorrow, we might not be so lucky.”
“Look. They both left tonight. I don’t think any of the other guards have enough specifics about your situation to come for you tonight. Tomorrow, you need to call your boss and find out where they’re at with deciphering your computer program. Maybe he needs to start calling in those favors you mentioned. You need to get out of here.”
Webster had no doubt that Linc was already pulling every string he had, but things like this took time. Hell, they didn’t even know what Webster’s program had uncovered or how anybody involved had known about it in the first place. “I’m sure he’s working on it.”
Webster closed his eyes, listening to the rapid thudding of Cy’s heart beneath his ear. “If the guards do come for me, you need to let them take me. I know you won’t want to, but you can’t stop them. All that will happen is you’ll end up sacrificing more of your life for me. We both know they want you in here for good. Don’t let them have that. I can’t be the one who does that to you twice.”
“Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that,” Cy said.
Webster pushed up onto one elbow, staring down into Cy’s chocolate brown eyes framed by those ridiculously long lashes. “No. Promise me. Promise if they come for me, you’ll do nothing.”
Cy was shaking his head before Webster had even finished talking. “No. I’m not promising that. I won’t. It’s not fair of you to even ask that of me.”
Webster wanted to fight him, wanted to force it out of him in any way possible so he could at least have some solace knowing that whatever happened to him, Cy would be a free man next year. But he just didn’t want to fight. He was scared, and he was tired, and if he was going to die at any minute, he didn’t want to waste time fighting with Cy. Whatever their connection, no matter how confusing or peculiar, it would forever soothe Webster. Being near Cy filled in some hole in his heart, made him feel more stable. It had when he was little, and it probably always would. Webster didn’t feel like dissecting anything else. He just couldn’t. He’d rather just be.
Webster settled back into Cy’s arms. “Thank you for always looking out for me.”
“Thank you for trying to find a way to get me out of here.”
* * *
Linc answered on the second ring. “How are you holding up?”
Webster wanted to say something witty or sarcastic to make Linc feel better, but there was no humor left in him. “Things are escalating here quickly. Where are we at with…things?”
Webster had to go on the assumption that his calls were being monitored. He was hoping to find a way to use that to his advantage, but being behind bars, without access to a computer, had crippled him.
“I sent your stuff to a friend of mine who used to work with the NSA. I figure he’s high enough up on the food chain that people wouldn’t be able to fuck with him. What’s happening there?”
“Chao’s visit last night kept me from getting jumped in the showers. I don’t think I was supposed to walk away from it. She says something is fishy about this whole thing. She keeps hitting a brick wall. It’s like I’m invisible to the outside world.”
“Yeah, we’re trying to get you out of there but, like she said, something isn’t right. We’re trying to get an emergency hearing to get you placed in protective custody, but Chao’s worried that, even if we somehow manage to get somebody to acknowledge you exist, we might inadvertently end up putting you in front of one of the judges who put the target on your back in the first place. I had to go higher up the food chain. It would be awesome if we could just get you the fuck out of there so you could tell us what the hell we’re looking at and how the fuck they managed to make you look like a terrorist.”
Webster sighed. “Believe me, this is hardly my choice.”
“Just hang in there, Nicky. Jackson and I are working as fast as we can.”
