Page 6 of Freshman

“Yeah. He hopes it might scare some sense into you. Get you to rethink your career.”

Alfie stared through the gate into the gloomy prison. One hundred and fifty violent men were on the other side.

“It will take me forever.”

Henry tapped him on the shoulder. “Sorry, Fish, but it’s the captain’s orders.”

“Fine.”

Alfie unlocked the gate and relocked it behind himself. Henry returned to the office and pushed the green glasses back up the bridge of his nose. If one of the prisoners had escaped and lurked in the shadows, Alfie doubted Henry would be much help even if he was awake. Alfie breathed deep through his nose and walked up to the first cell.

He knocked his fist to the cell door firmly, and the metal rattled louder than intended. “Name?”

The man on the other side roared and flung something at the door. A barrage of curse words immediately followed, spoken harshly and fiercely.

Then the threats began.

The threats of disembowelment, of rape, and brutal murder.

“I just want your name.”

“I’ll carve it in your face. How about that?”

Alfie shuffled and tapped on his clipboard. “Name?”

“Tony Blair.”

Alfie rolled his eyes. “Yeah right, Tony Blair—the former prime minister…and I’m Obama.”

He scanned the top of the list and froze when the printed name was indeed Tony Blair.

“What the hell did you just say, wise guy? You took the piss out of my name.”

The door rattled with a hard thump, and Alfie’s eyes snapped to the hinges. They held, but Alfie still shot a cautious look back at the gate to the lobby. Marie and Glen still hadn’t returned from their night-time lovemaking.

Tony’s roars and the crashes and bangs in his cell woke his neighbour. A brief conversation of mainly swear words and grunts went back and forth, and then the insults started from cell number two.

It was destined to be the longest roll call of Alfie’s entire life, and he was on his own. Unlike G-wing, they didn’t hurl abuse and then shove the duvet over their heads and go back to sleep. They stayed awake, encouraging each disgusting taunt.

It wasn’t the first time he had heard their grumbles. He had listened to their roll call when he worked on G-wing, the storm that gathered momentum, sometimes lasting until unlocking at eight. H-wing didn’t complain about the racket. Any prisoner who did would be jumped or got with a shank soon after.

Larkwood had a pecking order on the wings and between them, and H-wing was right at the top.

Cell seventy-eight had a particularly growly resident who fixated on Alfie’s mum. He described horrific details of what he would do to her once he got out, barking with laughter after each gory fantasy. The seventy-seven prisoners before him all jeered their agreement, laughing like a pack of ravenous hyenas.

Alfie sighed slowly and pinched the top of his nose. “Well, good luck finding her. I’ve looked, but maybe you’ll have more luck.”

It was the first time he had replied to one of them rather than repeat the same old, ‘what’s your name?’

Mr. Growly paused, as did the rest of the rabble. “Smart arse,” he said, finally.

Alfie smacked his lips together. “No smart arse on the list. Try again.”

“Daniel Greaver.”

“Thank you.”

He moved on to the next cell and tapped on the door. The next prisoner started with the insults, no longer focused on his mum but his dad. Alfie bunched his lips and listened to the prisoner graphically describe fucking his dad. He reiterated his dad would love it and beg for more, hoping it would anger Alfie, but he only shrugged.

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