23 Hours: A Vengeful Vampire Tale(35)

There were other weapons to be had, but they were all what used to be called less-lethal weaponry (the most recent term was “compliance weapons”)—useful for controlling prisoners you didn’t want to actually kill. There was a can of pepper spray, a hollow aluminum baton, and a squishy bag of some compound Caxton couldn’t readily identify. She took all of it except the bag, though two concerns limited her arming herself.

For one thing, none of it—nothing in the SHU—would be of any use against a vampire, even one as decrepit and weak as Malvern. The hunting knife could carve out her heart, assuming she would stand still long enough, but Caxton knew better than to fight a vampire without proper firearms. It was just asking for a quick and painful death.

The other big concern was that she had no way to carry it all. There was no belt on her jumpsuit, nor were there any belt loops. The jumpsuit had been designed to be bright enough to see in the dark and easy to wash. Fashion hadn’t been much of a concern, and it was baggy and shapeless. It didn’t even have any pockets.

At least there was something she could do about that, though it was a grisly task to contemplate. Caxton went over to Harelip’s body and removed her belt. It fit over Caxton’s shoulder like a very thin bandolier, and she was able to clip the stun gun to it and slide the shotgun and the baton underneath it if she pulled it tight. The pepper spray she slipped inside her bra. That left just the knife.

“Gert, you have to give that to me,” she said, and held out her hand.

Caxton’s celly looked her up and down. “You got the utility belt. I’m keeping the knife.”

Caxton sighed. “I need it more than you do. In fact, you’re not going to need it at all.”

“What do you mean?” Gert asked.

Caxton stood up straight. “You’re going back in the cell now.”

Gert laughed. “You shitting me? I saw what happened to those fools in the cells when that thing came through. I ain’t getting locked up again!”

Caxton was about to reply when a loud bang startled her. She whirled around and saw a woman staring at her through the glass window in her cell door. “I’m with her,” the woman shouted, her voice just audible through the door. “Let me out! I don’t want to die in here!”

Over across the SHU there came a rapid hammering on another door. “What about me, bitch?” another prisoner demanded.

Soon half the cell doors were rattling in their jambs. Caxton whirled around, looking at the cells, wondering what she was supposed to do about the women inside. Then she ran back to the guard post and turned on the intercom that would broadcast to the speakers inside the cells.

“Listen,” she said, speaking into a microphone on the control board. “We are in a very bad situation here, but I’m in charge now and I have things under control, at least for the moment. I need all of you to stay calm.”

The cells erupted with shouts and obscenities and manic pounding on doors and windows.

Caxton gritted her teeth and looked around at the cell doors. Almost every window had a face plastered against it. An angry, demanding face.

“There are more of those things outside the SHU,” Caxton announced. “They’ve come for me. Just for me—I plan on leaving here soon, and when I do, I think they’ll leave you alone. For now, though, you have to trust me! The safest place for you is inside your cells.”

She stared at Gert as she finished.

Gert stared back with a look of utter scorn on her face. “If you was one of us,” she asked, raising her voice over the chorus of shouts and catcalls, “would you buy any of that shit?”

They don’t have a choice, Caxton thought. They were murderers and gangbangers and women who were a danger to themselves. Three of them were on death row. She couldn’t trust them. She might have all the weapons, but they could easily mob her and overpower her and take away even that advantage.

It was just like Harelip had said. You had to contain the situation. You couldn’t leave your back unguarded for a second. And yet Gert had a point. Who was Caxton to deny these women a chance to defend themselves? Maybe they could even help her. If they would just pipe down, that would help a lot. It would let her think—

A booming, echoing thud came from the main door of the SHU, and suddenly there was silence. The shouting stopped, though the women stayed glued to the windows, every eye looking toward the door.

The thump came again. Then a high, cackling voice said, “Keep it down in there, ladies! We’re trying to sleep!”