Crucified

Chapter 14

The prison staff had organised a farewell drinks party for Janet at the local pub that evening. She had been on duty all day and was touched by the surprise announcement. Another few days and she’d have served her time... then she’d be off to New Zealand. But she couldn’t start to relax yet; she still hadn’t quite fulfilled her part of the deal made with Josh. Sachet eight would have to be administered today.

Arriving home after her shift, she spent time clearing away her drug equipment, taking everything that could be incriminating and dumping it all in a bin two streets away. She then changed into a smart black cocktail dress before joining everyone at the local pub. They had taken a small room above the main bar. A wobbly trellis table brimmed with wine and titbits, and all available staff had gathered to thank Janet for her work at the prison. They had all chipped in and bought her a silk scarf as a farewell gift. As she had a glass of wine and chatted about New Zealand, for a second she almost forgot what she had done.

Just after shift change on the affectionately named ‘nonce wing’, the night officer, Don, did his rounds, peering into every cell through the door hatch to make sure everyone was alive and well. As normal, most were reading, sleeping or masturbating. Middleton, however, was seated on the edge of his bed, bent forwards with his head between his knees and his knuckles dragging on the cell floor.

Don smirked. ‘Trying to give yourself a blowie, Rodney? Oi, Middleton, stop mucking about and get in bed. Now!’ When Middleton didn’t respond, Don called for a second officer. The cell door was opened and they entered, again instructing Middleton to do as he was told. Losing patience, Don pushed hard on his shoulders to make him sit up, but he rocked back, frozen in that grotesque shape, hitting his head hard on the cell wall before coming to rest on his side, head still between his knees and his hands down by the side of his feet, his fingers frozen in claws. They could now see bloodstains on the thighs of his trousers. ‘Jesus, what the fuck’s wrong with him?’

As the Governor stepped up to make his speech, Janet downed her umpteenth glass of wine.

‘Janet, love. What can I say? Our loss is New Zealand’s gain.’ His speech continued in the same meaningless vain, mainly because he’d never actually met Janet and didn’t know anything about her.

After he’d finished and everyone could thankfully go back to drinking, a call came through from one of the on-duty officers, requesting Doctor Zardari return to the prison. As he passed, Janet asked what had happened. ‘I don’t know,’ Zardari smiled. ‘But the prisoners are no longer your responsibility. You forget about them and enjoy your night.’

The male duty nurse fumbled with the naloxone kit, desperately trying to remember what Janet had done a week earlier. The vial was prefilled so all he needed to do was attach the needle, but his fingers refused to work and he dropped it onto the floor saying that he’d now need another as that one was no longer sterile.

‘Fuck that,’ Don snapped as he picked up the needle and handed it back. ‘Look at him. You ain’t got time to worry about health and fucking safety.’

The nurse finally attached the needle then stabbed it into Middleton’s leg and pushed the fluid in.

‘You’ll be all right any second now, Rodney. This stuff works fast.’ The nurse was expecting Middleton to snap back to life, straighten up and maybe even punch him for wasting his fix. But nothing happened.

‘You must’ve done it wrong, you idiot,’ Don snapped.

‘I didn’t,’ the nurse insisted. ‘He’s supposed to be OK!’

Don shook his head. ‘Does he look OK? Do something else.’

‘He might need another dose.’ As the nurse prepped a second dose of naloxone, Don cut Middleton’s trousers to expose the injuries that were bleeding through. The bleeding, oozing ulcers were repulsive and, once exposed, they stank.

‘Fuck me!’ Don slapped his hand to his mouth, trying to control his gag reflex.

‘God, they’re infected.’ The nurse gasped. ‘They’re all infected. I don’t understand. He fell. That’s all.’ As the nurse injected Middleton for a second time, the bodycam on Don’s shoulder was recording everything. Middleton’s bizarre frozen shape, his petrified, panicked eyes, his bleeding ulcerated thighs and his total lack of response to the naloxone. The male nurse raced from the cell shouting that he was going to call an ambulance. Middleton’s breathing became more and more laboured, and his face became distorted by excruciating pain. Every muscle in his body was tightening and freezing, including his heart.

Don’s bodycam caught the very moment that Middleton’s eyes glazed over, and his own muscles squeezed the life out of him.

Janet had left her own party shortly after Zardari because she knew if she’d stayed, she’d have fainted or puked or had a fucking heart attack. She called in to the prison surgery just after eight thirty, asking if she could be of any assistance. She was told Rodney Middleton had been found in a zombie state, unable to move, bent over on his bunk bed. He had died at the scene, but the paramedics had still attempted to revive him with epinephrine and a defibrillator. Zardari had arrived moments later and pronounced him dead.

Back at her flat, Janet had to sit down and take several deep breaths before she picked up the burner phone Josh had given her and reported that the deed was done. As usual, he spoke tersely, simply giving her the location of her passport and plane ticket and her fifteen thousand pounds. To her annoyance, they had all been stashed in her own kitchen under a floorboard by the fridge.

‘Get rid of the phone,’ Josh said. ‘And I mean right now. Have a nice flight,’ he added.

After Josh hung up, Janet sat with her knees jiggling and her hands shaking as the adrenalin slowly left her body. It was not until she had retrieved her stuff that she began to calm down properly. Packing the money into her case and the passport and ticket in her handbag, she took a hammer and smashed the burner phone into pieces which she would throw into different bins. She was too nervous to make any further calls to the prison, but she knew Middleton’s cell would be searched, and perhaps they would find something that could incriminate her. She told herself she had been very careful in the dosages, always making sure he swallowed the capsules and did not hold them under his tongue to either retain for later or sell to another inmate. But she needn’t have worried; in the end, Middleton couldn’t wait to get his hands on the fentanyl-filled capsules as he was gripped by his new addiction. He hadn’t noticed that it had been eating him alive for two weeks.

Janet left her keys with the landlady and took the train to London, booking in to a Holiday Inn near Heathrow. She still had two days before she got on the plane, but until then, her life was in the hands of the one person who knew she’d just committed murder.