Burnington Gaol

T H I R T Y - T W O | Adeline

Frank brushed his fingers against his dinner tray, predatory eyes focused intensely on Johnny Barlow, standing across the room in the lunch line. An overlapping cluster of voices filled the undertone, murmurs and whispers, the occasional laugh, while the harsh fluorescent lights glimmered in the reflection of reinforced steel tables and stools. Frank smirked, breathed in the scent of lead paint and bleach. Grabbing his empty tray, he sauntered up to the line, shoved his way in behind Barlow.

"Hey, asshole!" Somebody yelled in protest.

Frank ignored them. Johnny let out a sigh.

"Frank Dawson," he said.

Frank stared up at the back of his shaven head, noticed his scars and tattoos.

"Let's not make this difficult," Frank murmured. "I'd rather not resort to violence."

"Tired of being bent over in the shower-room?" Johnny laughed. "I'm not doing shit for you."

"I'm looking for Seth. You're going to tell me where he is."

"Is that so? And why would I do that?"

"Because we both know you care more about your life than his."

Johnny laughed, taking a step forward in the line.

"You're going to kill me?"

Gently, Frank released his grip on his jumpsuit sleeve, letting the makeshift blade slip into his palm. Quickly, he pressed against Johnny's back and he felt the giant tense.

"I know exactly where this blade will puncture, and I know that when it does, you will die before any ambulance will reach you. So yes, Johnny, I am going to kill you, if you don't give me what I want."

Johnny managed a fearful laugh.

"You wouldn't dare," he breathed. "My guys will come for you. You won't survive the night."

"Think I care? I'm headed for a gallows. Might as well take you with me."

Frank pressed the blade deeper into his back, the sharp tip threatening to break the skin.

"Come on man, he's my kid."

"Don't pretend to give a shit about him. Tell me where he is."

The tip of blade pierced through Johnny's tattooed skin, and he made a small yelping noise. Then, Frank saw his legs tense, ready to spring.

"Don't even think about it," Frank said. "You move, you die."

The blade sunk deeper into Johnny's flesh, until he cried:

"Okay, okay! Twenty-one Oak, Brosna. House is my sister's. Seth's staying there until I get out. Don't kill him."

With a sadistic grin, Frank gave the blade a violent twist. Johnny cursed, arching his back, and Frank soon slipped the weapon back up his sleeve.

"Don't worry, Johnny. It wasn't deep enough for any serious damage. Oh, if you think about sending your guys after me, just remember how they would react if I told them the truth about what you are, what you did to that poor boy for all those years." Frank leaned in close. "Then we'll see who survives the night."

Frank tilted his head, smiled, and patted his shoulder.

"Enjoy your lunch," he said, walking back to his seat.

© A.G. Travers 2018