Cut Off (Book 3): Cut Loose Read online

  “Looks like you guys are doing a great job of returning this place to its former glory,” Oscar said.

  “Somebody had to and I don’t think many strangers were about to pick up the rakes and hoes and do the work for us. How are you getting on over at your farm?”

  “Not bad. People keep trying to break in.”

  He might have been mentioning the blue tit was out earlier this year. “How do you know that?” Nancy said.

  “They use rocks to smash at the locks. They woke me up last night trying to get in. I went out there, hollering and shouting, and they left, but they returned a few minutes later and tried again. I saw the damage they did this morning.”

  “Did they take anything?”

  “I’ve got everything locked up pretty tight but they’ll get in one of these days, and when they do, they’ll take every last thing I have.” Oscar looked sad. The farm was the only thing he had left in the world. His wife, Sophie, died five years ago and he’d been pottering around running the farm ever since.

  “I’ll speak with Bill about it,” Nancy said. “It might be we can spare a pair of eyes now and then to check on you and your farm.”

  Oscar kicked his boots. “I wouldn’t want to put you out.”

  “It’s no bother. We have to look out for each other now more than ever.”

  The old man smiled. It took up his entire face.

  “I’m heading into town.” Steve clapped the worst of the dirt off his hands.

  “Town?” Nancy said. “I didn’t know you knew anyone in town.”

  “I don’t. But there’s a library.”

  Nancy spluttered. “A library?”

  He was gone before she could ask what he wanted with a bunch of books. The man was a puzzle.

  13

  “Honey, I’m home.”

  Peter removed his prison officer uniform and hung it on the hook beside the children’s anoraks and his wife’s fur mink coat. She always did have a taste for the finer things in life.

  “You wouldn’t believe what happened at work today,” Peter said, projecting his voice down the corridor.

  He took his keys from his pocket and dropped them in the little dish on top of the dresser.

  “A riot in C Block. We spent the whole day getting them under control. It’s not so difficult now with all the prison guards concentrated in a smaller area. Gareth took a chair to the face and it split open his forehead open. Just a few inches to the right and it would have been me carted off to the hospital.”

  He drifted into the front room and spied the crayons spread across the coffee table where the kids liked to draw. Usually, they came running at him when they heard his keys rattle in the lock. “Girls?”

  A rock formed in the pit of his stomach, making his legs slow and lethargic. He forced himself forward, toward the soft glowing candlelight around the corner where a pot bubbled on the gas stove.

  “Honey?”

  As Peter rounded the partition wall and looked in on the lime green and yellow kitchen, the blood drained from his face.

  A man with a fuzzy beard held a knife to his wife’s throat. He didn’t nick the skin. His wife was frozen to the spot, muscles tense and her breath hitching in her throat in thin rasping gasps.

  The man tilted the knife to one side as he pressed his finger to his lips. “Shhh.”

  The true nature of the scene was invisible to the girls, who sat drawing pictures on a piece of paper they shared with a woman Peter didn’t recognise.

  “Good evening,” the man said in a calm voice. “My name’s Michael. This is Jack, Jill, and the one over in the corner there is Isaac. There’s no need for alarm. No one’s been hurt and no one will be so long as you do exactly as I say.”

  The fire in Peter’s eyes was tempered only by his intense fear.

  “Now, do you recognise us?”

  Peter had trouble finding his voice. “Yes.”

  “What was that? Speak up.”

  “I said, yes.”

  “Who are we? Illuminate your beautiful wife.”

  “You’re the Chelsea Smile gang.”

  Julia, Peter’s wife, gasped and a single tear of terror dribbled down her face.

  Peter wavered uncertainly on his feet. “Can… Can I sit down?”

  “Sure.” Michael motioned with the blade. “That chair there if you please.”

  Peter pulled the chair back, fell into it and worked at the top buttons of his shirt.

  “Look, Daddy. Look at the pictures we made.”

  Peter didn’t remove his eyes from Michael. “I’ll look later, baby.”

  His daughter bent back over her image.

  “Beautiful girls you’ve got,” Michael said. Peter couldn’t tell if it was meant as a threat or not.

  “Please, leave them out of this.”

  “They’re not a part of this. Not unless you make them.”

  “What do you want? Take it, whatever it is. Take it and go.”

  “You have what we need and we’re not leaving until you give it to us. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to sit down and enjoy the delicious meal your wife made. She forgot to make enough for us all so it’s not going to be big portions, I’m afraid. Except for your little girls. They’ll eat the same. Then we’re going to get some blankets and sleeping bags and we’re going to have a slumber party until morning.”

  The girls’ eyes sparked alive. “Really?”

  Jill nodded her head with deliberate excitement.

  “Yaay!”

  “Then you’re going to get ready for work and head out as you always do,” Michael said.

  “Why not now? Whatever it is, let’s do it now.”

  “We can’t do it now. It’ll arouse too much suspicion.”

  “What do you want with me?”

  “It’s not you we want. Or your family. We need your help getting someone out of the prison.”

  “There’s nobody left inside. Only the maximum security inmates–” Peter stopped, the gang’s plan turning clear in his eyes. He shook his head.

  “You’re going to set him free,” Michael said.

  “It’s not possible. I can’t do it.”

  “You can. And you will.”

  “You don’t understand. That’s the high security part of the prison. There’s no escaping.”

  “He’s not going to escape. You’re going to let him go.”

  Peter’s mouth was dry.

  “Drink some water.”

  Peter did. Almost the whole glass.

  Michael didn’t need to threaten. The knife was doing that for him. A husband could imagine far worse than anything he could say verbally.

  “You’re not to play the hero or try to do something you normally otherwise wouldn’t do,” Michael said. “What do you usually do on Tuesday evenings?”

  “These days? Nothing. Read. Play games with the kids.”

  “Great.” Michael removed the knife from Julia’s throat. “Let’s have dinner and play a nice board game. Then we’ll have a slumber party. What do you think about that, girls?”

  “Yaay!”

  14

  Oscar sat at the dining table regaling Ronnie and Tanya with stories of adventures and mishaps in the farming trade. He was an effective storyteller, mainly because he told the same story a hundred times already and was pleased to have fresh ears to share it with.

  Nancy, Bill, and Katie stood in the kitchen casting wayward glances in Oscar’s direction.

  “We don’t have the people to watch over Oscar’s farm as well as do what needs to be done here,” Bill said.

  “He needs help, and he gave us seed to plant,” Nancy said.

  “So now we’re indebted to him?”

  “No, but we can return the favour, can’t we?”

  Bill sighed and glared at the old fat man on the bench spilling food on the floor with his boisterous body language.

  “He lets us use his horses whenever we want,” Katie said, “and he lets us have a
ccess to his silos if we ever run out of food.”

  Bill jutted his jaw out. “Because we’re going to be the ones to help him harvest it. We should get something for our time helping him.”

  “He’s a sweet old man.”

  “We can’t go around promising to help everyone who drops by.”

  Nancy’s eyes narrowed. “He’s not ‘everyone’. He’s a friend. We couldn’t afford to let the police borrow our weapons either, but you did.”

  “Attached with the promise that he’ll come help us anytime we have the need.”

  Nancy folded her arms. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

  “With any luck, you won’t need to see it.” Bill glared at her and folded his arms too. Two barriers, neither of them willing to step down.

  Katie sighed. “We’re going to have to figure out a way to help him. We’ve already told him we will.”

  “Then your mother has to tell him we can’t help,” Bill snapped.

  “No,” Nancy said. “I’m not doing that. I’ll do it myself if I have to.”

  “You have other duties.”

  “A woman always does.”

  Bill turned his flat gaze on her.

  “What?” Nancy said. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Because the feminism card is always the last card of someone who knows they’ve lost the argument. Especially when she’s a strong woman like you.”

  Bill rested his giant hand on Nancy’s narrow shoulders and sighed. “I’ll take a look at the schedule tonight. See if we can send somebody out there to check on Oscar’s farm now and then. All right?”

  Nancy placed a warm hand on Bill’s. “That’s all I’m asking. Thank you.”

  “But I’m warning you, what with the watchtower, scouts for escaped criminals, the work we have to do around here, we’re getting stretched mighty thin.”

  “We’ll cope. We always have.” And we always will.

  Until we can’t.

  15

  The Chelsea Smile gang couldn’t leave the house and use the hastily-assembled privy in the garden, so they used buckets the wife fetched from the shed. Jill screamed with joy when she saw the pink castle-shaped bucket and clapped her hands jubilantly. It wouldn’t look pretty for long, Michael thought.

  “That’s my bucket,” the little girl called Cynthia said.

  “It’s very pretty,” Jill said in her cooing voice. “Do you mind if I borrow it?”

  Cynthia considered her response before nodding. “Okay.”

  “Thank you, Cynthia. I promise to take good care of it.”

  Every three hours it was the wife’s job to take the buckets out and empty them in the privy. Michael kept a close eye on her when she did, ensuring she didn’t give any signals to neighbours or poke a piece of paper through a gap in the fence giving warning of their predicament. She didn’t, knowing what she would be sacrificing if she did.

  That was why Michael chose her to perform the duty. The father was a screw who no doubt dreamed of being hailed a hero in the local papers. Dreams of grandeur could do strange things to a man.

  Peter leaned against the kitchen counter with his arms folded. “Why are you doing this?”

  “To help a friend of ours.”

  “I can’t let Quentin Morse out. I’ll lose my job.”

  “You’ll lose your family if you don’t.”

  Peter glared at him. “It’s so easy for you, isn’t it? To harm another human being. I’ve known prisoners all my life and I never understood the impulse.”

  “We don’t like to be caged.”

  “And yet, that’s exactly where you ended up. If you didn’t break the law, you never would have been locked up.”

  Michael chewed on a strip of uncooked carrot. “If a new law came out tomorrow demanding you kill one of your kids, would you do it?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then you’re a lawbreaker like the rest of us. You just choose to break different rules.”

  “Imaginary rules. They’re not real.”

  “They are today.”

  The blood drained from Peter’s face. “You’re monsters.”

  “We’re reality.”

  “How do I know you won’t kill my family while I’m out there letting your buddy go?” Even saying the words made him visibly sick.

  “You’re going to have to trust me.”

  Peter snorted and shook his head. “I’ve been a prison guard for the past ten years. I know there’s a big difference between those who need to learn a lesson and those who enjoy what they do.”

  Michael turned to him. “And which one do you think we are?”

  Peter eyed the gang. “Two of you enjoy it. Two of you don’t.”

  The answer surprised Michael. “And how did you divide us?”

  “The guy who sits in the corner and you. You’re the ones that don’t enjoy it.”

  “And you think Jack and Jill enjoy it?”

  Peter nodded.

  “Why?”

  He shrugged. “Why does a flower open when the sun rises and close when it falls? It’s natural for them. Just as it’s natural for the rest of us not to want to do that shit. They’re animals.”

  It was one thing to suggest an observation, another to slag off Michael’s family. “I’ve known plenty of screws too.”

  “Oh?”

  “Most are there because there’s nothing better they can do. Then there are those that like to make others ‘learn their lesson.’”

  “And which one do you think I am?”

  Michael didn’t hesitate. He had the guard’s number the moment he stepped through the front door. “You enjoy it. You always have. You’ll also enjoy being the one to kick the barrels out from under our feet to make us dance at the end of a rope. When you think about it, there’s not a lot of difference between us.”

  It was the one thing every screw hated to hear, maybe because it was so often true. “That’s a fucking lie.”

  “It’s just an observation, and I tend to be very good at them. That’s why we chose you and your family. We’re not here by accident. I know exactly the kind of man you are, and I know exactly what’s running through your head before you do. I know what you’re going to do every second of every day.”

  Peter’s nostrils flared and his eyes were burning pits. “Is that right?”

  “A screw isn’t hard to understand, no more than the dogshit on the bottom of my shoe. Sometimes things stick to you for a little while but you always wipe it off eventually. I also know the first thing I’ll do if you try any heroics is to kill your wife and girls right in front of you. I’ll butcher them where they stand. At least they’ll die with smiles on her faces. There’s a reason they call us the Chelsea Smile gang, after all. So, do us both a favour and drop the knife.”

  Peter blinked and immediately recovered, but it was too late. He already blinked. “I don’t know–”

  “‘–what you’re talking about,’ is what you were going to say. Drop it now or I’ll do exactly what I told you I would. I don’t care if they die screaming for daddy. Do you?”

  Peter’s rage peaked and Michael knew that if the man was going to attack him at any point during the night, it would be now. Michael was more than ready to carry out his promises. As far as he was concerned, the ball was in the guard’s court and it was up to him to make his decision about how he wanted to proceed. He’d have to accept the outcome of that decision.

  Fear supplanted the rage and Peter dropped the knife in the kitchen sink.

  Michael glanced inside. “Potato peeler. Nice choice. I’m fond of a little peeling myself. Although, it’s not potatoes I like to peel.” He leaned closer. “Don’t ever presume to know what’s going on inside my head. It’s a viper’s nest in there and you’ve got no business stepping inside it.”

  Michael turned to the other family members. “Time for bed.”

  Michael couldn’t trust Isaac with any of the family members, so Jill had to watch o
ver both the kids. It made her job infinitely more difficult. Worse, whoever was on watch duty had to keep an eye on him at all times in case he got the sudden need to do something righteous and alert the neighbours of what was going down.

  It also meant one less person to take a turn on duty, which meant less sleep for them all. There was no benefit to keeping Isaac around, only a hindrance, but they were willing to bear it so long as he came back to them eventually.

  But judging from the hourly prayers he carried out, Michael doubted he would return soon.

  16

  The next set of visitors to come to the lodge were more of a surprise than all the others combined.

  It had previously occurred to Katie that it was strange she had seen virtually every male member of each family but neither hide nor hair of the women. Marching down the road now, fast, like they had a wild tsunami on their heels, came a gaggle of energetic women.

  Bill paused in hoeing the soil and lifted the flat cap off his head. It was night but the sun had been particularly vicious today. A slow grin spread across his face. “Well, blow me down.”

  “What?” Katie said looking between her grandfather and the object of his interest.

  “It’s the Wedge women,” Bill said. “Remember this moment, Katie. You won’t be seeing it often.”

  There were half a dozen of them, all wearing billowing skirts and bright colours. None of them were under forty. Katie didn’t see what was so special about this.

  The woman at the front had the darkest hair Katie had ever seen. She thought it was dyed or possibly a wig, although why someone would choose to wear something that looked like it’d been dragged through the bramble bushes, she didn’t know. When she noticed the thin wisps of silver and white hair that framed her face, she realized she was mistaken.

  Despite the long distance they must have walked, none of the women were out of breath. The leader raised her hand and brushed Bill’s face with a familiarity Katie never witnessed before. They both leaned forward and enjoyed a hug that lasted forever. Then the woman pulled back and looked him in the eye, a hand on either of his cheeks to peer at him more closely.