Undercover Prison King novel · Chapter 8 of 24

Chapter 8: Dale

The morning count started at six, and by 6:04 Hargis had gone purple.

"Cell 14, two men on the card. I see one."

He stood on the second-tier catwalk with a clipboard in one fist.

Below him, two hundred and eighty men stood at their doors in orange.

"Cell 31, empty. Cell 9, empty." He lowered the clipboard. "Where are my three?"

Nobody breathed.

Sawyer stepped out of cell 14 in his grey trusty's shirt and walked down the tier until he stood in front of the captain.

"I moved them," he said.

"You what?"

"On the warden's order. They're in medical, Captain."

"Medical." Hargis's eyes went narrow. "I signed no medical."

"The doctor did. Last night the boy from 31 coughed blood into his sleeve."

Sawyer raised his voice just enough for the tier below to hear.

"Wicks and the man in 9 slept within three feet of him. She's calling it suspected tuberculosis."

A ripple went through the block.

It started at the rail and ran down both tiers.

Hargis opened his mouth and found nothing in it.

"Two hundred and eighty men breathe the same air," Sawyer went on, still calm, still loud.

"If you want to drag those three out to count them, I'll hold the door. Your lungs, Captain."

Somebody on the floor snickered.

Somebody else coughed, theatrically, and the snicker became a laugh that spread to a dozen mouths.

Hargis's baton hand twitched.

He could not hit a man for reporting tuberculosis before the whole block, not with the doctor's name on a chart.

"Fine," he said at last, very softly. "Fine, Trusty. We'll see what the warden thinks."

He turned on his heel and went down the stairs, boots ringing.

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