Page 8 of Anarchy Chained: Alpha Thomas

“Your friends,” she practically purrs.

“I have lots of friends,” I say.

“Clearly,” Yasmine shoots back. “Since I have an order from the governor to let them have thirty minutes with you today. But you know which friends, I’m sure.”

I shrug. I’ll know either way soon enough, so whatever.

Handcuff guy loops a chain around my waist and attaches my cuffs to it, and once that’s done, Yasmine waves me out of the room.

There is a fourth guard waiting in the hallway. I follow him. The other two are directly behind me, and Yasmine, presumably, takes up the rear. The visitors’ center is actually the dayroom on the ground floor. It’s a nice big room with couches and tables so family members can come play checkers with their crazy aunt or uncle. And a big-screen TV mounted on the wall which perpetually plays daytime television. Not the trashy talk shows. Those get the inmates—excuse me, patients—riled up. They play old movies. Mostly westerns.

Someone blew up the old asylum last year. It might’ve been my brother Atticus. Or my mother, since they were both escaping at the same time. But maybe not. You just never know in this town.

But anyway, the whole building is brand new. Bright and shiny.

When we get to the hallway that leads to the dayroom, Yasmine calls out, “See you in thirty, Thomas?”

I don’t bother answering. I don’t usually see her twice in one day, but it does no good to wonder about it. If she’s got plans for me after this, nothing I can do about it. Besides, the message said, Be ready. I’m ready to get the fuck out of here so an out-of-the-ordinary second session with Yasmine is not going to happen anyway.

We move forward to the door where patients enter the day room and one of the guards behind me takes off my shackles, but not my cuffs.

“Come on,” I say, smiling at him. “Give a guy a break.”

He doesn’t even look at me. The door opens and I’m pushed forward.

“Do anything stupid, Brooks, and we’ll set you straight,” one guard says. He waves his electrodart gun at me.

I find enough will to look properly frightened by his threat, but he doesn’t buy it. If I were the old me I’d say I’m not capable of being frightened. But I’m not the old me. I’m the new me, thanks to fucking Case and that bullshit he shot me up with last spring.

I’m ticked off about that. But I’m handling it. I’m dealing. I can do emotions. I had them once, I can wait this out. The drug has to wear off, right? Or I’ll get out of here and get back to work on a replacement. Sheila has dozens of trials going back in Linc’s lab. We’ll figure it out. I’m not worried.

Speaking of Case and Linc, I look around for them, scanning the dozens and dozens of tables and chairs. The couches. But… they’re not here.

“Hey,” I say, turning towards a nurse holding a clipboard. “I’m supposed to have a visitor?”

“What’s your name?” she asks.

“Brooks,” I reply. “Thomas Brooks.”

“Oh, you’re in there,” she says, pointing to a door on the far side of the room. “Private.”

“I didn’t call for a lawyer,” I say, irritated. I really was expecting Case and Linc to be here.

“Not lawyers, sweetie.” The woman says in her practiced, patient tone.

“Sweetie?” I sneer.

“You’ll see soon enough. Now I’m real busy, hun. So let me do my job, OK?” She says all this in a sing-songy voice intended for children—or mentally ill adults—then turns her back to me and looks down at her clipboard.

I walk towards the room with a door. There’s no window, so I’m standing in the threshold when I see who requires a private visit with me.

“Randy Shits,” I say, mimicking Case’s nickname for the guy. “And Chief O’Neil. Well.” I laugh as I enter the room. “When’d they let you out, old man?”

“He was pardoned by the governor last week,” Randy chimes in. “He’s back in charge, if you can believe it.”

“Sit, Brooks,” the chief says. “We’ve got business and even though it’s a waste of time and the governor knows that, we’re gonna check you off our list today so I’m just going to get to the point. We need a statement, Brooks. We know you and your friends are guilty as hell and the governor needs to keep the peace before people start burning things down again. So you’re gonna admit to what you and your buddies did last spring and then we’re gonna cut a deal with you and let you out.”

“Are you ready?” Randy asks.