A Quiet Fight – Waking in Gaol


Waking in Gaol

Wynn woke with a splitting headache. He went to the chamber pot and began his daily ministration. When he looked down, he furrowed his eyebrows. His urine was yellow green. And it wasn’t it a little bit green. It was a lime color. That explained the headache. His nanotechnology had spent the night filter an attempted poisoning. He scratched his head and looked at the water pitcher and thought twice. He was pretty sure it was the food, but he doubted that water pitcher was safer. He stretched and sat down in front of the music box and listened to its tune from the 1700’s. “Ah lass. I miss you’re cooking so much even if it did poison me once. The stuff here could make a man green. I’d do anything for a pan of sausage and some biscuits right now.” He sighed and said, “Who knows…at this rate, maybe I’ll see you soon.” He leaned his head over the water basin and washed his hair and face. His head throbbed. Well, with three years in space, he had learned a thing or two about waiting.
He sat opposite the door, crossed his legs and closed his eyes and relaxed. His could sense his heart slow and his breathing go shallow. Sometime later he could hear doors in the gaol complex opening. There was a banging on his door and the it opened, “Play time, ya Irish bastard.” Wynn stayed motionless, his head tilted a bit to one side, “Are ya coming out?” Wynn kept his breathing even and shallow. The guard paused by the door then moved into the room, “Are you ok?” The guard leaned down next to Wynn, “Big shit had to die on my watch. Going to be filling paper work for weeks.” The guard reached for Wynn’s neck.
Wynn popped his eyes open at that moment, “Don’t know about that, Jervis. I were just resting my eyes.”
The guard jumped up and back and grabbed his stick, “Jesus…what the hell.” Then began kicking Wynn, “Messing w/ me ain’t bright paddy.”
Wynn rolled to absorb the kicks, “Sorry… umph…ate something…passed out.”
The guard stopped, “Fuck me.”
Wynn winced as he pulled himself up to the shallow cot. “Still your face was priceless.”
The guard swung with his stick and missed as Wynn rolled to a side. He straightened his coat and marched to the door.
Wynn said loudly, “Sergeant Harvey, I was not lying about eating something bad last night. Someone tried to poison me.”
Sergeant Harvey paused by the door, “You are fucking criminal. An Irish famine jockey at that and you killed a toff. You expecting damn tea service.”
Wynn rubbed his eyes, “True…well don’t know about the toff…that’s a little hazy. But Sergeant Roly served my food last night. And he has a brother who works on the floor at Kimberly Airships.”
Harvey’s eyes narrowed, “So…”
Wynn said, “It was Kimberly Airship workers who started the riot. That man I…supposedly killed? He is the nephew of the director of the factory.”
Sergeant Harvey crossed his arms. Wynn continued, “I’ve go no beef with you. Stephanie Miller should be coming with some good food. I’ll share if you don’t tell Roly about me.”
Harvey said harshly, “My brother died at the barracks. I should kill you myself.”
Wynn sucked in a breath and felt his side. It was only bruised. “But you didn’t try to. Roly did. You were surprised I was on the floor.” Wynn stretched and looked at Sergeant Harvey, “I know you won’t believe me, but I am truly sorry about your brother. I might have killed that posh bastard on Bethnal Green but I did not…I did not kill your brother at the barracks. I even have an alibi for that. My people are trying to bring your brother’s killers to justice.”
Harvey sneered, “Your people?”
“Stephan, Stephanie, Abigail…others. You’ve seen them here. I know who attacked the barracks. But I can’t prove it. I don’t know how to.” He stood and said, “Now if you go all formal on me and talk to some detective about my confessing, I will deny I said anything and I will show some nasty bruising on my gut and tell them about the poisoning.”
“Why the hell should I defend you?”
Wynn stood and stretched, “Because you did not try to poison me. Because you expected me to be awake when you came in.” He narrowed his eyes, “Because the person I killed was using the same weapon that killed your brother at the barracks.” He stood up, “If you want to talk to a detective, ask for DC Beatrice Monroe. Tell her Wynn said you ought to know more. She is investigating the Barracks attack.”
Harvey used his baton to scratch his nose and then pointed it at Wynn, “I am watching you,” and left.

Author’s Note

The basis for jail is Kilmainham Gaol in Dublin, Ireland. For its time, it was considered a model of reform.  The jail had decent size cells, high ceilings, and bright lights.  Of course state of the art is something else 50 years later when Republicans were held there for separatist agitation.

I am a form of writers block at the moment. I can’t get from where I have last completed to the climax. My solution is one I have tried before with some success. Write the climax and hope a transition emerges.

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