11. Chapter 11

11

T he week passed quickly, and the shame and anger Quinn felt at himself over Zane only increased as each day went by, peaking on Friday when they were due for their next session.

Cleo poked her head inside the door. She had a warm smile on her lips. "I've got Mackie with me."

"Mackie," Quinn whispered, getting to his feet. He'd tried to speak to Mackie on their usual Monday, but he'd refused to come out of his cell. Cleo was overjoyed when Quinn told her he'd made an error and Mackie's sessions could continue as planned.

"He was on the way back from talking to his lawyer," Cleo explained. "And I thought you might want to…"

Quinn nodded and gestured for them to come inside. Cleo stepped back to allow Mackie through.

Mackie lacked his usual enthusiasm. He came inside and stood in front of the table, head bowed slightly and hands behind his back, like he was awaiting a firing squad. Quinn tried to catch his eye, but Mackie stared resolutely at the table.

Cleo nodded at Quinn encouragingly, and he jerked to attention.

"Would you like to take a seat—"

"No, thank you, Doctor Quinn."

"It's still just Quinn."

Mackie didn't reply.

"So," Quinn started, sitting down, "I went through all the tests and the notes we'd made together, and I…I filled out something incorrectly that made me believe you weren't right for the study, but after a second look, I realised I made an error."

Mackie lifted his head. "An error?"

"Lots of errors, in fact." Quinn shot him a reassuring smile. "And you are vital in my study. Participant number one. I'd really like to continue our weekly sessions."

Mackie's lips lifted with a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "That's terribly nice of you, Doctor Quinn, but I no longer wish to be part of this study."

Cleo widened her eyes, whipping her gaze from Mackie to Quinn, then back again. Quinn's mind went blank. He gaped, then nodded awkwardly. "Okay."

Mackie turned to Cleo. "I don't have to continue, do I?"

"Of course not," Quinn answered for her. "But I want you to know the option is there."

"Option." Mackie smirked.

Cleo frowned. "I thought that's why…"

"Why what?" Mackie asked.

Cleo shook her head and didn't answer. "Erm. I guess we should—"

"I did notice on the consent form it says you'll debrief me, whether I finish the study or not," "Mackie said quickly.

"Yes, yes, it does." Quinn nodded. "You're absolutely right. I was going to wait until the e—"

"Can we do it now?" Mackie interrupted. "I don't want this hanging over me anymore. I'd like to move on."

Quinn glanced at the clock above the door. They had ten minutes before Zane's session was due to start. "Okay." Quinn held his hand out towards the chair opposite him.

Mackie pulled it out.

"Um." Cleo glanced over her shoulder at the corridor. "Are you good here? Eric's bringing Martin through, and he can be a handful."

"We're good," Mackie answered. "Aren't we?"

"Yes." Quinn nodded. "We're good."

Mackie beamed at Cleo as he took his seat. This smile reached his eyes.

"I'll be along to let Zane through shortly," she said before disappearing.

Quinn bit his lip. "I want to apologise again for any distress my error may have caused you—"

"Distress?"

"Cleo told me you haven't been yourself since I removed you from the study. She said you're barely eating…you're often unresponsive."

"I'm fine, Doctor Quinn. Better than fine."

"So." Quinn shifted in his chair. "Debrief time—"

"It's Friday."

"It is," Quin agreed.

"Your session today is with Zane."

Quinn cleared his throat, then covered the notes on the table with his forearm.

"Do you regret it?" Mackie asked.

"Regret what?"

"Picking him over me?"

Quinn averted his gaze. "That's not what happened. I made an error—"

"You're lying."

"We're not here to talk about Zane."

Mackie leaned over the table. "I told you he wraps people around his finger, and that's what he did to you. He got you to remove me from the study."

"That's not what happened—"

"That's exactly what happened, Doctor Quinn. Just tell me the truth."

Quinn took a deep breath. "Thank you for taking part in this study. My aim was to find a correlation between—"

"It took three days to kill my dad."

Quinn's breath caught.

Mackie smirked and relaxed back in his chair. "I mean, I could've killed him in minutes, seconds even, but I took three days."

"We don't need to discuss—"

"They were the best days of my life, and maybe if he'd have stopped lying to my face, I would've made it quicker…"

Quinn swallowed. "I remember you said he apologised for hurting you, said he was sorry for what he did."

Mackie nodded. "That's right. But that wasn't the only thing he lied about during those three days. Do you know what else he lied about?"

"I don't wan—"

"He kept telling me he couldn't take anymore, but that wasn't true, because he did, and did, and did, but right at the end, he finally told the truth because when he said he couldn't take anymore, he couldn't. He died. But it took such a long time to get to that point."

Quinn leaned closer to the red button.

"Mackie. You want to be debriefed, let's—"

"One last chance, Quinn," Mackie said. He splayed his hands out on the table. "One last chance for you to tell me the truth."

Quinn shook his head.

"Did Zane tell you to remove me from the study?"

Quinn opened his mouth, but no words came out. Mackie tapped his nails on the table as he waited.

Quinn twisted in his seat, hand at the ready to slap the button on the wall, but the table hit him in the chest. The impact was so sudden and so violent Quinn couldn't process what happened. Mackie had rammed the table into him, and his flailing hand missed the button on the wall.

The table was dragged away again, and Quinn dropped out of his chair, onto the floor. "Mackie, don't."

He held his hand up, not to hit the button anymore—he couldn't reach it where he was sprawled out—but to stop Mackie as he advanced.

Mackie smacked Quinn's hand aside and went for his throat.

His chipped and broken nails caught the skin as Quinn fought with him, trying to make sure he didn't get a hold, but all eighteen stone of Mackie was on top of him and Quinn's chest was already tight from the impact to the wall and the compression to his chest. He panted and tried to call out, but his words rasped and Mackie got him by the throat.

Quinn scratched.

He clawed at Mackie's hand, tried to elbow him in the face, but Mackie moved his head aside, easily dodging Quinn's attempts to save himself.

"I'm going to choke you out," Mackie hissed through his teeth. "And when you come round, I'll ask you again, and if you lie, I'll choke you out again, and we'll keep on like that until you tell me the truth or you die."

Quinn couldn't draw in a breath. Mackie increased the pressure on Quinn's throat, starting to squeeze. No air passed his lips, his chest grew tight, and his head felt heavy, like it was filling with lead weight. He couldn't lift it from the floor, no matter how hard he tried. Darkness crept in around his vision. His hands weakened and dropped uselessly to the floor.

Then the pressure on his throat vanished.

Black receded from his vison, and he wheezed in a breath.

Then another.

He coughed.

He spluttered.

There were footsteps, and shouting, and the table got thrown thankfully away from where Quinn curled up on his side.

Zane was there.

Zane was on top of Mackie.

They were both throwing punches and snarling at each other, but it was Mackie who stopped moving, Mackie that slumped with his arms at his sides and leaked blood all over the floor from his mouth.

Zane didn't stop.

He stood at full height, and he kicked Mickey as he lay on the floor.

Cleo rushed by him with a few other officers whose names Quinn didn't know, but they went for Zane, forcing him against the wall, then onto the floor, where they fixed his hands behind his black.

Their eyes met. Quinn's were watering from pain and fear, but Zane's were ablaze. He shook with rage, and as the officers picked him off the floor, he swung his foot out again at Mackie, still unconscious on the floor.

Two of the officers took Zane, and two more knelt at Mackie's side.

Cleo rushed over and helped Quinn into a sitting position.

"Are you alright?"

He nodded. "Yeah." His voice sounded wrecked, and it hurt to speak, but he pushed through. "I couldn't get to the button." He swallowed what felt like a dozen nails, then continued. "Mackie rammed the table at me, pulled it away, then tried to strangle me while I was on the ground. Zane…he got Mackie off me."

Cleo wrapped her arm over his shoulders. "I'm so sorry, Quinn. If I'd have known, I never would have left you alone with him."

Mackie groaned weakly as he came round. He rolled onto his side and spat blood across the floor.

"Come on," Cleo said, taking hold of Quinn's elbow. "We need to get you checked out."

"I'm fine."

"Your voice and the scratches on your neck say otherwise." She glanced at Quinn and spoke closer to his ear. "And I think it's wise to get you out of here before Mackie wakes up fully."

Cleo helped Quinn to stand, then gathered the papers on the desk.

Quinn gaped at Mackie. His lips were split, and blood spurted from his broken nose. He groaned like a dying animal and clutched his ribs where Zane had kicked him.

"Quinn!" Cleo snapped.

He nodded and followed her out of the room.

"What…what will happen to Zane?"

Cleo glanced back. "They'll take him to the segregation unit."

"What?" Quinn winced and rubbed his throat. "He was defending me."

"I know, but he still beat Mackie unconscious. Now come on. I'm going to radio for the doctor to come check you out in the canteen."

"It's not necessary."

"Whether you think it's necessary or not, Quinn"—she glared at him—"it's happening."

Cleo had threatened to drive him to the hospital, and he vehemently refused, agreeing to prodding and poking from the prison doctor instead. Quinn's throat was sore, and his chest ached from where the table had hit him, but the doctor was confident neither injury was life-threatening. Cleo disagreed beneath her breath, but the doctor didn't hear and was soon called away to assess Mackie's injuries.

Quinn touched where his throat stung. Mackie had scratched his nails against Quinn's skin while trying to grab hold of him, and the cuts burned whenever he turned his head.

Cleo watched him for a few moments, then sighed.

"What?" he asked.

"This was my fault."

Quinn shook his head. "Of course it wasn't."

"I took a detour to your office while taking Mackie back to the wing. I suggested you talk to him. I've been on at you for days, telling you how miserable he's been since he left the study. Mackie's been off for days, but I didn't… I didn't see the danger." She waved a flippant hand at Quinn. "Then this happens. I told you not to get comfortable here…and it was me who made that very mistake."

"It wasn't your fault." Quinn sighed. "I didn't read the situation quickly enough. I didn't realise I was in danger, and when I did, I wasn't quick enough to hit the button."

"He's a big guy."

Quinn nodded. "He is."

"Thank God for Zane. I don't know whether I'd have been able to get Mackie off of you that fast. I owe him."

"I owe him," Quinn whispered. He looked over to the papers Cleo had stacked on the side.

Cleo followed his gaze. "I kind of ruined your session with him."

"It wasn't your fault," Quinn repeated. "I…I don't suppose—" He stopped himself and shook his head. "You know what, never mind."

"No, say what you were going to say."

Quinn took a deep breath. "Could I see Zane? Could I thank him?"

"He's on the segregation unit."

"I know, sorry. I'll…I'll thank him next week."

Cleo picked up the papers and hugged them to her chest. "Come on."

Quinn frowned at her. "What do you mean, come on? Where are we going?"

"The segregation unit."

Cleo didn't wait for a reply. She handed the papers to Quinn and took off down the corridor with her set of keys at the ready.

Quinn followed closely behind, tipping his head in greeting at each officer they passed. Cleo led him through a different gate, one with chipped green paint. The corridor became narrower, and the temperature dropped enough that Quinn felt the chill through his shirt.

"The segregation unit is in an older part of the prison," Cleo explained after spying Quinn shiver. She took the next corner, then unlocked another gate. A door with a small window came into view. Cleo strode over and rapped her knuckles against it.

Nothing happened.

"Give him a minute," Cleo said, glancing at the camera in the corner aimed at them. She waved at it.

A stern face filled the door but brightened upon seeing Cleo.

The man opened the door wide. He was tall, slim, and had shaved strawberry-blond hair. "What can I do for you, Cleo?"

"David, this is Doctor Quinn. He's conducting a study with prisoners from Greenwood."

David turned his smiling eyes on Quinn. "Rather you than me."

"You've recently acquired one of said prisoners."

"Ah." David snorted. "Zane."

"Zane," Cleo agreed.

"I heard he's done a number on Mackie."

Cleo nodded. "He did, but Mackie was strangling the life out of Quinn at the time."

"Which would explain those marks on your neck," David said, glancing at Quinn.

Cleo hummed. "Well, as I'm partly responsible for what happened—"

"You're not responsible at all," Quinn mumbled.

Cleo held a hand up to silence him. "I'd appreciate it if Quinn could conduct his interview with Zane down here."

David stopped smiling. "That's—"

"Against protocol," Cleo interrupted. "But I'd be so grateful."

David narrowed his eyes. "How grateful?"

"A line of whisky chasers' kind of grateful."

"Make it two, and we've got a deal."

Cleo stuck her hand out, and David shook it. He stepped back, opened the door wide, and gestured at them to come inside. "Welcome to my world."

The segregation unit was a rectangular room with ten cells. Each cell had a shower, toilet, sink and bed but nothing else. In the middle of the unit was a small square room with windows all around.

The officers' box.

"My domain." David sighed, gesturing to it.

It didn't have much. A table, chair, a laptop, and a video feed that monitored people approaching the unit. There was a whiteboard with each cell number and the name of the occupant inside.

Quinn's heart skipped a beat at Zane's name.

"Cell eight," David said. He unhooked a key hanging from the wall and strode out of the officers' box.

He knocked on the door. "Hope you're decent. I've got the doctor here to see you."

"I said I didn't need to see him!"

David sighed and unlocked the door. Zane stood facing the small window in the bare cell. He whirled around, snarl set on his face, but froze at the sight of Quinn.

"Thirty minutes," David said. "That's all I'm giving you." He frowned. "Do I need to stay with you?"

Before Quinn could reply, Zane got there first.

"It's confidential," Zane said.

David glanced at Quinn to confirm.

It wasn't strictly true, but Quinn found himself nodding.

"There's an emergency button by the door," Cleo said. "And David will be close by in the officers' box."

"Keep the door open," David said. "And I'll keep an ear out. Enjoy."

"Thank you," Quinn whispered.

Then he was alone in Zane's cell.