Apocalypse Island: Blue Light Series Book 1

By Mark Edward Hall

Danny Wolf, a gifted rock musician with alcohol problems is witnessing brutal murder in his dreams. Someone is carving a cross on each of the young female victims before crucifying them.

Newly released from prison for a crime he did not commit, Wolf is having trouble adjusting to civilian life. He believes the dreams are a symptom of his a

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lost Village Publishing
• Release date: Jun 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9781088176375

Mark Edward Hall

Mark Edward Hall has worked at a variety of professions including hunting and fishing guide, owner of a recording studio, singer/songwriter in several rock n' roll bands. He has also worked in the aerospace industry on a variety of projects including the space shuttle and the Viking Project, the first Mars lander, of which the project manager was one of his idols: Carl Sagan. He went to grammar school in Durham, Maine with Stephen King, and in the 1990s decided to get serious with his own desire to write fiction. His first short story, Bug Shot was published in 1995. His critically acclaimed supernatural thriller, The Lost Village was published in 2003. Since then he has published five books and more than fifty short stories. His new novel, a thriller entitled Apocalypse Island is due out in early 2012.

Book preview

PART ONE: DANNY WOLF

Prologue

Frigid air crawled across Amy’s bare skin. She blinked her eyes, trying to pierce the darkness.

God, she was freezing, shivering, lying on what felt like a narrow bed of some kind. She could feel the slight give of a mattress beneath her.

She tried to move, but her entire body felt frozen in place, like the paralysis one sometimes experiences in dreams.

Could this be a dream?

She dismissed the thought almost immediately.

She rolled her eyes upward and around trying to see where she was, but it was no use, the place was totally dark.

She heard something shift in the room and knew that she was not alone.

Her ears strained. She thought she heard a soft whisper. Who are you? she said. Where am I?

No reply.

She searched her memories trying to decide how she’d gotten here. She remembered being pissed off and leaving the club alone, walking up India Street toward home, and then, someone very strong put a hand over her mouth. But it wasn’t just a hand. It was huge, and covered in hair. And there was something in it. A rag that smelled of chemicals. And that’s all she remembered.

Until now.

Her insides tightened with fear. Why couldn’t she move? She smelled something sweet, sickening, a lingering of chemicals. Bile rose in her throat. She swallowed it back as panic rose in her like a swelling tide.

She had to pee.

This had to be a dream, a nightmare. Lying on an uncomfortable bed, unable to move, with someone hiding in the darkness.

But it didn’t feel like a dream. She’d never been able to reason, to rationalize her dreams while in the midst of them. Now that’s exactly what she was doing. This whole thing was very wrong. There was a realness, a substance to this that made her insides quiver.

She remembered being out drinking with her friends. They were all into this dark goth thing. Like a lot of young people these days, they’d read Twilight and a bunch of other dumb romances that tried to disguise themselves as horror.

Amy thought they were stupid.

Just the same, she’d fallen right in step with them. She read the books, wore the clothes, got the piercings and the tattoos.

God, what a stupid little idiot.

They talked a lot about a legendary man, a king of some stupid island. Supposedly he was dark and handsome with mesmeric powers and he roamed the streets at night frequenting the downtown clubs looking for that special someone to make his queen. Yeah, right.

It’s true, her friend Sadie La Blanc had said. I’ve never seen him, but Janet Owen has. She even talked to him. And she said he was the most amazing man she’d ever met.  It was definitely a radical story, even a little enticing, but that’s all it was. A story. A big load of crap.

Brainless little twits.

Come to think of it, none of them had seen Janet around for several days.

So, to appease her idiot friends, Amy had agreed to go along with their stupid little fantasy, hang out in the clubs and drink and wait and watch and just maybe one of them would get lucky and be propositioned by this elusive stranger.

But in reality, Amy had already found her dark and handsome mystery man. But she wasn’t about to tell any of these idiots about him. He was the new lead singer in the band, and God, he was so cute and such a good lover. But tonight, he was ignoring her.

She got angry, and the more she drank the angrier she became. Finally, she got up and left the club, just like that. To hell with them. To hell with him. And the next thing she remembered was the huge hairy hand over her mouth, and the smelly rag.

Please, she said, having a hard time moving her mouth. What do you want?

Another soft whisper.

A small dim light came on somewhere in the darkened room but the glow it cast was weird and diffused. She imagined she could see two red eyes staring at her from out of the darkness.

She blinked, and the eyes were gone.

Oh, Jesus, someone please help me.

She willed her limbs to move, but it was no use. They would not budge.

She tried to scream but her voice was weak, nearly useless.

Her bladder relaxed, and she felt the warm wetness spreading out on the mattress beneath her.

"Will somebody please help me," she said, but her throat was constricted, and the words were barely audible.

How long had she been here?

Minutes?

Hours?

Days?

She had no idea.

It was so cold in here. Why was it so cold? A tremor rippled through her.

Again, she strained to move and again she failed.

She heard footsteps approaching.

She tried to scream but it came out a croak.

Then she saw a vague figure moving toward her through the oozing light.

Could this be the one they had all been talking about? Was this the king searching for that special someone to make his queen? It seemed preposterous, especially when you considered the fact that he hadn’t seduced her at all. He’d subdued her with a chemical-soaked rag.

Her tired eyes strained to make out his features.

Hello, sweetheart.

Why can’t I see you?

It’s dark in here.

No, something’s wrong.

Oh, sweetie, all you have to do is concentrate.

And that’s what Amy did, but something still wasn’t right. This was some sort of game, wasn’t it? A joke?

Panic seized her heart as her captor came into focus.

Oh, dear God, you’re not—

That’s right, sweetheart, I’m not. Surprised?

Please. Who are you? Why are you doing this?

Don’t be afraid. It’ll be over before you know it.

Amy saw the knife then, and it looked so big, so real, so...evil. It had a curved blade sharpened on both edges. But she still didn’t understand any of this. God, she knew she was dreaming. She had to be dreaming. This couldn’t be real.

Why did you do it, Amy?

Do what?

"You know what, you little whore. Why were you trying to corrupt him? Why?"

I...I... Please don’t hurt me.

Why did you do it? The knife descended, the point coming to rest between her quivering breasts.

I liked him, she whimpered, knowing it was both the truth and a lie. She hardly even knew him, but when she looked into his eyes she hadn’t been able to control her emotions. It was like he had hypnotized her.

You really messed up, Amy.

I won’t do it again. I promise. Just don’t hurt me. Please.

Too late.

The point of the knife pierced her skin and blood began to flow. A stinging line that felt like fire ran straight down her torso. She drew in her stomach muscles, as if she could somehow escape the blade, even as it continued slowly down, all the way to her pubic mound.

Amy watched horrified. Why are you doing this? she sobbed.

Because I have to, the killer said.

Then two more quick cuts across her breasts, deep and soulful. Amy was moaning now, crying, out of control. Please, don’t hurt me anymore. I don’t want to die.

The knife cut deeper.

Amy opened her mouth, and finally the screams came.

Chapter 1, six weeks earlier

Danny Wolf woke from the dream and lay in the darkness of his cell listening to the wind howling outside the prison walls. His pulse drummed in his ears as his breath ebbed and flowed in rhythmic bursts. He felt like he had run a marathon. He wondered if he had cried out in his sleep.

In the dream he had been on the run from a group of men with dogs. It was early winter, cold, and he could see his breath puffing from his mouth in frozen white clouds. As dawn rose, a silvery moon sat perched on the western horizon like some colossal stage prop.

He remembered picking up a trail and following its convolutions, hearing the baying hounds behind him as they quickly closed the gap between them.

He rounded a corner in the trail and came to a stuttering halt. A young woman lay on her back, her half naked body covered in stab wounds, a bloody cross carved like a fiery beacon on her upper torso.

Wolf walked slowly toward the dead woman and stared down at her as a great flood of sorrow seized him.

He went down onto his haunches, intending to pick her up and take her someplace safe when he heard the renewed baying of bloodhounds, closer now, more urgent. And now he heard the angry commands of men. Not knowing what else to do, he stood and bolted into a run, down the trail toward whatever waited him at the end.

And that’s when he came awake...

Chapter 2

He lay still in his bunk trying to stay his beating heart, wondering why the dream was always the same, knowing that it meant something—perhaps it was the key to everything bad in his life—but knowing also that he was no closer to unraveling its mysteries than he had ever been.

He got up and paced the floor for a long time, back and forth in front of the bed, trying to puzzle it out, waiting for his heart to settle down. Finally, after what seemed like hours he lay back down and listened to the relentless roar of the wind outside, lulling him back to sleep and into the midst of another troubling dream.

In this dream he shared his bed with the ghost of a woman, her dress little more than gauze, her skin glowing, her black hair falling across her face. Though lifeless, the woman became animated with demonic energy as she pressed her pale lips to his ear.

They wish to destroy you, Danny. Don’t let them do it.

Who wants to destroy me?

The ones who destroyed me. The ones who will destroy us all.

Who are they?

Those who wish us to remain silent. Beware, Danny. And please know that I will always love you.

She turned her pale face to him and her eyes contained the deepest darkness he had ever seen. He reached out for her, but she was gone.

He woke not with a scream but with a cry of anguish, and sat on the edge of the bed, his wet face in his hands.

Although his heart raced with fear his grief was greater than his terror. The memory of Siri left him half crushed by a sense of loss as heavy as the world itself. What had become of her? How could he have lost her so completely?

All was quiet on the cellblock as darkness pressed in on him like a weight. He wondered if he was strong enough to make it until dawn.

As if the life he’d had to endure in this place wasn’t bad enough, as if the terrible things in his head and heart weren’t sufficient, now she had come into his dreams—the only woman he had ever truly loved—the woman he never wanted to think about again because it hurt so much to think about her. Now she had returned as a ghost woman delivering a warning, trying to force him to see what he could not see.

Each time he reached back into his clouded past for answers, it always came out the same: he could not be sure of anything. The more he tried to make sense of his life, the more the mystery deepened. Nearly five years had passed in this dark and angry place and he understood almost nothing about the demons that haunted his existence.

Chapter 3

Though he was in prison for a crime of violence, Danny Wolf was not a violent person. Actually, he was just the opposite. He was an artist, a musician who prided himself on avoiding trouble because trouble was an expense he could not afford. But trouble had found him on a dark night filled with omens. Following a gig, drunk, he had gotten into a fight with a patron. The patron, a guy named Shaun Talbot had been bothering Siri for weeks, and when Wolf had finally confronted him, Talbot had challenged him to a fight. In the ensuing scuffle in an alley behind the bar his adversary had fallen, his head contacting the edge of a trash dumpster.

Wolf had helped the guy to his feet and made sure he was coherent before he and Siri had gone home. In the morning the police were at his door.

Still groggy from sleep and sick from too much drink Wolf had been confused about why they were there.

A man is dead, Mr. Wolf, the detective, a force veteran named Frank Cavanaugh had said. And we need to ask you some questions. Did you get in a fight last night behind a nightclub known as the Cage with a man named Shaun Talbot?

We threw a few punches, Wolf said. The guy was okay, though. I helped him to his feet and made sure he could walk before I went home. He was a little disoriented, but he was alive.

And were there any witnesses to this event?

Yes, my girlfriend, Siri Donovan.

Where is Siri Donovan?

She’s in bed. Wolf half-turned and looked through the doorway to his bedroom. The bed was empty. I don’t understand, he said in confusion. She came home with me last night. She must have gone out.

Gone out, Mr. Wolf?

Yeah, gone out. What the hell is this?

This is a murder investigation, Mr. Wolf, and you’re our main suspect. Tell me, does Ms. Donovan have her own place?

Yes, Wolf said, stunned.

Is it possible that she went home?

I suppose so, Wolf replied, but in his heart, he had doubts. It wasn’t like Siri to get up in the middle of the night and just leave.

Were you drinking last night, Mr. Wolf?

Yes.

Would you say you were drunk?

Probably.

Exactly what do you remember about last night?

I remember this guy making advances at my girlfriend. She told him to back off, but he wouldn’t listen. He grabbed her ass and she slapped him, but still he wouldn’t stop.

Where were you when this was going on?

I was on stage. I couldn’t do anything until the set was over. I told the guy to keep his hands off, but he shoved me and said he was going to kick my ass. I was pissed.

Pissed enough to kill him?

No! After the gig we went out back and had a little scuffle. That’s all. The guy went down against the dumpster, but he was okay. I helped him up and then I left with Siri. I even offered to call someone, but he said he was all right.

Had you ever seen the man before?

Wolf nodded. He was a regular. He wouldn’t take his eyes off my girlfriend.

How did that make you feel?

I didn’t like it.

Shaun Talbot was found in the alley behind the nightclub, at two fifteen this morning by the club owner, said the detective. His skull was bashed in. Can you explain that?

I didn’t do it! I swear. I don’t know how it happened.

You can explain it to the judge, the detective said as an officer slipped handcuffs on Wolf’s wrists.

Siri never came forward in his defense. She was the only person who could have vindicated him. The night of the incident was the last time Wolf ever saw her. As far as he knew it was the last time anyone saw her. The police tried to find her but failed. She never returned to her job or her apartment. The authorities tried to locate next of kin, but none were found. It was as if she’d dropped off the face of the earth, or more to the point, as if she’d never existed at all.

At the trial Wolf swore that he didn’t kill Shaun Talbot. The jury did not believe him. But considering the circumstances—no history of violence, no physical evidence at the scene linking Wolf to the crime, no murder weapon, no witnesses other than the elusive Siri Donovan, Wolf’s own testimony that he had indeed fought with the victim but had left him standing—had been enough to get the charges reduced to manslaughter.

Wolf received seven to fourteen years in state penitentiary. To date he had served nearly five of those years. A jealous nature and a beautiful woman had conspired to send him to prison. Ah, yes, it was the truth, hard as it was to swallow.

Chapter 4

Despite it all, Danny Wolf felt no anger, no need for revenge. He had damped his feelings down long ago—turning instead to the subtle ironies he found in everyday life, making games of them, writing them all down in his memory so that one day he might turn his pathetic life into songs.

Now, as he sat motionless on the edge of his bunk surrounded by three cold stone walls and a cage door, the dreams still close and claustrophobic in his senses, he had to admit that there was precious little irony in his present situation, and that his most profound hope was for some sort of salvation—not from his sins—that, after all, would require a certain measure of divine intervention, and he had no patience for believers—but from the profound and relentless loneliness that had plagued him for so long.

He sat with his tear-soaked face in his hands. Another day was beginning at Warren, another in a long procession of days that ran together as one all-encompassing mind game. After all this time he should have been used to the tedious rhythm of prison life. Not so. As each day passed, the drudgery only became more difficult to endure. The worst part was killing time waiting; he’d had to learn to wait in line for food and drink, to shower and to shit, to get his turn at volleyball in the prison yard. These days he mostly kept to himself, staying in shape by doing endless pushups and crunches behind the locked door of his cell, as he waited in silent misery, trying not to think about the invisible woman who had so heartlessly betrayed him.

Most of all he longed for the day when he could step out through the gates of this dark and angry place to a life without the torment. But was that a realistic hope? Would he ever be free of the demons that so fervently plagued his existence? Relief from the boredom of his nothing life inside the walls of Maine State Prison would be enough for now; he’d nearly convinced himself of that, at least.

On this day, however, there was one small glimmer of hope. Although Wolf’s sentence would not conclude for another two to nine years, he’d been told that a certain psychiatrist who frequented the prison and worked with inmates on a pro bono basis had taken an interest in his case and would like to have a meeting with him and the warden.

He entertained no illusions about his chances for an accelerated release date; he’d been there before. He loathed the process; the fake smiles, the files bulging with discipline reports, the psychiatric evaluations, the warden’s condescending gazes, the room rife with innuendo and dashed hopes.

Wolf had no reason to believe that this would be anything other than another attempt at getting to the bottom of his ‘condition’. Others had tried and failed, even as the word in and around the prison was that Danny Wolf was a hopeless case; a dangerous man with something terrible inside him eating him away.

He had no clear memory or understanding of the incidents that caused all the talk. But he’d been told that at times he turned into a crazed animal, howling out in rage and shaking the bars of his cell like a lunatic. More than once he’d been beaten away from the bars by guards with night sticks. Even though he had no memory of these alleged episodes he knew something had happened because each morning following an alleged incident his hands and arms would be covered with bruises and contusions. These episodes, coupled with occasional prison-yard fights, his sullen attitude, his long silences and steely gazes were evidently cause enough for both staff and inmates to leave him mostly alone to his own devices. Early on he’d been put in an isolation cell. Although he hadn’t seriously hurt anyone while in prison, the staff feared that it was only a matter of time. Wolf came to enjoy the solitude. He knew there could be far worse penance in state penitentiary than being left to one’s own devices.

On this morning, however, he would go along once again and play the game. Perhaps the distraction would help to ease the boredom, maybe even get him out of the day’s work detail.

Yesterday he’d been told to make himself presentable by eight in the morning, that the warden wanted to see him, and that tardiness would not be tolerated. So, he hauled his ass out of bed and went about the business of making his appearance as presentable as possible considering the conditions under which he lived.

Chapter 5

Danny boy had another bad night, the guard said in a playful voice as she led Wolf along the convoluted route to the warden’s office. Her name was Kaleigh Jarvis and she was one of several female guards the prison had hired in recent years in an attempt to integrate women corrections officers into a system that had always been male dominated. And it seemed to be working; statistics nationwide were proving that female guards were just as effective as their male counterparts.

It always disoriented Wolf, threw him slightly off kilter, when Kaleigh called him Danny boy, because that’s what she had always called him. But he didn’t like to talk about her. Kaleigh had tried to get him to open up about Siri on a number of occasions, but he had always refused.

No offense to Kaleigh. She was a decent young woman who had taken some sort of perverse liking to him. Wolf knew it was partly because she was an aspiring singer with a part-time band and had found a kindred soul in him. Before going to prison, Wolf, a talented singer/songwriter had had a reasonable amount of success with his music; had actually become somewhat of a local celebrity. Then, just as his music career was taking off he’d found himself serving time for a crime he didn’t commit.

Kaleigh had said that she could not understand how someone with Wolf’s talent and promise could screw his life up so badly. Wolf had not bothered to defend himself. He’d given that up years ago. What was the use? Prison was, after all, full of innocent men. He would only say that the incident that landed him here was the worst mistake of his life.

He understood instinctively that Kaleigh’s motives were more complicated than a love of his music. She was a nurturer. She wanted to fix him. She wanted to heal him. It was her job as a woman. Wolf was smart enough to know that perfectly ordinary law-abiding women latched onto criminal types every day and sometimes did stupid, not to mention illegal things to be with these men. But Wolf wanted no part of such a scenario. He did not need fixing. He was just fine, thank you very much.

Another bad night? Wolf asked with a frown. What are you talking about?

Jarvis gave him her best sad puppy dog look. God, she was pretty, blonde with a medium build and inquiring blue eyes. Wolf knew that she wanted him. Christ, he wanted her. But no way. No way! He fully intended to get out of this rat hole in one piece and nothing would get him stomped into the concrete faster than a fling with a staff member. Not only was it illegal, but understandably the male guards were extremely protective of their female counterparts.

That’s what I said, Danny boy, Kaleigh replied. Did you look at yourself in the mirror this morning?

I shaved but I tried not to look.

That’s not what I’m talking about. You’re all red around the eyes, like you’ve been crying.

Wolf turned his head away in embarrassment. I don’t want to talk about it.

Why are you so sad, Danny boy?

God, every time you call me that—

I know, it reminds you of her. I could become her if it would make you happy, you know. Did she do special things for you? Did she dress up in special outfits? Did she kiss your tears away when you were sad? I could do all of that for you, you know, and more. Anything you want. Just say the word.

Kaleigh, please don’t.

Okay! God you’re frustrating. Why do you make me ache so inside?

It’s not my fault.

Oh, Danny boy, my dark beauty, if you only knew.

You don’t want me, Kaleigh. You don’t even know me.

Okay, I don’t want you! I don’t know you! There. Does saying it make you feel better?

Wolf shook his head frowning.

Kaleigh rolled her eyes to the ceiling and sighed. Listen, Danny, are you telling me you don’t remember anything from last night?

Wolf stopped walking, staring at Jarvis.

The night guards said you had another one of your little...spells.

Wolf gave his head a rueful shake. It was a dream. That’s all. I have bad dreams all the time.

You sure that’s what they are, Danny boy?

Wolf frowned. What else could they be? I’m locked up in an eight by ten cage, for crying out loud. You think I escape at night or something? Roam the prison looking for victims? If I could do that I’d just walk right on out of this rat hole and never look back.

Kaleigh gave her head a sad shake and did not reply. They resumed their casual walk along the prison corridor.

Christ, I don’t know, Wolf said after a moment of uncomfortable silence. I rarely remember any of the details after I wake up. Only what people tell me. And I don’t believe the assholes in here.

A conspiracy then, huh?

Something like that.

They’re more than dreams, Danny, Jarvis said adamantly. I’ve seen you in action and I wouldn’t lie. It’s freaky. Sometimes you act like a mad man, screaming and howling, and rattling the bars of your cell. And sometimes...other things happen.

What things?

Oh, nothing much, Jarvis said, feigning indifference. Just light bulbs popping and toilets flushing and objects flying around the cell.

Wolf shook his head in frustration. I have no memory of any of that, he said. And if it’s true I can’t explain it.

You’ve got something all locked up inside you, said Jarvis. You’re full of rage, and somehow you project that rage in ways that defy logic. Why do you think everyone here is afraid of you?

I didn’t know they were.

Come on, Danny, they put you in an isolation cell.

Wolf shaped a grim smile. Maybe that’s where I deserve to be. Maybe I’m a monster.

No! Jarvis said. I don’t believe it. I know you’re lonely, maybe even a loner by choice, although for the life of me I can’t understand why, but beneath all that, beneath the rage, I see a rational, intelligent and talented human being that screwed his life up. But it’s not something that can’t be fixed. I just don’t see why you need all this extra baggage.

It’s not a case of need, Kaleigh. There’s shit in my head, pure and simple. I don’t know how it got there and I can’t seem to get it out.

Kaleigh smiled. You need a fixer.

Don’t start.

Yeah, okay, I get the picture. You ain’t interested.

It’s not that. It’s just—

Stop! Kaleigh said. I don’t want to hear this. Let me have my fantasies. Besides, soon you’ll no longer be my problem.

Wolf gave the guard a sidelong glance. Why do you say that?

Word is, they’re gonna’ spring you.

Wolf chuckled. Yeah, I’ve heard that before.

Well, I’ve got a funny feeling this time it might be true, said Jarvis. There’s rumors around prison.

How come I haven’t heard them?

You don’t talk to people.

More like they don’t talk to me.

Same difference.

When they reached the warden’s door, Jarvis looked both ways up and down the corridor before getting up on her tip toes and kissing Wolf tenderly on the mouth. Wolf did not pull away even as Jarvis’ tongue intruded, and her lips lingered longer than they should have. Good knowing you, Danny boy, she said, pulling away, tasting her lips with her tongue. I’m really gonna miss you.

Yeah, me too, Wolf said and meant it.

Maybe we could get together sometime on the outside, Jarvis said. You know, for coffee or something. She stood back, a slight flush covering her face.

I’d like that, Wolf replied. But I still think you’re being overly optimistic.

I told you, I’ve got this feeling.

I hope you’re right.

We’ll see, won’t we? So, here you go. Break a leg. And, Danny, Jarvis whispered in a small, conspiratorial voice.

Yeah?

Watch your attitude, okay? The warden’s an asshole, everybody knows it. If you have any illusions about actually getting out of this hellhole, humor him. Jarvis turned and walked away.

Chapter 6

Wolf rapped lightly on the door. A guard from within opened it and stood aside.

Come in, Wolf, said the man behind the desk, flashing a fake smile. His name was Starkey and Wolf wasn’t the only inmate in Warren who’d dreamed of taking him apart. Sit down, Wolf. Do you remember Dr. Hardwick?

Wolf scrutinized the other man in the room. The suit was tailored, the fingernails manicured. He looked to be late middle-age, maybe sixty, solid but of medium build with a full head of wavy gray hair. His blue eyes were hard and unforgiving but filled with an inquiry that seemed more than just casual. He wore his small square-rimmed glasses down on his nose. Finally, Wolf shook his head. Nope, don’t believe I do.

Are you sure?

Yup.

He testified at your trial, Mr. Wolf.

I have a practice in Portland, Hardwick added.

Wolf continued to stare at the man. Then he did remember. Hardwick had been bought by the prosecution, paid to spin ambiguities into warped truths. It happened all the time, should be illegal but wasn’t. There had been no real relevance to his testimony as far as Wolf was concerned; it was only vaguely general. Hardwick had no actual evidence of Wolf’s guilt or innocence, but he’d spewed just enough shrink psychobabble to convince the jury of his guilt.

Right, Wolf said. So, what’s the asshole want with me?

Dr. Hardwick is a psychiatrist, the warden explained, his fake smile turning bland.

Yeah, so?

Starkey cleared his throat. He has done some fine work here at the prison and for reasons that are beyond my comprehension he has taken an interest in your case.

Oh? Wolf said.

How much have you told Mr. Wolf? the psychiatrist asked.

I’ve told him nothing, Starkey replied, only because I do not wish to get his hopes up. He looked dubiously at Wolf. The doctor here thinks he has a solution to all our problems.

Oh, I see, said Wolf. What problems might those be?

Don’t play coy with me, Wolf.

Wolf shrugged.

Your little...psychotic episodes, Starkey said.

They’re not psychotic episodes, Wolf replied.

What are they then?

Bad dreams.

The warden made a face. The kind someone makes when they have indigestion. That’s not what your discipline reports suggest.

They happen when I sleep. I don’t know why. I’ve never hurt anyone—

So, you say, but I figure it’s only because you’ve been locked up alone in your cell. If not for that, someone would surely have been injured by your hand before now.

Wolf’s eyes flamed. Bull shit, he said through clenched teeth. You don’t know anything about me! I have some kind of sickness, that’s all. I hear things. Sometimes I see things—

Oh, I see, said Starkey. This supposed sickness turns you into a mad man. Is that it? It causes you to move objects with your mind and make the electricity go on and off?

Wolf jumped to his feet. I have never maliciously hurt anyone, he said.

The warden’s eyes shone with both fear and dull hate. And I suppose this little jaunt in Warren is just a vacation. You’re in here for manslaughter, Wolf. You killed another human being.

Wolf frowned. I hit the guy. I never denied that. But I didn’t kill him. I was set up. Wolf stopped, knowing it was a lame and overused defense. He hadn’t been believed at the trial, and of course he wouldn’t be believed now, maybe never. Just the same, the knowledge of his innocence and its subsequent denials were the only things left in his life that held any meaning. Everything else, including his dignity, had been stolen from him.

Yes, Mr. Wolf, that’s what all the inmates here say. What about the little floozy you claimed witnessed the event. The one whose testimony you claimed could clear you. What do you suppose happened to her?

I don’t know.

It seems she disappeared from the face of the earth.

You’re insinuating I had something to do with that? You know something? You’re full of shit! You’re all full of shit! Wolf took an angry step toward the warden. The guard who had been standing quietly by the door took a couple of tentative steps toward Wolf, his hand moving toward the wand on his belt.

Starkey held up his hand to stop the guard’s advance. Sit down, Wolf, he said, or I’ll have you hauled out of here in irons.

The psychiatrist cleared his throat in an attempt to silence the banter. Please, he said. If I may? The warden’s hate-filled eyes shifted from Wolf to Hardwick.

Wolf backed up and sat down stiffly. I never hurt anyone, he said again.

Mr. Wolf, Hardwick said. Truth is you were convicted of a violent crime. And you have shown a propensity for violence while here at Warren. It’s all here in your discipline reports: fights in the prison yard, threats against other inmates—

They all deserved it—

Yes, Mr. Wolf, I’ve heard all that before. It is part of the reason you were moved to an isolation cell. It is probably why you are still here at Warren. But the most intriguing part of it is the violent behavior in the middle of the night that seems to be directed at no one in particular. Can you explain these episodes?

No.

No matter. The only way for you to get an early parole is if you agree to psychiatric counseling.

You know nothing about me.

Irrelevant, said the warden.

I know some, Mr. Wolf, the psychiatrist said. I have gone back and reviewed the events leading up to your arrest, the trial transcripts and your subsequent sentencing, as well as your record while here at Warren. And the truth is, I’m quite baffled by it all.

Oh, I get it, Wolf said. You want to dissect me, find out what makes me tick.

Don’t flatter yourself, the warden said.

I want to get to the bottom of your pathos, Mr. Wolf, the psychiatrist said, ignoring the warden’s comment. And that is the truth. Now, I have talked to the correctional board here at Warren and to the judge who sentenced you, and together they have agreed to an accelerated release date provided you agree to certain...conditions.

Conditions?

Correct, interrupted the warden. You’ll stay out of trouble. The first hint of a violent act and you’re back in here. Got it? You’ll find a job, you’ll see a parole officer on a regular basis, and you’ll see the shrink—ah, I mean Dr. Hardwick, once a week. Starkey shot the psychiatrist a petulant little smirk.

Hardwick went back to Wolf’s file. Let’s see, do you have any siblings, Mr. Wolf?

Wolf stared at the Doctor. No.

No?

At least none that I know of. I never knew who my real parents were. I was raised in a catholic orphanage until I was about eight years old. But I have no memory of that time.

None at all?

Nope.

Interesting, said the doctor. Tell me, how do you know you were in an orphanage?

Wolf shrugged. I don’t know. Someone from my past told me. Maybe it was one of my asshole foster parents. Listen, I don’t really give a shit.

I see, said the doctor. Do you remember why you left the orphanage?

Wolf frowned. I don’t even remember being there, so I sure as shit don’t remember why I left.

So after the orphanage you ended up in the State foster care system.

Yeah, a real enlightening experience.

What do you mean by that?

It sucked. No one really wanted me. I went from home to home until I was old enough to escape.

Expressionless, Hardwick wrote something on his notepad and made no reply.

What’s this got to do with anything? Wolf said.

Information I’ll need when we start our sessions, Mr. Wolf.  We will be going deep into the recesses of your psyche. We’ll fish around and see what we can pull to the surface. Do you like to fish, Mr. Wolf?

No, Wolf replied.

No matter, Hardwick said. Fishing is my job and I’m quite good at it. I’ve landed some lunkers in my day. He smiled at his own lame analogy. I’ll need to know a lot about your life.

Wolf smirked. Good luck.

What do you mean by that?

There’s not much to know.

Oh, I think you are wrong about that, Mr. Wolf. I think there’s much more to your life than meets the eye.

Wolf glared at the doctor. How often did you say I’d be required to see you? he asked.

Once a week for a year, answered Starkey.

Wolf didn’t offer the warden the courtesy of another glance. Is that it? he asked,