THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE

CHAPTER 7

LIAM'S POV

The last thing I remembered was pleading with the judge, insisting I was innocent, while being forcefully dragged out of the courtroom. I didn’t even get a chance to properly speak with Mr. Parker. Before they shoved me into the van, I’d asked him what Nowhere was, but I didn’t catch his full reply.

The next time I woke up, I could hear the faint whirring of helicopter blades in the distance.

I sat up, dazed, realizing I was sitting on sand—sand everywhere.

“On your feet, now!” a raspy voice barked.

I turned toward the voice and was met by the sight of a towering man, nearly 7 feet tall, with a buzz cut and a muscular frame. He wore a uniform different from the officers I had seen earlier. His cold eyes scanned the group.

I scrambled to my feet, noticing I was the last one sitting. The officer’s glare told me I didn’t want to test his patience.

Now upright, I got a clearer look at my surroundings. A group of both men and women—likely other prisoners—stood huddled near me. I guessed this was a mixed-gender prison. My gaze lifted, and I noticed the massive metal wall that loomed over us. It was impossibly high, stretching in both height and breadth. Even from this distance, its scale was overwhelming.

“Move!” the officer shouted.

We began to march toward the gate at the base of the wall.

Inside, we were told to form two lines: men in one, women in the other. Officers with rifles stood stationed at every corner, their watchful eyes scanning for trouble. As we passed a tall tower, I noticed more officers perched above, their weapons ready.

Finally, we reached a building that, like the wall, was entirely made of metal.

“Listen up!” the officer barked. “You will each receive your prison wear. Strip off your current clothes and deposit all personal belongings in the bins provided. You will be searched thoroughly. Once done, put on your new uniform, grab a basket, and form a new line.”

A feminine voice cut through the silence. “So, you expect us to strip here? Together?”

The officer ignored her.

She pressed on, louder this time. “I’m not putting on a strip show for anyone!”

The officer’s eyes darkened. “You have five minutes to comply. Anyone who doesn’t will face severe punishment.” His tone left no room for argument.

The threat worked. Almost everyone began undressing, regardless of gender, preferring humiliation to the unknown punishment.

I glanced over at the girl. She stood rigid, arms crossed, defiant.

I stripped, got searched, picked up my basket, and stood in line. Being naked in front of strangers wasn’t even close to the worst thing that had happened to me recently.

“Time’s up,” the officer said. He gestured to two others. “Take her away.”

“Get your hands off me! I have rights!” she shouted as they dragged her toward a door on the opposite side of the room.

The officer smirked. “Rights? Let’s see if you’ll still talk about rights after this.”

We continued through a series of steel gates, passing guards who saluted our escort as we moved. Finally, we reached a long hallway lined with identical metal doors.

“Your cell number is on your uniform,” the officer announced. “Find the door with the matching number, line up in front of it, and wait. Female prisoners will head upstairs and follow the same instructions.”

I glanced down at my uniform and located my number. After finding the corresponding door, I waited until an officer unlocked it using a thumb scanner.

Inside the cell, I saw two other men. One looked about my age but younger; he sat on the left upper bunk, fiddling with something I couldn’t make out. The other was an older man, probably in his 50s, sitting on the lower bunk on the right side, engrossed in a book.

The younger guy gestured toward a spot near a small shelf. I assumed he wanted me to put my basket there, so I did.

“So, you’re the famous Liam we’ve all been hearing about,” a voice whispered into my ear, making me jump.

I spun around to see the younger guy, grinning mischievously. How had he gotten off the bed so quickly without me noticing?

“Hi, I’m Trevor,” he said. “And that’s Mr. Richard.”

I glanced at the older man, who didn’t even glance up from his book.

Trevor leaned closer, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “I’ve always been curious—how’d you pull it off? Switching the bags, dodging security... Come on, spill!”

“Leave the poor boy alone, Trevor,” Mr. Richard finally said, his deep voice commanding attention.

I didn’t respond. My mind was racing. It all felt connected—the theft, the bag switch, my arrest, and now, this prison. I couldn’t shake the feeling that Nowhere held the answers to my questions.

I glanced at the tiny window high on the wall. A sliver of light pierced through the darkness, casting eerie shadows across the room.

Exhausted, I lay down on the cold, hard bed. The mattress was thin, and the metal beneath it dug into my back. Sleep didn’t come easily, but eventually, the rhythmic sound of waves hitting the shore lulled me into unconsciousness.

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