Lockdown

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

24/06/2019. 10:00 hours. San Quentin State Prison, California.

Spencer's face flushed with embarrassment at the questioning eyes from working inmates drinking him in as he was marched through the back corridors towards cell block A. His breath caught in his throat at the black block lettering on the off-white wall, indicating that they had reached their destination. The heavy door slid open with a buzz. With a hard shove, Spencer stumbled into the cell block. His eyes widened, betraying his stoic exterior at the sight of several men at their barred doors staring hungrily at him. He had arrested at least four of them. These men were the most dangerous and had been imprisoned for serial murder and rape and had somehow managed to avoid the death penalty.

Spencer struggled against the officers, twisting in their grip. He kicked out in an attempt to dislodge their hold. Michaels turned at the commotion to find his officers struggling to restrain the agent. He flicked out his baton and brought it down hard against the side of Spencer's left knee. Spencer gnashed the cloth between his teeth to stifle a groan of pain. The air whistled as the baton swung around, colliding with the genius' abdomen, knocking the wind out of him. Spencer dropped to his knees, his chest heaving. He was dragged by his shoulders to a steel support pole situated in the centre of the cell block and rested with his back against it, arms pinning him in place. He threw out a foot, nailing a male officer in the groin.

"Restrain him, dammit!" ordered Michaels.

"We're trying!" responded one of the exasperated officers, narrowly avoiding a well-aimed kick to the leg.

"Matthews?! Bring out the leg straps!" demanded Michaels. Spencer doubled his fighting efforts, and all dignity left at the door. He knew the inmates were having a field day. He was yanked away from the pole and thrown face down to the ground. Spencer's cheek was pressed to the cold linoleum floor as he was held down. Two more officers descended on the chaos with thick black belts in their hands. Spencer squirmed in an effort to escape. A pair of hands gripped his ankles firmly. He felt one of the belts wrap several times around his ankles and buckled tightly in place. Another was wrapped around his knees. A tazer was pressed to the handcuffs binding his wrists, eliciting a muffled scream from the young doctor. Spencer felt dizzy, the world spinning as he was pulled from the floor and rested back against the pole once more, all fight in him having dissipated and every nerve ending prickling with the shock from the tazer. Michaels crept up behind him and tightened the cuffs to ensure maximum discomfort. Spencer glared at the warden. Michaels pulled the cloth out of Spencer's mouth, his coarse fingers brushing against his cheek, and allowed it to hang around his slender neck.

"I bet you recognise a few of these guys, huh?"

"Fuck you," snapped Spencer. "This is completely unnecessary. You know nothing good can come of this." Michaels shook his head and chuckled.

"Oh, Dr Reid. You have no idea what these men want to do to you. You have no idea what prison does to a man." Spencer snorted derisively.

"Actually, warden, I do." Michaels quirked an eyebrow.

"You do? Pray, tell." Spencer traced the tip of his tongue over his dry bottom lip, his saliva stinging in the cut that streaked through his flesh.

"I was framed for the murder of a woman in Mexico and spent three months in Milburn Correctional Facility awaiting trial. I was exonerated when my team found the person responsible."

"Ah, so you know what these men are itching for?" Spencer nodded cautiously. "Well, doctor, that threw me a little. I wonder how a pretty boy like you coped in prison."

"Better than you think," growled Spencer. Michaels smirked.

"I bet you spent a lot of time on your hands and knees." Spencer grimaced in disgust.