The Prisoner Within

The Prisoner Within

By

Emma Daniels

Smashwords Edition

Copyright Emma Daniels 2009

Chapter One

The air stung with the crispness of a Sydney August morning that bit through Luke Alexander’s cotton jacket, as he headed along the walkway towards the security gates. Totally enclosed with sturdy wire mesh, Luke had always likened it to a tunnel for lab experiment rodents.

Readjusting his vinyl backpack, he rubbed his hands together. Like his feet, they were numb with cold. Encased in canvas sneakers and a thin pair of cotton socks, the damp concrete chilled right through them.

Luke was leaving in the same clothes he’d been arrested in, so his T-Shirt and light-weight jacket were entirely inadequate for a zero degree start to the day. Neither did the jacket fit properly anymore, thanks to many hours he’d spent in the gym pumping away the dreary hours of his days.

He reached the heavy iron gates at the end of the walkway. With trembling hands, he pulled a folded sheet of paper from his back pocket and passed it to the guard at the gatehouse.

Leaving us today, eh? the middle-aged warder remarked, accepting the page with a gloved hand. As he studied it, he let himself out of the cubicle. Compared to Luke, he was well-rugged up, a long woolen coat covering his short, stocky body.

Luke didn’t bother with an answer. It was a rhetorical question anyway. He’d passed through these gates many times over the past few months, travelling to and from a factory in King’s Park on a work-release program. This would be the last time the heavy iron door opened for him. Luke had no intention of returning. No matter how tough life became on the outside, no way was he going to jeopardize his parole.

Everything seems to be in order. Hope we won’t be seeing you back here, the prison guard said in a tone implying the exact opposite. He handed the page back, and Luke pocketed it, watching the warder unlocking the gate.

While he waited, Luke turned his attention to the sky. He knew it was the same colour on the outside as the inside, but today it had to be the clearest blue he’d ever seen. He could almost smell its freshness, the freshness of freedom.

With a loud clunk, the guard rolled back the iron gate. Once the space was wide enough for a man to pass through, Luke strode towards freedom. He knew where the bus-stop was, and his long legs carried him at a brisk pace down the road.

He passed the golf course on his left, then the miserable huddle of mobile homes on the corner of Sunnyholt Road. By the time Luke reached his destination, he’d managed to work some of the chill out of his bones.

The bus arrived a few minutes later. Luke boarded, holding out his ticket to freedom, the travel pass issued to him at reception earlier that morning. The driver accepted it with barely a glance, and Luke moved down the aisle, taking one of the seats at the back, a habit left over from his school days.

Luke paid little attention to the passengers or the scenery rolling past his window. An expert at switching off, he’d learnt how to escape the dreariness and viciousness of prison life without even needing to think about it.

He had called the land beyond the barbed wire fences Avion, a wild, untamed place inhabited by warriors, mythical creatures and mysterious magic, where he had been a knight of the realm, capable of felling his enemies with a single blow.

With his mind elsewhere it didn’t take long for the bus to reach Blacktown station. Luke alighted with the other passengers. The chill still nipped the air, but Luke didn’t care. He was on his way home. Soon he would face his parents, and demand to know why they never came to see him. Their rejection had wrenched at his lonely heart every time visiting day passed without them.

The only member of his family who had kept in touch was his younger brother, Chris, but Luke hadn’t seen him for almost three months. On his last visit Chris had been preoccupied and distant. It took Luke a while to wheedle the reason out of him.

I’ve moved out of home, Chris said eventually.

What’s so dramatic about that, for goodness sake? Luke asked, trying to meet his brother’s gaze. Not once, since sitting down on the other side of the table in the visitors centre had Chris met Luke’s eyes.

If it wasn’t for the three year age gap, the brothers could have passed as twins. At times they had, until Luke’s incarceration. Chris was now the tidy, well-dressed one with a short, conservative hairstyle. He hoped to make it big in the property game, having secured employment with one of the largest real estate companies in the country. Luke on the other hand hadn’t bothered with a hair cut in five years, so it now needed to be tied back if he wanted to look respectable, which of course wasn’t a requirement in prison.

They don’t like who I’m living with.

Luke laughed. That’s because Mum and Dad are stuck in a nineteen sixties time-warp. They’ll get used to it. Getting married these days without testing the waters first is pretty dumb. She must be really special.

Well, actually... Oh never mind, he muttered eventually.

Come on, you can tell me, Luke encouraged, but it seemed his brother had lost his nerve. Next time then.

Yeah. I’d better get going. He left, and Luke sat there for a long time, fearing that their parents were doing the same thing to Chris as they had to him. Neither parent had been able to cope with having a convicted felon for a son. Their faces after the sentence had been handed down said it all. Like the ancient Aboriginal custom of pointing the bone, they had acted as though he was dead, cutting all ties in an instant.

He supposed he would know soon enough what the situation with Chris was. He’d written to him, informing him of his release date, and two days ago he’d tried to ring, but there had been no answer. He hoped to be reunited with him later that evening. He had no desire in taking up Nev’s suggestion of his friend’s hotel in Darlinghurst. Neville Dolan was in for drug trafficking, which meant Reno, the proprietor of The Sleeping Dog was probably their operation’s ring leader. So what if he could give him cheap accommodation. Luke wanted nothing more to do with anyone even remotely connected to Parklea Correctional Centre.

Luke checked the indicator board at the station. The next train stopping at Katoomba didn’t leave for another forty minutes. He decided to use this time to purchase a jumper, recalling how much colder the mountains were in wintertime. Luke now had access to several hundred dollars earned through his work release program.

He started making his way through the shopping centre, spotting a branch of the Commonwealth Bank across the road. After completing a withdrawal form, Luke joined the end of a lengthy queue. He felt odd standing among the masses again, almost like a stranger in a foreign land.

A young woman with a pram fell into line behind him, and Luke glanced down at the cooing pink infant. How many lives had began and ended while he’d been inside? How much had changed, and how much had he missed out on? Luke had given five years of his life to the penal system, and at twenty it had seemed like an eternity. Now he couldn’t help mourning the loss of those five years, because it had felt more like ten.

It was his turn, and he stepped up to the counter to hand his paperwork over to the young woman behind it. She accepted it with a polite nod. Luke caught a whiff of rose scented perfume, and an almost forgotten shudder passed through him, making him painfully aware of how long it had been since he’d been this close to a woman. Luke inhaled her distinctly feminine scent, conscious of how much better they smelt than men. After five years in close confines with other sweaty males, she was like a breath of fresh air. Leaning on the counter, he stared down at her small, delicate hands dancing across the keyboard. Then she reached into a drawer to pull out the two hundred dollars he’d requested. She handed him the bundle of notes. Luke took it, hoping their fingers would touch, but she withdrew her hand the moment he had hold of the money.

Thank you, he said.

You’re welcome, came her prim reply.

It was time to move on. He left the bank returning to the bright morning sunshine. For a moment he stood on the footpath, tilting his face towards the sun’s meager warmth.

I’m free, he whispered to himself, almost as though he feared it would suddenly be snatched away from him again. Glancing at this watch he saw that he still had another twenty minutes to go before his train was due. Now where could he find that essential jumper? He started walking, and saw a second-hand clothing store across the road.

Less than ten minutes later he was heading back to the station, a slightly faded blue sloppy-Joe keeping his top half warm, and a pair of scuffed leather shoes on his feet. They were half a size too big, but with another pair of socks his toes were already thawing out.

The country train pulled into the platform as Luke arrived at the turnstile. Hurrying across, he entered a deserted carriage. Few people were heading west at this time of the day, and he was grateful for the air-conditioned silence. He settled hack in his seat, and stared out of the window, his mind drifting idly with the flow of the countryside outside. Flashes of Avion, the land beyond, but mainly memories of his childhood; mock fights with plastic swords, cut-out dragons, and cardboard fortresses; playing hide and seek in the bush, pretending it was an enchanted forest; kidnapping Sean’s little sister and holding her for ransom, the demand, a box of chocolate bars from her father’s store. Luke still remembered the resultant stomach ache from his Kit-Kat overdose.

Once the train passed Penrith, however, Luke paid the scenery closer attention. He had once made this trip every day, travelling to and from Mount Druit Technical College, where he had gained his qualifications in electrical engineering. Up the mountain side the train chugged, weaving through tunnels, over bridges, and along steep embankments.

It was already mid-morning when the train pulled into Katoomba, the tourist Mecca of the Blue Mountains. Home to The Three Sisters and the Scenic Skyway, local businesses thrived on the spending power of the hundreds of visitors who passed through the town every day. Had Geoff Alexander the nouse to go into private enterprise, he would have been able to retire by now. But Luke’s father preferred to work for a basic wage. It wouldn’t be long before they stood eye to eye. Here I am, Dad, free as the wind. Try and deny my existence now.

But it wasn’t his father collecting tickets as Luke headed for the station’s exit. A much younger man stood at the gate, someone Luke had no recollection of.

Luke showed his ticket. Where’s Geoff? he asked.

Who?

Geoff Alexander. He works here. By the blank look on the youth’s face, it was plainly obvious he no longer did.

He retired ages ago, a female voice answered from behind him. Luke swung round to see a short, elderly woman hand her ticket to the attendant. Things got too much for him, she continued. He was pensioned off on medical grounds. I don’t think he ever got over what that son of his did. Such a terrible thing that...

But Luke didn’t stop to hear any more. He hurried through the barrier. People always had their version of events, no matter how distorted by media hype. For the first time Luke wondered if he’d made a mistake in coming here. It would be all too easy to cross over to the other platform and wait for the next City train. No, this was one thing he had to face. Escaping to the land beyond wouldn’t do him any good now.

Luke didn’t realise until then how easily the mental images of the other world slipped to the forefront of his mind. Instead of the main street of Katoomba stretching out in front of him, he saw the ancient village of Scarthe nestled at the foot of the Mirion Ranges; massive snow covered alps where only foolhardy or questing warriors dared to venture. Overlooking the settlement was King Rostan’s castle, a fortress older than time itself.

Someone bumping against him brought him back to reality. Blinking, Luke stared at the historic shop-fronts of Katoomba, recognising businesses he thought he’d forgotten.

Life’s going to get tougher than this he reminded himself, so leave Avion behind. Leave it at Parklea Prison where it belongs. But somehow he suspected that the land beyond wasn’t going to disappear simply because he was back in circulation.

The extra layer of clothing, which had kept him warm in the city, did little to protect him from the chill of a Blue Mountains winter. Luke shivered as he walked through the town. He headed along the main street, past the familiar shops, but didn’t see anyone he knew.

The Alexander family home stood several streets back from the main thoroughfare, a small wooden cottage built almost a century ago. It didn’t take Luke long to reach it. Virtually obscured by a well-tended garden, it sat in silence behind its wall of shrubs.

Nothing seemed to have changed, but Denise Alexander could have completely replanted each and every plant, and Luke still wouldn’t have noticed. Gardening had been her passion.

On closer inspection, Luke thought it looked untidier than he remembered. Grass grew through the cracks in the concrete path, and weeds were winning the war in the garden-bed under the bedroom window. The gate creaked as he pushed it open, something it had never done before.

A movement in the corner of his eye made him look up. He saw the woman from next door walk the length of her verandah. She opened the front door and disappeared inside. Luke realised that she must have been sitting in the sun watching him approach the house, something she’d been doing for years. Luke and Chris had often gone home the long way, climbing over the back fence to avoid her incessant chatter. Now she was the one doing the avoiding.

For a moment Luke stood with his hand on the open gate, staring at the house next door. He knew it shouldn’t bother him. He’d coped with worse situations, but Mrs Adams snub hurt just as much as the torture which had first aided his escape into Avion.

There Luke had been Sir Alex, a brave warrior who fought every conceivable evil in the defense of a country always under attack because of its vast sources of precious stones and metals. His majesty, King Rostan, had promised Sir Alex his youngest daughter’s hand in marriage if he defeated the evil Pirate Dimarko, whose fleet of war-ships were wreaking havoc along the coastline of the Blanco Provinces. Princess Karina had shining brunette hair down to her waist, a full, womanly body, and eyes that glittered like blue opals whenever she saw Sir Alex.

He was doing it again. Luke forced the images of his dream girl away. Taking a deep breath, he walked up the path and mounted the steps to the wooden verandah. Finally he pressed the alarm his father had installed not long before Luke’s conviction.

Not a sound could be heard from inside the house, so Luke rung the bell again. Still no response. He hadn’t banked on them being out. His mother was always home on a Thursday morning. The Alexanders were sticklers for routine, but it was obvious this too had changed.

With a sigh, Luke turned, and found his attention drawn back to the house next door. He saw a curtain twitch in one of the front windows. Mrs Adams had been watching him. He doubted she’d answer the door to him, but he decided to go over anyway. Make her squirm, he thought. He could hear her now. ‘I had a convicted felon on my doorstep today. You know that Alexander boy. Yes he’s back. How will I cope living next door to someone like that?’

Luke approached the Adams’ front steps, and the moment he stepped onto the verandah, he heard high pitched barking from inside the house. So she still had that stupid bathmat on legs, Ruffy. Luke slammed his fist against the Adams’ security door. I dare you to open it. I dare you to face The Holy Avenger, slayer of evil and protector of good.

You cowards, he muttered under his breath, stepping back from the door. He contemplated kicking it in. Sir Alex had knocked down much sturdier barricades, but this was merely an elderly couple’s house, a couple who knew nothing about the brave warrior from Avion.

Ruffy was still yapping hysterically as Luke left the house. He decided to head for the lookout. Perhaps by the time he’d walked there and back, someone might be home.

Walking at a brisk pace, Luke soon stopped feeing the cold. He couldn’t remember the mountain winters hitting him so hard, but then prison life affects more than your mind. Even though Luke had worked out and chose jobs which were physically demanding, poor nutrition, bad hygiene and the violence of prison life had taken their toll, leaving scars which would never leave.

Despite it being a weekday, most of the parking spots leading to The Three Sisters were taken. Luke headed past the souvenir shops, not sparing them a second glance. It was the mountains he wanted to see.

He finally reached the paved steps leading to the lookout. Pushing past a crowd of Japanese tourists heading back to their tour-bus, Luke finally caught sight of the rugged sandstone crags. He stopped at the perimeter fence, and stared out across the void, spotting Ruined Castle, Narrow Neck and of course The Three Sisters, jutting into the clear blue sky like jagged teeth.

The gum trees in the basin swayed in time to the wind’s gusty tune. Everything was as he remembered. Nothing had changed. People came and went, but here the earth remained as nature had intended it; Timeless; Majestic; Beautiful.

Luke rested his elbows against the metal rail. The mountains were pure and clean, unchanged by the ravages of humankind. Luke longed to do the same to himself, and cleanse his soul of the filth of Parklea. Let me forget, he prayed silently. Let me start again and build a new life. It doesn’t have to be much; a job, a roof over my head and peace of mind. That’s all I ask, that and my parents’ forgiveness.

I’ve paid for my crime, he murmured into his cupped hands. I don’t want to pay any more. Luke closed his eyes, and tried not to cry, but a tear slid unchecked down his pale cheek. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d wept over the past five years. But now he cried because freedom wasn’t going to let him forget. The rejection on his parents’ faces would haunt him forever if he didn’t try to do something about it.

And in the shadowed castle hall, his princess wept with him. Don’t leave me, Sir Alex. I’m so afraid that this time you won’t return.

He took her into his arms, and stroked her straight dark hair. "Don’t cry my darling love. The Holy Avenger won’t let me die."

Even enchanted swords have been known to fail, she sobbed against his leather tunic. I’ll talk to Father. You’ve served him for so long. You’ve proved time and again how worthy you are of my love.

Tis the Pirate Dimarko we’re talking about. The most evil and vile blaggard to walk this world. It is I who must destroy him. Now kiss me farewell, my love. I will return. I promise you.

But Sir Alex never got to kiss Princess Karina goodbye. Someone’s piercing voice made Luke glance up, suddenly dry-eyed. It seemed the land beyond was going to stay with him indefinitely. With a shrug he left the lookout, realising as he started walking how hungry he was.

He decided to treat himself, and entered one of the cosy little tourist cafes. Even though the prices were astronomical, he ordered a hamburger and cappuccino, two things he hadn’t had in years. He wasn’t disappointed. The food was delicious. He polished off everything on his plate, and headed back into town. This time when he approached his family’s home, a vehicle stood in the car-space, but it wasn’t one Luke recognised. Perhaps his father had upgraded. It certainly looked like a nice piece of machinery.

When he rang the bell, there was no movement from the house next door.

Yes, can I help you? a stranger greeted him, a woman in her early to mid thirties, with frizzy blonde hair, tight jeans and Ugh-boots. As he looked her up and down, she did the same to him.

Er, I was looking for Geoff Alexander, Luke said, returning his gaze to her face. She had pretty blue eyes, a nice smile and a great body.

You sure you got the right house?

Yes. I... Luke faltered. It was obvious his parents no longer lived there. That would explain the deterioration in the garden and the strange vehicle. This discovery made something akin to pain lurch in his heart, which meant it was no longer his home either. Why the Hell hadn’t anyone told him?

The woman smiled and leaned against the door jamb. My husband and I bought the place a couple of months ago. Maybe your friend was the previous owner.

Luke took a step back. Seems like it. Sorry to have bothered you.

Not at all. Have you come far?

Not really. Just Sydney.

Perhaps you’d like a cuppa before you hit the road, she said. I was just making one, if you’d like to join us. You don’t look like you’re coping too well with the cold up here.

Luke shivered again. No thanks. I’ve got things to do. Like find out where the Hell my folks have moved to, he added silently.

He walked away from the house he had grown up in, leaving behind the only connection with the happy years of his life. A cloud passed over the sun, and an icy wind blew up, whipping a greasy blonde curl about his face. Suddenly freedom didn’t taste so good. Luke felt cold, afraid, and terribly alone.

Chapter Two

Only one person sat in the silent office, a young woman with long, chestnut brown hair held back by a tortoise-shell clip. Her work station looked like the dozen or so others; a desk with pen holder, file trays and manuals, computer and second chair for interviewing. Her round, fair-skinned face was devoid of make-up, not that cosmetics would have enhanced the pretty curve of her pink lips, or her large midnight-blue eyes, fringed with long, thick lashes.

But Karen Shaw was unaware of these positive features. Whenever she looked in a mirror, all she saw were the extra kilos expanding her waist-line and hips. Clad in a gray, calf-length skirt and pristine white blouse, Karen knew she didn’t make the most of her appearance. Nobody took any notice of her anyway, and she had long since stopped hoping for a boyfriend. She preferred the handsome heroes she made up in her mind.

An avid reader of romantic fiction, she had finally decided to write a novel of her own. Karen often spent hours on end lost in the fictional lives of others. Exciting things never happened to her. At twenty-four she hadn’t even been kissed, let alone gone on a date. Shyness kept her at home while other people her age were out partying. Still living with her parents in an ordinary Federation style house in the southern Sydney suburb of Penshurst, she sought adventure between the pages of pulp fiction.

Her older sister, on the other hand, had seen and done it all. At thirty-one Lynette was firmly established in her career, had been married and divorced twice, visited the Greek Islands, fallen in love with a rock star and dumped him. Lynette had the looks and confidence to live the life romance novels were made of. Karen had stopped trying to compete long ago. She always had and always would, come a poor second.

Lyn’s slim because she doesn’t eat so much, her mother would reprimand every time Karen reached for a second helping of dessert.

Lyn’s happy with her job because she went to college. Why don’t you? her father would mutter when Karen told them her work day had the same as the one before.

Lyn doesn’t lie around mooning all the time, her mother again, on coming home to find Karen curled up on the lounge with a Harlequin Intrigue.

Karen picked up the Crunchie bar lying on the desk and peeled back the wrapper. Wait until I’m a famous author, she thought, biting into the rich chocolate coated honeycomb. Then Lyn’s career and never-ending line of boyfriends will pale into insignificance. Who needs flawed real men, when they can have someone like my perfect Viking warrior?

Taking another bite, she laid the chocolate bar down, and bought Windrider’s Revenge onto the screen. Poising her fingers above the keyboard, she began to type.

Tamara didn’t get to see her kidnapper until the following morning. She had woken several times throughout the night, nauseous from the constant pitching of the ship, and the aching pains from her struggles against the men who had dragged her from her seaside home.

Of course she had heard of Viking attacks, but like most of the woman in the village, Tamara had trusted their men-folk to protect them. In less than half an hour she found out the bitter truth. Shovels and other weapons of the fields were no match against the axes and swords of the blonde giants from the icy northern lands.

Tamara squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to remember the villagers’ anguished screams. She had hid under her bed, hoping beyond hope that she would be overlooked. She lay there for what seemed like hours, and when sure she was safe, crawled out from her dusty alcove. To her dismay and horror, she found three of the brutes in her mother’s kitchen, almost as though they had been waiting for her. She tried to run out through the door, but they caught her on the back steps. Tamara fought and screamed, and it had taken all three to drag her from the house.

Now she wished she too had been killed. Anything was better than the hell she was sure to endure at the hands of a violent Viking sea captain. Even though Tamara had been educated by Nuns and brought up in a household of women - her mother had borne six girls before finally bringing her baby brother into the world - she knew what Vikings did to pretty young women.

When she heard the clunk of the bolt, she knew they were coming to have their lustful way with her. She suppressed a terrified shiver. The last thing she would do was show them her fear. Two of the burly brutes who had brought her aboard the previous night, roughly grabbed her arms, hauled her off her makeshift bed of furs and through the entrance hatch onto the deck. Tamara contemplated throwing herself overboard, but the Vikings held her fast between them.

Her dark eyes wide, she stared at the endless ocean. Her homeland was already many leagues away, and Tamara knew she would never see it again. It was something she felt deep in her heart. She couldn’t help the tear that slid down her cheek as she was dragged towards her enemy. With a shove, she stumbled, but didn’t fall. Strong arms lifted her, setting her safely on her fret.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to be so rough?" a deep voice boomed from above her. Tamara blinked, and when she looked up she was certain she was dreaming. The face looking back at her had to be the most handsome she had ever seen. He couldn’t be a Viking, could he? Vikings didn’t have soft green eyes. Their eyes were always blue and cold. This man looked down upon her with tenderness in every line of his striking face. But he had the blonde hair. Shoulder-length and unbound it lifted in the ocean breeze. And he was built like a Viking; tall and powerful, with muscles bulging through his leather armour.

W- who are you? she stammered.

"My name is Windrider," he said softly, lifting a hand to wipe the drying tear from her cheek.

"No!" she shrieked, certain she was going to faint from shock. Windrider was renowned as being the most evil Viking of them all.

‘Yes, and you are the treasure I have been searching the oceans for."

Then Tamara did pass out, and Windrider lifted her into his arms...

And bonked her senseless, Karen heard someone say over her shoulder.

Get lost, she cursed, shifting the mouse to the save command with one hand, and dimming the screen with the other.

She turned to face Nick Spiropoulos, a slender man in his mid-thirties. Even though he’d been born and raised in Athens, he didn’t look Greek. His skin and hair were too fair. Neither was he particularly attractive, but his wife obviously loved him, making Karen wonder why she couldn’t even attract someone as ordinary as herself.

Does he, or doesn’t he? Nick persisted with a grin. He reached for the dimmer switch, but Karen swatted his hand away.

None of your business.

Karen heard more voices, as other staff members arrived for work, and she knew Windrider and Tamara’s romance would have to wait until she could sit down at her own computer at home.

Luke entered the Job Centre under the same cloak of apprehension which had smothered him in the Centrelink office. He’d stood outside the building, wishing he could simply turn around and walk away, but after four days of freedom he’d spent almost all his work release money.

Unable to get in contact with Chris over the weekend, he’d secured accommodation at a hotel. He’d contemplated staying at a hostel for the homeless, but decided against it, not wanting his gear stolen during the night.

After combing the inner city, he finally chanced on The Sleeping Dog, a faded, two-story brick building hugging a dirty street corner. The pub was like every other in this area, dark and dingy.

Even though still early afternoon, every stool was occupied and all the pool tables in use. The smell of stale beer and body-odour assaulted him the minute he walked through the swinging doors. After some head-scratching, the name of Nev’s friend finally come to mind. Luke walked up to the bar and asked the hulking barman if he could talk to Reno.

Who wants ter know? the olive-skinned simian demanded. He leaned across the bar, pinning Luke with a penetrating glare.

Nev sent me, Luke replied confidently. He’d met uglier characters than this inside, and the first lesson he’d learned was to hide his apprehension.