Prisoner Quarantine: Ganged by Felons – Trapped at Home Series

Excerpt:

The wailing alarm echoes off the cement walls, as the iron gates clang shut, trapping me in a room with five convicted felons at a prison in upstate New York. I look to each of them in shock, my heart racing, eyes wide, hoping one of them has an answer.

“It’s a Coronavirus lockdown,” Pete explains.

“But, I’m not a…” I trail off.

“Prisoner like us?” Tad finishes for me.

I shrug. What can I say? I’m not here as a prisoner. I’m here as an instructor. Part of my college graduation requirements include volunteer work, and I’m teaching these men to code.

This group will be in prison for a long time, but they’ve instituted a new program for men like them. Teach them to code, and give them jobs, while they’re serving out their sentences as part of their restitution.

They work for mere pennies, and the state gets cheap labor. This group scored high on their IQ tests, but low on their ability to control their tempers, and their capacity to hold down a real job in the outside world.

And now I’m locked in with them. “They’re going to send someone to let me out, aren’t they?”

“I doubt it,” Nick tells me shaking his head. “They do this every time another inmate tests positive for the virus. Everybody is locked in place for 12 hours. They must have forgotten you were in here with us.”

I’m not really afraid of these men. Okay, maybe a little. I’ve been working with them for three months and they’re ready to graduate from the program.

They’ve always acted like perfect gentlemen around me, but let’s face it, they aren’t here because they cheated on their taxes or scammed the government. This isn’t a white-collar prison.

And we normally have a guard supervising us the entire time. A guard with a gun. But now it’s just me and five very large, very muscular prisoners locked in one area for 12 hours.

“So, what happens next?” I ask.

“I say we have some fun,” Joe says as he steps toward me, with a glint in his eye that makes me incredibly nervous and, dare I even admit this to myself, excited at the same time.

“What kind of fun?” I ask as my voice stutters betraying my nerves. I back up, only to run into a brick wall. But it’s not a brick wall. It’s a 6-foot 4-inch prisoner named Tim.

“I think you know exactly what kind of fun he’s talking about,” Tim whispers in my ear. His warm breath makes my pulse skitter.

“It’s been a long time since any of us have had a woman,” Pete reminds me.

“Way too long for some of us,” Tad growls.

Tim squeezes my arms tight. It’s not like I really have anywhere to run to anyway, but feeling his huge, strong hands on my arms sends flutters up and down my spine.