"Cooper County Correctional" (Part II) -- closed

[RobbieRand]

"Cooper County Correctional: A Zombie Apocalypse Story"
Part II

(Link to Part I)

(Closed to current writers)

37 Survivors:
As of 1 Nov 2019, 0000 hrs
(We began with 77.)

Dark Red characters belong to RobbieRand.
Green characters belong to Alice2015.
Purple characters are shared.​

1 -- Warden Jessica Benson: age 46

• NOTE: She was previously called Jessie.
• Married for 6 years to volunteer staff member Valerie Marston (also in the prison).

Valerie Marston: MS Teacher; Volunteer Basic Skills Teacher at Cooper Correctional; Warden's wife; age 28.

5 -- Corrections Officers:

• Harold Richards: age 57.
  • Senior Corrections Officer; fair but strict.
  • New! 32 years Law Enforcement:
    • Darlington City Police: 10 years; Sergeant.
    • Cooper County Corrections: 22 years, since the prison opened.
    • 10 years as CCC Senior CO.
  • Twice divorced; 3 kids per marriage.
  • 31 Oct: He confirmed all of his Ex's and kids were safe.
  • First marriage:
    • To Wanda: 10 years; children are:
      • Richard: age 19.
      • Tamara: age 18.
      • Leonard: age 16.
    • 31 Oct: confirmed to be safe in their home 30 miles south of CCC.
  • Second marriage:
    • To Nellie: 10 years; children are:
      • Peter: age 7
      • Paul (Paulie): age 6
      • Mary: age 4
    • Yes, named for the musical trio.
    • 31 Oct: confirmed to be safe in the basement air raid shelter of the Cooper City library, where they were having one of the home school away from home days.
  • New! He doesn't fraternize sexually with the inmates or the staff; he's a real stickler to such rules. But now the inmates aren't inmates and there are civilians here, too, so who knows what might come of his long dormant sex life.
• Peter Wilson: age 33.
  • New! Recently divorced; his wife lives (still?) with their 2 children just south of Cooper.
  • New! Unlike his boss, he does fuck and suck with inmates:
    • He was probably getting more sex here than all the rest of the COs -- male and female -- combined.
    • The Warden was aware of this and had chastised and even written him up over it several times.
    • But Peter has ties to important people in the Corrections and Law Enforcement fields, and the Warden found that she was more likely to get reassigned by stopping Peter's daily blowjobs than he was to see those blowjobs end.
    • He typically partook of oral sex only as he really didn't care whether or not the inmates got anything out of this. But he did have 2 inmates he liked to send over the euphoric edge … and unbeknownst to him, she's pregnant.
• Andrea Halstead: age 32:
  • Although she considers herself straight, she did trade resources/privileges with an inmate (killed in the zombie attack) for sexual service.
  • New!
    • She can't go without sex for more than a couple of days.
    • She dated a lot -- men only -- on the outside in addition to occasionally being serviced by inmates within Cooper.
    • So, she's going to be looking for a new sex partner -- male likely, female possibly -- now that she can't trawl the bars of Cooper City.
• Gretchen Carlson: age 38; straight.
• Paula Henson: age 27; bisexual; has never had sex with an inmate because it was against policy. What about now, though, with the imminent freeing of the inmates?

2 -- Other Cooper Corrections Staff:

• Gregor Abromov: Custodian; age 42.
  • New! Recently became American citizen; he has indirect ties to the Russian Mafia and was supplying drugs to an inmate who was distributing them but is now dead.
  • New! His wife lives in the town of Cooper, 10 miles south of the prison. Is she alive?
• Trevor Erickson: Counselor; age 35.
  • New! Good looking man who would not have hesitated to bang an inmate or two, but his work never left him alone with one while not also in view of a camera.
  • New! Now that things have changed, he'll be getting his cock wet as often as he can.
  • New! Secretly, he was passing messages between the Chicas Latinas and their gang members outside the prison.

13 -- Visitors:

• Vernon Griggs: Prison Medic; age 32.
• Carol Danvers: age 36
  • She is the former partner in crime and sometimes lover of Kimberly "Kinky" Washington (further detailed below).
  • She thinks they should stay in the prison for safety, but all Kinky wants is to get the fuck out.
• Stephanie Johnson: age 38
  • She gave birth to inmate Bonnie Johnson at age 16; Bonnie Johnson is 22 years old at the story's start.
  • The children below are Bonnie's (Stephanie's grandchildren):
    • Demarcus "Markee": age 6
    • Destiny: age 4.
    • Alexis: age 2.
• Chang Ung: age 55
  • Father of survivor inmate, Hana Ung.
  • See inmate Hana Ung below for some future situations of tension.
  • He was escorting Hana's 2 children:
    • Shawna: age 10
    • Robert: age 7
• Aleksa Davidovic: husband of now deceased inmate, Imelda: age 35.
  • He was a decade younger than his wife.
  • Ever since Imelda went to prison for DUI/manslaughter, he has been attempting to seduce Imelda's daughter, Tawnya, further explained next:
  • He is aggressive, and he isn't above forcing himself on Tawnya, given the chance:
    • Tawnya: age 19.
    • David: age 18.
• Victor Lee: age ??
  • He was here to visit his client, a now dead and unimportant inmate.
  • He is a slick, opportunist.

15 -- Inmates (arranged generally from most to least aligned with Warden):

• Olivia Greenly: age 36 (changed from 26)
  • She is a very loyal Trustee to the Warden.
  • She was convicted of vehicular manslaughter at age 20 in a very public case -- 4 children were killed when a heavily intoxicated Olivia struck a school bus at high speed -- and was sentenced to 40 years to Life. (She had been awaiting trial on a previous DUI accident charge, which -- aside from the ages of the children killed -- was part of the reason for the harsh sentence.)
  • She has shown great remorse.
  • She was transferred to Cooper 12 years ago at age 24.
  • She very quickly became a counter force to Rosita Alvarez when the latter rose to control the "Chicas Latinas" ("Latin Girls") gang.
  • Crazy as it sounds, she is a virgin!
• Ruthie Quinn: loyal to Olivia; age 44.
• Terri Timms: age 22.
  • Always was friendly with and aligned with Olivia when it came to Rosita and her Girls (explained below).
  • Then, on Day 1 of the Apocalypse, Olivia (and Ruthie) saved Terri from zombies. Immediately after that, Terri aligned with Rosita (who had taken control of the Kitchen) simply because the latter had the guns. But she turned back to Olivia, during which she was accidentally shot in the back by Rosita. At this posting, she was in the Infirmary being treated.
• Inmate
• Inmate
• Hana Ung: age 23
  • Daughter of Chang Ung, a visitor now in the prison.
  • Hana's 2 children are listed above under Visitors.
  • For some tension:
    • Hana is a member of a Korean gang that -- out in the world -- was in conflict with a Mexican gang.
    • A member of that second gang just happens to be Rosita Alverez, further explained below.
    • Hana and Rosita got into a few times, once almost with fatal results.
    • Because of this, they have never been allowed in one another's proximity without proper supervision.
• Kimberly "Kinky" Washington: age ??
  • Unaligned as of yet.
  • She is the former partner in crime and sometimes lover of Carol Danvers (a surviving visitor further detailed above).
• Delores Franklin: age 58
  • Kitchen Supervisor.
  • Unaligned; doesn't care about prison politics or power struggles.
  • She once poisoned an inmate who was violent toward her, nearly killing the woman. Ever since, people leave her the hell alone.
  • She has a quirk: she never uses her cell's toilet, meaning she doesn't have to clean it.
  • She likes to call inmates a food dish or drink from their native country, ethnicity, etc. She calls Hana Ung Kimchee sometimes.
• Bonnie Johnson: age 22
  • Became a mother at 16, as had her mother, Stephanie, who is here as a visitor.
  • Bonnie's children:
    • Demarcus "Markee": age 6
    • Destiny: age 4.
    • Alexis: age 2.
• Danielle Swenson: 25.
  • Very beautiful; very sexy. Everyone wants a piece of her.
  • Bisexual, but for her, sex if mostly about getting something for herself other than orgasms.
  • Not afraid of sucking cock or pussy for a benefit.
  • Has begun servicing CO Andrea Halstead in exchange for a promise to be given supervisory control over the Still promised by Warden Benson.
• Inmate: violent offender
• Penny Brown: will switch alliances, but initially went with Rosita because Rosita had the guns.
• Kiko Mizuhara: age 24.
  • Bisexual; uses sex (with inmates and COs both) to get what she wants.
  • Loyal to Rosita Alvarez, within whose gang she was an "affiliate" member (meaning she isn't a full member because she isn't Latina but she works with Rosita anyway).
  • Violent offender on the outside; has committed some violence in Cooper, including an unsolved shanking murder two years ago.
• Vanessa Delgado: age 36
  • New! (this whole bullet point section) Rosita's Enforcer in the Chicas Latinas.
  • She was sentenced to 6-12 for manslaughter at age 20 and was days from getting out after 7 years when she shanked another inmate and got another 12 years.
  • She was deemed to be in 24/7 danger from a rival group and somehow got a transfer to Cooper Correctional.
  • Since being here, she's never been caught doing wrong, despite having shanked 3 inmates, resulting in one death.
• Rosita Alvarez: age 32
  • Prior to the Apocalypse, she was the "Boss" of the "Chicas Latinas" ("Latin Girls") gang, consisting of most of the Latina population and several non-Latina "affiliate" members, such as Kiko.
  • She had actually been in the process of being shipped out of Cooper, but her appeals to remain here were sitting before the State Supreme Court.
  • She is very untrusting of the Warden's promises to treat all survivors as free people.
  • Given the chance, will she rebel and rise up?

Cooper County Correctional Facility for Women​

Utilities:

• Landline Phone Service: Discontinued (Day 1, 2100 hrs)
• Cellular Service: Available.
• Electrical Power (from Grid): Available.
• Electrical Power (from Generator): Available if needed; 4-1,000 gallon diesel tanks, full.
• Electrical Power (from Solar Panels): Available and connected; provided 10% of prison's usage (pre-Apocalypse).
• Water (from city of Cooper): Available.
• Water (from prison well): Available if needed.
• Sewage: working (so long as water flows).

Buildings: (4, found in this image (filched from the internet) are:

• Administration: white building in lower right:
• "A" Block: red brick building in right corner.
• "B" Block: red brick building in the center.
• Community Center: large white building in the top center.

Cross section of buildings: (found in this image, also filched from the internet and showing only the first floor)

• Administration Building:
  • First floor: Lobby, Offices/Classrooms), Library, and Infirmary.
  • Second floor (not shown): Warden's Office/sleeping room, Senior Guard's Office (and sleeping room); Guard Sleeping Room (with 4 bunks); Primary Armory; and a Conference Room and storage rooms.
• "A" Block:
  • First floor: 8 cells, 2 rack bunks.
  • Second floor: 8 cells, half 1 rack bunks and half 2 rack bunks.
  • Each cell includes a toilet, sink, open-faced lockers, and desks.
  • Cell doors: bars for security, shatter proof Plexiglas for sound privacy.
  • Doors can be locked from within for personal privacy but can be opened with a key by COs.
• "B" Block:
  • Layout same as "A" Block.
  • First floor: 4 cells.
  • Second floor: Punishment cells; bed, toilet, and sink only.
• Community Center:
  • 3 sections (seen in image as one squarish "C" section in top):
    • Uppermost corner: basketball court (70x40 feet, not the normal 94x50), surrounding by exercise areas and equipment.
    • Center: Recreation Room; games, television, arts & crafts, and more.
    • Left side: Dining Hall; serves as gathering room; plays, dances, large meetings, and movies.
• Kitchen/Guards Room:
  • The separately drawn section at the far left end of the Community Center.
  • Includes (from upper left to lower right): food storage, kitchen, freezer, refrigerator, scullery, and a Guard Sleeping Room (for 2).
• Visitors Center:
  • At right end of "B" Block.
  • Chapel on the second floor.

Security surrounding the buildings:

• Towers:
  • 5 overlooking the Farm:
    • Ground level access doors.
    • Underground web of tunnels connects them to each other, to the Administration Building, to the Community Center Guard Room, and to the Visitors Center Security Chamber (at the north end of the VC). 2 golf carts are available to get to and from.
  • 2 towers not pictured in the right and top corners of the property. (These are connected directly to the other buildings, have access doors to the Yards, and are also connected to the tunnel system.)
  • "A-B Tower" (seen in 1st image above): not a free standing tower; located against and accessed directly (via a secured door) from the 2nd floor passageway between "A" Block and "B" Block and indirectly via a spiral staircase from the 1st floor passageway (also via a secure door). It overlooks the Receiving Area.
• 8 foot high chain link fence with razor wire separates the buildings from the Farm.
• Two parallel 15 foot high chain link fences with razor wire surround the entire facility.
• Motion detectors trigger powerful light atop towers and poles and alerts both the Tower Guards and the Duty Guard in the Control Room.
• Beyond the outer fence:
  • Open pastureland (100-300 yards in width) in which the prison's cattle, goat, and sheep herds live.
  • Beyond the pastureland is thinned forest (50-100 yards wide).
  • Beyond that, naturally growing forests (50-200 yards wide).
  • And beyond that, are privately owned farms and ranches.
  • There are several small outbuildings with equipment in the fields.
  • Beyond the fence and wrapping around the Main Gate Tower corner in the bottom center is a 2 acre pond in which trout, catfish, and bass were raised. It is occasionally infested with African bullfrogs, which the Inmates periodically cleared out and cooked.)

CLOSED TO CURRENT WRITERS​

 

[Alice2015]

This post has been deleted. As directed, I quoted the original survivors list from the above post, added to it, and posted it here; and since then, Robbie Rand has moved all that information to his post, thus making this post moot.

 

[Alice2015]

From Warden Jessica Benson:

31 October 2019
1415 hrs:

It's time to begin moving forward with our day.

All of the inmates had been returned to their cells, with the exception of Olivia Greenly and Ruthie Quinn. They were in the infirmary watching over fellow inmate Terri Timms, who is being treated for a gunshot wound by our new Medic, Vernon Griggs. I have announced over the intercom and repeated twice that the inmates will be released in due course, and I do mean it, for the most part.

When Rosita Alvarez regained consciousness, she began complaining of pains from the bean bags Olivia hit her with using the shot gun. She was taken to the Infirmary in wrist and ankle shackles, where the Medic checked her out. She may have a cracked rib, a concussion (from the fall to the concrete floor), and more minor injuries. I told Harold that she was not to be released from her shackles or left without an armed guard, so Andrea Halstead stayed in the infirmary.

Rosita concerns me. She was the "boss" of a "gang" of mostly Latinas prior to this day. I'd actually been trying to get her relocated to another prison for more than 2 years without luck; she was no longer working on the farm and was restricted to in-Facility labor, when she wasn't restricted to a Penalty Cell. I can't imagine that the two of us are going to be able to work together.

Once my Senior CO reassured me that the buildings were zombie-free, I offered 4 of the inmates some future allowances to clean up the visitors center. Under guard, they took the dead from the VC to a pair of B Block cells. They were handled politely, and Valerie volunteered to used the visitor's log and IDs on the victims to record the dead.

The rest of the visitors had been escorted to a death-free office in Admin initially, but the children were scared and hungry. We took them to the Recreation Room in the Community Center, which included a Kids Zone for visitation days. Valerie and some others went to the kitchen, made a cold lunch with deserts, and brought them back.

We got to wondering about the outside world, so Gretchen and Paula hopped into the golf cart and began a patrol of the grounds. They ascended the towers to get a better view of the land surrounding the prison. They also doubled the ammo stock in the towers and added additional weapons to them, just in case. I've seen enough apocalyptic movies and television shows to know that we are going to get visited by not-too-friendly people eventually -- zombie or normal.

After two full circles around the prison, Gretchen -- who likes to shoot things and is good at it -- remained in the Main Gate Tower while Paula continued her patrols.

It was time to speak to the inmates. Harold Richards and Peter Wilson, -- enhancing regular procedures with shackles -- brought all of the inmates to the dining hall. They were fed the standard cold meal for lockdowns and other situations in which a hot meal couldn't or wouldn't be prepared.

Once they were fed, I took the small stage at the northwest end of the dining hall and made my speech to the 9 inmates present. I told them what we had learned over the past 4 hours:

• Whatever was happening here seemed to be happening across the country. There were conflicting reports as to whether this was happening in other countries, so it wasn't certain whether this was some sort of biological attack against the US or not.
• Cell and landline service was still available, but the circuits were often busy and we couldn't get lines out.
• Some of us had been able to contact friends, family, and law enforcement agencies, though. This apocalypse was countrywide and getting worse; everyone was being told to shelter in place.

Then I made my pitch. I laid out my rules regarding gaining and maintaining ones freedom:

• No more violence, against anyone whether they be fellow inmate, staff, or civilian.
• Do your jobs. Every inmate performed labor prior to the apocalypse, and every inmate was going to continue to perform labor.
• Be respectful of others. No more gangs. No more threats. No more extortion.
• And more.

When someone asked if they could just leave, I answered, "If you don't want to partake in our new adventure here in Cooper Correctional … our new community … you are welcome to walk right out the gate."

"With guns?"

"Without guns," I answered. "We may need what we have. I have no way of knowing that the future holds for us here, and until I do, we are keeping all of our weapons."

"What about the election?" another inmate asked. "I heard you offered Rosita an election, to see who will run this place.

"We will have an election," I told them. "But not until we are functioning well and I know who can be trusted to run Cooper Correctional."

"How long?" a voice challenged.

I hesitated for a long moment, then answered, "1 month from today."

There were guffaws and critical laughter. I countered, "The person who will run this place has control over all the weapons. If you want to show me that you can be trusted with protecting the rest of us, you have a month to proof it."

The conversation went on for quite a while before I was surprised by Harold leaning in close and saying, "Olivia wants to talk to the pop'."

I didn't realize it, but he had had one radio open such that Andrea and the others in the infirmary could here what was going on. On his second radio, Andrea had told him that the Trustee had requested to come to the dining hall to talk. Andrea reassured me that Rosita wasn't going anywhere, then escorted Olivia to the dining hall.

"The world as we knew it is over!" she said standing atop a table to look down upon the others. She went on to talk about all the hate and disappointment and crime and recriminations and drugs and abuse that many of them had face. "That world is gone. This...! This is our new world. We either make it here or we all die."

She and the other inmates talked back and forth for a long while, until finally it fell quiet. I stepped up again and told them, "The only thing we have left now is what's inside these prison walls … and each other. If at any point you don't want to be here, you can leave. I will equip you with a pack full of food and other supplies and a gun … and you can just leave. But … if you want to try to make something good out of ourselves … this is the change."

"Can we have some time alone," Olivia asked, clarifying, "No COs … no you."

Harold, Peter, and I went to the far south end of the dining hall and the inmates went to the north to talk. We tried to look inconspicuous in our eavesdropping; occasionally it was very obvious what was being said, but none of it really surprised us.

At one point, Olivia went to the kitchen -- with a nod of permission from me and an escort from Harold -- and she returned to the other 9, where they began discussing their own conditions. We were finally invited back over, and Olivia gave the inmates terms:

• Any inmate could depart at any time, taking with them a firearm, ammunition, and a pack of food. I countered the term: "Any inmate who demonstrates violence to others leaves without a weapon … and I can eject any inmate at any time who has demonstrated violence."
• No more set meal times; "When we're hungry, we can eat." I balanced that with, "We have to understand that the food we have now is all we're going to get, and the harvest wasn't as plentiful as expected due to the drought. So, limits on how much food any of us can have, inmate or otherwise … rationing … but yes, no more set meal times." It was decided we would negotiate on this some more.
• Every inmate gets their own cell, and cells are no longer to be locked. "We can leave and return at will." I countered, "We have to have a set of rules about free movement, until I know I can trust you, and you know you can trust me." That was agreed upon, too.
• "Drapes", was the only words on the next term. In the past, inmates weren't allowed to block the view of their cells' interiors from the passageway beyond them with draperies, clothing, sheets, paper, or whatever. I agreed, on the condition that if I believed there was activity occurring within a cell that was detrimental to the community, I had the right to inspect the cell. One of the inmates countered my counter: "Olivia can inspect, not you." I was okay with that; Olivia had been a Trustee for years, and I trusted her almost as much as I trusted my COs.
• Weapons were a quickly refused request. The inmates wanted them in case the zombies attacked again, but I told them that until I knew that the inmates could be trusted with them -- firearms and otherwise -- they were just going to have to use the shanks that I knew they had hidden throughout the prison.
• There was a long discussion about jobs and chores, which ended with us all seemingly happy. Most of the inmates had actually liked working because they gained experience and other benefits. Now they understood that the work done on the farm might very well produce the only food they were going to be eating for quite a while. They didn't so much like the idea of having to work the laundry and scullery so much, but they knew it had to be done. I offered a consolations: "I will work the kitchen, one shift a day, right alongside you." Someone called out, "And the laundry!" I laughed and agreed, telling them, "I'll even sweep the Block floor once a week."
• "What about privacy?" someone asked. It was actually on Olivia's list of demands, but they were anxious to get to it. Several voices chimed in, and I caught topics that ranged from simple privacy of one's possessions within a cell to who could keep personal company in their cell to whether the rule about fraternization -- sex between COs and inmates -- was now allowed. I contemplated my response, then said firmly, "So long as it is consensual and between adults and not harmful to one party or the other, either physically, mentally, or emotionally … I don't care who you're having sex with. However...! You will restrict your sex lives to your quarters … your cells. We have civilians, which include children, now living within the walls of this prison. You will not be getting some in the library or the dining hall or out in the garden. In my mind and belief, sex is a private act. Keep it private, and I don't care with whom you're doing it."
• There were some more demands made, discussed, and settled.

Then, a sensitive topic rose its ugly head, and I wasn't at all surprise that it came from one of the Latin Girls. "What about Rosie? You gonna keep her locked up?"

"She shot someone," I said without hesitation. "What would you have me do? What punish should I mete out for attempted murder of a fellow inmate?"

A handful of voices -- not all on the same side of the issue -- erupted for a long moment before I finally waved them silent. I contemplated a moment more, then said, "Time restarts right now. Anything that came before this very moment is forgotten."

That got a variety of different reactions, some visual, some verbal. But then, with a finger raised, I continued, "But … in exchange for that … in exchange for forgetting that Rosita Alvarez attempted what was essentially a mutiny … attempted to take my prison from me by force … the Latin Girls ceased to exist … right here, right--"

One of the 5 surviving Latin Girls cut me off, "Rosie has to decide that--"

"No!" I cut in forcefully. I gestured an extended finger around to the involved parties as I continued, "The Latin Girls ends, right now. You are no longer Latin Girls if you want Alvarez released. You have to make your own decision. There is no place in Cooper Correctional for gangs, not anymore. We all very nearly died today. And if we don't all start working together as a single team, not as gangs with differing agendas, we may still very well die. Brown, black, red, yellow … it no longer means anything."

I went quiet, and the others looked amongst themselves for a bit before agreeing. Of course, they could just be lying to me; once Rosita was out, the Latin Girls might very well rise up again to try to take over Cooper C.

Thinking of other racially sensitive situations, I gave a back and forth glance between Hana Ung and some of the Latin Girls, asking, "Are we going to have a problem here?"

Hana Ung had been a member of a Korean gang that had had -- or still did have, I wasn't sure -- with the outside world elements of the Latin Girls. There had been attacks here inside Cooper; Hana had been shanked as well by an unknown assailant and nearly died. The story that had filtered up to me, though, was that Rosita had demanded that she herself be the one to stick Hana for the final time.

I told the known Latin Girls present, "If Hana Ung comes up dead from obvious or even suspicious causes, I will throw all of you out the front gate naked and unarmed. All of you. Rosita needs to understand and accept that. Can you reassure me that this will be the case?"

There were some looks between the Girls, and finally they agreed, whether truthfully or not I couldn't know.

(OOC: I'm sure you have some you want to add, so I will stop here before I break them up.)

 

[RobbieRand]

Vanessa Delgado
"Chicas Latinas"
Rosita's enforcer

Vanessa sat quietly through the Warden's speech and negotiations. This wasn't unusual, her having little to say. She wasn't a big fan of wasting words, and this whole there's no such things as inmates anymore shit was just that, shit. There was no way the Warden was going to just let the cons have the run of the joint, particularly after what Rosie had done today; nor was she going to let them free with guns, knowing that the Chicas would have no qualms about using them to do all kinds of wrong out in the world. Hell, Vanessa herself would turn her gun on the Warden and COs if Rosie ordered it.

Of course, it was Rosie who was foremost on Vanessa's mind. Vanessa had been locked in her cell throughout the entirety of the morning's activities, right up until the Screws -- Harold Richards and Peter Wilson -- came to the Blocks to escort the survivors to a cold lunch that was hours late, followed by this lecture about turning into a good person.

Vanessa's disillusionment with the conversation deepened when Olivia was given the floor. Oli Greenly was the inmate counterbalance for the Chicas Latinas. Olivia had the Warden's ear and trust, and had a network of informants that put somehow put the Chicas intelligence apparatus to shame. Without overtly acting like a gang leader, she essentially was, and that inconspicuous power had made her as much a force within Cooper as Rosita could ever hope to be.

Olivia ranted on about how the world they'd known was finished. All Vanessa could think was Now its going to be easier to finish you. Then Olivia asked for the inmates to be left alone without CO supervision, Vanessa actually lowered her hand to the waist band of her prison garb to see if the shank she'd brought with her was still there and handy.

The conversation between the inmates -- who naturally varied in their concept of the future -- was often tense, confrontational, and accusatory. There was a lot of us and them talk, and sometimes the them wasn't the Warden and her COs but was the other factions of inmates.

The COs and inmates regrouped and talked. Vanessa wasn't happy about the terms; she would have loved to have access to a gun. But she sat there quietly and listened to it all. When the Warden and the inmates were done negotiating their supposed peace and cooperation, Vanessa finally spoke up.

"There's only 6 of you, if my math and what I'm hearing is true," she said quietly but with a confrontational tone. "And there are, what, including Oli here and Terri, if the bitch lives--" She glanced around before continuing, "And I don't see Ruthie but I hear she's still walking and talking and not eating on come dead Screw. So, that makes--" She pretended to do a quick count with a finger stabbing in the air but she'd already done the math. "--15 of us. So when this election of yours gets held, just who the fuck do you thinks gonna win? You? A Screw? Or one of us, and when I say one of us, I mean President-elect Rosita Alverez."

There was a mixture of reactions to Vanessa's seemingly realistic statement, from laughter and the contemporary versions of fist bumps and palm slides from the Chicas to groans, disagreeing murmurs, and threatening profanity from some of the others.

"Couldn't be worse than Trump," someone spouted off, followed by another inmate countering, "Hey! Trump's my boy! Make America Great Again, bitch!"

"America's fucking dead and gone, you cunt!" yet a third joined in, asking, "And so are we. Do you really think anyone out there in the world gives a flying fuck about us."

There was a moment of relative quiet, and the last speaker chimed in again, "We're on our own here, bitches. We can talk about holding fair elections while thinking to ourselves Who we gonna shank first? But we're all alone here. We're on our own. We don't work together, we die. And then...! Then, some fucking monster who used to be one of us--" She swept a hand passed the inmates before pointing the COs and then the Warden, "--or one of them or her … it comes along and eats us, probably while were still alive … watching tear and claws rip us apart."

This time the moment of quiet was longer; one and all were imaging what one of the Zombies might do them or reliving what they'd already seen done to someone by one of the creatures.

 

[Alice2015]

POV: Warden Jessica Benson

I listened to Vanessa's assessment of the numbers of Cooper Corrections staff versus the number of inmates and was about to comment when another of the inmates interrupted with her own assessment of our life expectancies should be not learn to work together.

"She's right about us working together, as I've been saying," I said. "We don't find a way to cooperate, and we're all zombie food."

I looked to Vanessa and continued, "And you're right, Vanessa, about the inmates outnumbering the COs. But you're forgetting the 2 staff members who survived. And you're forgetting the 13 visitors who are right on the other side of that wall--"

I pointed to the wall separating the dining hall from the recreation room. I didn't mention that 5 of those visitors were age 2 to 10, which in normal circumstances would mean they weren't legitimate voters. But then, this wasn't normal circumstances.

"So, where's that put us?" I asked, pretending to count on my fingers though it wasn't necessary. "22 of us to your 15, Vanessa."

I gave her a moment to consider a response, but -- being the quiet person she normally is -- she only sat there staring at me. I asked for the tablet on which the inmates had been recording their terms for cooperation and turned to a clean page.

"I would like to offer a radical option to an election that I think will satisfy all of us," I said as I drew and wrote. "Instead of a leader … a President or Warden … we have a Triumvirate."

"A what?" someone asked.

"A Troika," one of our Russian-American inmates said, overemphasizing the accent she'd been trying hard to overcome. She began explaining in Russian playfully, but people began tossing potato chips and chopped vegies at her as they made fun of her ethnicity, language, and more. There was laughter, then she looked to me and -- quite astute -- explained exactly what I was going to say as if she'd read my thoughts. "Instead of one leader, there will be three: one of you, one of us, and one from the new people … the families."

"Exactly. That's exactly right," I said.

I turned the tablet around to show them three circles in a triangular arrangement, with the fraction "2/3" under it. I was about to explain but was interrupted by an inmate saying, "Majority rule sucks. It doesn't work. All you need is just 1 person more on your side or the other side to win, which means that 49% of the people get fucked."

"And that's why we use supermajority," I said, tapping the felt marker on the fraction. "For anything major to happen, two-thirds of the people -- inmates, staff, family, friends -- have to vote yes. [/I]And...[/I] two out of three of the Triumvirate have to vote yes, too."

"What kind of stuff are we gonna vote on?" someone asked.

"Whatever," another answered. I happened to know that she was once in governmental bureaucracy, before being convicted of corruption, graft, accepting bribes, computer crimes, and more, so I wasn't surprised when she started talking about creating committees and agencies that would take care of the penny ante shit while the big stuff was voted on by all. "It's essentially the way our country has worked for decades and centuries, only … this time, we don't have to deal with lobbyists."

A wild conversation broke out about everything from government to the judicial system to corrupt politicians to whatnot before I finally got control back. I tapped the pad again continuing, "This won't be perfect. But it'll be fair, for now."

"Who's gonna be the law around here?" an inmate called out. "We've talked about the legislative branch and the administrative branch. What about the judicial branch. How do we--"

She gestured to her fellow inmates as she continued, "--get justice if we do wrong. You're the law. You got the guns. You're still large and in charge, Warden."

I understood what she was saying; I'd expected it before this even.

Someone laughed and said, "If I shank someone, where you gonna send me? To prison?"

There was laughter, but it ceased suddenly when I said firmly, "I send you to a firing squad and execute you."

There was a long moment of silence, filled with shocked or angered expression. Even my COs -- both of whom I was facing as they sat atop tables flanking the inmates -- gave me questioning expressions. I continued with a firm tone, "From this point forward, you kill someone, I execute you. You attack someone with a weapon and draw blood, I execute you. You rape someone, I execute you."

I looked around at the faces for a moment, then continued, "That kind of violence cannot exist in Cooper Correctional any further. The first thing we will vote on will be a new set of punishments for violent crime, and that punishment will always be death!"

One of the inmates chuckled and started to make what I suspected would be a smart assed comment but I cut her off, "That's the way its going to be! We can't go on like this anymore. We can't function as a group if a few of us are always looking over our shoulders in fear of getting a shanked in the kidneys. If we can't commit to an end of violence amongst us … well, then this is all moot."

I slid the tablet out into the middle of the table. There were glances between inmates and glares at me, as well as some murmured comments or agreement and suspicion.

The inmate who had spoken of governmental procedures asked, "Sentences to be carried out by you or by the Triumvirate? It's not fair if you are--"

I cut her off with, "Death sentences would require the vote of all 3 members."

That seemed to satisfy most of the inmates by the expressions and murmurs between them. I added, "But people who commit violence -- whether they are sentenced to death or not -- have no place in an open Cooper Correctional. Those convicted must made a choice. Return to their cells for the rest of their natural life … or go out into the world."

"But that's not fair!" someone argued.

I responded, "It's not about fair. It's about right! And from this point forward, right is all about peace and respect and goodwill toward your fellow man."

Someone made a joke about me sounding like a Christmas card, but I went on talking -- again! -- about how we needed to find a new way in life. Others got in on the conversation, and when it seemed liked we'd beaten this dog to death, the conversation switched to more immediate thoughts.

"Where we all gonna live?" asked Bonnie Johnson, one of the younger inmates at barely 22. "My kids are here, and my mother. Listen, I wanna be with my kids, but I can't be telling them that home is a jail cell. Markee is 6. Destiny's 4. Alexis is barely 2."

"We'll figure something out for everyone who has family here, I promise," I told Bonnie. Everyone who had visitors who'd survived the zombies had been told their family was safe and had been given an opportunity to see them for a few minutes earlier, one family at a time, due to the shortage of COs. But I could understand why they were stressed about the future. I asked the group, "Listen, if we did a little painting and decorating, added a few homey touches, added some lighting … do you think the cells could feel more like little studio apartments?"

There was laughter and criticism, but I kept on. "Those of you with family could take two or three side by cells, like a regular apartment. I know, it sounds crazy, like putting lipstick on a pig..."

There was laughter and comments about Sarah Palin, probably the most famous use of the phrase. I continued, "But I'm sure that we can find ways to make the cells seem a bit more like--"

"Why can't we move into the Admin building?" an inmate interrupted. "There's lots of room there."

I was hoping this wouldn't come up, but since it did I tried to answer in such a way that didn't show my fear of having inmates sleeping in the same building in which I and most of the COs would be. "It's just not that easy, moving that many racks. And there would be a lose of privacy. And mixing sleeping places with things like the classrooms and infirmary and library and--"

"She's afraid she's gonna get shanked in the middle of the night," the truth sounded. I laughed, as did others; there was some agreement, too, and I wasn't sure whether or not the speakers were joking or predicting the future.

"For now, let's restrict sleeping arrangements to where beds already exist, okay?" I pleaded. I got enough of a consensus on that to move on, so we did:

• It was decided that all inmates would spend tonight in their current cell unless they had family members with whom they wanted to spend the night. Those inmates would be offered considerations. "Nothing is written in stone," I told them. "This is just for tonight."
• The unused mattresses would be removed from the cells and taken to the classrooms in the Administration building for the visitors. The bunk beds could be broken down into single beds, so over the next couple of days, some of them would be moved as needed.
• The inmates were adamant that a whiskey still and mini-brewery be set up in the kitchen. I didn't fight this because -- honestly -- I like a drink once in a while, too.
• Chores including laundry, janitorial, cooking, dishes, and such forth would continue to be performed by the inmates, but the staff and visitors would be tasked with performing labor, too.
• I made it very clear that the inmates were not to venture into visitor sleeping quarters and vise versa without a CO escort or with the related inmate. There was some negotiation on that, but for the most part I was happy with the outcome. My concern was for the safety of the visitors who had been thrown into this incredible situation.
• And more.

I thought it would be good for the inmates to meet the visitors, but I wanted to talk to Harold about this before I suggested it to the 12 inmates here.

 

[RobbieRand]

Harold Richards, Senior Corrections Officer:

It was good to hear the inmates and Warden Benson talking all of this out. I was less interested in the results as I was in the tone from the individual inmates. You can learn a lot about people if you just spend some time listening to them argue with people they despise, and many of the inmates despise me, the Warden, or inmate Olivia Greely.

When the Warden came to me asking if we should introduce the prison population and visitor populations as wholes to one another, I convinced her to wait until the next day.

"We could bring them all together for breakfast," I suggested. "Everyone is very tense right now, and honestly, we still have bodies that need to be removed from within the buildings before we start moving inmates or even kids into cells."

The Warden agreed, we put together sack lunches for everyone to take with them, and we put everyone to work clearing out the dead while the Visitors moved to the Dining Hall for their own dinner. It wasn't all quite that clean cut, of course; the horror of the day and the interruption in Visiting Day led to us allowing inmates to take breaks to visit with family in the Visitors Center for a few minutes.

By 2200 hours, we were ready to call an end to the day:

• All of the bodies -- wrapped in plastic normally used as mulch for the garden -- were taken out to the northside of the prison where they couldn't be seen from any window. They were identified and labeled for burial.
• A thorough cleaning of everywhere a body had been found was conducted. By the time we were done, most of the prison smelled like a bleach factory.
• Only after the inmates returned to their previous living quarters and after the clean up was done -- meaning no fear of them being soiled with blood and brain matter -- were the extra mattresses taken from the cells and moved to the classrooms. We tried to create as much privacy as we could.
• Once everyone was where they should be for the night, the Warden got on the intercom and gave her end of day pep talk to the entire population.
• Then, leaving the cell doors unlocked, we locked down the Blocks and the rest of the building.
• Terri Timms had pulled through just fine, and the new Doc, Vernon Griggs, said she would likely be fine with some physical therapy. She was left in the Infirmary under the care of both the Doc and Ruthie Quinn.
• Rosita Alvarez did in fact have a cracked rib. She remained in the Infirmary, too, though she did so with a pair of handcuffs connecting her wrist to the bed.
• The Warden, of course, has her own sleeping quarters. She and her wife returned to the nice queen bed that is better than my own bed in my apartment in Cooper City.
• The Warden and the 5 COs -- including myself, of course -- set watch stations: two of us would man the Control Center, monitoring the cameras, while the 3rd would make rounds, both inside and outside the prison if necessary; and we would switch off at 0200.

 

[Alice2015]

Olivia Greely and Vanessa Delgado:

(Note: Vanessa is usually RobbieRand's character. She is written here with permission.)

When the meeting and last meal -- cold and quick again -- were over and the COs were about to escort the inmates back to the blocks, Olivia asked Vanessa to speak with her in private. They found a quiet corner and Olivia said quietly, "I'm willing … no, I'm eager to see the animosities of the past end right here, right now. Is there a way of making that happen between us?"

"You're talking to the wrong person, Ollie," Vanessa answered without hesitation. "Rosie heads the Chicas Latinas, not me."

"But if she wasn't," Olivia responded with a suggestive tone. She could see in Vanessa's expression and body language that she understood her meaning and quickly clarified, "I'm not implying I would do any harm to Rosita. Not me and not my girls."

"You mean me," Vanessa said, adding, "Me and my girls."

Olivia shrugged. "Just a thought. The world is changing. The world has changed! Tell me honestly that you think we are safer … that you and the Chicas Latinas are safer … with Rosita Alvarez at the top … and not you. I'm just thinking out loud here. You have my word, no harm will come to Rosie at the hands of someone under my influence--"

"Or under mine," Vanessa cut in. But was it honesty or more out of duty? Olivia (OOC: and Alice2015) couldn't know.

Olivia finished, "But … if harm were to come to her … and you found yourself leading the Chicas … I'm willing to bet that the Warden would be more at ease … which would lead to more and better privileges for you. Vanessa … I think everyone would sleep better around here. But … that's not my call."

"Let's get a move on," one of the COs barked out.

Olivia backed away, turned, and joined the procession of inmates back to the blocks. One of the guards had brought in a role of plastic sheeting usually used for weed preventing mulch in the garden, and the inmates who could handle it set about wrapping the bodies for transport. They were taken to the Receiving Area where they were loaded up on a trailer pulled by the farm's small tractor and hauled away to the north side of the prison, out of sight.

It was after midnight before the work was done. By that time, the cells had been wiped down with bleach water and the extra mattresses had been moved to the Admin building, and temporary sleeping areas had been arranged for most of the visitors. Some of the friends and family chose to stay with their loved ones in the cell block. Warden Benson and CO Richards were unsure of this, but some of the children were in shock, so allowances were made.

******************​

1 November 2019 -- 0010 hrs
"A" Block, 1st Floor -- Kimberly "Kinky" Washington's cell:

POV: Kinky

I had stripped one of the sheets off the upper bunk before that mattress was taken away for the civilians and was now draping it over the door frame. When I pulled the cell door shut and locked it, the sheet blocked the view from the passageway; it was the first time in 4 years of prison that I had had what amounted to total privacy.

Thankfully, I wasn't experiencing that privacy alone. It took some begging to arrange it, but I'd convinced the Warden and CO Richards to allow Carol Danvers to spend the night with me here. We told them that she was just my old friend, of course; I don't know if they know or even care that Carol is my former partner in crime and -- if all goes well -- once again my lover.

Once we are alone together, I step closer, into her personal space and smile. Then I wait to see how she reacts. It's been a long time since we were together intimately; we could have had conjugal visits here in Cooper if we'd wanted, but for reasons I am unsure of -- another woman maybe? -- Carol hadn't wanted to do that.

I wouldn't blame her for finding someone else. I'm 36 and -- to be honest -- only average to pretty at best; she's 26 and the sexiest woman with whom I've ever been naked. I've been in here for 4 years and -- prior to this day -- still had 1 more year to go. Why would a woman like her waste 5 years of her prime waiting for me?

I'm hoping to find out now. I am hoping its a good sign that she agreed to spend the night here with me.

New facts above to add to profile page: ages, relationship, sentence, etc. (Thanks Robbie)

******************​

Infirmary:

POV: Ruthie Quinn

I awake with a start and sits up on the patient bed upon which I drifted to sleep. I realize the cause of my sudden return to consciousness is a soft cry of pain from Terri Timms. With the exception of the local anesthesia used to get the bullet out of her back, the courageous inmate refused any pain killers stronger than a trio of non-prescription strength Tylenol because of a fear of dependency. That's something many of us inmates understand in this era of opioids.

I find the Doc also asleep but on an old raggedy couch near the entrance to the infirmary. I slip off my bed, get Terri a glass of water and some more Tylenol, and whisper, "Are you sure you don't want something stronger."

"Like the doctor maybe?" she whispers back with a sly smirk. "I'll swallow him down."

We laugh softly, and I look over her toward the door. "He is quite the piece of meat isn't he?"

"He's mine," she growls playfully, reaching out to gently slap my cheek before grimacing in pain again. She supports her claim saying, "I had to get shot in the back to meet a man like that, so, hands the fuck off."

"Honey, by the time your poor old broken body is able to withstand the rigors of fucking a man like that," I whisper, "I'll be six months pregnant with his love child."

Terri peaked past me toward the infirmary's other patient, and her expression hardened. "You should have killed her, not hit her with a bean bag."

I looked to Rosita Alverez, who had had no qualms about strong pain relief and would surely be out until morning on all the Doc had given her. "I wasn't the one shooting, honey. Olivia was. And I guarantee you, if she'd had anymore of those bean bag rounds left, she would have put one to Rosie's temple and broke her brain."

Looking back the other way, I see Doc Vernon rising to a seating position. I give Terri a kiss on the cheek and tell her, "I'm gonna go consult with your physician."

"Consult better be all you do, slut," she says, laughing and again grimacing.

I take the walk over to the couch, gesture for permission, and sit at the other end of it. I once again thank him for saving my girl, and listen to what he has to say about it.

"She's a good friend of mine, and I feel like I should thank you properly," I say in an obviously suggestive tone as I look him up and down. I ask a bit softer, "Are you married, Doc … and … does it matter … 'cause … it doesn't to me, in case you're wondering."

I'm older than him, I know; I just turned 44, and in casual conversation we learned that Vernon Griggs is 32. But I'm a good looking 44, with a nice hour glass figure and a D-cup rack that has only drooped an inch or so more than it had in my prime. There's so much nicer pussy in this place; I know that. But … mine is the only one right here, right now, that is capable of doing what I'd like to do to this man.

******************​

"A" Block, 1st Floor -- Kimberly "Kinky" Washington's (new) cell:

POV: Stephanie Johnson (visiting mother of inmate Bonnie Johnson):

I tuck in the last of my three grandchildren and stand to look down upon them. This day has exhausted them to the point that they didn't even argue about the sleeping arrangements. We put 6 year old Demarcus -- Markee -- at the outside of the lower rack of the bunk bed, with his 4 year old sister, Destiny, on the inside next to the wall.

My daughter, Bonnie, will take the top bunk, and I will sleep on a spare mattress that barely fit on the floor. When she's said I shouldn't be sleeping on the concrete floor, I laughed. "I'm 34, not 64. I'm perfectly capable of getting myself down onto and back up from the floor."

With the baby -- Alexis, age 2 -- already asleep on the floor mattress, I go out into the passageway to talk to my daughter. But before I can get a word out, she bursts out in tears and clutches herself to me. After a good long cry, she looks to the open doorway and to what of the children she can see and says, "They can't be here. They can't be in this place like this … living in a cell like their mother. This isn't right."

"It's the best we can do for them right now, sweetie," I tell her. "The world out there beyond these walls was hard and scary for them without their mother. Its harder and scarier now. But they're in here with you, their mother, safe and sound. This is the best place for them, and we should be happy that we are here, together."

We sob together for several minutes until another inmate calls out, "Our cells have doors with sound proof glass for a reason."

"C'mon, sweetie, let's take it inside," I tell her, turning her for the cell. Once inside, we get settled down and prepare for bed. Bonnie strips her shirt off, revealing a sports bra that doesn't surprise me as she almost always slept in one … and three scars that surprise the fuck out of me as she never told me about them. I ask in panic, "What happened here, Bonnie?"

By her expression, I can see that my daughter had hoped I would never know about the well healed wounds. I force her to explain, and she tells me that she got into a tiff -- a word she learned from her father -- with another inmate and got shiv'd. I demand to know who did this to her, but she won't tell me. I ask, "Is she still in this prison … now, with my grandchildren here?"

"No, mom, she's not," Bonnie says after a bit of hesitation. My expression shows that I don't believe her, and Bonnie adds, "It's old news. Done. No longer a problem."

I push her for more, but she doesn't want to talk about it. I should let it go, but I won't. I'll figure out who it was who stabbed my daughter and almost left my grandchildren without their mother. And I'll stab back … but this time someone will die.

(OOC: Note that I think I screwed up Stephanie and Bonnie's ages in the Post #1 profile. Check and correct, Robbie, if you don't mind.)

******************​

"B" Block, 1st Floor -- Hana Ung's cell:

POV: Hana Ung

Just as the Johnsons are putting their young ones down in "A" block, Hana Ung and her father are putting the former's children down in "B" block. Things are far less animated and loving here, though. Hana loves her father, and she knows that her father loves her. But Chang Ung had never forgiven his daughter for becoming involved with the Dragons of Blue Fire, a street gang more commonly known as the Dragons.

In his opinion, the gang had ruined what could have been a wonderful life:

• Hana joined the gang at 13, acting as a spotter for corner drug dealers.
• At 14, she was incarcerated in a juvenile correctional facility after she'd crashed a car while evading police.
• While serving her 3 year juvenile offender sentence, Hana gave birth to her daughter, Shawna. Hana was 16.
• Fresh out of juvie at 18 and once again pregnant, she was busted again and sentenced as an adult to 3-7 for theft.
• Her son, Robert -- now age 7 -- was born in the prison hospital and sent to his grandparents 31 days later. He'd grown up with them as well.
• Hana was close to getting out when she was connected to a cold case and received 8 more years. She testified against her cohort, though, in exchange for spending her sentence at Cooper.

Hana's father and children had come to see her every week without fail during her entire time in prison. The children found it normal, which would likely make their transition easier than that of the Johnson children. But that didn't mean it was going to be easy for Hana.

(I'll write some more introductions later after class.)

 

[RobbieRand]

Olivia Greely and Vanessa Delgado in the Dining Hall:

POV -- Vanessa:

When Olivia said that no harm would come to Rosie at the hands of someone under her influence, I quickly say "Or under mine."

I meant it when I said it. I have always been loyal to Rosie, to the Chicas within Cooper, and to the larger Chicas Latinas organization as it existed across half of the United States and much of Northern Mexico.

But after I got back to my cell, I found myself contemplating the bitch's suggestion. Cooper would indeed be a more peaceful place without Rosie. And although I have never had an interest in leadership -- I'm an enforcer who follows instructions -- I have no doubt that in Rosie's absence, I would be put in charge.

But what would I be in charge of? There are only 5 Chicas left, and that includes Rosie and myself. And the Warden has made it clear that gang activity will result in harsh penalties. Cooper Correctional is a cake walk, I imagine, compared to the world out there now with zombies attacking and eating everyone we know.

Still, as I lay down in my solo rack bunk in my solo cell and stare at the ceiling, I can't help but contemplate how things could be different without Rosita Alvarez.

******************​

1 November 2019 -- 0010 hrs
"A" Block, 1st Floor -- Kimberly "Kinky" Washington's cell:

POV: Carol Danvers

How lucky I've been, I think to myself as I look around Kinky's cell. We'd committed more than a hundred crimes together over the decades of our friendship/relationship, and while Kinky had been caught and jailed several times, I'd never even been charged, let alone put behind bars. This last fall Kinky took should have included me for sure; she could have fingered me and cut her time by half or more, and yet she's left my name out of it.

I owe her. I know that. I showed that by coming to see her as many Visitation Days as possible. But the intimate relationship we'd shared off and on was over; I'd moved on and -- ironically -- this visit was going to be my last as I had planned on telling Kinky that I had fallen in love and was getting married, to a man.

But before I'd been able to say anything at all, the Lockdown Alarm had sounded, Kinky was rushed off to her cell, and the Visitors Center went mad when one, then another person began attacking other people. And now, here I am, in Kinky's cell with her obscuring the view through the door and looking at me as if I am already naked and under the sheets with her.

"I can't," I find myself saying even before I realize that I have said it. I panic; I hadn't come here to her cell to destroy her. Quickly, I falsely clarify, "I mean … after what happened today … Kinky … I, I just need to get into bed and hide under the blankets and try to forget what I saw."

I can still see that man biting into the child's neck. A child! She couldn't have been more than 9, and he lifted her off her feet like she was a rag doll and bit into her neck, spewing blood all over her, him, and the people trying their best to stop him. A guard tried a taser on him and that didn't work, then tried to pull him off only to have the man's -- zombie's? -- fangs and claws ripping him apart instead. Another guard suddenly appeared with a gun and shot the man: once, twice, thrice in the torso only teetered the thing, but a fourth shot in the skull dropped it like a sack of potatoes dropped from a delivery truck.

And I saw it all from just feet away.

If I hadn't been about to end my relationship with Kinky, that alone would have turned me off from wanting to be intimate in any way with my former lover.

"Will you lay with me, though, Kinky," I ask, moving up to take her in my arms. with our bodies and cheeks pressed together in a familiar embrace, I ask, "Can you just lay with me tonight and hold me?"

******************​

Infirmary:

POV: Vernon Griggs, "The Doc":

I, too, hear my patient's soft cry of pain and open my eyes to see Ruthie Quinn walking over to attend to her. I watch them from my laying position, and as I do I remember why I came to Cooper Correctional today. My sister, Josie, was an inmate here. Then she was a zombie here. And now she was a corpse. I hadn't actually seen her in either of those last two states, but the guard I'd worked with -- Harold Richards -- informed me later that her body had been found. I was tempted to ask him who killed her, but really did I want to know that?

I close my eyes as Ruthie rises to look my way, not wanting them to think that I'm eavesdropping. I hear her say, "He is quite the piece of meat isn't he?"

I force myself to suppress a smile. This isn't the first time I've been admired by an inmate or two during one of my visitations to Josie. I used to get cat calls all the time, and I'd gotten more than my share of letters and emails from incarcerated and even released women who'd seen me in the VC, made inquiries, and gotten my addresses from my sister.

I peak their way again, just as Terri is telling Ruthie, "You should have killed her, not hit her with a bean bag."

I looked to Rosita Alverez, just as the inmates were. I realize I probably should have requested that a Corrections Officer remain here, for Ms Alvarez's protection, not mine. I sit up, clearing my throat softly to draw the attention of the other two as I stretch.

Ruthie makes her way over, sits rather close, makes what I believe is a sexual proposal, and asks, "Are you married, Doc … and … does it matter … 'cause … it doesn't to me, in case you're wondering."

I can't help but smile wide. And, though I shouldn't have done it, I can't help but glance down at Ruthie's generous bosom. I notice that her top button is loosed and she isn't wearing the mandatory white tee shirt underneath; her cleavage is impressive and boosted, and I feel my cock coming to life within my slacks.

She's older than I am I know, but I have no idea that she is my senior by 12 years as time has been very good to her. I glance back toward the other two women and realize that neither of them has eyes on us. I look back to Ruthie and tell her, "No, I'm not married, not that -- as you say -- it matters."

I know this is a very, very bad idea, but I can't help it. I'm fucking hard as a rock by now and am being propositioned by a woman who likely hasn't had sex with a man in months or years. I say softly, "I'm, uh … I'm unsure of how we would go about you thanking me properly … Ruthie."

Whatever her plan is, I'm ready and willing to see her play it out.

******************​

"B" Block, 1st Floor -- Hana Ung's cell:

POV: Chang Ung (inmate Hana's father)

"You should sleep," I say to my daughter after my grandchildren are all in their beds. She gives me a polite nod of the head, then does as told. I only add, "Sleep well."

That little nod has for years been the extent of Hana's respect shown to me since she found herself on this terrible path that has resulted in my entire family now being behind bars. I initially blamed myself for her fall from grace, then blamed her and those friends of hers. Now, I simply don't know. The world can be an ugly place at times. Perhaps Hana never had a chance.

I only know that a prison is not a place for children. It was hard enough bringing them here each week for all those years. Each of them -- Shawna and Robert -- had at one time or another refused to come see their mother. I had insisted, if for no other reason than to show them what happens when you take a path similar to that of their mother's.

Both children were amazing people, and I credit part of that to seeing their mother in prison. Shawna was doing class work two grades ahead of her peers; Robert was already a black belt and champion in his age group, as well as a superior student.

And now they were in prison, just like their mother.

******************​

(Note: I am only barely speaking for Andrea. I know she's yours.)


Control Center

POV: Peter Wilson, Corrections Officer

I return to the Control Center after a walk to the Kitchen, carrying some cold sodas and snacks. Andrea Halstead and I are on watch inside the Facility while Gretchen Carlson is on a combined interior/exterior patrol. I laugh as I take a seat, saying, "Gretchen must have seriously wet her panties out there today, shooting down those fucking things. Are we really calling them Zombies?"

"One of those things," Andrea points out, "was Bob Parks … a fellow CO."

I give her an apologetic, embarrassed expression, then tried to explain my lack of thinking with, "Well, he was new, and I didn't know him, so … sorry, I didn't mean to be insensitive. The other two, though … one was here for a string of statutory rapes of teenage boys and the other sold her mother's Oxy. He mom fucking died, so..."

I sit there quietly for a while, studying Andrea as she studies the cameras looking in on the Cell Blocks. After a while, I realize something: she has all of the monitors set to switch between cameras every 30 seconds except one, and that camera is looking down upon a passageway in which two inmates are leaning against opposite walls, just talking. I inconspicuously lean a little for a better view and smile; one inmate is in a sports bra and gym shorts, while the other is in a tight tank top and panties. Prior to today, it wasn't uncommon to see the inmates dressed so scantily during the evening hours after dinner but before lights out. The only thing different now was that it was after midnight.

I leaned forward and reached a hand out, startling Andrea who had become entranced by the view. I chuckled, apologized for startling her, and took hold of a camera joy stick. Tapping an button on the panel before Andrea, I zoomed the camera in on the too delicious bodies until they filled the monitor.

"Which one would you like?" I asked, adding, "I don't have a preference, so, I'll let you take your pick."

I listened to Andrea's response, then reminded her that everything had changed. "The Warden says there are no more inmates. We're all just folk now. That means that if you want to get a little sump'n sump'n from one of them, you can. And don't for a moment begin to tell me that you haven't been partaken of some of that!"

I zoomed the camera even closer, until only one delicious torso filled the screen, then the other, then the first again as I said, "I'm wired in like no one else here, Andrea. I know who's doing whom, how often, where, and -- when it's for something more than kicks -- for what reason."

I took on a more somber tone when I spoke about the inmate from whom Andrea had most recently been getting her pussy eaten in exchange for use of the CO's cell phone, "I'm sorry about Jennifer. She was a right proper inmate and nice looking woman."

I wasn't going to mention that Jennifer's mouth had often wrapped around my own cock for very much the same reason as well as others. It didn't seem pertinent to the current conversation. I tapped a screen on which Gretchen could be seen entering the Gate Tower and continued with a serious and suggestive tone, "Gretchen's gonna be gone for a while, the watch doesn't change for more than an hour, and you and I are the only COs up and about. If you wanted to take a moment … get a little release from the events of the day … I wouldn't blame you. Maybe after you take a little time, I could take a little myself."

Although she wasn't looking my way, I thought I could see in Andrea's face the effect of the turning wheels in her mind. I knew very well that the 30-ish CO was somewhat of a sex addict; evidence and rumor told me she rarely went more than a day or two without getting some action. A dozen or more times I'd seen her getting all kissy face with guys at Cooper City bars before leaving, sometimes after the men had visited the restroom, presumably to purchase condoms and little packets of lube. She preferred men, from what I knew, but filled her needs with women when necessary.

Just in case she wasn't in the mood for a lover with the same equipment as herself, I offered, "Of course, if you were looking to enjoy some release with a man..."

I left it hanging, knowing she would understand that I was more than ready to get naked with her. I finished with, "It's been a difficult day. I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to finish it with something a bit more … delightful."

******************​

Administration Building
Warden's Personal Suite
10pm (2 hours ago):

POV: Valerie Marston

I hadn't left Jessica's office or suite since coming to it after the last of the attacks had ended. I had seen so much on the monitors in the Control Center, and it had nauseated me. People killing and eating other people; what was going on in this world. As soon as it was deemed safe, I came here and sat down to watch the news on the television, the computer, and on my phone. The entire world had gone crazy.

I volunteered to handle incoming calls, which the Control Room had transferred to Jessica's desk. I took names of concerned family and friends, as well as official calls from the County and State. Then about an hour into doing that, the land line went dead for reasons we probably would never know. Using my own cell, I tried to call as many people as I could who I thought should know things or could tell me things. My battery finally went dead; my charger was at home, and Jessica's was different than mine.

Finally, Jessica returns. I take her into a loving hug, but I can feel that she's still in Warden mode. I pull back, kiss her on the lips lovingly but not particularly intimately, and ask, "How can I help?"

She tells me she needs sleep because she's going to take the Oh-Two-Hundred Watch as she calls it. I tell her I understand, take her hand, and lead her to the bedroom suite portion of her quarters. I find a tee shirt and some loose shorts for her while she attends to herself in the bathroom. When she come out, I am already in the bed in only my panties and bra.

"Let me hold you, honey," I say, waggling a hand to her. "I promise, no hanky panky that'll keep you awake. Just cuddling and sleep."

To be totally honest, I have no interest in having sex with Jessica right now. To be totally honest, I have no interest in having sex with Jessica at all. We dated for a year and married 6 years ago when the State legalized it. But for the past 2 years, on periodically scheduled evenings when Jessica spent the night at the prison to supervise and study the evening activities, I had been going out, picking up women, and partaking of a little bit of strange. After a year of stepping out in the evenings, I'd even started having follow-ups with some of my one night stands midday, either at their homes or in motels and hotels.

But now all of that was probably over. Or, was it? I am living -- temporarily or permanently -- in a building full of women who rarely if ever get sex and, if they do, its likely with another woman. They say you can't lead a horse to water but fuck, I'm in the deep end of the lake. But how do I find an interested woman and partake of her without Jessica learning. It's a prison, with cameras, and loose lips that likely flap enough to cause a breeze when they have something good about which they can gossip.

(OOC: I will introduce some more storylines soon as well.)

 

[RobbieRand]

Senior Corrections Officer's Quarters
6pm (6 hours ago):

POV: Harold Richards

"I don't know what to tell you, Wanda," I say into the phone for the tenth time. "I can't come get you and the kids, and you shouldn't leave the house. Stay in the basement and be quiet."

I listen to her beg once more for me to come get them and bring them to the prison where she thinks -- probably rightfully so -- that she, Richard, Tamara, and Leonard would be safer than in their home in the middle of the Zombie Apocalypse.

"Tomorrow we'll have a better idea of what's going on out there," I tell her yet again. "For all we know, there's gonna be 10,000 National Guard troops and marines and soldiers all across the county tomorrow. You'll probably be safer there than here."

She rattles on again, reminding me of why I wasn't sorry when she asked for a divorce. She's the total opposite of my first wife, who I had a very different conversation with earlier in the day. Nellie and my first three kids are in the basement air raid shelter of the Cooper City library, where they were having one of the home school away from home days. Peter, Paul (who I call Paulie), and Mary -- yes, my wife had a thing for the musical trio -- were far more eager to get to the prison than Nellie was, but once again I just didn't see it as being safe for them to be out and about.

"Tomorrow, I promise I'll know more and will be able to tell you what's gonna happen," I tell her, not getting specific on what I'm promising. I listen a while, then before finally getting to end the call mirror what she says to me, "Yes, Wanda, I love you, divorce or married. I'm gonna make sure you're safe. You just have to hold on one more night. But I want you to promise me you won't leave the house for any reason. If the phones stop working, do not panic and head for the prison. It's not safe. Stay where you are, and I'll come for you."


1 November 2019
0145 hrs:

My cell phone's alarm awakes me, and 5 minutes later -- after rinsing my face and donning my outer uniform over my underclothes -- I am on my way to the Control Center to begin my watch.

 

[Alice2015]

"A" Block, 1st Floor -- Kimberly "Kinky" Washington's cell:

POV: Kinky

My heart dropped when Carol said, "I can't."

I knew she meant she couldn't or wouldn't be my lover, whether tonight or forever. It had been 4 years since I'd last felt her against me as one or both of use exploded in orgasm. The events of this day could hardly be considered joyful foreplay, but how many times had we fought past traumatic events by getting naked and getting nasty?

When Carol explains that it was this day that was preventing her from feeling as I was, I understand. I can't know her true feelings. Will I ever?

Carol asks, "Will you lay with me, though, Kinky."

I answer her by moving to the bed, pulling back the bedding and crawling in before gesturing her to join me. She undresses as she wishes to and joins me. I pull her to me, spooning her back side as I arrange the pillows for comfort. As we settle in, I whisper, "I'm sorry you're trapped here, but, I'm happy you're with me."

I want to tell her I love you, but we've never said those words while in bed and never in that way.

******************​

Infirmary:

POV: Ruthie Quinn

I smile wide when Vernon Griggs responds to my sexual suggestion, "I'm, uh … I'm unsure of how we would go about you thanking me properly … Ruthie."

"That's okay, Doc," I whisper, "I got this."

I stand to pull a rolling privacy screen into the middle of the floor, blocking the view of the couch from the other two females in the infirmary. Then, turning back to Vernon, I quickly undress; I step out of my slip on shoes, untie my pants and let them fall, and release the remaining buttons on my shirt until I am able to peel it off and throw it aside. Now in my non-prison issue push up bra and thong, I kneel between his knees, asking with a devilish smile as I reach for his belt buckle, "May I, Doc? I would hate to think I'm forcing anything upon you."

If he doesn't stop me, I'll peel away his pants and underwear and give him a blowjob he won't soon forget.

******************​

"B" Block, 1st Floor -- Hana Ung's cell:

POV: Hana

I nod respectfully to my father as he tells me, "You should sleep," and then "Sleep well."

I only repeat his wish as I slip into the lower rack to sleep next to my son. He stirs, rolls, and wraps an arm over me. I slip an arm under his neck and hold him. And I tear up. The last time I held Robert like this he was barely a month old. For 7 years, the most loving embrace we'd shared was a hug in the visitors center, surrounded by visitors, inmates, and Screws.

I am exhausted, and I fall asleep with ease. But having a body next to me rolling about occasionally wakes me constantly through the night, and finally just after 4am I awake a final time and slip out of bed. My father opens his eyes, and I smile to him. His lips barely react before he closes his eyes again.

I don my uniform pants and tee shirt, grab my shower kit, and quietly head out of the cell and into the passageway. I look to the camera mounted high in a corner behind a protective grill. I lift my shower kit and towel; a moment later I hear a click on the intercom at the end of the hall, a quiet way for whoever is in Control to let me know they have seen me and know what I'm doing.

I head for the showers. It feels odd to be doing this at four in the morning and alone, too. It's going to be awhile before I get used to this new semi-freedom being offered by the Warden.

I didn't shower after the zombie corpse clean up and I should have as I can smell both death and bleach on my skin. Had my father and children smelled it, too? I strip and step under a shower, happy to find that we still have water pressure. Will we be losing it soon? What about electricity? Sewage? I think all you need for sewage is water, so, we lose one, we lose the other, I guess.

I finish and wipe the excess water off my body, turning to see that I am suddenly no longer alone.

(Robbie, I don't know if you want to have the Chicas or the as of yet unnamed Russian chick -- with both of whom Hana has had had issues -- seek some revenge or not. I just wanted to present an opportunity.)

******************​

Control Center

POV: Andrea Halstead, Corrections Officer

I am offended by Peter's casual comment about Gretchen Carlson shooting people. Bob Parks may have been new -- he was only on his 4th or 5th shift, I think -- but he had been a fellow CO and deserved more respect.

I tried to ignore Peter, but as I did I let my hunger for sex get the better of me. Without realizing I was doing it, I was staring at 2 scantily clad inmates. I'm not a lesbian; I'm not even bisexual, not really. It's just that, well, I am sort of a sex addict, and sometimes the only person available to fulfill my need is a female inmate. I won't fuck one of my fellow COs; there's just too much shit that comes along with that.

I am surprised, though, to find out that Peter knew about Jennifer. My relationship with the petite, cute, and seemingly innocent but certainly not 20 year old inmate began a year ago when she was desperate to get to a cell phone for a call home to her mother.

Somehow -- I'm not even quite sure how it happened -- I found myself in an otherwise empty classroom with Jennifer, who was pressed up against me with her hands inside my trousers and panties. She drove me to a badly needed orgasm with the skill of a $1,000 an hour call girl.

(I only found out later that she had indeed been a call girl and had ended up in jail when she stabbed a client who had slapped her and refused to pay for services rendered.)

From then on, a couple of times a month, we slipped off to a quiet location where Jennifer drove me to euphoria with her hands, mouth, or battery operated toys that she told me to sneak into the prison and hide in my locker. I know I wasn't supposed to be doing this -- fraternization is a termination event -- but there were times when I simply couldn't do without her.

Peter reassures me that if I want to take a walk down to the cell block and see if one of the women is interested in earning some additional privileges that we have the time and ability for at least two hours. Then, not getting an answer from me, he must have thought that maybe I might want to make things easier and just mount his cock instead.

I laugh, then blush. I tell him, "Sorry, Peter, I wasn't laughing at the thought of having sex with you. I just screw Screws."

I tap the panel and the image of the two women switches to alternating views of the Community Center. I look to him and tell him with a hard tone, "And if I ever hear that you're talking to others about my sex life … I'll taze you and through you out the main gate to be eaten by one of those zombies. And yes, we are calling them zombies, as crazy as that seems."

I rise and head for the door, telling Peter, "I'm heading for the can … alone! Back in a bit, then to the kitchen for some fruit. I'll take a tablet with me."

I snatch up one of the Security tablets, from which I can monitor the same images or other images Peter is seeing in the Control Room. In the bathroom, I tap on the screen, accomplishing 3 things with ease and skill: I remove from the looped images the camera looking down upon the gates at the end of the hall in which the two inmates were standing; I kill the alerts for gate openings at the end of that same hall; and I kill the motion detectors in the Admin building's first floor, which we earlier turned on once all the visitors who were sleeping here tonight were where they needed to be.

Then, after I see the image of the two that Peter might see upstairs cycle through, I open the gate and call Danielle Young down to speak to me. We chat for a moment through the second gate.

"Are you looking for a little joy?" Danielle asked, fully aware of why I'm here. I hesitate, then ask if she'd be interested in providing it. "What are you offering?"

"What do you want?"

"Warden says she's going to let us build a still," she responded. I nod and confirm it. "I want to be in charge of it."

"I don't know if I can--"

"You'll get it done," Danielle interrupts with confidence. She hesitates, and when I nod, she looks to the door and says, "You wanna do it through the bars or what?"

I unlock the gate, let her through, and close it behind her. I suggest, "Why don't we go to the copy room."

******************​

Administration Building
Warden's Personal Suite
10pm (2 hours ago):

POV: Warden Jessica Benson

I exited my quarters' bathroom to find my wife in my bed in a not to skimpy yet still sexy panties and bra set. Valerie waggled a hand at me, inviting me to join her and saying, "I promise, no hanky panky that'll keep you awake. Just cuddling and sleep."

To be honest, I was suddenly so very horny for her. It had been weeks -- or months maybe? -- since we'd had sex. I apologized to her often for being too tired or simply not into it. Valerie always forgave me. It worried me a bit, actually, that so often she would hint at or openly suggest sex between us, then say it was alright when I passed.

I sometimes thought she might be having an affair behind my back. I'd even gone so far as to follow her a few times, and I'd even snuck one of the phone tracking apps onto her phone while she was showering without me. But either I was imagining things or she was fucking slick as hell when it came to hiding it from me, because I saw no evidence at all that she was sleeping around.

I was so wrong, of course, but how could I know.

I slipped into bed with Valerie, cuddling up close to her, kissing her once softly, then again more passionately. I supported myself on one elbow while the hand of the other arm found her side and caressed her smooth, soft skin during an even longer kiss. And then … well … I was ready. If she did nothing to stop me, we were going to make love, despite that fact that I should be getting some sleep for my Midwatch.

 

[RobbieRand]

"A" Block, 1st Floor -- Kimberly "Kinky" Washington's cell:

POV: Carol

I pull my former lover's body to me, and I'm reminded of how much joy we found together on those occasions when it just seemed to so right to be as we were. But I can't push away the knowledge of what had brought me to Cooper Correctional today: severing our relationship and announcing my intention to marry.

I pull Kinky into my arms, kiss the back of her shoulder, and respond to her regret that I got stuck inside the jail, "I'm never trapped, so long as you are here with me."

I realize how corny it sounds, considering that tomorrow I have to find a way to tell her the truth. You are going to tell her, aren't you? I think to myself. I wasn't able to speak to my fiancee after the mayhem exploded; I sent texts and left voice mails, but I never got a reply. For all I know, he's dead, just like so many others.

But I don't want to thing about that. I hold Kinky tight to me and quickly drift off to sleep.

******************​

Infirmary:

POV: Vernon Griggs

As I watch, Ruthie obstructs any possible peeping from the other women and stripped down to her undergarments. I am impressed; she's a good looking woman, with a firm body and a delicious hour glass shape. I don't resist when she moved into between my knees and begins loosing the clothing on my lower half. I life my ass, and my pants and jockeys come off me, exposing my now stiffly standing 8 inches of eager cock. I feel my shoes pulled forcefully from my feet and my pants and shorts departing past my ankles and feet.

"Oh, Jesus," I murmur as I feel a warm, wet tongue lick forcefully all the way up the sensitive underside of my shaft. Ruthie spits into her hand, begins jacking me off, then rises on her knees over my groin. And a moment later, she's taking most of my length into her mouth and throat with professional skill. As he head bobs faster and farther, I moan repeatedly, chanting my prayer to the Fellatio Deities, "Oh God yes … oh God … oh God, you're gonna … you're gonna make me … you're gonna make me cum..."

It has been a while since I've had sex with anyone other than Rosy Palm, and Ruthie is absolutely amazing. So it isn't even a minute before my cock leaps inside the woman's mouth. I had casually laid a hand upon Ruthie's head, urging her to keep me inside her mouth as I began ejaculating. But if she pulls back, I won't stop her; I'm not going to force her to take my load in her mouth and then make a decision about swallowing or spitting.

My brain is spinning in an unbelievable euphoria; my body is trembling from the pleasure she's caused me. It seems as though my cock continues to pulse longer than it had taken Ruthie to cause that first spurt of thick ejaculate. When I regain enough of my senses to open my eyes again and look to Ruthie, I offer out a hand to urge her into my lap and ask playfully, "Wanna sit in my lap little girl?"

******************​

"B" Block, 1st Floor -- Showers:

POV: Delores Franklin

I get a bit of a fright when I step into the bathroom and see Hana Ung standing at a now dripping shower head. The expression on her face tells me she was startled as well. I smile to her as I check out her wonderful figure. "I looked like that once, 'bout 30 years ago."

I head for a toilet to do my business. We are responsible for cleaning and sanitizing our own cell toilets, of course, so if I don't have to use it, I don't. I tell Hana, "Been in this prison since it opened 22 years ago, and I don't think I've ever taken a shit after lights out."

I catch sight of Hana as she is leaving the shower area. "Watch your back, Kimchee."

When the young Korean-American looks to me hard, I chuckle. I have always called people by a food dish from their native country or ethnicity. But adding the watch your back comment gets me the dagger eye. "You have no worries from me, Hana, you know that. But the Chicas and that Russian chick you had it out with a couple of months back. Opportunities to put a sharpened toothbrush in someone's back has just risen a hundred fold. I don't care what the Warden says. People are going to die in the days to come, and I don't mean at the hands of those cannibal monster. I like you, Hana. So … watch your back."

******************​

Administration Building Passageway

POV: Danielle Swenson, inmate:

I'm tickled pink when CO Andrea Halstead invites me through the gate and into the White Castle, as we call the Administration Building. She suggests, "Why don't we go to the copy room."

I pull Andrea close for an erotic kiss, not knowing whether or not she does that. If she isn't into that level of intimacy, I'll let it go; if she is, I'll give her a kiss that will make her burn down below, a long embrace during which my hands will take a tour over her back, her butt, her bosom, and finally to her groin.

We reach the copy room, where I move her to the table on which we put together the Cooper News newsletter each month for friends, family, and others interested in what happens here. I quickly unbuckle, unbutton, and unzip her pants, pulling them and her panties off her hips before telling her to sit. She lifts her ass up and scoots back; I urge her knees open.

"Beautiful, you take care of yourself," I compliment, looking over her well groomed womanhood. I reach out to her already wet labia, touching them, then toying with her swelling clit. "I'm gonna enjoy you, and you're going to enjoy me."

I drop a tied up bag of shredded paper that was awaiting burning on the floor before Andrea and drop to my knees. I don't hesitate to press my mouth to her pussy, lapping at her folds and clit. I've always enjoyed this, even long before I was surrounded by nothing but hungry pussies that wanted to either eat or be eaten. Wrapping my arms under the CO's thighs and grasping her firm buttocks, I pull her out to the edge of the table and seriously go to work on her.

I won't stop until she tells me to.

******************​

Administration Building
Warden's Personal Suite
10pm (2 hours ago):

POV: Valerie Marston

Although there are other women with whom I'd like to be in bed, I very much enjoy the feel of my wife's body against mine at this moment. I don't realize how much I've missed her until we are intertwined and suddenly kissing passionately. I pull her atop me, wrapping a leg around hers as the other presses up between her thighs and into her groin.

"Mmmm…" I murmur as her leg returns the pressure against my own pussy. "Oh baby, it's been too long."

Taking Jessica's head in my hands, we begin kissing passionately as our lower bodies writhe against one another. I can feel my juices thoroughly wetting my panties; I can feel my wife's fluids soaking through her cottons onto my skin. Our mouths part and I beg, "Go down on me, baby, please. It's been too long. I need you."

******************​

(OOC: I have something I want to occur after the 0200 watch change, but I'm not going to start it until all the other story lines are caught up.)

 

[Alice2015]

Infirmary:

POV: Ruthie Quinn

I've always been good at this, sucking cock. It took me years to overcome my gag reflex, but once I did I found that I could get a lot more from the men I was pleasuring. Of course, that ability was indirectly responsible for my incarceration, which is a long story.

I listen to Doc Vernon moaning louder and deeper as my head bobs over his lap. I feel his hand at the back of my head and don't mind; I have every intention of taking his load and swallowing it. When his cock begins jerking, I only pull my mouth back far enough to catch his jizz upon my tongue; grasping his shaft tightly, I stroke him hard and fast to extend his orgasm.

I don't rush to remove him from my mouth, looking up to his pleasure-filled face as I am milking him of every drop with a hard stroke up the length of his urethra. With my warm, wet lips still wrapped about his purple bulb, I wait for him to look to me before I very conspicuously gulp his seed.

He is obviously delighted. I take a moment to lick his cock clean, then stand as he whispers an invitation, "Wanna sit in my lap little girl?"

"It's a bit too early for Christmas, Santa," I say with a smirk as I am removing my panties. I waste no time, moving on to his lap, grasping his still stiff cock, and forcing it inside my tight pussy, telling him, "But you can give me my present early if you wish."

It takes a moment to get Doc's cock inside me; I had regularly fucked one of the COs, Peter Wilson, but it had been a couple of months due to a variety of road blocks, so I am relatively tight. But once he is balls deep inside me and I feel my cunt stretching to fit him, we are fucking fast and furious with me grasping the back of the couch and him clutching my ass to assist me.

It isn't long before I arch, look to the ceiling, and grunt out the proof of my ecstasy. My entire body erupts in a deep tremble as the waves of euphoria wash over me. I am lost to the joy, not really paying attention to what more is happening between us. As I peak and begin to regain my senses, I hear and feel Vernon coming again, flooding yet another of my holes.

I settle down against his torso, feeling his breath upon my bosom as my chest -- his, too -- swell and shrink with deep breaths. I can feel his heart beating against my tits, and I presume he can feel mine as well.

I sit there, simply holding him to me for the longest time, then finally and reluctantly dismount. I find a clean cloth and wipe some of the fluids -- mine and his -- that are dripping from my hole, smiling to him as I toss him a second rag to clean his shimmering cock.

"Thanks for the treatment, Doc," I tell him as I find and don my clothes again. "Can't wait for a follow up appoint--"

"Oh give it a fucking break you whorish cunt!" I hear a voice call out from the other end of the room. I peak around the privacy screen to find Rosie looking my way. She lowers her head again, saying, "There are injured people here trying to sleep."

I laugh -- blushing, too -- then head for the door, saying, "I should get to my own bed. You'll be safe here, Doc."

I leave, smiling at the aftermath that is still affecting my body. I needed that.

******************​

Administration Building; copy room

POV: CO Andrea Halstead:

Danielle Swenson wastes no time in undressing my lower half, placing me as she wants me, and putting her mouth to me. I feel like such a slut; I've never approached an inmate for sex so blatantly before, and here I am less than 2 minutes later having my pussy eaten out upon a work table.

Danielle is good, and it isn't long before I am writhing in great pleasure at the working of her lips, tongue, and fingers. I rarely cum quickly, and despite the great joy the inmate is causing me, I don't orgasm too quickly tonight either. Grasping the edge of the table as I lean back against a bulletin board, I rock my hips up and down to match her tongue's movements, crying out softly with each exhalation.

"Oh, Jesus...! Oh, Jesus...!" I start chanting as I feel my orgasm nearing. "Oh, Jesus!"

Danielle maintains her repetitive treatment of my clit, and finally I tense up, hold a deep breath, and gasp out in a too-loud cry at the explosion. Danielle doesn't stop working, though; I look down to her and realize she's as eager to give me more as I realize I am to have more.

I need more comfort, though. I urge her upwards, spin ninety degrees, and lay back on the table, urging Danielle to the end and back to between my thighs. She goes right back to work again. I find myself simply amazed as for minutes and minutes and minutes more the inmate works my pussy. Every time I think she's going to give up, she only intensifies her pleasuring of me.

Finally, I explode again … then no sooner am I coming down from that peak, I am sent to Cloud Nine yet again. I finally have to grasp Danielle hair and force her up from my cunt, begging, "Stop … oh God, stop … I can't … take … anymore."

******************​

Administration Building
Warden's Personal Suite
10pm (2 hours ago):

POV: Warden Jessica Benson

How long had it been since I'd heard my wife beg, Go down on me, baby, please? Weeks. No, months. My birthday, actually, 5 months ago. I don't hesitate, of course; I love Valerie's taste, as I love what tasting does to her.

I strip her panties away, pushing the bedding down out of our way, and kiss my way seductively down her wonderful body. I have always been so proud to have landed such a beautiful woman; she has the body of a swim suit model.

I'm soon at her pussy and begin doing exactly what I know will cause her to erupt. But, I'm in no hurry, and I know she isn't either. We get comfortable, and I spend well over twenty minutes simply building her toward orgasm. Only when she begs me to finish her off do I speed up my tongue upon her clit while also slipping a finger inside her to massage a very sensitive part of her canal just behind her clit.

When Valerie cums, she cums hard and long. As -- unbeknownst to us -- Danielle is doing to Andrea a floor below and kitting corner in the building, I persist with my loving treatment of my wife until she has cum yet a second time. The third will have to wait for another day, however; I'm beat, and Valerie is spent.

I move up to kiss her with my lips still coated in her juices, and I pull her into my arms and body in a tight spooning position, the blankets upon us again. I don't ask for reciprocation, and if she offers I will tell her not tonight as I have to be on watch in 4 hours or less.

My last thought of the night is of how I am so lucky to have my wife with me here during this horrific time.

 

[RobbieRand]

Infirmary:

POV: Verson Griggs

As Ruthie Quinn rides my cock with ever increasing speed and energy, I find myself thinking about my sister and the horrific death she must have suffered today. I don't want to think about Josie; I grasp Ruthie's hips and shift her to and fro, matching her own movements, to speed my orgasm and release -- both physical and mental.

I watch her explode; it's beautiful and -- honestly -- a bit loud considering that we are not entirely alone here. But I don't have long to contemplate the attention Ruthie might be drawing as the pleasure is building exponentially within me and I erupt as well. I pull on the beautiful, older inmate until I am as deep within her as I can get and enjoy my second bout of euphoria. I am not thinking it at this moment but I'll realize it later: fucking does seem to ease the pain of my familial lose.

Ruthie collapses down upon me, and we simply hold one another as we enjoy the aftermath. When was the last time I enjoyed sex so much? More importantly, I think -- as the realization of why I am here begins to creep back in -- how soon can I enjoy sex again, and will it be with Ruthie. There are a lot of women in this women's prison, even after the Zombie Apocalypse; will I have my choice of mouths and/or pussies in which to put my cock and -- if only for a few minutes -- forget my tragic loss.

Even as my heart is still pounding and my cock is still semi-rigid, Ruthie is up, dressed, and leaving. I don't say anything; what should I say? I wipe myself as clean as I can, dress, stand, and pause. On the other side of the privacy screen are two more female inmates, and I know that at least one of them knows I just got sucked and fucked because she commented angrily on it.

Deal with it, I tell myself. I push the screen aside, move to the sink, and thoroughly scrub my hands and forearms. I quietly move over to Terri to check her, but she's sound asleep. I look to Rosita wondering whether I should check her, too. I don't; she wasn't too tickled with Ruthie and I waking her with our animalistic grunts, so why wake her again?

The lights were already dimmed a bit to let my patients sleep, but now I dim them even more. I wipe the fuck fluids from the vinyl couch, lay out the bedding that had been provided me, and lay down for a needed nights sleep.

The 9mm Senior Corrections Officer Harold Richards gave me is under my pillow.

******************​

Administration Building; copy room

POV: Danielle Swenson, inmate:

Andrea Halstead finally pleads with me, "Stop … oh God, stop … I can't … take … anymore."

I lift my head from between her thighs, wiping her fluids from my chin and cheeks as I smile with pride. I give her well tended groin another last glance before I basically just walk away, leaving her laid out upon the work table. I plop down onto a triple stack of boxed photocopy reams and watch her. Her chest rises and falls in deep breaths and I can see her legs and hands trembling.

"I trust you'll remember our deal," I say, reminding her that to me this was a business transaction. I look about, find a box of tissues, and pull some to better clean my face of Andrea's pussy juices. "I run the stills … moonshine and brew both."

I can see from her body language and expression that she isn't happy with my post-coital conversation. But fuck, c'mon, this wasn't about lust or love and it certainly wasn't about my own pleasure seeing how I'm still fully dressed. I served her as she wanted. And, to be honest, I'm kinda tired and would like to go back to my cell to get some sleep.

******************​

Administration Building
Warden's Personal Suite
10pm (2 hours ago):

POV: Valerie Marston

I am still lost in the afterglow of my second orgasm when my wife slips upward, bringing the bedding with her, to press to my backside and hold me tight in a spooning position. I reach a hand back to her ass, sinking my nails in as I tell her, "That was incredible, Jessie. I'm missed you."

Several minutes pass as we simply hold one another, then I roll over to face her. I kiss her, then ask, "Shall I?"

She tells me no, not tonight, that she needs sleep. I understand totally, of course. Jessica, once you begin pleasuring her, only ever wants more pleasure. You make her cum, she wants to cum again. Me, I'm like a man; make me cum once, maybe twice like tonight, and I'm ready to roll over and sleep the night away with my mind filled with wonderful dreams.

Jessica? You better be ready for hours and hours of grinding and licking and probing because she only ever wants more and more. Our first night of sex together 7 years ago began shortly after dinner and second glass of wine and didn't end until the sun was just beginning cause the drapes of my apartment turn an increasingly orangey color.

"I love you," I tell her as I once again roll to let her spoon me. She reciprocates the feeling, and I drift off feeling as though maybe I'd been about to make a mistake by telling her I wanted a trial separation to openly see other women.

 

[Alice2015]

Administration Building; copy room

POV: CO Andrean Halstead

I lay here in the aftermath of two amazing orgasms, my mind struggling with the joy flooding my body and the shame filling my brain. Danielle's pointed reminder makes me feel somehow dirty. My previous relationship with Jennifer had been a function of trade, just as this one will be. But it had been or at least had seemed some how ... sweeter.

I sit up and slide off the table and dress without concerning myself with how wet I am after Danielle drove my body to such heights. As I move to the door and gesture the inmate to follow, my heart is still racing and my panties are getting soggy. Why'd you do this? I ask myself. Was it worth it?

I hate how controlled I am by my need for sexual satisfaction and release. I've been this way since I first lost my virginity as a 13 year old 8th grader to an 18 year old high school senior. You would think that 3 unplanned pregnancies, 2 miscarriages, and an abortion would tell me that I needed to find another way to achieve what Danielle had referred to as joy.

"Keep this between us," I demand quietly as I open the last gate to return the inmate to the cell block, "Or our deal is moot."

She makes what ever comment she wants to make or not, I don't care. I lock the gates again, tap on the tablet to return the cameras and motion detectors to proper operation, and head to the locker room to don a fresh, dry pair of panties.

I return to the Control Room to finish out my watch with Peter, already knowing that despite my attempts at hiding what I was doing, somehow he'll know that I was off finding a moment of selfish happiness.

 

[RobbieRand]

This is an OOC Post.

• I don't want to create a separate OOC thread.
• But I want us to have profile sheets for the characters.
• I can then link them to the first post in this IC thread.
• This would clean up the first post and allow us to easily find the profiles for future editing and review.
• Whatcha think?

Here's my first one, and after we get started with them, I will delete the information above in this reply and this will simply be a Profile Sheet.

"Doc" Vernon Griggs: written by RobbieRand

Part In Story: Hospital Medic

Description:

• 5'10", 190#; fit, muscular; 8 inch cock; 32 years old.
• Single; heterosexual; not afraid to play the field, but he might settle faithfully if the right girl came along.
• Former Army Medic; 8 years with two 2 years tours in Iraq/Syria.
• He had no family in the area.

Other Notes:

• He is a straight arrow with regards to law & order, respect to one and all, etc.
• He will go along with the Warden's plan for the prison and its population so long as it is for the greater good. (In other words, Alice, you can write for him when you have a good feeling that I won't have a problem with it.)

Weapons: 9mm pistol and a spare clip by SCO Harold Richards. (He will typically keep it hidden but accessible in the Infirmary.)

History in Cooper Correctional:

• 31 Oct 2019:
  • He was here to visit his inmate sister, Josie.
  • Josie became a Zombie and was then killed by an unnamed CO.
  • Vernon became Prison Medic after the Doctor was killed by a Zombie.
  • He treated both Terri Timms (gun shot wound at the hands of Rosita Alvarez) and Rosita Alverez (bean bag to the ribs at the hand of Olivia Greeley).
  • He had sex with inmate Ruthie Quinn.

 

[RobbieRand]

Valerie Marston: written by RobbieRand

Part In Story: Hospital Medic

Description:

• 5'4", 114 pounds; 34B-22-32; nice hour glass figure. Think Megan Fox.)
• Brunette hair, dark brown eyes.
• People say she looks like Megan Fox.
• Age: 28.
• Lesbian; married to Warden Jessica Benson for 6 years (after 1 year of dating).

Other Notes:

• She was cheating on her wife prior to the Zombie Apocalypse and was about to ask for a trial separation.
• Middle School Teacher, Cooper City (10 miles south of the prison).
• Volunteer Basic Skills Teacher at Cooper Correctional.
• She and Jessica met at the prison.
• She has a sister in Cooper City, who herself has 2 children and a live-in boyfriend. At last check, there were alive and hiding in their home.

Weapons: 9mm pistol; she's never held a handgun before.

History in Cooper Correctional:

• 31 Oct 2019:
  • Jessica made love to her this night for the first time in months.

 

[Alice2015]

Community Center Building
Dining Hall
1 November 2019 -- 0615 hrs:

POV -- Jessica Benson:

I stand in the middle of the hall, turning slowly to meet the eyes or every man woman and child -- inmate, visitor, or staff -- as they encircle me for our first real meal together. I reintroduce myself, despite the fact that all have met me at some point, then repeat some of what we'd discussed the day before.

When I get done, we file through the chow line. The atmosphere is subdued, not that that surprises me. Nearly every person here lost a loved one or close friend yesterday. And, of course, there's the whole we're inside a prison issue. I'm sure that some of the visitors are not comfortable with their family members being surrounded by criminals of all sorts. I'm sure there are even some inmates who fear for the safety of their family members, even if they themselves are criminals.

When it appears that most are done with their meals, Valerie and a couple of other adults, including one CO, takes the youngest of us to the rec' room, just on the other side of the wall from the dining hall. I sit on a dining table to put me a couple of heads above the others and we talk about safety, security, freedom of movement, rights and responsibilities and more.

*******************​

Ruthie Quinn -- inmate:

"I'm not too hip on this Triumvirate idea of yours, Warden Benson," I say when the conversation turns to law and order, the making of new laws and/or rules, and more. "I'm perfectly fine with you being in charge, Warden."

Voices on each side of the debate battle one another until the Warden says firmly, "We're gonna try it, just to be fair. If it doesn't work, we'll try something else."

"I'm fine with you being a benevolent dictator," I tell her, resulting in more loud conversation. She makes a comment about how many dictators begin their rule with benevolence but soon become like most of the other strong-fisted leaders.

*******************​

POV -- Kimberly "Kinky" Washington

"I'd like to leave," I say right in the middle of a conversation about living arrangements. The room goes almost entirely silent, and I stress, "Now! Today, right now."

A conversation begins about the world beyond the fence, getting louder. The Warden tries to silence, but I stand from my seat, and say, "Listen, we don't know what's going on out there, not really. It might be perfectly safe. And Warden, you did say we could leave any moment we wanted, right?"

"I said in a few days," the Warden reminds us.

"Absolutes!" I call out. "You're always talking in vague generalities. You don't give us any specifics. I want to know exactly when I have the option to leave, or exactly how much freedom of movement or--"

The Warden cuts in again, promising, "Give me until the evening meal. Give me the day to figure all of this out. I promise, I will--"

"We will!" an inmate calls out. "I know you're Warden and you're in charge now … so you think we have to follow your rules and that you get to make them. But I think we should start this Triumph thing of yours right now."

 

[RobbieRand]

We are putting this on pause. In PM conversation, we realized that we both have and enjoy the original "Rebuild" game App on our Android phones. So we have decided to play a role play version of "Rebuild" here using Google Maps as our game board. This might be an utter failure. Who knows.

It might be possible to incorporate other players, but for now it's going to be just the 2 of us.

If you have been following this role play, I am sorry that we are leaving you without your fix.