Chapter Text
September 1, 1998, Timber, Maryland.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
Rock’s hand fumbled around the nightstand, before finally slamming the alarm clock silent.
He let out a long, tired groan.
“…Another day.”
The Japanese-American lay staring at the ceiling for another moment before forcing himself upright.
The apartment was modest—small enough that he could cross it in a dozen steps—but it was clean, affordable, and only a fifteen-minute drive from work.
Dragging himself into the bathroom, he began his familiar routine.
Brush his teeth.
Shave.
Comb his hair.
Coming out he buttoned a crisp white dress shirt, tightened his navy-blue tie beneath his collar, and slipped into a pair of neatly pressed black slacks before grabbing his identification badge from the kitchen counter.
Breakfast was simple.
Toast.
Eggs.
Coffee.
Nothing fancy.
After rinsing his plate, Rock locked the apartment behind him and descended the weathered wooden staircase leading to the parking lot below.
Waiting for him was his faithful—but increasingly rusty—1985 Nissan Maxima.
Its faded paint succumbing to the Maryland weather, while the engine had developed a habit of not wanting to start—every other morning.
Rock sighed.
“Come on…start for papa?”
The starter groaned.
Groaned one.
Groaned Twice.
Then reluctantly coughed to life.
“That’s my girl.”
Across the narrow street, an elderly woman sat quietly on the front porch of a modest little white house, knitting beneath the cool September morning air.
Mrs. Paczynski.
She’d introduced herself the day he’d moved in and had been waving to him every morning since.
“Morning, Mrs. Paczynski.”
The elderly Polish woman looked up from her knitting, offering a warm smile and a gentle wave.
“Dzień dobry.”
She added something else in Polish.
Rock smiled apologetically, rubbing the back of his head.
“I really need to learn Polish.”
Mrs. Paczynski chuckled to herself, shook her head, and returned to her knitting.
Rock shifted his maxima into gear and eased out of the driveway onto the street.
Cruising down the two lane highway for a couple miles, it wasn’t long before he crossed into Timber city limits.
A few hundred homes were scattered along its side streets, most built decades earlier for lumber workers and their families. Here and there, an aging trailer sat tucked back against the tree line, barely visible from the road.
Chain-link fences enclosed small yards where dogs barked as they ran from one end to the other. Children’s bicycles lay in driveways beside aging pickup trucks, porch lights clicked off one by one as people left for work.
A school bus lumbered down the opposite lane, stopping a few hundred yards down the road before disappearing around a bend.
Behind a roadside diner preparing for breakfast, sanitation workers emptied dumpsters into the back of a garbage truck, its amber warning lights flashing against the windows of the surrounding storefronts.
Rock continued through town, passing the Timber Volunteer Fire Department. Two firefighters stood outside washing mud from an aging pumper from the 1970s, while another checked equipment inside one of the open bays. Parked beside it sat a rescue truck that looked nearly as old as the engine itself.
A block farther down, the post office had just opened for the day. A mail carrier loaded trays of letters into a white LLV while two retirees occupied the same bench they did every morning, sipping Styrofoam cups of coffee and quietly watching traffic pass.
Further ahead sat Timber Fuel & Market.
Rock eased off the road and pulled in behind one of the station’s only two fuel pumps.
After shutting off the Maxima’s protesting engine, Rock stepped out and headed inside. A small brass bell jingled overhead as he stepped through the front door.
“Morning, Okajima.”
Jane looked up from the register and gave him a small wave.
“Morning, Jane. You haven’t seen Benny yet, have you?”
Rock grabbed a Styrofoam cup from beside the coffee machine, filled it nearly to the brim, then helped himself to a Snickers bar and a bag of Ranch Doritos before making his way toward the counter.
Jane shook her head.
“No, I haven’t…”
She glanced out the front window.
“…Oh. Never mind.”
Rock turned just as a faded 1979 Toyota Corolla wagon rattled into the parking lot.
It somehow looked even worse than his Maxima.
Benny pushed through the front door, the bell jingling overhead.
“Yooo! how’s it hanging, Rock?”
Rock greeted Benny.
“Hey Benny, I’m doing good, well… About as good as a prison psychiatrist can be anyway.”
Benny chuckled.
“Right, right…say, Jane can I get a—“
Without saying a word, Jane had suddenly reached beneath the counter and set a fresh cup beside the register.
“Cream. Two sugars.”
Benny blinked.
“…Thanks?”
Jane smiled
“You’re welcome.”
Rock took a sip of his own before pulling out a twenty dollar bill and sitting it on the counter.
“I’ll pay for mine and his…Ben, you really should buy a new car.”
Rock turned his attention back to Benny as they began walking away.
“With what money?”
“We work for the Bureau of Prisons...”
“Exactly.”
Jane snorted.
“I’ve seen what they pay you.”
Benny grabbed a pack of peanut butter crackers off the shelf on the way out the door.
“You’ll have to pay for that next time!”
Jane called after Benny as he and Rock walked back to their cars.
The Maxima pulled onto the highway.
The battered Corolla followed close behind.
As they began exiting city limits, Maryland State Police barracks T, sat on the left.
Three late 80s Chevrolet Caprice patrol cars were parked outside, Off to one side sat a beige Ford Bronco with push bar and police lights mounted to the front and roof.
Major Callahan’s truck.
Within another mile, Timber disappeared into the rearview mirror, replaced by dense forest and the winding mountain road that climbed toward Roanapur.
The Maxima rounded the final bend, and Roanapur Federal Medical Center came into view.
Perched on the mountainside overlooking the valley below, the sprawling brick-and-concrete complex looked more like a college campus or school house than a prison, from a distance. Rows of razor wire crowned the outer fences while guard towers overlooked the surrounding woods.
A weathered sign stood beside the entrance.
FEDERAL BUREAU OF PRISONS
ROANAPUR FEDERAL MEDICAL CENTER
AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY
He pulled up beside the security booth and lowered his window.
The correctional officer inside glanced up from his newspaper.
“Morning, Mr. Okajima.”
“Morning.”
The officer compared Rock’s face to the ID clipped around his neck briefly before pressing a button.
The hydraulic gate lifted open.
Behind him, Benny’s Corolla coughed to a stop at the same booth.
The officer laughed.
“Still running I see.”
“Barely.”
“It’ll outlive us all if that’s the case.”
“That’s the plan.”
The gate opened again, and both cars continued toward the employee parking lot.
Inside, the lobby smelled of floor wax, coffee, and disinfectant.
Employees streamed through the metal detectors one after another.
After Rock and Benny passed through the metal detectors themselves they reached the first checkpoint.
The heavy steel door slid open.
Rock stepped inside the narrow sally port.
Behind him—
CLANG.
The first door locked shut.
Then the second began to open.
The pair continued into the staff corridor.
At the first intersection they stopped.
“See you this afternoon?” Benny asked.
Rock shook his head.
“If I don’t get swamped with work…”
Benny laughed.
“I hear you.”
The two went their separate ways.
Rock followed the blue stripe painted along the hallway floor toward the Medical Services Unit.
The farther he walked, the quieter the prison became.
Administrative offices gave way to reinforced doors.
Windows disappeared.
Concrete walls replaced drywall.
The air carried the faint smell of bleach.
A nurse pushed a medication cart past him.
“Morning.”
“Morning.”
Inside Medical Services, Feng sat behind the reception desk typing away at a computer.
Without looking up, she spoke.
“You’re three minutes early.”
“I know.”
“So was Dr. Chang.”
“I’ll try not to make it a habit.”
She slid a clipboard across the desk.
“Morning evaluations.”
Rock glanced at the list.
Only a handful of names.
Nothing unusual.
Yet—
“Anything happen overnight?”
Feng finally looked up.
“Only three fights.”
“…Only?”
“No one died.”
Rock blinked.
“I guess that’s… good?”
She shrugged.
“For Roanapur…”
A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
“I’d call it a quiet night.”
Rock wasn’t entirely convinced.
He turned the page and headed deeper into the psychiatric wing, where another set of reinforced doors waited for him.
Rock walked up and knocked twice on the partially open office door.
“Come in.”
Dr. Chang never looked up from the stack of paperwork covering his desk.
“Morning, Rock.”
“Morning, Doctor.”
Chang gestured toward the chair opposite his desk.
“Take a seat.”
The office was quiet except for the hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional crackle of his prison radio sitting on the filing cabinet.
Chang closed the folder in front of him.
“How’s your first week been?”
Rock shrugged.
“I’m getting the feel of it.”
Chang nodded thoughtfully.
“Thats good. Because….”
Chang reached for another folder before he slid said folder across the desk.
A photograph paper-clipped to the front showed a clean-shaven Hispanic man in his early forties. Calm expression. Dark suit. Eyes that seemed to stare through the camera instead of at it.
Alberto Camarasa.
Rock opened the file.
“Transfer?”
Chang nodded.
“Yes sir-re, transfer from ADX Florence might I add.”
Rock raised an eyebrow.
“They’re sending someone here from Florence?”
“They’re sending him to us because they believe he requires long-term psychiatric evaluation.”
Rock looked back down and continued reading.
Espionage.
Conspiracy.
Domestic terrorism.
Attempted assassination.
He looked back up.
“He doesn’t look particularly unstable—radical and extremely opinionated, sure, but nothing to suggest psychosis.”
“He isn’t.”
Chang folded his hands.
“Which is precisely why this has intrigued me—”
The desk phone rang.
Chang picked up.
“Dr. Chang.”
A brief pause.
“I understand.”
He set the phone down.
“That was Rico, the bus driver? They’re five minutes out.”
Rock closed the file.
“Anything I should know?”
“Yes.”
Chang leaned back in his chair.
“Do not mistake cooperation or kindness for harmlessness.”
Rock nodded.
“I understand.”
“I hope you do. Head out and wait with Captain Sofia and Boris will you?”
The blue bird bus rolled slowly up the mountain.
Behind the wheel sat Officer Rico, closing his phone while he had one hand resting casually on the oversized steering wheel as the radio blasted Free Bird for all to hear.
Behind him, separated by steel mesh, sat a single inmate wearing an orange transport jumpsuit and waist restraints.
Alberto stared silently out the window.
He hadn’t spoken once during the three-hour drive from Baltimore all the way up to Garrison County.
In the guard seats directly in front of the prisoner section sat Officer Eda and Officer Rebeca, better known as Revy.
“So what type of shit does a fucker like you have to do to be handpicked form the most secure place on planet fucking earth just to be dumped in some shithole nut house like Roanapour?”
Eda laughed, blowing bubble gum from her lips.
“You don’t get it sister, this guy here?”
She gestured to him.
“He’s a real whack job, bastard probably thinks he’s some god sent savior of the universe and we’re all government drones waiting for the puppeteer’s hand up our asses to tell us what to do.”
Revy stretched her arms, groaning as she looked out the window.
“Whatever. I just can’t wait to get off this damned bus—I feel like I’m melting into this fucking seat.”
Inside the secure receiving bay, Captain Sofia stood waiting.
Her black uniform was immaculate.
Not a single wrinkle.
Not one loose thread.
Her silver captain’s bars gleamed beneath the fluorescent lights, while the brim of her peaked cap cast a shadow over her eyes.
Sofia checked her watch.
“They’re four minutes behind schedule.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“They were expected at 0900.”
“There is road construction outside Oakland, I was told by one of our guards, Captain.”
She nodded once.
“Acceptable.”
A moment later, Rock stepped into the receiving bay, his white lab coat standing out sharply against the black uniforms of the two in front of him.
He stopped beside Boris.
The distant growl of a diesel engine growled louder and louder until the large bus stopped directly in front of them. Opening its doors.
“Let’s welcome our new guest, hm?”
Sofia gave a small smirk, a contrast to her scarred face and body.
Psychiatric Intake Room:
Two correctional officers remained inside the room while another waited outside the reinforced steel door.
Rock sat across the metal table, Alberto across from him.
His lab coat draped over his chair and his clipboard resting in front of him.
Alberto folded his hands neatly in his lap.
“Hello, Mr. Camarasa. My name is Rokuro Okajima, I’m a physician employed at RFMC. Do you know why you’re here?”
No reply.
Rock opened the intake file.
“ As required by our policy, I am required to ask you a series of questions, would that be ok with you?”
“Just get it over with.”
Rock clicked his pen.
“Can you state your full name for the record?”
“Alberto Camarasa.”
“Date of birth?”
Alberto answered.
The interview continued.
Simple questions.
Orientation.
Medical history.
Medication.
Sleep.
Appetite.
The works.
Rock finally reached the section he’d been waiting for.
“Have you ever experienced any hallucinations or believed you saw things that weren’t there within the last five years?”
“No.”
“Delusions?”
“No.”
“Thoughts of harming yourself?”
“No.”
“Thoughts of harming others?”
Alberto considered the question for several seconds.
“Only under circumstances I believed justified.”
Rock looked up.
“You say that very matter-of-factly.”
“You asked a matter-of-fact question.”
Rock wrote something down onto his clipboard.
“Do you regret your crimes or have any remorse for said crimes?”
Another pause.
“I regret that innocent people suffered and got hurt.”
“What about those you believe are guilty?”
Alberto met his eyes.
“I have no opinion worth sharing.”
Rock closed the folder.
“I believe that concludes our interview.”
The heavy steel door shut behind him.
CLANG.
Rock exhaled.
“…Phew.”
“Ha, it seems you’ve lasted longer than 80% of the shrinks I’ve seen come and go. That’s impressive for a new guy.”
Rock turned.
Revy leaned against the wall with her arms folded, smug look on her face.
“Came to check if he bit me?”
She snorted.
“You wish, I’m just bored as hell.”
Rock ignored her and walked towards her.
“Being honest he was… surprisingly polite.”
Revy rolled her eyes.
“Yeah? well that’s because he’s still getting the lay of the land.”
“ lay of what?”
“The lay of the land?”
She pushed herself off the wall.
“They spend the first couple days figuring everybody out—then bam! You’re missing an ear, an eye or worse!”
Rock frowned.
“You make it sound like they’re predators.”
“If you don’t see 'em’ that way you're a dumbass.”
She started walking down the corridor.
“Come on, I’m starving.”
Rock checked his watch.
“But it’s barely past 8–“
“Yeah? Well I’ve had my ass stuck in the same fucking bus for three hours straight listing to free fucking bird on repete while being flanked by the most annoying bitch in America.”
“I HEARD YOU, YOU WHORE!”
Eda yelled from down the hall.
The two ignored her, and together they disappeared down the corridor as another steel door buzzed open ahead of them.