Chapter 7
Morning was an unwelcome event, as she had no desire to once again face the world she was condemned to live in. Disturbing dreams plagued her sleep, in which the prisoners crowded around her, their hands clasped behind their backs, leaning in all at once, as if she were looking through some distorted lens. They looked at her as if she were some alien, some creature that didn’t belong. She struggled to strike out at them, but her hands wouldn’t reach, or she couldn’t find the strength to make a fist. She woke repeatedly throughout the night, slamming her hand on the alarm clock when it finally rang.
More of the same.
She tried to go through her daily ritual, of first getting into her slippers, putting away her dirty clothes, and then getting in the shower. But she forgot to replace the towel she put in her hamper the night before, and had to run naked and wet into her bedroom to get another. Then it was the mouthwash that wouldn’t cooperate, spilling all over the floor and her clean legs, dousing them with the unmistakable scent of chemical. She spilled her bottle of stims, forgot if she even took one, and ended up doubling the dose. She groaned as the toaster refused to eject her bread, and by the time she realized she was out of juice, she had reached a low simmer of fury.
The walk to her group wasn’t much better, as the prisoners seemed to leer and taunt her even more, reaching out with their foul hands, trying to soil her clean body. More than ever before she was hyper-conscious about the touch of another, shrinking in anger from Colin when she passed through the metal detectors. She sighed, when he thankfully knew she wasn’t in a mood to be toyed with. She thought about stopping by Elestor’s office again to ask about John, but just didn’t need more bad news that early in the morning.
Then, as she sat down for her group, she saw that it had a couple of more additions. She had a note on her computer that Simon wasn’t feeling well, and there would be some additions to the various groups. Three of the new inmates she didn’t recognize, but the fourth’s name sunk to the pit of her stomach like a lead balloon.
Ian.
She plowed into her routine, scarcely looking any of the prisoners in the eye. Out went the drawing materials, on went the clock to time them in their exercise, around the group went her finger, singling out each of them to explain their five-minute masterpieces. As she got to Ian, she knew he wouldn’t be able to resist taunting her, and he did.
“How would you explain your work?” she asked curtly, glancing over his drawing.
“Pleasure,” replied Ian with a silly grin, followed by a quiet chuckle. “Just pleasure.”
Something in her snapped. She knew she was over-agitated from the double dose of stims, but she was also pissed off at Ian’s smugness. “Really?”
“Yeah, that’s all,” he shrugged, spreading his legs wide, revealing the firm mound lying in wait. “Pleasure.”
She looked up, and Philip was standing nearby. She had requested him after the last group, and thankfully, Todd complied.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you.” She faked concern, her lips pursing in discontent. “You’ll have to speak up.”
“It’s about pleasure,” he said, with almost a yell, responding to her challenge.
Elaine glanced at Philip, who was attentive as usual. He came behind Ian with his baton drawn.
“Now Ian, I’m trying to be nice, but you need to cooperate,” she said in a calm, even voice, almost saccharinely sweet. “I’ve asked you twice, and I’m just not getting any answer. What does your drawing mean?”
The other prisoners glanced at her, then at Philip, and then quickly slid their chairs away from Ian. Half of them couldn’t believe what was about to happen, while the other half couldn’t care less.
“It’s . . .” stammered Ian, now utterly confused and a little scared as he kept glancing back at Philip, “it’s about pleasure, and—”
Elaine shrugged. “I wish you would cooperate,” she said with a deadpan smile. She nodded at Phillip, who plunged the baton’s head into Ian’s neck. Ian grunted, almost falling headfirst into the floor. He sat back down carefully, pleading with his eyes to Philip, who answered with a thin smile. “Now Ian, I wish you would respond. I’m only doing this for your own good—we need to share, to make any progress. Now, what’s your drawing about?”
Ian was beginning to sweat. He turned to the other prisoners for help, but they avoided him, pretending nothing was happening. He turned back to face her, not knowing which way to answer.
“Well . . . it’s about, a feeling that I have, when good things come—”
Another nod from Elaine, and this time Philip brought the baton squarely down on Ian’s head, with a sound that seemed to be like the breaking of bone. Ian tried to stand, and that’s when Philip let loose with the baton. Though to outward appearances the guards swung at random with their batons, in fact each of them went through an extensive training period detailing which were the best pressure points on a man’s body. Philip exploited those now, bringing what was a physically superior foe down to his knees in excruciating pain in less than two minutes. When he was done, and Ian knelt in a small pool of his blood, Elaine came and stood over him.
“I would give you a hand up, but I’m afraid you might not take it,” she said slowly. She took a deep breath, feeling a great deal of pleasure from looking on his broken body. “Oh, you were talking about pleasure! I think I know just what you mean.”
After her group cleared the room, Elaine was left alone to clean up her things. She paused, sitting behind her desk, her hands shaking.
Did I just do that? She replayed the incident with Ian in her mind, the point that Philip let loose on Ian’s head. I actually enjoyed that. Despite her disgust, her lips curled into a smile. I . . . enjoyed that. And I would do it again, if any of those little shits fuck with me again! She took a deep breath, and as she exhaled, a good deal of her doubts and hesitations, her worries and fears, went out as well. She was about to clench her fist in triumph, when the door slowly closed.
“Hey, Lainey.”
Her face almost went white, as she saw who it was.
“Hello, Isaac.”
“Quite a day!” He strode over to one of the chairs, and sat down. It was the first time he ever sat in front of her, like he was an inmate, and it seemed utterly ridiculous to Elaine, but she just couldn’t bring herself to laugh. He ran his hand through his thinning hair, pressing it even closer to his scalp, sending a few errant flakes of dandruff to join their partners on the shoulder of his shirt. “Seems like if it isn’t Big Man runnin’ rampant over a few counselors, then it’s some dumb shits in the cafeteria messin’ with euals.”
“Yeah. It’s been a full couple of days.”
“And you know, I see it all, Lainey. While I may not be Holis—after all, I don’t got any special powers—I do feel like a Holis, lookin’ through my cameras at all that goes on in here.”
“Really?” weakly asked Elaine, who felt as if she was being pressed into a corner. “I’ll bet you see some things.”
Isaac stretched his arms high over his head, all the while keeping his eyes trained on her. “I sure do, Lainey, I sure do. I see all, and know all. For instance, I know your little secret.”
Elaine struggled to keep herself together. Something about being branded a failure was utterly repugnant to her, yet if Isaac knew about her late-night escapade, it was all over.
“Do you?”
“You didn’t think I’d find out? Now, mind you, it did take some searchin’. Somethin’ ‘bout that fight seemed all wrong. And when I went over the camera feed, and saw you sittin’ so close to the feed-line, I knew somethin’ was up.”
The feed line? thought Elaine. He must be talking about Ian and the eual. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, Lainey, don’t play coy with me!” he bolted to his feet, now looming over her. “Who told you ‘bout the euals?”
“What do you mean?”
Isaac let out a long sigh. “I’m not some dumb-ass
fool! The one time you sit close to the feedline, the one time a eual spills food on a prisoner, it happens to be Ian, who gave you trouble the day before.” He chuckled to himself. “A part of me actually respects what you’ve done. I always thought you didn’t even know what a spine was and here you got Ian back. But the other part of me sees all the trouble that could come about, and that’s why I’m here.”
“Oh. Well, some of the paint was chipping off one of the euals, and I thought I recognized the color. I did some checking, and found out about their history.”
Isaac nodded. “They do need a damned paint job.” He smiled wryly. “I still think you got some info from someone, but I’ll take your word on it. So long as you don’t do any shit like this again. You wanna get back at a prisoner for acting like an ass? Then do it through us. We’re more than happy to put a man down, that is, for a small fee.”
“Isaac?”
“What, Lainey?”
“What are you doing to John?”
“You don’t need to know, and you don’t wanna ask.”
Isaac left, and Elaine sat back in her chair.
Do I really care that much about being here? Who would I disappoint if I left? Why do I even want to stay here, do this disgusting work for people who couldn’t care less about me? She walked to one of her windows that overlooked the central recreation area. Below her, one of the cellblocks of prisoners were having their time, lifting weights, throwing a ball around. At least they know why they’re here. Her thoughts grew cloudy and distant, as unbeknownst to her the Manipulator pushed her doubts back in her mind. I guess we’ve all got to be somewhere, do something. She gathered her things and headed to a meeting with the other counselors, her mind suitably distracted from a crisis of conviction.
Elaine thought all her troubles were behind her, until at the meeting Sarah brought it up again.
“What’s this I hear about Ian being slammed down?”
They all sat in the conference room—all of the counselors, in addition to Doctor Elestor. Through the afternoon they went over the status of the various prisoners and their progress reports. Elaine dreaded when Ian’s name would be mentioned. She sat in silence now, shrugging in answer to Sarah.
“I mean, I’ve never read of any time when Ian was slammed down,” continued Sarah, her voice rising to her usual irritating whine. “He’s a sick one, but he’s known his place since he got into this prison. What happened, Lainey?”
“He was non-responsive to my questions,” she replied flatly, without any emotion.
“Really?” asked Sarah slyly and sarcastically, as if she was waiting for that answer. “Well, Isaac didn’t report anything out of the ordinary, and he reviewed the entire security tape. He said it shows Ian responding to your questions.”
“Why the third degree, Sarah?” demanded Oliver. “I read the report—Isaac wasn’t in the room, Philip was. Why are you questioning the report of a guard who was on scene?”
“Honestly Sarah,” chimed in Michael, who was still on her bad side, and enjoyed challenging her authority now whenever he could, “it’s not as if Ian’s some damned angel. It’s right there in his psych work-up, that he’s prone to fits of excessive violence and passive-aggressive behavior.”
“Then why would Isaac conflict with Phillip’s report?”
“Who knows what’s on Isaac’s agenda today. More drugs one day, more cigarettes another. I even heard rumors he was trying to smuggle in weapons.”
Sarah snorted with laughter. “Now that’s just absurd. He knows the danger—I don’t know who you’ve been listening to, but they’re fooling with your head.”
She carried on for a few more minutes, telling Michael how stupid she was. Elaine nodded to Oliver in thanks, and after the meeting caught up to him as he walked back to his office.
“That was real good of you to do that for me.”
“No problem, Lainey. I owed you after you saved me from John.” He stopped for a minute. “I’ve been meaning to apologize to you. I know how close you are to John, that is, I know you understand him, and I got myself into trouble with what I did. So . . . we even?”
She grinned. “Of course.” They walked on to his office. “Have you heard anything about John? No one wants to tell me anything, and he isn’t in the sickbay, Elestor won’t answer my questions, and neither will Isaac.”
“This isn’t the first time shit like this has happened, Lainey. Once in a while, when a prisoner crosses that line one too many times, they take him somewhere, and do things to him. It’s only happened twice before, and both times, that prisoner died, never to be seen again.”
Elaine took a deep breath, as the fear ate at her stomach. Why do I care so much about a damned prisoner? What s it about John that makes me so concerned?
“You alright, Lainey?”
“Yeah, yeah.” She decided to change the subject. “Do you think Michael was lying about Isaac smuggling in weapons?”
“Who’s to say? It sure wouldn’t surprise me. The only question is; what for? I mean, we don’t have any gangs in here, in fact, we have very few prisoners who feel any allegiance to any other. This has to be the most individualistic prison I’ve ever been in. The only reason for the prisoners to work together would be to kill the guards and escape. And even then, I’ll bet a few would turn on each other.”
Something had been nagging at her all afternoon, especially after her thoughts were converted by the Manipulator. “You ever think they’re using some mind-tech on us—on them? I mean, we have our situations and everything, but you’re right, they’re all too well divided to be some coincidence.”
“Well, if they are, it wouldn’t be without the complicity of at least Todd, if not Sarah, or another of the doctors. The biggest question in a prison, whether you’re an inmate, guard, or doctor, is; who do you trust? Nowhere else is trust up for sale like in here.”
She stopped in the hallway, for some reason deciding to lay some of her cards on the table.
“Do you ever find yourself thinking of something, then, for no reason, your mind loses interest, and focuses on something else?”
Oliver glanced back and forth, making sure they were alone. “What were you thinking of?”
“Being here. More accurately, why we are here.”
Oliver nodded. “I’ve had those thoughts too. But, that’s a consequence of having our memories repressed. We don’t remember going to school, getting a degree, marrying someone or having children. We have no sense of accountability or responsibility in respect to our lives. So, the Manipulator is the safeguard. When it senses our thoughts straying, questioning our purpose, it intervenes. It gives us our purpose, so we don’t do something to destroy our lives. You’ve seen it in so many of these inmates, Lainey. So many of them don’t posses that moral inner-voice, that doubt or concern about embarrassment or failure. We call those people sociopaths, and we are akin to them, without our memories.”
Elaine smiled in understanding. Why don’t I like him? I’ve never liked him, and yet, here he is helping me understand. “Do you ever think the Manipulator does more than just that? How deep is it controlling our reactions to one another?”
“Who knows,” shrugged Oliver. “We have our own personal Holis, and every day we need to have faith that it is making the right decisions for us, for our futures. Honestly, I try not to think about it. I just live my life, do the best I can, and hope it will all turn out. Oh, and don’t forget, it’s your turn to give the motivational speech to the inmates. Let me know if you need any help preparing . . .”
She watched as Oliver walked away, feeling markedly better without him in her presence.
You can be like that, but I need to take charge of my life, of my fate. The last thing I’ll do is leave it up to some damned computer.
The next night she stole out again, after a short nap of three hours. The doubts she had died easily, as she actually looked forward to sneaking around, despite what happened to her the night befor
e. She dressed even more carefully, in black pants and a black shirt, and with three pairs of socks on which she managed to glue the rubber stops from the bottom of the furniture in her room, for traction if need be. She also found herself working out after her last group, in the main yard, though the prisoners didn’t quite know what to make of it. Many of them kept watching the guards, waiting for them to turn away, so they could try to grope Elaine in some way. Others ignored her completely, as they didn’t want any more abuse.
The main stumbling block was the initial checkpoint between the civilian residences and the cellblock, and luckily, for now, Phillip was still on guard. She gave him another pair of her underwear—the ones she wore the night before, and they aroused him even more. As he checked her by, she began to wonder how long it would be before even he might try to use force against her.
I’ll be ready by then. Another week of working out, and I know I’ll be able to handle him.
She stole through the corridors, this time staying more to the center, so not only wouldn’t she be caught by an errant hand, but so she could get some vision into the cells she would pass. It was a Friday night, and the prisoners were more tired than usual, as they worked out hard to relieve the pent-up stress of having nowhere to go. Often she wondered about the morality of making them aware of which day of the week it was, but she also knew their victims would take great satisfaction at the continual reminder of the lack of opportunity they had.
She made her way up two levels, crouching several times in the shadows as a guard would pass by. She not only had to contend with the surveillance cameras and their movement cycle, but with the unpredictable nature of the guards around her. Only two were on at night, but they hated each other, so they tended to walk more than the others. She also had to make sure she was out before the euals began their patrol, and they were much more systematic than the guards. A few times she stopped as noise issued from a cell near her. Grunts and groans told her that a few other prisoners were loose, with the guards’ consent.
More shit to watch out for.
Finally, after a full hour and a half, she was in a small, tight hallway she had never been in before. The Isolation Ward was the one place counselors were forbidden to go. Slowly, she made her way paste each of the five doors, finally spying John lying in the last.
“John?” she whispered low. She heard the rustling of covers, and his bare feet on the floor.
“Elaine?” He came slowly to the door of the cell on his knees, appearing tired even in the darkness. “What’re you doin’ here?”
“I was worried about you. You weren’t in sickbay, and no one told me where you were. Are you . . . are you alright?”
“I’m gettin’ there,” he groaned as he leaned against the bars of the cell. “They’d shake me outta bed, pour ice water over me, and then beat where they beat me before. Then the next night they’d—”
“Don’t, John,” she whispered, forcing herself to hold back tears. “You need to put it behind you, if you want to forget.”
“I don’t ever want to forget!” he cried in a loud whisper, so much so that Elaine instinctively crouched down lower, hunting for a shadow to disappear into. “You have no idea what I went through, what they did to me. I can honestly say that I’m lucky to be alive. I actually think they were surprised that I still lived, after what they did. I have bruises on me that will never go away . . . I know I did some bad things, but one day, they shall pay. We will summon the strength, and with valiant strides we shall crush them, and restore . . . restore . . .”
Elaine moved closer. “What are you saying?”
“I . . . I don’t know.” She could see him shake his head in confusion. “It’s like I did know, but have forgotten.”
Elaine had heard him spout off typical comic-book clichés, but that sentence hung in her mind, as if it came from another source.
“But for the first time,” continued John, as if he were confessing his soul, “I feel like I can remember. They did something, when they tortured me, that they didn’t expect. They pushed me so hard, that it broke something within me—just not what they expected. I can feel . . . a kernel, a core of strength, of fury within me. I am focused like I never have been before, and with each passing hour, I grow more confident, more emboldened.”
“You need to keep that to yourself, John. Don’t let them see strength. Let them think they’ve broken you, and—”
“I can’t do that, Lainey! I can’t, I won’t play the fool any longer! I am a man, and I deserve my dignity, my honor, my self-respect!”
“But you also know when an enemy has the advantage.” She didn’t know why, but she knew he would understand a military analysis of the situation, better than anything else. “You are behind enemy lines, with no weapons, no transport, and right now, no hope for escape. You want to get stronger? Then you need time to heal, and to do that, you need to disguise yourself. Blend in. For if they smell the faintest whiff of strength, of nobility, they will redouble their efforts to break you.”
“I . . . I cannot be broken, Lainey. That’s something I learned about myself.”
“Then you will survive playing the fool, a little while longer. So you can grow even stronger, understand even more.”
John smiled, and nodded. “You’re a smart one, Elaine, and I shall consider your counsel.”
She sat back on her legs, letting out a small sigh of relief. “When are they letting you out?”
“In a few days,” he said, moving back to a small mat on the floor. He kneaded his shoulder, and she could see that it was at one time dislocated. She gazed at him in awe of the extreme pain he suffered through, physically and mentally, and yet his ability to remain sane. She felt he would be not only a perfect soldier, but a great leader, as not only would he inspire men to follow him, but he would take the point in any assault, any charge. “Sure will be nice to stand up again. Sure will be nice to see you again.” He yawned, and Elaine moved slowly away.
What is it, about this place, about these people? she thought to herself, as she descended quickly to the second level. I know what’s wrong, but it’s like my mind won’t tell me what it is.
She moved more efficiently than when she ascended, as one of the guards needed to relieve himself. As she descended to the second level, and began to work her way around to the next stairwell, something in her bid her to be still. After her recent experiences, she knew now to listen to that inner voice, and she did. She sat on her knees, for a moment being utterly silent—not only in her motion, her breathing, but even in her thoughts. In that moment, her entire self was silent, listening, watching, waiting.
Then she shifted slightly back into the shadow. She was crouched next to the small triangle the stairs made as they intersected the floor—only enough shadow to fully hide her legs. But she pressed against the wall anyway, as she heard the footsteps descend the stairs. She didn’t look up, for it was as if she knew exactly who it was. As he rounded the bottom, she subtly turned her body, leaning forward one second, pressing back and down the next, in perfect response to his line of sight. The guard walked on, completely oblivious to her presence.
Damned lucky.
She knew she should move on, but now the thrill, the excitement was in her, and she stealthily followed him. She didn’t have far to go, for in a few moments a cell door opened. She crouched down two cells away, and listened.
“A little late, aren’t you?” said an effeminate male voice, one she recognized as Luke’s. “I was starting to get worried.”
“Yeah, well, even I got things to do,” replied a voice she knew to be Colin’s. “Now come on—take ‘em off.”
“Where’s my stuff?”
Colin cursed under his breath, as she could hear a packet being thrown on the floor.
“Satisfied?”
“Not yet, lover.”
She heard the rustle of clothing and the groan of the men as they started. Normally not one to be the voyeur, something in her
again made her stay, until it was done.
“That’s right, you take it all Sarah!” yelled Colin, as he grunted even harder. “Fucking smug bitch! Take it all . . .”
She heard more clothes rustling, then the opening of the cell door. She desperately wanted to move away, back in the shadows, but again something bid her stay.
“Sure would be funny if your wife learned about this.”
“Yeah,” chuckled Colin, “you go tell her the minute you get out.”
“Why do you wanna fuck Sarah anyway? Ain’t she a little old and dried-up for you?”
“Yeah,” said Colin wistfully, “I suppose so. I just fuckin’ hate women who think they’re better than men. I mean, at least Lainey knows ‘er place. She might get riled up once in a while, but we slam ‘er down, and she goes quiet as a damned mouse. But that fuckin’ bitch Sarah, goin’ around screwin’ Michael in front of everyone’s face, then actin’ like she’s Holis, well, I’d just love to get her in a cell and make her cry and scream.”
“I’ll bet you’d even kill her, wouldn’t you?”
Colin was quiet for a moment. “Damned right,” he said in a low voice.
“You are one sick bastard, but I guess that’s why I want you so,” said Luke.
Elaine knew the time had come, and she scurried quickly and quietly to an alcove a few meters away. As she tucked herself in, she heard the cell door close, and Colin moving up the stairwell.
Knowledge is a prize worth any cost to attain, my friends, she thought to herself as she moved down the stairs. She was on the final corridor leading to the exit, when a voice summoned her.
“Lainey?”
She turned, and it was coming from Ronald’s cell. She moved over cautiously, scanning the area all around.
“What’re you doin’ back in here?”
“I had to make sure John was alright. What do you want?”
There was a moment of silence in reply before he came closer to the bars.
“Do you trust me?”
“This is a prison, Ronald,” she said flatly. The one thing she knew was when to remind the prisoners of reality. “It’s difficult to trust someone who has done something to belong behind these bars.”
“I know . . . I know, but well, you just seem different. And sometimes, when I look in your eyes, I think I see a kindred spirit.”
She glanced around her again. “I need to move off, Ronald. The euals will be coming on soon, and the last thing I need is to be caught in here.”
“I know, I know. Can I just show you that you can trust me?”
“How?” she asked, bewildered. The cell door opened in reply. “You’re . . . how long has that been unlocked?”
“Something’s wrong with the mechanism. It unlocks midway through the night. I discovered it a few months ago, but never told anyone.”
She thought back to the previous night when she came to visit him—when he held her hand.
“So you see Lainey, I could’ve jumped on you that night. But I didn’t, because I . . . I really cherished that moment.”
Cherish? she thought to herself. Damn these prisoners come from all different backgrounds.
“Yes, I cherished it, Lainey. I don’t expect anything from you. All you need to know, is if you’re back in here again, after dark, and you need a place to hide, I’ll gladly let you in.”
She glanced up into his eyes, and saw he was sincere. For a moment she forgot who he was, and saw a warm soul reaching out to her.
“Thank you, Ronald. I can’t tell you how much that means to me.” She reached out her hand, and he held it, gently.
“Now you move on back, Lainey. I’ll be thinking of you.”