Chapter 2

Jake was still asleep when I dragged myself out of the heater drains crawl space. I noticed about halfway back that I had left the lens cap behind and had to crawl back to get it. Nothing will get you a full body cavity search faster than having missing tools. I then remembered that I needed to finish taking the photos, so I crawled back in, once again. Crawling back, and absolutely sick of moving on my hands and knees, I got up and stretched before I shook his foot gently. Once, a few years ago I’d grabbed his shoulder to wake him up, he had me by the wrist and the throat faster than I’d believed possible, but hey, I never claimed to be a fighter ... before now.

“We’re late...” I said as I gathered up his makeshift bed and put the still-warm jacket on. “You been fighting someone?” He asked over his shoulder. Even if he didn’t know the way, he would have led when we walked anywhere. “Not fighting somebody” I said. I was splitting hairs and knew I’d catch a ration of shit about it when he figured it out. “It’s real nice down there, you should come along next time...” “I’ll be fine not knowing just how nice it is down there” he replied dryly. “Now, just how late are we?”

The answer was ‘really, really, really late’, and the C.O. let us know is his displeasure, loudly, and by assigning us to toilet duty for the next week. Jake took it stoically (knowing I’d be doing the work) and I cringed. Besides cleaning the shitters, you were in the shitters for a long time, everyone knew you were there, most importantly, everyone knew you could be found there. If anyone wanted to drop by for a chat, all they had to do was ask to go to the John.

Day 1 wasn’t bad, most of the guys hadn’t heard there was a duty swap. Day 2 was scouting missions, guys dropping by to have a look at us, maybe taunt me by commenting on how nice my hair looked. A few wolf whistles. Everyone knew that Jake wasn’t doing the work, and a few of the newer or stupider guys would try to get past him to get to me. Unless he was willing to take a few fights, I was wide open, or so everyone thought. That evening Jake brought it up. “They’ll be coming tomorrow...” he said tersely. The stress of the slow, inevitable, conflict that had me waking up in cold sweats only had him a little wired. This was the part where I had to ensure that he had my back. He was literally going to have to take a beating to prevent me getting raped. This was the part where most guys my size ended up on their knees, or their hands and knees... “Don’t fret,” he said. “I got this...” and I could hear him roll over, ready to sleep.

Part of me wanted to know why, part of me wanted to offer him everything I had, and most of me just wanted to cry with relief.

I tried to cry as quietly as possible. The Lion was going to need his rest for tomorrow.

We had a 9:00 appointment, right after chow, two fat black guys, both named Amos believe it or not. They were just openers, opportunists testing Jake’s resolve. They backed down when he didn’t, fully aware that he could easily take them both. I cleaned like my life depended on it.

The 10:00 trio were three thin Hispanics, all of them had been ‘turned’ on the inside and now found teaming up to be a ‘Top’ once in a while to be a refreshing change. A bit of shoving and pushing and they were out the doors, some harsh words passed out. I kept my ears open, but my eyes and hands busy with the cleaning.

11:00 was a single, huge white guy named Stan. He was bad news, and worse was the idea that a guy of this caliber showed up so early. This was a real fight, and although Jake got the best of him, he took some pretty bad body-blows. It was almost like Stan was just softening him up.

Noon was lunch, and Jake had some bruises that were already starting to show. He did his best to not show it as we walked the serving line. I followed in his wake, trying not to notice all the extra smiles directed our way. We were eating in silence when the New Guy sat down.

Sitting down uninvited at your table isn’t like walking into a guys Cage, but it wasn’t far off. “You gonna take the whole yard?” The big dude opened with. I’d heard them call him Sarge as a nickname but didn’t know his story. Jake just kept spooning his soup in silence. “Ol’ Stan just gave you a hard time. It’s only noon on Tuesday...” he added, as though we needed reminding that we had roughly 4 & 1/2 more days of this. I was trembling so hard I decided not to even try to eat my soup and was contemplating just how much grease I could hide in my mouth to use later on my ass.

For his part, I watched from the side of my eyes at Jake put down his bowl, and looked Sarge directly in the eyes. A deliberate taunt if ever I saw one, but at the levels these guys worked at, keeping your eyes down was not an option.

Sarge stood up... “See you boys later...” he taunted in return as he walked away.

I barely heard it; I’d never heard Jake whisper before. He was either silent, or loud. “He’s the guy I gotta kill”. It sounded like a question maybe?

“Jake,” I whispered as we walked back to the CO to get ‘our’ cleaning tools. “I’ll live, you gotta let them past, I’ll hate it, but I can’t let them kill you, I’ll survive. There’s too many!”

He stopped walking, turned around and looked me straight in the eyes. “What makes you think that this is about you?” He said calmly ... too calmly.

1:00 was a repeat of 11:00, more punishment to Jake, and he was hurting and tired.

2:00 was another pair guys, they both got beat pretty bad, and Jake took very little punishment, “The calm before the storm...” he said.

He wasn’t kidding. Sarge himself showed up at 3:00 with two others but stood back and watched as Jake took them apart. I think he put out his best effort for his audience, but he looked like he’d been in six fights at this point (which he had). Sarge carried the two guys off with a “See ya tomorrow boys...” over his shoulder. Nobody else showed up for the rest of the day.

I was silent through dinner. Jake skipped PT hour (no surprise) and I walked alone to the mats for some stretching. I’d worked my shoulder sore by doing all the cleaning for two, but I knew better than to complain. Jake was sitting on his bunk when I came back. I wanted to talk about all the catcalls I’d had in the gym and on the way back, but he looked like hell, and I didn’t need to add to his torture.

I waited until lights out, and the inspection had passed until I spoke. “Jake, I have a plan...” I said into the quiet dark below me.

“If it involves you surrendering your ass you can forget it. If I lose: that’d be one thing but if I give up, that’d be the end for both of us. We ain’t got much in this place, but what I do have is respect. The respect of the cons, and the COs and most importantly, myself.”

“I give up and it’s all gone ... It ain’t no different if you do the givin’ up for me. It’s all the same.” he said calmly

I thought about it and decided that I had no choice. “Jake, I got a shiv...”

He was out of his rack and standing in a second, looking me in the eyes. I pulled out the Dagger from ‘under my pillow’. That was the first time I ever surprised him. The look on his face went from surprise to anger in an instant. As soon as I saw that, I put it into the invisible place I kept it. His face went back to surprise again. “Can you use one of these?” I asked hopefully, and made it reappear in my hand. I carefully turned it around, holding my breath and hoping he could touch it. He took it lightly from my palm and moved it in some interesting and scary looking patterns. Anyone with eyes that worked could see he’d used one before, maybe many, many times. “Robbie,” he smiled. “You’ve just been promoted from Groom to Footman!” and with that, he handed me back my dagger, made a little pretend ‘swish and flick’ like he was using a magic wand, and I disappeared it into my safe space. “We’ll talk tomorrow” he grinned, some light back in his eyes.

We were up before the lights. “So you’re telling me, that I slept through you leaving through a magic portal, you went camping and ate roasted rat, were given a dagger and a magic Zippo?” Basically that was true, I’d left out some stuff though. “Holy crap, I’m going with you next time” he said, flipping the dagger back and forth. He’d run through some forms with the knife as I watched from the top bunk. “This is perfect, you can’t even see the machining marks. I wanna have it on me all the damn time, but I’d get caught. Take ‘er back Robbie” I took it from him, well, really I just touched it and it disappeared.

Jake went off by himself for a bit on the way to breakfast, nobody paid any interest in me picking up two trays of breakfast, and carrying it to where we normally sat. Maswebe the giant was sitting across from where I put our trays down. Jake sat down, grabbed half my toast, bacon and eggs, then started on his own meal. It’s been that way for ages. “Maswebe is gonna take you in for a few weeks Robbie...” Jake got out in-between bites. “You be nice to him, just not too nice. Got it?” I nodded; I didn’t get it at all. This guy was gonna tear me up, and ain’t that what we were trying to avoid here? Maswebe just smiled at me.

“What the hell Jake, you gonna cast me down with that giant of a sod?” I said between clenched teeth on our way to the COs office to collect ‘our’ stuff for the cleaning duty today. “You’ll be fine, Mas’ ain’t gonna touch you for two weeks. You just do for him exactly what you do for me and everything will work out. This evening I’ll be leaving for 10-12 days, but I’ll be back. Now, get this bucket full of foamy water, and drop that Fairbairn in, point down into the sponge” I was worried, Maswebe had an absolute hogs-leg and wasn’t shy about using it. His cell mate Phil ‘Filley’ was often walking uncomfortably in the mornings and was losing weight fast. A sure sign of a man in a spiral.

I got to work. Jake surprised me by getting some soap and spreading it around on specific surfaces, getting some water and soap on his clothes. He stopped after ten minutes and looked around, placing the bucket with the dagger in it in a very specific place and washing then drying his hands and the bottom of his shoes carefully. My protector then sat down and began to breathe deeply. He didn’t have long to wait.

Sarge walked in alone, looking like he was ready for it. Jake still looked really sore from yesterday’s beatings, and kinda bedraggled with the water and soap marks on his shirt. Sarge stopped about 10 feet away “Any last words?” He asked. “Yea,” Jake replied. “Robbie, remember what I said.”