The Machine - 8 - Jail
3 minute read
Jail was the worst place to be in the tunnels. It was cramped, loud, dirty, dark, hot, and smelled like the bottom of a fuel barrel. Cole sat on the floor in the corner, seething and grinding his teeth. This place was reserved for thieves and thugs and deserters, not Cole.
The room was nearly packed full of people, most sitting on the ground, some pacing in tiny circles, and a few who wormed their way to the bars up front and called out for help every now and again, but no help ever came. Jail was mostly a holding spot for people until the system figured out what to do with them. Occasionally a trough was rolled out on the opposite side of the bars and a free-for-all took place to grab whatever grub they decided to get rid of. Cole wasn't hungry and kept his spot in the corner nice and warm.
"Pss." A whispered voice came from somewhere in the huddled masses. A few prisoners parted and a short man weaseled his way through them. "You new here?" The man pushed a few people out of the way and sat next to Cole.
"What do you need?" Cole asked.
"I don't need nothing," the man said. His breath smelled like trash and his teeth were crooked and yellow. "You need something?"
"Yeah, I need to get the fuck out of here," Cole said.
The man laughed. "Better get cozy," he said. "You ain't going nowhere." His teeth disappeared into his mouth as he licked his chapped lips. "Root," he said.
"What?" Cole asked.
"Root. My name's root."
"Cole."
"What brings you in here now?"
"Some bullshit shoveling accident."
"Shoveler, huh?" Root asked. "Repairman myself."
Cole's mind flashed back to the explosion and the repairman disintegrating into the blast. He shuddered.
"You alright, fella?"
"Fine," Cole said.
"Could I trouble you to tell me more about the accident?"
"Yes, actually, you could."
Root held his hands in the air. "All right, fine. Sorry to piss you off."
"It's not you, I just don't want to be here right now."
Root laughed again and the stench of his breath wafted past Cole's nose. "You and the rest of us, buddy."
Root's clothes were frayed, his shoes were worn flat, his patchwork beard unkempt, and his hair was disheveled and clumped together. "How long have you been in here?"
Root stared off into the distance. "Best I can figure is a couple months."
Cole's eyes widened. "What the hell did you do?"
Root's teeth appeared again in a big smile. "I didn't do nothing, just like you."
"Yeah, but I mean it, I didn't do what they're saying I did."
"Yup," Root insisted. "Just like me and everyone else here."
"Calm down there, pal," Root said. "You gotta take it easy or you'll get kicked outta here."
The word caught Cole's attention. "Kicked out?"
"Yep," Root said. "It's the only way I've seen people actually leave."
"What do you mean?"
"I've seen plenty of people come in, a few every week I figure. Funny thing is, they don't let nobody leave."
"But you just said-"
"I said people get kicked out. It's got nothing to do with them being released."
"I don't understand," Cole said.
"A few of us," Root said, "Have been around for a while. We don't like you, we can get you dragged away."
"Dragged away, as in not in jail anymore?"
"I don't think you understand," Root said. "You get kicked out of jail, but they got something much worse for you out there."
Cole looked around at the twisted, agonizing faces of the crowd. There was urine soaked spots on the wall, vomit in another corner, and the ceiling was caving in above them. He couldn't imagine anything worse than the tunnel jail. "Look around you, what's worse than this?"
Root laughed. "They toss you in the machine."