The Kid stood in front of Manley's desk with two guards flanking him. At least this time he'd been allowed breakfast before being brought here. He didn't know why he had been summoned, unless the warden had finally decided the letters from Heyes were too much of a temptation for him. The thought of losing that connection left him feeling on edge. He wasn't sure why the warden would make such a decision either, because having something worthwhile to look forward to, made it a lot easier for him to focus on keeping out of trouble, which surely could only be a good thing for them all.
The Kid might have been irritated, if he'd had the energy, when the warden took several minutes to acknowledge his presence after he'd entered the office.
Finally he looked up at the Kid, his gaze serious. "You and several others are being transferred to a private prison out near Colorado Springs. Wyoming is looking to save some cash and you long term prisoners are something of a drain on resources. So they've decided it's just cheaper to ship you out." He paused and the Kid thought he saw something like amusement in his expression, but it was so quickly gone that he couldn't be sure. "We don't know when, but I'm told no later than the end of next week."
"I weren't never wanted in Colorado!" The Kid was shocked into speaking, because even in his worst imaginings of what his future might hold, that outcome had never even entered his head.
The exclamation earnt him a hard smack in the stomach from one of his escorts, which briefly doubled him over, before he straightened, his breath coming in short gasps as he sought to control the pain. His mind was spinning as the warden continued his explanation.
"You can be sent anywhere the state or territory feels is a suitable place for you to serve your sentence. Doesn't matter where you committed your crimes. Someone ought to have explained that to you."
The Kid began to process exactly what the possible consequences of a move were, and a dozen possibilities, none of them good flashed across his mind. He remained silent and started at the floor, hoping to hide just how worried he was. Staring at the highly polished wood, he attempted to control the anxiety and hint of desperation that was threatening to swamp him.
Somewhere new meant starting over with a different set of rules and it'd been hard enough for him to adjust to living under the current set. He had no way of knowing what his fellow prisoners would be like, nor even if he would be forced to share with someone looking for trouble. He couldn't even inform Heyes about the move, which meant he'd likely be without letters for months or at the very least weeks, if he was even allowed them at all.
What was a private prison anyway? Would he be able to receive and write letters? What exactly would he be expected to do as an inmate? Would it affect the length of his sentence? He had so many questions, but didn't voice a single one. He doubted he'd get any answers if he did, bruises most likely, but definitely no answers. He didn't believe that a private prison would be an improvement on what he was living with now and with his luck he thought that there was every chance that it'd be far worse.
The positive feeling that seeing Heyes even briefly had given him, was gone, swamped by a burst of anxiety that was hard to see round. His future never bright, suddenly felt considerably darker.
XXX
"Up. Get up now."
The Kid was startled awake by the harsh voice and the too familiar heavy clanging of the bars. It was quiet and dark in his block and unlike most mornings he was the only one being escorted to the dining area, so he realised that today was the day of his transfer.
Despite believing himself to be prepared, he couldn't help the anxiety that gripped him as he swung himself off the narrow bunk, shivering in the cold air. Very unwilling to show the two guards just how difficult he was finding the thought of being moved, he took advantage of the need to dress and tidy his bed to take steadying breaths and attempt a poker face. But as he risked a sideways glance at the guards, he saw with some resignation that they clearly realised just how concerned he was and one of them even found it amusing.
The Kid shoved the watery gruel into his mouth, even though he had little appetite, because whatever trials today might bring, not having eaten anything would definitely only make them feel far worse. He had barely swallowed his last mouthful, when he was pulled roughly to to his feet with little warning. "No time to dawdle, 83! Time's a wasting."
He was led down towards the bathing area and as they came close to the doorway, his feet started to drag unconsciously. He always attempted to control what had become an almost instinctive reaction to this area since his beating, but he rarely succeeded, much to his frustration and some of the guards amusement.
He was shoved through the door and felt his heart speed up as the smell of damp assailed his nostrils. A bath in the far corner was already filled and he was pushed towards it. "You know what to do. Now get a move on."
After his shackles were removed, the Kid stripped quickly, forcing himself to ignore the tormenting flashes of memory. He sank down into the bath before the guards could make him and flinched as the cold water hit his skin. He splashed his body reluctantly and used the rough cloth to wash himself, almost relieved when he was waved out and prodded until he was standing in the centre of the room, cold, dripping wet and still naked. He shivered as he was re shackled roughly, the metal biting into his chilled bare skin
Without warning, one of the guards came to stand in front of him and yanked his jaw down, forcing thick fingers into his mouth. He gagged and tensed up before managing with some difficulty to relax and endure the uncomfortable but brisk search with little resistance. However as the probing shifted to his more intimate places, he flushed and stiffened. He shuffled in an attempt to move away and despite his restraints pushed back against the heavy hold. A hard crack across his lower back nearly overbalanced him. "Don't start with me, prisoner. This is standard procedure."
The Kid glared, in carefully mute defiance at the man responsible, which led to another smack, this time across his shoulders. He was forced down to kneel on the floor, his bare knees impacting heavily with the rough surface. Breathless and uncomfortable, the Kid gritted his teeth attempting to fight the sudden need to react. He wasn't entirely successful in maintaining control nor staying calm and with his body tight, he stared angrily up at the man as he said. "You really want to do this prisoner?" As he spoke, the guard yanked the Kid's head back to a painful angle causing his neck muscles to protest loudly.
The Kid knew that Davis was a real sadist, his punishments often far exceeded what was needed for the infraction committed. He wouldn't hesitate to embellish any perceived defiance, so the Kid was aware that it was very likely if he continued, that he would start his time at his new prison in solitary, battered and bruised.
With this in mind he forced his limbs to relax in the man's tight hold, almost ashamed at his weakness. But as he knelt in silence, the bruising grip on his hair preventing much movement, the fierce anger quickly faded and was replaced by the almost constant exhaustion which had dogged him ever since his stay in the infirmary and it was suddenly almost easy to stay passive.
He did despite the tiredness still find himself entertaining thoughts of retribution, which he obviously didn't manage to mask, because Davis lifted his free hand to slap the Kid across the face. As he did so however, the second guard, Willis, the Kid thought his names was, stepped forward. saying in some frustration. "Just let him be Bob. He's not done anything that deserves punishing and you've made your point clearly enough. If we're late, just 'cos you feel the need to beat him bloody for no reason, 'cepting that you can, I'll have you explain to the warden why we kept them escorts waiting." As he finished talking, he glanced down at the Kid, who was surprised at the sympathy that he caught in his gaze. Their eyes met briefly before the man quickly looked away as if he were embarrassed to be caught caring about a prisoner.
Davis sighed, definitely reluctant to give up his sport, but after a few moments released his hold on the Kid's head, before yanking him back to his feet. The expression that crossed his face as he stepped back, made the Kid feel exposed and gave him an uncomfortable prickling sensation down his spine. Willis as if sensing something moved in front of Davis impatiently and unshackled the Kid. He handed him a clean uniform and as soon as he was dressed, quickly re shackled him. He took hold of the Kid's shoulder in a firm but not painful grip and directed him back out into the corridor, leaving Davis to catch up.
The Kid arrived at the transport waiting area, which resembled a horse coral, but with guard towers at regular intervals, manned by heavily armed men and noticed that there were already three other men waiting. An inmate who he knew simply as 55, Morgan from his own block and a man he had only seen at a distance.
The coach the four of them were loaded onto, looked just like a normal stage, there was no mention of US Marshals, Colorado State or even Wyoming in the livery. Even their escorts wore nothing to indicate who they were working for, although they were armed with rifles and looked much the same as every other prison guard the Kid had come across in the past months.