2. In the Quiet

Sorry this update has been so long coming, my intent is to be much more frequently.

Sweets is wrongfully imprisoned in a questionable facility in Louisiana under the wrong identity. While working to get out he finds himself embroiled in prison life despite his attempts to stay out of it all.

Sweets liked the quiet. In the quiet no one bothered him and he could work. Now he was surrounded by nothing but work and he longed for someone to interrupt him with a phone call. It wasn't a law or a rule that people arrested only got one phone call, no that was just a movie myth, like quick sand eating you. Nah, but this wasn't normal jail, this was hell.

It was a consensus that he gathered from most of the inmates, most of whom had done time at other facilities and the result was the same, this was one of the worst places to be stuck. Sweets hadn't been slightly surprised when some mentioned how other prison facilities offered classes, that he knew but what he was surprised by was how many of them actually took them. Still he learned about life on the inside by listening to them, learning and absorbing as though reading an instructional guide on how to make it thru prison life. It wasn't a manual that Sweets wanted to put to too much work but he would take whatever he could get until he could get out of here. As it stood, it was another week until he could make a phone call, it was a reward, one that you had to earn.

Sweets saw the phone call as the only way to get out so while Sweets had no wish to become the model prisoner and thus be targeted by fellow inmates, he decided to keep his head down, go with the plan, get to the phone and get the hell out. He learned the previous week that declaring his innocence and mistaken identity only prompted the other inmates to remind the inmates that each of them too were innocent and mistakenly imprisoned. Sweets was then treated to a beating for a lesson that obedience was the only language spoken at Jackson County Correctional Facility Annex, also known as hell.

Sweets wiped the sweat from his forehead and tried not think of his welcome into hell last week. Sweat was the other reason they called the place hell, hot didn't even begin to describe the atmosphere. 'Lighter than air' seemed like a ridiculous notion to Sweets because here, in the south the air was thick and heavy - it weighed on your shoulders to beat you down if the oppressive heat wasn't enough on its own. It took some getting used to, and Sweets wasn't used to it. The domineering humidity was enough to bring a healthy man sitting in the shade down to his knees, let alone a string of men digging a line thru the countryside.

Sweets break didn't last long but the heat was becoming more difficult to take as the sun continued its rotation. Lunch was a few minutes in the shade with a light sandwich, for that Sweets was glad, much more and he would have surely thrown it up. Bologna wasn't a favorite, cheap bologna was questionable and hot, cheap bologna was deplorable. But not eating your lunch was worse and did provide at least some nourishment that would tide them over into the afternoon.

He sat by himself for lunch, feeling like a conversation or two was about him. He knew he didn't' fit in, he didn't even have the look of a criminal. Even Chet looked like a shady used car salesman you would want to avoid. Still Sweets clung to his resolve that it was a mistake and that he would be plucked from here soon and make the jerks in charge pay.

Now in the afternoon where the sun only got hotter Sweets felt his frame sway in the afternoon heat. Having spent his youth in chess matches, his college years in libraries behind books and his career at the FBI primarily behind a desk he hadn't been conditioned for outside manual labor.

Since lunch he had paced himself. He knew it appeared he had been working slowly but he was working consistently so they said nothing. It was a good approach as it allowed him to continue to work and not pass out. Sweets devoted his attention to his work, his breathing, his rhythm - the combination of which kept him on his feet despite the overbearing conditions of heat and aching muscles from the recent series of hits he had taken.

The other inmates looked over at times, Sweets could feel their eyes on him and could hear them turn to converse with each other in short whispers. Sweets went back to his work until he heard one say 'put me in on another two'. It was then that he realized what they were doing, taking bets on when he was going to pass out, drop dead or plead for mercy. He didn't know the particulars but he was familiar with the set up - too often in his life people expected less of him. He was the too young psychologist, the teenage college kid, the kid who wouldn't break no matter how many times he got beat and locked in a closet. I've been playing this game my whole life guys Sweets thought to himself and it renewed in himself a resolve he had before. It was the ever present resolve to prove everyone wrong, Sweets always bet on himself as he was always determined to win.

By the time he flopped on his cement mattress he didn't feel like a winner but he felt a small smile deep down, he did it, he hadn't passed out, he made it all day. The others walked by slightly curious but didn't speak to him, a feeling that was apparently very mutual. Inside Sweets body was screaming from aches and heat exhaustion and the intense desire to go for a very tall, very cold and very strong drink. Don't think about the outside he said angrily to himself because it gave his body hurt in a different way - longing for something he couldn't have. I guess that's how inmates feel, explains their anger issues. Right, Lance, keep saying them like it doesn't include yourself. No! I am not a criminal, my job is find guys like these and put them behind bars.

"Last call!" A voice boomed and Sweets was removed from his introspective moment. It was the last chance for a shower and he viewed it as the one luxury that existed in life at this moment because he knew it wasn't going to be dinner.

When he stood up he tried to ignore the dizzy spell he was feeling and the nausea that was brewing from his body overheating. Don't throw up Lance, that bologna was gross enough the first time. Sweets tried not to swagger as he headed to the shower, stiff upper lip he joked as he headed that way but deep down he knew that passing out wasn't going to go over well with these guys and h wasn't entirely confident the guards wouldn't start beating him if he did. Just make it to the shower Lance, you're almost there, one step, one at a time.

Sweets felt like he had won a marathon having reached the shower with few outward signs of how terrible he felt. The room temperature water was welcome as the room with no air conditioning was still stifling. Most of the others had already left to be first in line for dinner though Sweets felt in no hurry.

The rush of water quickly washed away the sticky sweat that was coated on his body. He let it run over him until he felt the need to open his eyes and look around but he was the only one in the shower. He took the moment to look at his own skin, purple in places and red in others. Geez what happened to me, he knew the answer but it was the first time he had taken the time to really look himself over in the nude and not concentrate on what was going on around him. Tears formed in the corner of his eye, masked by the running water but he could feel the sting within of the moment, of the sorrow he was feeling for himself though for good reason.

Bad things happened to good people, you know that Lance, you've seen it over and over in cases, you've lived it in childhood. Sweets sighed, but why does this feel so different? Maybe it's been a long time since something bad happened? Maybe this is worse? Worse than being five? Sweets shut off the water and the train of thoughts that was leading to.

He made quick work of drying off knowing he had to hurry to get in line. Get in line, do as you're told. The thoughts made Sweets bitter, this isn't forever Lance. It was while he quickly shaved, a rule in the joint to be cleanly shaven, that he developed a plan. You can't let it get to you Lance, you can't be hurt or sad and thinking of home will only make it harder. You have to shut all that down outside of figuring out how to get out of here or who to call, don't think about them, any of them. Use sarcasm or whatever as a shield against all this but this isn't the place for hugs or sentimental thoughts or psychological assessments. You can't be you, well not the you that you're used to.

With Sweets plan in place he glanced at himself briefly in the mirror and thought he looked a bit older. Maybe it was because he didn't smile and knew he may not for a while.

Sweets quickly got in line and as he suspected he was at the end, but present! - and that was all that mattered here. Oh no, will they be out of delicious food by the time I get there? Sweets thought sarcastically and received his answer, nope, just bottom of the pan burned crap, yum.

Sweets headed to his usual seat at then of the table by himself but quickly found Chet joining him. Yay, Chet's here, goody I hope he talks incessantly. Wait, don't people accuse me of that? Shut up Lance.

"Hey Buddy!" Chet said eagerly as he sat down. Chet seemed a bit wired today though Sweets really tried not to pay too much attention. He wanted to start a psychological profile on Chet, talk him thru why he did criminal activity but he shut the thoughts down and ate a mouthful of mushy goop he couldn't put a taste to, or maybe he didn't want to. Besides, Sweets hated being called buddy, it ranked right up there next to kid, champ and loser.

"Hey Chet." Sweets said in an unwelcoming tone. Left alone, just want to be left alone.

"Did you hear about Madere" Chet asked excitedly again. Sweets wondered why the man was so excited about so many things today. Sweets looked at Chet's hand and noticed a high paced twitch. Don't care Sweets reminded himself, don't get involved in their lives, they're here for a reason, you're not. This is going to be harder than I thought to not help.

"No I didn't." Sweets finally answered as Chet waited impatiently. And I don't care he wanted to add but couldn't totally rain on the man's parade.

"He's headed up to the big house, tonight. Yeah I guess they have room for him." Chet said and began to eat some of his food quickly.

"Right." Sweets said. Who the hell is Madere and why should I care again? Maybe I should play along. "So he's a big to do around here?"

"Ha ha." Chet laughed. "You don't talk like everyone else."

Because I use complete sentences? Sweets didn't want to act superior, he just didn't think much of the criminals he was surrounded by.

"No, he's been here a year. That's pretty long." Chet glanced across the room and looked a guy. Sweets eyes followed and he got the idea that was Madere, a large typical thug in Sweets mind.

"What's he been here for?" Sweets asked.

"Murder. His wife and her mother." Chet answered in a tone suggesting it was as mundane as the weather forecast.

Based on the man's size Sweets was pretty sure it wasn't self-defense on his part.

"They both nagged." Chet added.

"Right." Sweets said looking back at his goop. "Completely justifiable." His sarcasm was as thick as the goop. "What is this anyway?" Maybe now Sweets might get information out of Chet that he actually wanted.

"It's Thursday so that's grits and meat."

"Do you always know what's on the menu based on the day of the week and not by taste?" Sweets asked pushing the tray away.

"Hey you'd better eat that." Chet warned but Sweets didn't seem to pay attention. "You don't eat that they'll make you."

"Is there a problem here?" A guard said appearing.

Great hearing Sweets said to himself. "No problem sir." Compliant, always compliant.

"You'd better eat that. We don't waste food here."

"Food?" Sweets asked, genuinely wondering what the guard was talking about.

"You talking back boy?" The guard asked more agitated than before.

"No, oh, this. Yeah, I'm not really hungry." Sweets said keeping his calm as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Chet seemed to be inching away from Sweets now.

The guard put his hand in a grasp on the back of Sweets' neck as he came close. The room came to a deafening silence as all eyes were drawn to the situation developing.

"You eat what we tell you to eat and you eat it all." The guard hissed in Sweets' ear.

"Okay." Sweets said as the guard loosened his grip. Still Sweets could feel all eyes on him around the room, snickering. He looked up at the guard who was snickering too, he was the joke right now.

Sweets eyes narrowed and maybe it was the heat or the whole situation that clouded his judgment and he forgot the plan for a moment.

"Perhaps you'd like to try some if it's so good." Sweets said holding out the tray to the guard. "I'm willing to share."

The next moment was a little fuzzy in Sweets' memory but Chet could tell him about it later. The guard pulled him up and Sweets reacted naturally by pushing him away earning his lapse in judgment a punch across the jaw tipping him back against the table and before he could turn the guard kicked his leg out from under Sweets and kicked Sweets in the stomach a couple of times when another guard arrived. They whispered a moment and each taking an arm pulled Sweets off the floor and escorted him out of the dining hall.

When Sweets head cleared a bit from the commotion he found himself in small area with a window above. The walls were metal and thin.

"Hey." A voice asked which was mostly what drew Sweets consciousness to a clarity state.

"Yeah?" Sweets asked reaching out to touch the other wall which was a few feet away.

"What day is it?" The voice asked, raspy.

Sweets knew from the menu via Chet. "Thursday."

"Ah, grits and meat day."

"Yeah, it wasn't all that much to write home about." Sweets said though he was beginning to regret his moment of rebellion.

"Better than in here." The answer came.

"How long have you been in here?"

"Mystery beef and beans day."

Sweets thought that was a couple of days ago and wondered how long he was treated to these quarters.

"What did you do?"

"Hey!" A loud voice said banging on the door. "This is solitary not social time."

Sweets waited and listened but nothing else came of the voice next door and he figured it was best to keep quiet. The evening wasn't any cooler and the small space was warm, even the cement floor was warm. Still his body was exhausted and soon he slipped into a dreamless sleep.

The next morning Sweets woke to the sound of trucks starting up and then voices yelling for people to line up. He waited for the door to open but instead the trucks drove away and again there was silence. Oh well, sitting in solitary has got to be better than working in the field. Sweets said though the small space didn't afford him to extend his long legs or even to stand up straight. At first it didn't bother him much until the morning lingered on and he found the small space to be confining, surely the point Sweets figured to himself. If this was better I'm sure every prisoner would find a way to get assigned here.

The space he was in he figured must have been on the outlying edge of buildings he had seen from the window. There were several buildings he had seen but never been to and figured some were offices or places for the officers to eat and take breaks, a laundry and different things. This row of small buildings he thought were storage sheds, the one saving grace was they were placed under a few trees. Right because in sun would be inhumane, this is much better, wait, I thought solitary was outlawed? Somehow I don't think they work with regular rules and regulations here. But I'll get that changed when I get out - there's criminals and then there's law enforcement making their own rules, that makes them criminals right?

The thoughts confused Sweets, he didn't feel like he knew who were the good guys and the bad anymore. You have to stick to the plan Lance, pulling stunts like these isn't going to help you get out of here. I hope you're happy with yourself because you probably just lost your phone call privilege this week. Sweets thought about talking back to the prick guard, it was sort of worth it.

Another hour or so later he would question that idea of being worth it. The small space had one thing, quiet which he once craved and no manual labor which was enticing but the quiet became too quiet and the space too small. The outdoors afforded an occasional breeze, hot as it may have been and the feeling that you hadn't been locked and away possibly forgotten. Sweets tried to fill his mind not with thoughts, thoughts would lead him to thinking about people. Stick with the plan, don't think about how you're not supposed to be here, don't think about friends, just think about nothing. Nothing would soon prove impossible for a mind that was always spinning. Okay, music, just think about music. Sweets tried to fill his ears with the sounds of music, symphonies that lacked words or sonatas he had played on the piano. Even for a trained psychologist the solitary state was proving difficult.

The heat continued to rise and the small window in the roof only let in a small breeze and a small rectangle of light. Small slits were cut at angles leaving air to come in but nothing he could see out of, it was more of a vent. Sweets tried to press his face against the cement floor hoping to draw some coolness out of it. There was little to be found except for a small breeze he suddenly felt and looked for the source of it. At the base of the space was the thin metal wall. Another prisoner had either worked some of the metal back or the cheap and poor work of the manufacturer may have allowed it to warp over time. Sweets pressed his face to the corner of the space and could see a small view from the corner which he realized was the last solitary square of the section leaving his on the end but mostly he took in the fresh air. He laid his head down and tried to relax, breathe in the fresh air and relax as much as possible.

It wasn't a restful nap, Sweets wasn't even entirely sure he had slept since it was such a mixture of eerie quiet and strange atmosphere. The quiet dissipated as he heard muffled raised voices that soon escalated to yelling.

"That's not it!" One voice shouted quickly gaining Sweets' attention. He looked thru the small space which only afforded one eye any vision so he had to look closely. There was a truck and a building in his view. Soon he saw a man, a prisoner he recognized from yesterday, Madere.

"Just get in the truck." A guard shouted.

"No!" Madere shouted back as the other guard pushed the handcuffed prisoner towards it.

Sweets was confused, he thought the man wanted to be transferred to the big plush house, why was he resisting? The men were out of view though Sweets' eye desperate searched for them.

"Don't make me…" The guard said but a scuffle ensued between them and their voices grew muffled.

"He's escaping!" One of the guard shouted.

"No!" Madere's voice shouted followed by the sound of a gunshot and large body dropping to the ground. There was quiet again.

"What the hell is going on here?" Wallace's voice boomed from the other direction. Sweets could see Wallace in view looking to the ground and rubbing his head.

"This was not the plan." He said not as loudly as before and quickly looked in the direction of the row of solitary confinement as though he had forgotten something.

"That's why I shouted…" The one guard said but Wallace raised his hand to cut him off.

"Just take care of it." Wallace said softly, so soft that Sweets would not have heard it except for the breeze carrying their voices thru the air and thru his small opening.

Wallace turned and walked back to his office leaving a clear view of Lee and Gary, two of the guards, loading Madere's dead body into the back of the truck.

Sweets mind was spinning faster. What the hell is going on here?

Reviews welcome, trying to keep this one interesting and not spiraling crazy. Reviews are welcome or even just a smiley face or a check mark to note that you read it as it's nice to know people are stopping in. Hope you enjoyed either way. Maybe more today to make up for my lack of recent updates - hoping anyway.