3. Robtic

Sorry this is a short update but I wanted to not have a gap. Enjoy, a few more seeds planted.

Sweets has developed a plan to comply in order to get out but old habits die hard as he finds it hard to not to react when bullied. He draws upon a life time of questions and techniques to adjust to the situation and while his resolve is to not get involved he finds it nearly impossible to not question Chet's twitch and the newly murdered inmate.

It wasn't the end of restful sleep that woke Sweets late that afternoon but the rumble of the returning trucks that made his dark eyes flutter open. He sat up from the floor in the hot space filled with stale and toasty air. He listened carefully as the men exited the vehicles and filed inside. It was then followed by more silence. Sweets waited for the door to open which sadly reminded of a regrettable childhood when he would be locked in a closet while he would be gone for hours. It would be then, like now, when Sweets was unsure if he wanted the door to be opened or not but either way the anticipation was acutely painful.

He waited in the silence when no one came. He leaned towards the wall he had heard voices from last night.

"Hey." Sweets said softly as he tapped. No response. "Hey." Sweets repeated. There was still no response. I didn't fall into that deep of a sleep, they couldn't have taken him, did he pass out or die? Should I call for help? I can imagine what that might bring. Do I risk being beaten for a stranger? And at that a stranger who is a criminal? Does every criminal deserve a sort of standard? It was then that the memory of Madere came to mind. Was that a dream? Maybe I'm hallucinating, the last thing I ate was lunch yesterday, I could be hallucinating from hunger and heat exhaustion. Sweets swallowed hard as he rubbed his dry and tired eyes. It wasn't a dream, I know it wasn't. So what now? Solve a murder or just be busy trying to survive?

The steam that hung in the air fell slightly as Sweets kept one eye on the light that faded in the open space above in the roof. Maybe I should cry for help, maybe I should kill myself… Sweets dry and parched lips moved to the lyrics of a song that came to mind. He felt like the song, which played angry and loud in his mind. Music kept him sane in a way, a middle ground that kept him from thinking of friends or of his present situation too much. But the song selection in his mind had changed in the last few days from Sam Cooke to angry rock, the music was only a start of the significant changes taking place on Sweets. Maybe I'm not listening… Sweets continued to sing when the metal door creaked on its hinges as it was rapidly opened. Sweets jumped in surprise and covered his eyes. Thought it was late evening's the yard was highly illuminated for security. His eyes weren't used to the light which caused a stinging pain he tried vainly to avoid by shielding it away.

"Come on! Out!" The guard shouted but Sweets couldn't see him. "Unless you get out you can stay in there another day."

Sweets was sure the guard was aware of the light issue but doubted he cared much, in fact it was quite possibly the opposite and he reveled in the moment.

"Coming." Sweets said not even recognizing his own dry and hoarse voice.

Still trying to adjust to the light slowly and exhibit movement Sweets pulled his feet along the cement, dragging himself towards the door while his eyes and face remained in the crook of his arm. Once he reached the door however the guard pulled his arm down and Sweets felt a rush of fear he might be taken away like Madere.

"Hands at your side!" The guard ordered and Sweets did as asked and squished his eyes as tightly shut as he could in the harsh outdoor lights that beamed down from above. The guard nudged him forward and Sweets opened his eyes a slit to see where he was going. He was being pointed back towards the bunk house.

"Man you are ripe!" The guard taunted.

Amazing deduction for a guy who spent a day in a hot space and sweated all day, a real couple of geniuses here. Sweets said to himself as he walked to the bunk house, slowly.

"Come on we haven't got all night!" Lee, the guard said egging Sweets on but pushing him with the barrel of his rifle.

Sweets was walking about as fast as he could but everything ached from the small space, the hot day and the lack of food despite his lack of physical activity.

"Don't worry, you'll be back in shape tomorrow, back on the line." Gary the guard said as Sweets now recognized his voice. He wanted to comment on if the two had a busy day but he didn't welcome a revisit to solitary so he kept quiet, stayed in line, tried to walk as fast as he could but kept his eyes to the ground where the light bothered him the least.

When he arrived at the door into the bunk house he stopped upon seeing a set of two highly polished leather shoes. Sweets looked up and creaked an eye open farther to see Wallace.

"Before I let you back in here tell me you've learned your lesson from 24 hours in there."

"Yes." Sweets said not looking the man in the eye.

"Is that all?"

"Yes sir." Sweets seethed.

Wallace cleared his throat. "That's better but I don't think you mean it."

Sweets wanted to tell the colossal prick just what he did mean but he bit his dry tongue.

"Now I want you to hit the showers, shave, we run a tight, clean ship here." Wallace said.

So he's more concerned that I'm shaved over the fact I'm about to drop dead from dehydration. Perfect.

"Now go on." Wallace said stepping aside, having spoken to Sweets as though he were an errant child.

Sweets didn't look back he was too tired to and focused instead on propelling himself forward. He was tired, he felt old and to say he felt like shit would have been an improvement. He ignored everything and headed to the showers where few people were having showered before dinner. Sweets again found the space to himself, the water rushing over his skin gave it a sense of hydration and life and by the time he was done, he felt far more conscious than before. He shaved, every day per the warden so they were all clean shaven, and handed his razor to the guard who waited at the door - all razors were accounted for. Sweets paused while handing it to him, he hadn't recognized this man before, he seemed different. Sweets headed to his bunk having little interest in much else buy lying down but Chet soon appeared.

"Hey buddy." Chet said and though Sweets didn't want to open his eyes to look at him, he noticed Chet was on edge again, jittery, pumped up. Sweets felt the opposite, dead on his feet.

"Glad to see you made it back." Chet added hoping to spur conversation with Sweets but Sweets had little to add.

"Yep. Made it back."

"Yeah you caused quite a stir." Chet's remark made Sweets curious.

"Yeah huge upset in the pool. No one had money on you, until last night."

Oh goody, instead of lying low I'm getting more attention on me.

"Really? How's that?" Sweets asked tepidly though he asked any emotions.

"They didn't think you had it in you. Granted they don't think you're He-man but you know, a few of the guys were impressed."

Sweets rubbed his head and joked referencing a popular novel's phrase. "Ah well I aim to please."

"Really?"

"No Chet it was a joke. I just want to do whatever it takes to get out of here. That was a stupid stunt I pulled." Sweets yawned and enjoyed the fact he could stretch out and took full advantage of it though his feet from his long legs dangled over the end.

"Ah, well, the guys enjoyed seeing someone fight back. Everyone wants to you know." Chet said and seemed a little calmer before, maybe depressed.

"You alright Chet?" Sweets asked and regretted it immediately. Before he would have implored Chet to open up but here, he wanted to keep his head down and move on as quickly as possible.

"Yeah, it's just hard for you know, guys like me here, you know, guys like you. We're not big guys like them." Chet said.

"Yeah." Sweets said but something else was on his mind. "Hey Chet, you said Madere, he uh, headed up to the big house right?"

"Yeah, lucky bastard. He was here for breakfast and then went to do some paper work. Bastard probably had half real chicken for dinner."

"Right." Sweets said propping himself up on one elbow. "Nothing seemed strange?"

Chet's head turned with curiosity. "Why?"

Sweets noticed the new guard looking at him closely and felt the desire to lower his voice. "Nothing, just curious." Sweets said and looked down but nodded to the guard. "Where did he come from?"

Chet was less obvious and looked around. "Oh him?" Chet asked nearly pointing at the new guard. "Yeah he showed up at supper. Why what's up with him?"

Sweets noticed Chet seemed to be exhibiting a sort of paranoia or a serious curiosity.

"Nothing, just a funny feeling in my gut." Sweets said lying back down. "But maybe it's just starvation." Sweets wanted to laugh but it felt too true as he rubbed his eyes and noticed it was quiet. He opened his eyes to see Chet was gone and that an apple was a few inches from his face. Sweets looked up at the man who was holding it out to him.

"It's not poisoned." Dean said and Sweets took it.

"I wouldn't necessarily turn it away if it was." Sweets answered and quiet bit into it for he shouldn't have had it. "Thanks."

Dean sat on the cot next to Sweets. "What you did yesterday was very stupid."

This was not news to Sweets who suppressed an eye roll and agreement when Dean kept talking. "But I understand why you did."

With that the conversation was over and Dean got up and left. Sweets nodded and secretly ate the rest of his apple, almost including the seeds and stem there was so little left of it. Sweets thought of Dean, he's a murder but he seems nice but Sweets couldn't help but battle the basic instinct for comradery but it was a contradiction considering those he was most associated with were murders and such. Even for a psychologist he felt confused, too much to take in over a week's time.

Sweets looked around the room, he wondered if the man in the cell next to him from solitary was free, was he here? Or was he another figment of his imagination? No Madere died, I saw that, it was real, that guy was real, this is all real. But what am I supposed to do about it? Sweets rolled to his side and decided to forget about all of them, he would keep his head down, thoughts clear and bide his time. And those guards and the warden he had come to hate? He would get back at them and it wouldn't be for stupid pranks in the mess hall.

The next day was Saturday which was special detail for some but he was still on the warden's shit list so back to work on the line he went. The day was hot as hot as hell, which was normal for hell Sweets had decided and he was happy for the smaller group that was one the line because it seemed quieter. Sweets concentrated on his work, he looked down and few things entered his mind but occasional angry song lyrics and math equations. He soon found the ability to shut off his mind and move like a machine, a machine that wasn't used to hard, manual labor. A few times he started to feel sick, adjusted his pace and made it thru. Sunday was much of the same, he concentrated on his work, always looking down at his work and concentrated on his pace and his rhythm and by Monday he hardly felt the same nausea.

The nights were the same with a shower once nearly everyone else was gone and in line with little food left. Food with no taste for a mind that was running on cruise. It wasn't until Monday's dinner that he looked up and noticed something.

The silverware clanging made him look up. At his table that used to be for one now sat Chet and the newest addition, Dean. Neither Sweets or Dean filled the air with much conversation, Chet did most of the talking and Sweets was pretty sure that Dean enjoyed Chet about as much as he did.

"See the new guys?" Chet asked causing Dean and Sweets to glance up as Chet pointed. "Three of them, tried hold up a bank or some stupid shit."

"Why are you so twitchy?" Dean finally asked Chet but in a tone that made Chet shrink in his seat slightly. Sweets noticed it too but suppressed the urge to ask.

"Hey and you know Cooper, he's heading to the big house too." Chet's information was like gossip only it was all true. However it was this once piece of information that brought Sweets mind out of its robotic state.

"When?" He asked.

"Hey Mister Inquisitive is back!" Chet said sarcastically. "I think tomorrow or the next day."

Sweets nodded. Could it happen again, maybe that was an accident? Should I warn him? It's none of my business, keep your head down. Sweets said it to himself but this time he was having a hard time stopping his mind from working, from shutting himself back off like a robot.