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originalsam_backup2011-01-14 12:14 pm
copperbadge.livejournal.com) wrote in originalsam_backup2011-01-14 12:14 pm
Entry tags:
Trace, Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
When Colin came back to reality there was a moment of shock, like cold water thrown over bare skin, and then he tried to writhe away from the weight on his body, the rough scratch of prison sheets under his shoulders.
"Colin, Colin!" Noel hissed, gripping his hair and holding him down with one palm on his chest, staring down at his eyes.
"What did you do?" Colin whispered, struggling against him, freeing his hands so that he could try and tug on Noel's wrists. "What did you do to me -- "
"Nothing, man, I ain't done nothing," Noel whispered back urgently, releasing his hair and grabbing one of his arms instead. Colin keened -- it was right where the soldier had touched him -- and twisted under Noel's thighs, trying to get off the bed. Noel slid to his right, up against the wall, and released Colin long enough for him to tumble to the floor, still panting for breath. He pushed himself up, because he had heard Noel's yelp of pain, sharply cut off, and rolled over to lie on his back. Noel watched him from the bed, fear on his face.
"Sorry," Colin gasped, when his breathing had slowed. He raised one hand to his face, rubbing sweat off his forehead, unwilling to cover his eyes in case the riot came back. "Sorry."
"What happened?" Noel asked, crawling across the bed but not leaving the safety of it. He leaned down and offered a hand to Colin, who took it and pulled himself up to sitting, one leg bent, his other arm holding him up. "I thought you were sleeping."
"It's Galano," Colin said, coughing against his knee, swallowing a sour taste and wiping his mouth as if that would clear it. "I know what he's doing, I know -- shit," he said, and pulled himself up using the edge of the bed for leverage, falling back on it once he was there. "I saw the riot. Galano's going to start a riot."
"Hey, man, if he ain't started one by now..." Noel spread his hands, but his face was twisted in pain. Colin wondered where the needle had gone, and then looked down at his chest. The tattoo was nothing, a random swirl of green stretching over his chest and down along his navel, a pointless doodle; the needle was stuck in his skin just below his ribcage on the left, half-buried, a little ribbon of blood flowing down from the wound.
"Noel..." he said, anguished, and gestured at it. Noel reached out warily and pulled it from him, one swift skilled movement that nevertheless had to hurt. Noel set it aside and turned back to him carefully, smoothing down his hair, fingers drifting over his cheeks, obviously unsure what to do. Colin caught his wrists and held them, met his eyes to make sure he understood, and let him go.
"You had a dream," Noel said.
"No. No," Colin shook his head. "That's what he's doing. That's why nobody's rioted -- all that anger and hunger....there's going to be one shitstorm of a riot when it happens, Noel."
Noel's eyes widened. "When?"
"I don't know," Colin replied, groping for any details of the dream, the vision maybe, that he hadn't noticed.
"Probably while he's safe in Seg," Noel said thoughtfully. Colin went cold.
"Soon, then," he whispered. "And when he does -- that's why the soldiers and the riders are here. They came here because Galano came here. They know this is a battlefield. Laney was right -- shit, I need to warn Laney -- "
"Hey," Noel said, pushing him back when he tried to stand. "You need to stay right the fuck here and calm down."
"Noel, you didn't see how fast it went," Colin said.
"Well, we got six hours to breakfast, so it can't go that fast," Noel told him. "You're not running around dripping blood trying to freak the shit out of Laney, okay? Kid needs his sleep. And no running to Gutierrez, either," he added, as Colin opened his mouth. Noel sat back and cocked his head, reaching for a clean cloth. He swirled it in alcohol and began dabbing it across Colin's chest, sucking his breath in occasionally against the pain.
"Did you see what the food was?" he asked, and Colin gave him a sardonic look. "What? Breakfast, lunch, dinner, what?"
Colin shook his head. "Vegetables? Maybe?"
Noel let out a little laugh. "Vegetables. So, dinner, probably."
Colin nodded. Noel used the other edge of the cloth to pat his chest dry.
"We'll talk to Laney and Gutierrez in the morning," he said, uncurling from his position in front of Colin to put the bowl and his tools away. He came back and pushed Colin's shoulder, gently, easing him onto his back before sliding into the narrow space next to him, one arm over his stomach. Soothing. He pressed his jaw to Colin's shoulder. "It's okay," he added. "It's done. Nothing we can do until morning."
"I should go back to my cell," Colin said.
"You gonna sleep?"
"Jesus Christ, no," Colin moaned.
"Then stay," Noel urged, tightening his arm. "Stay until bed check. You can get back to your cell before they come around."
Colin shook his head, rising from the bed, but he stopped before he reached the bars. There was something obscuring the light from the outer corridor, something blocking his view of the cell across from Noel's --
His breath came fast and his head spun; he groped blindly for Noel's shoulder, tugging on the fabric when he found it. Noel turned and tensed.
There was a shadow in the corridor, facing them; the outline of a man's head and body, rounded slumped shoulders, thick muscular arms. He was perfectly still. A blacked metal badge gleamed on his chest. One of the Darkman's riders, inside the block.
"Holy fucking shit," Noel drawled slowly, climbing off the bed. Colin shoved him backwards, stumbling away himself as the rider reached through the bars, but he couldn't seem to get past the iron. His fingers closed on air once -- twice -- and then he opened his fist and disappeared.
Colin could feel Noel breathing fast and hard against his shoulder, clenching a hand around his elbow.
"Stay here," Noel said, voice hoarse.
"Yeah," Colin agreed. He let Noel push him down onto the bed and shifted aside so the other man could curl around him, one arm across his shoulders. Colin turned and pressed his forehead against Noel's, sharing his breath, studying the handful of freckles that dotted his cheeks. He remembered the tattoo and tried not to move too much, so that Noel could rest, but Noel's eyes stayed half-lidded, not quite closed enough for sleep. Colin fought exhaustion, fought the idea of closing his eyes and suddenly finding himself back there again, wherever he'd gone.
"Okay, I believe you about the riot," Noel said, and Colin laughed briefly. "What you think he wanted?"
"Me, I guess," Colin said. "It's okay. I'm stronger than that, I can go back once things calm down a little. Maybe because I know about the riot, now."
"Never seen a riot," Noel said quietly. "Not on the inside, I mean. Started one or two, on the outside," he added, looking regretful. "Different out there, though."
"Can't run away in here," Colin agreed. He couldn't imagine the claustrophobic horror of a prison riot, like being trapped in a burning building. Without the regimentation of prison life, the interior would be chaos, and there was no way to escape it. And nowhere to run when the law decided to open fire and take back the prison.
"Wasn't there some guy here who was at Southport?" Noel asked.
"Yeah, I remember him," Colin replied, though he couldn't remember the man's name. There'd been a riot at Southport supermax upstate, sometime in the nineties, and one of the transfers down to Railburg had been -- Mikey, that was his name. He didn't talk about it much, but when Colin looked him in the eye his future got all tangled up with his past. He'd still been half-caught in it, some part of him trapped in the fighting and the fear, his whole life. "Mikey. He died few months before I left."
"Yeah," Noel said, breath warm on Colin's skin. "And there's New Mexico."
Colin suppressed a shudder. Everyone knew about New Mexico, even thirty years later. Even men like Colin and Noel, who hadn't been born yet when it happened. If you'd done time, you'd heard about New Mexico. It was the cautionary tale: snitch in prison and someday they might just take you to pieces with a blowtorch, like they had in New Mexico during the riot.
"If Railburg riots…" Colin began, and then swallowed and started over. "If we riot, if the things Laney sees get in, we'll destroy ourselves. No survivors."
"Aw, don't be a drama queen," Noel told him.
"I'm not," Colin said. "It'd wipe Railburg off the map. I don't even know if people would remember it'd been here. It's that serious, Noel. You think that thing just now wanted to say hi?"
"I wouldn't mind being forgotten," Noel said softly. Colin drew a hand up, curling his fingers into Noel's back, drawing comfort from the warm skin.
"I'd mind. For you," Colin said. "Couple of guys in here might deserve that. We don't, you and me, Laney, Gutierrez. My guard doesn't. Most guys here -- I don't think that's right."
"Why would he do it?" Noel asked. "Just to be a shit?"
"He might think he can escape," Colin replied.
"That's fucking psycho, hundreds of people die just so he can bust out."
"That's the way Galano is. It's how he's always been. It's almost beautiful, you know," Colin said, and Noel snorted. "It's pure ruthlessness. But yeah, it's…evil. Look too close at it and it turns ugly fast."
"Well, you'll nail his ass," Noel said, with sleepy conviction. "Shut the fuck up now, I wanna sleep."
Colin laughed softly. "Sure. I'll keep an eye out."
He lay awake, thinking about the riots he'd heard of, about ways to get to Galano, until just before morning bed-check. Then he shook Noel awake long enough to climb over him out of the bed and head back to his own cell, moving as quietly as he knew how, watching for shadows that never appeared. He sat on his bunk and waited for the doors to open so that he could go to breakfast, because at least -- as Noel had pointed out -- breakfast was probably safe, and he could see for himself that the inmates weren't so far gone as the men in the vision.
Laney joined him on the way to the dining hall, and when he stepped inside it was only a worried shove from Laney that kept him moving forward.
The hall was lit with amber light, just enough to make Colin unnerved; looking out over the prisoners, he saw it rising off the men getting their daily portion of half-cooked oatmeal and brown strawberries, sour milk.
"Do you see that?" he asked, as they shuffled forward in the line.
"What?" Laney asked.
"The light, you see that?"
"Sure," he said. "It's been around a couple-few weeks. I figured you did too."
"Not until today," Colin said. "You know what it is?"
Laney shook his head. "I thought if it was important someone'd tell me. Why? What is it?"
Colin studied the line, rolling his eyes up rather than lifting his head, in case a guard caught him acting strangely.
"It's our warning," he said quietly. Laney just looked at him, worry creasing his face.
***
Gutierrez couldn't see the light and nor, when asked, could Noel, but they took it seriously, as seriously as Gutierrez took Colin's vision when he told them about it on the yard after breakfast.
"You think you don't talk to God," he said, shaking a finger at Colin when the story was done, "but I think, sometimes, maybe you do."
Laney looked like he wanted to get back into the debate about whether God existed, but he kept quiet.
"Maybe," Colin allowed. He was doing tricks with a lit cigarette, flipping it through the air and spinning it from hand to hand, blowing on the ember occasionally to make it flare. A couple of inmates were crowded around, watching, but he wasn't overly concerned about them hearing what they said. "But he's not exactly talking loudly, you know? You talk to him last night?"
"Sure, I did," Gutierrez answered. "I do every night."
"So? He tell you anything about Galano?" Noel prompted.
"He said to ask you," Gutierrez said, turning to Colin. Colin fixed him with a level look, but Gutierrez wasn't kidding this time.
"You ever think maybe God's fucking with you?" he asked. Gutierrez smiled.
"Little bit. But man, God's got more important things to worry about than us," he said. "We take care of our own problems."
"See? This is what I'm sayin'," Laney said. Gutierrez shot him a glare. Colin tossed the cigarette up and caught it, thoughtfully.
"Well, we can't hit him in Seg," he said. "Even if we could get down there, that's his territory now. Besides, Seg's below the command room. Underground."
"Underground's dangerous," Noel said to Laney, seeing the confusion on his face.
"Why?" Laney asked. Noel shrugged.
"Just is," he answered. "Everyone knows it."
"I think we should bring him to us," Gutierrez said. "Not in the block, too many people around. Somewhere neutral."
"Who's this us?" Noel asked. Colin frowned at him. "Look, you go after Galano all you want and if I can help I will, but I ain't your guy in a fight, you know? Someone comes after me, I'm useless. Especially someone like Galano."
"Laney?" Colin asked. "In or out?"
"I can fight," Laney said. "Bout it, though."
"Don't solve the problem of where to go," Noel pointed out.
"Infirmary?" Colin suggested.
"Dangerous. Lots could go wrong," Gutierrez said, but he was considering it. "Other hand, neutral ground."
"He wants me dead," Colin said. "I'm good bait. He wouldn't go for Laney or you."
Gutierrez grinned. "Well, aren't you special. Can you get in?"
Colin nodded. "Sure. I go in today, I can be there three-four days if I have to. Galano will hear about it quick enough. Can you follow?"
"Looks suspicious if we both get sick at once," Gutierrez said. "If you go, I'll figure out a way."
"You sure?" Colin asked. Gutierrez nodded. "Laney?"
"You get me in?" Laney asked Gutierrez.
"Kid, I don't know what to do with you," Gutierrez said frankly. "You want to come along, it's your funeral. I can bring you in."
"Tomorrow night," Colin said decisively. He flicked the cigarette up in his fingers, took a single drag, blew out the smoke, and stubbed it out on the pock-scarred surface of the table. He tapped his finger in the soot it left behind and sighed. "Coulda used Marlow for this."
"Go on," Gutierrez smiled at him. Colin smeared the black residue into a streak, then rubbed a few stray lines in it with his thumb. He licked his fingers -- ugh, what a taste -- and stood up. The crowd of men around them didn't move, still staring at the place Colin had been. He snapped his fingers and they broke out of it; a couple of them looked annoyed, like they knew what Colin had done, but they let him walk away. Laney stood and followed.
He was heading for Rifkin, who was holding court at the other end of the yard, but to get there he had to pass by the Aryans, and he didn't think about Laney until it was too late. A couple of feet past the crowd of men lounging near one of the tables, he heard a sharp scuffle, and turned to see Laney blocked off from him by three or four well-muscled Brothers.
"Hey there, freak," someone said, and Colin could see a short, almost weedy figure swagger up to Laney. Carl -- the new leader of the AB. He must have some dirt or a really great connection on the outside; he was half the size of some of his followers.
"Laney?" Colin asked carefully. Laney was tense, taut, hands curled into fists, but he was showing his fear on his face.
"Nobody was talking to you," Carl snarled, and one of the Aryans turned to face Colin, stepping up into his space, glaring down at him. Colin wondered if the riot Galano was anticipating wasn't going to happen even sooner than he'd hoped.
"I got it, Colin," Laney said. His voice was high and frightened.
"You got it," Carl retorted, turning back to him. "You got nothing. Your niggers won't even back you. What do you have to do to get thrown out of a nigger gang?"
"Take a white cock up the ass?" another Aryan suggested. Colin tried to dart around the man blocking him, but he was shoved back roughly.
Other inmates were slowly drifting over, and where the fuck were the guards? Joseph wasn't on shift yet but someone had to be seeing this, and not all of them could be stupid enough to just let a fight happen on the yard.
"Well?" Carl said to Laney. "You want to join the Aryan Brotherhood? We could use a few good slaves -- "
Colin didn't even see Laney draw back, and almost missed the punch; it was so swift that the impression he got was just a dull thud and the crunch of gravel underfoot as Carl's body jerked sideways. A couple of the Brothers surged forward, but Carl barked a sharp "No!" and they settled immediately.
Credit where it was due: he kept his boys under control.
"That's your answer, huh?" Carl asked, one hand rubbing his jaw where Laney's hit had landed.
"Dumbass fucking punk," Laney spat. Carl swung wild, and Laney danced backwards --
Right into two Aryans, who caught his arms and held him up by them, off-balance. Colin tried to get to him, again, and was shoved back a little more roughly this time. Beyond Laney, he could see Gutierrez break into a run as he realized what was happening. Everyone was sitting up, craning their heads; La Mugre was coming forward behind Gutierrez, but they wouldn't throw down with the Aryans, and the Bloods coming to defend a brother slowed and stopped when they saw who the Aryans were after.
The thing was, and this was what went around the prison like wildfire later, Carl never got a single good hit in. The Aryans had Laney by the arms, exposed, his feet scrambling for purchase on the ground, but as Carl came forward, wiping blood off his lip with the back of his hand, Laney raised his head and screamed in rage.
It echoed off the walls and guard towers, and when the sound bounced back it seemed to hit, like a bass beat passing through the chest, the crack of fireworks going off too close. Colin shook his head to clear it, and when he lifted it he saw --
Laney was free, standing in front of Carl with his fists still clenched, chest heaving, eyes bright red. Behind him there were a pair of men -- Guye's soldiers, two men in camo fatigues. A heartbeat later there was another man behind them, this one with an Army Sergeant's stripes on his arm. And, flickering behind him, two young men in gang colors, Blood colors. One of them had S.M.M. tattooed on his cheek.
They looked like film projections, flickering once in a while, slightly transparent. Colin had no doubt any one of them could cause some damage if he tried. And the Aryans, all but Carl, were backing down, so they must see them too.
"You want to come at me now?" Laney hissed, taking a step forward. Colin watched, not even trying to move anymore. "You want to see what happens when we even the odds, bitch?"
Carl held up his hands, a placating gesture, but Laney surged forward, drawing one arm back.
There was a soft slap as Gutierrez caught his arm.
"Hey, man," Gutierrez said quietly. "Enough."
Laney snarled, but he didn't move. "You know -- "
"I know what they did," Gutierrez said. "You kill him, won't fix anything. You know what it costs to kill someone. Especially in here."
He let Laney go, and Colin thought for a moment Laney was going to lay Carl out, but after a few heaving breaths, he dropped his arm. He did step forward again, right up in Carl's face. His voice was low, but it carried.
"You come after me again, I'll fucking kill you all," he said, red flaring in his eyes. Behind him, one of the Aryans flicked a switchblade out and swung it; one of Guye's soldiers, the one with the tattoo on his cheek, blocked the swing with his arm. Sparks flew where their wrists met. The Aryan jerked back and howled in pain, clutching burned skin that was already beginning to blister. The sound was distant, unimportant.
"You touch me or one of mine, my boys'll come for you in the night," Laney continued, cocking his head at Carl. "You get free, they'll find you. I'm watching you. So are they."
Colin felt a presence at his elbow; Noel, stepping closer as the Aryans dispersed, a pair of them leading the injured one towards the doors to the cellblock. Colin and Noel watched as Carl backed away, head bowed in submission. One by one, the soldiers and Bloods flickered out.
"Guess nobody needs to worry about Laney no more," Noel said softly. "Hell, I'mma get him to protect me from now on."
"The mojo comes when you need it," Colin answered. Laney was walking away, Gutierrez a half-step behind him. "You know who those were?"
"Long as they don't come after me, I don't care," Noel said. "This Guye you and him talk about..."
"His soldiers," Colin said. "The honored fallen."
"Pretty good gang."
"They're not safe," Colin told him with a shake of his head. "These aren't good guys and bad guys, Noel. If you went for Laney they'd take you out too." He took off at a half-jog, through the crowd of prisoners still looking a little dazed by it all. He caught up to Laney and Gutierrez quick enough, but he didn't speak until Laney did.
"Guess you don't mind if I come along, huh?" Laney asked.
***
The yard was unusually subdued for the rest of the morning -- not the sleepwalking stupor of meal times, but the fearful quiet of men who had seen something they could neither explain nor ignore. Most of the prisoners accepted what went on at Railburg with a shrug, assuming it wasn't their business, but it was hard not to think about one outcast Blood facing down the entire Aryan Brotherhood. It was just as well; the guards in the patrol alley knew they'd seen something they should have stopped, and they were vigilant for the rest of the day, to the point of harassment.
Even the four of them were quiet. Noel was a little wary of Laney now, though Colin could see he was trying to hide it. Gutierrez's lips moved occasionally, speaking softly to God, but he didn't sound like he was satisfied with any answers he got.
Colin, for his part, was already feeling the effect of the curse he'd worked on himself that morning -- his skin felt hot and itchy, and there was a weight settling in his chest. By lunchtime the last thing he wanted was any food, let alone the food they got; removing Galano from the kitchen had done nothing, but then he hadn't really hoped it would. Galano's grip on Railburg was too strong by now.
Out of the corner of his eye, sometimes, he saw flickering figures, soldiers and riders both. He couldn't tell whether it was real or the fever, and he couldn't bring himself to care. His head ached.
The guards weren't letting up for a minute. After lunch they announced bunk searches, and for the rest of the afternoon men were called out of the machine shops and kitchens and off the yard to stand by while their last vestige of privacy was torn apart, looking for illegal drugs or moonshine or weapons.
Colin was called late in the afternoon, by which time he was pale and coughing, his throat uncomfortably raw. He found Joseph waiting for him at the door to his cell, a small mercy, and he stood there with his wrists cuffed around one of the bars as Joseph tossed his room.
He'd acquired a lot of stuff in just a little over a week: gifts from inmates, some things he'd bartered for, some things he'd quietly stolen that nobody would miss. Joseph ignored it all, but he went through the motions, talking as he worked.
"Warrant's still in process," he said, pulling the bedding off Colin's cot. "Should have it tomorrow. I think you're right. I've been watching them, and there's definitely something in the day captain's office. Could just be a stash of beer," he added, with a smile over his shoulder. Colin smiled back weakly. "It'll get us something, even if that's all it is."
"The wheels grind slowly," Colin observed, trying to keep the scratch out of his voice.
"Well, I have to be a little subtler than usual," Joseph answered. "If I tip my hand to the Department of Corrections, we're fucked."
"Try not to do that," Colin said. Joseph chuckled.
"Thanks for the advice," he said, digging through a jar Colin had acquired to hold a couple of pencils he'd stolen. "What happened this morning? Day shift was looking touchy."
"Almost had a fight on the yard," Colin said. "I wasn't involved," he added, as Joseph glanced up at him. "Not for lack of trying."
"I figured you for the cut and run type," Joseph told him.
"The Aryans went after a friend of mine," Colin answered, stung.
"Ah." Joseph said. "Your tattoo artist friend?" He smiled at Colin's startled look.
"No, not him," Colin said. "How did you -- "
"I hear things too." Joseph came forward and unlocked the cuffs from the other side of the bars, jerking his head. Colin walked into the cell and stood near the doorway, waiting patiently.
"Take your shirt off," Joseph ordered. Colin, reluctantly, pulled the uniform shirt over his head, shivering.
The tattoo Noel had given him was still raw and red, swollen a little here and there. Obviously not paint, and permanent-seeming to anyone who didn't know what Colin could do. Joseph's eyes swept over it, studying the random swirls and spirals like he was committing it to memory. Colin didn't flinch back when he put out a hand to touch it, though he wanted to. Noel, somewhere in the yard or in the block, was feeling that pressure, the warm fingers on Colin's chest where his pectorals met.
Joseph took his hand away and held it up to study it; there were smears of green on his fingers. He looked at Colin, who shrugged.
"You're planning something," Joseph said, wiping the ink off on his uniform trousers. "Don't."
"You think I'm going to hit Galano," Colin replied.
"Aren't you? Hit him before he hits you, is that it?" Joseph asked, crossing his arms. Behind him, the second shadow flickered.
"No, that's not it." Colin shook his head. "Galano's dangerous. He has to be stopped. Not just because of me."
"But by you?" Joseph asked. Colin raised his wrist to his mouth to cover a cough.
"Someone has to," he said. Joseph gripped his arm before he could lower it, pulled him in close. Colin couldn't see the second shadow now, but he couldn't see anything in Joseph's eyes either. They were flat and plain, like any ordinary person's.
"You're going to the infirmary," Joseph said. "You're going to get that cough checked. You're not going to put a hand on Galano. You understand me?"
Colin nodded. Joseph was so warm, and he was freezing. He swayed into the warmth and Joseph let him, but he didn't give an inch.
"Promise me you won't touch Galano," he said.
"Promise," Colin groaned, his hand gripping Joseph's belt. Joseph's fingers slid up his arm, around the muscles of his neck, twining in his hair.
"How are you?" Joseph asked quietly, as Colin's shivering subsided. He crowded closer, turning them so that Joseph's shoulders hit the cinderblock wall. He kissed him -- not on the mouth, not where Joseph would taste the ash and sickness, but down his jaw, sucking over his pulse point. Joseph groaned.
"You're sick, and we don't have the time -- " he started. Colin bit down. Joseph's body jerked.
"I want it. Nobody will see," Colin promised, against Joseph's collar. "And if they do, so what? You think this is the first time it's happened?"
Joseph's grip tightened. "You -- "
Colin leaned back a little, managed a smile. "Helps to have a guard on your side," he said, sliding down Joseph's body, working at the buckle of his uniform belt, pressing up against the solid heat of his thighs. Joseph's head thudded back against the cinderblock.
"They'll look away if they see," Colin said, easing open his belt, tugging his pants and briefs down around his thighs. Joseph caught his breath. "They always do. Even if they watched, they wouldn't tell anyone."
"Prisoner abuses..." Joseph's thoughts, he could tell, were straying and shattering. Colin was impressed with his self-control. "We should -- report..."
It'll always be the same, he wanted to say, but his mouth was busy -- licking down Joseph's cock, sucking the tip in, smiling and trying not to cough as Joseph groaned and bucked under his hands. He was so warm, and there was so much power here. Joseph was practically glowing, the second shadow dancing madly along the wall. Colin groaned and tried to breathe and suck and curl up into Joseph's heat all at the same time.
Joseph caught his head and held him, steadying him, hips canting slow and smooth. Colin wished, momentarily, for Analise: for that sense of a circuit closing when he was with them both, like he was conducting them through himself. Still, this was good, power surging into him, Joseph struggling to hold on and struggling not to make a noise. As if anyone cared when a guard took advantage. Nobody had when --
But he didn't have to think about that. He had Joseph and Analise now. Somewhere, sometime on the outside, he'd torment Joseph into letting go, really for once taking what he wanted. He'd court the shade, and that would be good.
The thought made him inhale sharply. Joseph finally moaned, full and deep, and came breathing his name: "Colin, Colin -- "
Colin swallowed, wiped his mouth, and rested his face in Joseph's bare thigh, waiting to catch his breath. Finally, with a little laugh, Joseph tugged him to his feet, his other hand pulling his pants back up.
"You're a piece of work," Joseph said to him, kissing him, forcing his lips open. He liked that, tasting himself in Colin's mouth. Colin clung to his shirt, let Joseph run his hands down his bare chest and cup his soft cock. Joseph made a surprised, interrogatory noise.
"M'sick," Colin said, pulling back reluctantly. He gave Joseph his best grin. "You can owe me."
"Mm," Joseph said, afterglow fading, a frown forming on his face as he buckled his belt. "Infirmary. I don't like the way you sound."
"Liar," Colin said, grinning, but he let go of Joseph's shirtfront and picked up his own shirt. The tattoo had run off his chest after Joseph touched it -- it was barely even visible at all now, just traces here and there, though the little round scab where the needle had stabbed him was still present. Colin put his hands behind his back, anticipating the cuffs, and let Joseph fasten them around his wrists.
Joseph gave him one last, proprietary caress, fingers drifting down the nape of his neck, and then closed Colin's cell door, walking behind him down the hallway.
***
After he'd been signed over to the custody of the infirmary, Colin was diagnosed with the flu; prison conditions being what they were, they made him list every other inmate he'd come in close contact with, to see if they could head off an epidemic, and then assigned him a bed in the ward with wrist and ankle restraints attached to it.
Charming.
Still, it was hard to object. There were a lot of sharp items floating around, even if they were locked up, and prison medical staff didn't carry batons or mace.
The orderly, a thickset young man who looked like he could snap Colin in half, buckled the ankle restraints but left his wrists free. He sat up and watched, interested, as the orderly rubbed his hands together and then pressed them over Colin's left thigh. He considered a couple of smart remarks, but it paid to be nice to the staff, so he just kept an eye on him as the orderly repeated the process on the right. When he stepped back, Colin's legs wouldn't move.
Clever. Colin could pick a lot of locks, but what did you pick when there was no lock to start with? Still, at least this way he had his hands free.
"Be a good boy," the orderly said, "and I'll let you up to pee instead of using the bedpan."
"What would I do, cough my way to freedom?" Colin asked. His throat felt like it was full of pinpricks.
"I heard about you, Cat. We hear what the inmates say."
"Yeah?" Colin asked, leaning close. "What do they say?"
"Like you don't know," he said.
"Maybe I do," Colin said with a grin. "Hey, you treat Galano in here yesterday?"
"That asshole," the orderly rolled his eyes. "He a buddy of yours too?"
"Not exactly," Colin murmured, coughing. He glanced up at the long tempered-glass window between admissions and the infirmary, and saw Joseph watching carefully. Colin gave a little shake of his head and Joseph nodded, hurrying away.
He spent the rest of the evening bored out of his mind, coughing and mildly feverish, uninterested in dinner and restlessly tracking Joseph, who was not only as bored as Colin but also worried because of him. Colin closed his eyes and tried to disappear, but that had never worked on Joseph, and it wasn't going to work now. He slept fitfully, struggling against the bindings on the bed, and Galano laughed his way through Colin's dreams.
When he finally woke, his ears were ringing. He could hear Galano's voice, very clear, in his head: Coming for you, Suicide.
When the orderly brought him breakfast that morning, noxious tea and bitter eggs, fermented applesauce, toast sodden with some strange beige liquid, Colin saw the look on his face. He tried to ask what had happened in the night, but his voice had given way completely; he coughed, sipped some of the tea, and called out as the orderly was leaving.
"Who died?" he asked.
The man stopped at the door and turned. "Who said anyone died?"
"Come on, man," Colin grated, coughing again. "Just tell me who died."
The man's eyes drifted in the direction of the little prison morgue, a locked door on the far side of the secure doors to the infirmary. "You know Leoni?" he said. Colin swallowed.
"Padrone?" he asked, to be sure.
"Yeah, he's the one."
"Heart attack?" Colin asked. The orderly shook his head.
"Looks like he hung himself," he said.
"Looks like," Colin repeated hoarsely.
"Yeah, well. Lots of things look like what they're not, in here. Looks like he tried to cut his own throat first, then hung himself with a belt. Crazy Laney says a rider got him, whatever the fuck that means. You know?"
Colin nodded. "Yeah. I know. Who found him?"
"CO Davis. Why?"
At least it hadn't been Joseph. Colin wasn't sure what Joseph would do if he found a dead body, especially one taken by one of the Darkman's riders, but he could bet it wouldn't be pleasant.
"Don't tell anyone," the orderly continued.
"Believe me, anyone I could tell already knows," Colin murmured.
So the riders were inside Railburg, and they'd found out how to get into the cells. And they'd gone after Leoni, the man who'd tasked him with killing Galano. Colin was sure there were plenty of reasons that the riders might want him, but he'd made Leoni give the order out loud, and someone had obviously heard it aside from the two of them.
Galano knew he was here. There was no doubt of that. So Leoni was either revenge, or a warning.
Colin rubbed his throat, and set about eating what was edible of his breakfast.
Chapter Eight
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Neal slipped through here too: "You know Leoni?" he said. Neal swallowed.
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"Yeah, I remember him," Neil replied, though he couldn't remember the man's name. There'd been a riot at Southport supermax upstate, sometime in the nineties, and one of the transfers down to Railburg had been -- Mikey, that was his name.
I've been devouring these chapters, Sam. Utterly devouring them.
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The Colin/Joseph blowjob felt gratuitous, and shoehorned in. I'm still not feeling a great deal of sexual tension between them, and I really don't think it added to the story. In contrast to the scene I mentioned above, I was aware that I was reading the whole time -- the scene just didn't pull me in at all.
Nonetheless, you've done a brilliant job of creating a sense of menace overhanging the prison.
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I'm tempted to sweep the sex completely out of the story, though I'm also working on making their relationship more intimate verbally -- in the original it was about drawing power from someone, but I'm not sure it's needed here. And the main reason I kept the threesome in was so this would make sense. It feels like the relationship with Joseph and Analise is incomplete without it, but...I dunno. I guess I'll see what happens when I play with it in rewrite :)
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Colin caught his wrists and held them, met his eyes to make sure he understood, and let him go.
I didn't understand this bit at all. What is Colin trying to get across here?
"It's our warning," he said quietly.
Huh. Like sailors, I guess.
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"I can fight," Laney said. "Bout it, though."
Bout? As in 'That's about it'? It's not very clear. (Wouldn't it be 'Bout, then?)
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- Isn't this hurting Noel? There's no mention of Noel's pain, and Colin is moving all over. Did the tattoo not happen?
- So the Soldier's touch hurt him? Has he ever been touched by one of Them before, even in a dream? so this is new, then - did he expect the physicality after a dream (which I know he knows isn't just a dream, but would he expect it to linger)?
- Again, wouldn't Noel be hurting before this?
- Can you put in more information earlier about how dangerous/deadly/bad prison riots are? You don't seem to have built this up enough. As in, it right now seems like Galano would want to do something more than the riot.
- I don't understand Colin's this line: "No. No," Colin shook his head. "That's what he's doing. That's why nobody's rioted -- all that anger and hunger....there's going to be one shitstorm of a riot when it happens, Noel." What are the "that"s refering to? Is the first "that" Galano's keeping it muted? Because it's currently referencing the last thing Colin said, which is "Galano's going to start a riot", which doesn't explain why nobody's rioted yet. Does that make sense?
- Oh, Noel.. logic in Colin's freakout. Love it.
- Darkman's rider was creepy.
- This is good riot description. Do you think it would be appropriate any earlier? Or part of it, anyway. The bit about Mikey, even if not New Mexico.
- I'm so anticipatorily-excited to see what part Laney ends up playing.
- I don't quite understand all that the men are discussing. I am perfectly okay with this, the things I don't understand I think would come clearer on a re-read once I understand their mojo more in terms of what they are planning to do. I only mention this in case you wanted to be explicitly clear, but to be frank I like it better like this.
- I love Colin holding the other prisoners in slight thrall.
- "The thing was, and this was what went around the prison like wildfire later, Carl never got a single good hit in." I love that phrasing, how it's already become a passed-down story and whispered tale.
- Oh this, this, this is what I've been waiting for!!!! (Laney's calling). And that last line - perfect ironic lols!
- I liked this sex scene better than the first, but I still wished for more backstory. Not buildup, just more established early inthe story. I think the buildup was well done, especially with Colin's reference to the acceptance in their culture, what others would think, and the one time that he won't let himself think about.
- Ooher I have shivers at the end. The riders. Gooseflesh.
tl:dr version: I got chills, they're multiplyin'....
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It was incomplete, but definitely happened. I thought I'd been mentioning him in pain, but I'll go over the scene again.
Can you put in more information earlier about how dangerous/deadly/bad prison riots are?
I pondered this, but I don't think it's something prisoners tend to talk about unless there's one impending. Not only is it something that could get them put on punishment, it's incredibly scary as a concept. I'll go through and see -- there are some other mentions of rioting that might allow for some talk of it.
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I love the details you've added (since the original story), the battle of the "angels" and "demons" falling into the magic edged prison world that the reader can practically feel. That said, I feel like an understanding of that world keeps slipping out of my head, like it doesn't feel quite real. And not in a "well, it's magical realism, you can't understand everything" sort of way, but more a "wait, where did I put my glasses? This isn't quite SHARP" way. In contrast, chapters 3 and and 4 made me feel everything IMMEDIATELY, made me believe everything, but 7 and 6 leave me squinting. I wish I had a concrete suggestion on what would make it feel more real to me, but I guess it's more an observation.
Details!
"I'm not," Colin said. "It'd wipe Railburg off the map. I don't even know if people would remember it'd been here. It's that serious, Noel. You think that thing just now wanted to say hi?"
--how does he know this? Because I believe it to be true, but I kind of want to know if he has some outside information or experience that hasn’t been shared with the reader, or if it’s a feeling. Like, I’d believe that there would be death and mayhem and disaster, but knowing that they could get wiped off the map…? I feel I need more reason, even if that reason is just “I’ve got a feeling”
Spatially, I’m not sure where Colin’s hands are hooked while Joseph is seaching his cell. At first I thought, one set of handcuffs strung through the bars, but then with the line “Joseph came forward and unlocked the cuffs from the other side of the bars, jerking his head…”
…well, actually, maybe that makes sense, but now I’m not sure whose head is being jerked. Because now I’m moderately sure it’s Joseph’s, but the first time around, it was Colin’s in my head…
This time as well as last time, I’m not sure if what he orderly does to Colin’s legs is holistic science, or if the orderly also has the mojo. And, in which case, where does it come from? Is it a different kind, the other side of the coin from the prison mojo that Colin et. Al. possess or something else. It’s doesn’t slot immediately into the world in my mind and nags at me.
I love how Colin curses himself, the casual drawing of the curse. Maybe it’s something about eating cigarette ash, or the flavor of it carrying through all the way to the infirmary but I love it every time.
I also like the Colin/Joseph blow job, but in odd ways. Because I can see how this is Colin, going into a battle that he may not be able to win, drawing on all the power at his disposal. But Colin’s phrasing when he’s telling Joseph that it’s fine that no one would care ("They'll look away if they see. They always do. Even if they watched, they wouldn't tell anyone.") seems to equate what they are doing (which is based in a mutually trusting, accepting relationship) with what might usually happen between guards and prisoners, which would not usually involve that same level of choice and consent. Not a line that I disbelieve, but one that I can see speaking of interesting things for the characters that I don’t know if you’ll address in this version more than the last.
Currently, the soldiers creep me out more than the riders, even though the characters fear the Darkman’s riders more. Maybe it’s the difference of the images. The riders have been to this point, every monster on a black horse, from the Headless Horseman to the Ringwraiths. You gave a more specific description, but I have to work to keep it in my head. But the image of the soldier on the roof, on all fours, sentinel, gargoyle, just set off something in my head (yes, this was last chapter…or a couple chapters ago? Sorry I’m behind). I feel like there is something in the Darkman’s rider’s faces that I should be afraid of, even if it’s a nothing face.
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I have to admit I was groping around a bit at this point, and I will probably tighten this up a little on a second workthrough. I don't want it to be as clear as good-vs-evil; Darkman's riders are dangerous, but so are Guye's soldiers, they're not saviors. I think in trying to keep that vague I may have just muddled things.
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Like, the F. Paul Wilson's Adversary series, Good an Evil don't exist so much. the Enemy is evil, no question (I mean, wants to eat us, feeds on our pain and misery, etc) but the Ally, standing in for "Good" isn't so much good as..the enemy of the Enemy. It doesn't care about humanity, it just wants to beat the Enemy in a cosmic game of chess. I feel you are going for something more like that, or even a Wild Hunt/fairy-battle/edge of consciounsess thing (where it has nothing to do with human beings...unless they get caught in it, like Colin et. al and the shelter kids). *frown at above analogy* I may be butchering the actually mythology involved, but I hope what I mean comes through.
Maybe just need/want a clearer idea what kind of side Darkman and Guye might be on. Whether this is an elemental, earth-foundational battle (Summer vs Winter, Order vs Chaos) or a cosmic feud (you stole my girlfriend/power/influence/favorite-hunting-ground, man! you're going to pay!) Is their conflict doctrinal or personal. *grin*
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*grin* Besides, if you mentioned every nitpicky thing, you wouldn't have the time to WRITE more in the actual story, and that would be HORRIBLE.
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The soldiers and riders give me the heebie jeebies. I think it's because they're not human, and how do you beat something that's not even entirely real?
Two more chapters and an epilogue to go! I'm already starting to get sad about this being over so soon.
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(Anonymous) 2011-01-15 08:03 am (UTC)(link)Cue my D: face again, but I'm truly looking forward to reading all of it. This is just... wow. And considering the exponential upward trend this whole novel's been taking, I can't even imagine what the final few chapters are going to be like, apart from amazing.
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(Anonymous) 2011-01-19 10:46 pm (UTC)(link)Crit:
"What did you do?" Colin whispered, struggling against him, freeing his hands so that he could try and tug on Noel's wrists. "What did you do to me -- "
'gasped' instead of 'whispered', I think, as without an adverb (like urgently, in the next line) it's too calm an action.
He pushed himself up, because he had heard Noel's yelp of pain, sharply cut off, and rolled over to lie on his back.
Sort of awkward. Maybe: "There was a yelp of pain yelp of pain, sharply cut off, and Colin rolled over onto his back and looked up." continuing into: 'Noel was watching him from the bed, fear and pain mingling on his face.'
"Sorry," Colin gasped, when his breathing had slowed.
Here he can whisper, since his breathing's slowed.
He leaned down and offered a hand to Colin, who took it and pulled himself up to sitting, one leg bent, his other arm holding him up.
I can tell what you're going for, I think, but it's an awkward thing to word. Perhaps it'd be clearer as, 'pulled himself up to sitting, one knee drawn to his chest, supported by his free arm.'
because I read it more as a crouch before.
he said, and pulled himself up using the edge of the bed for leverage, falling back on it once he was there.
It doesn't have a sense of urgency, and feels clunky at the end. Would it work as, 'he said, and grabbed at the edge of the bed to haul himself up. He fell back down onto it almost immediately, and only then did he give voice to what he'd seen.'
Colin wondered where the needle had gone, and then looked down at his chest.
Remembering the needle immediately seems preemptive, given his state of mind/what he woke up from. Perhaps, 'Colin winced as he belatedly remembered the fresh tattoo. Opening his mouth to apologize, he paused, and then looked down at his chest.' This'll also give a real kick further on, with: 'a pointless doodle; but just below his ribcage, on the left, a little ribbon of blood wound across his stomach, away from the needle half-buried in his skin.'
Noel set it aside and turned back to him carefully, smoothing down his hair, fingers drifting over his cheeks, obviously unsure what to do. Colin caught his wrists and held them, met his eyes to make sure he understood, and let him go.
This was unclear in a couple of different ways. First, it took a few read-throughs to identify who Noel was touching, himself or Colin. Second, what exactly is Colin trying to make Noel understand? The suggestion I'm offering there is based on assumption, and I apologize if I'm overstepping myself or getting the scene completely wrong. It was really hard to find a way to say everything - writing is hard! And I'm not even the one doing the writing! Anyway:
'Noel set it aside and turned back to him carefully, obviously unsure what to do. He reached out uncertainly, smoothing down sweat-soaked hair, letting his fingers drift over clammy cheeks. Colin closed his eyes fleetingly and then, as gently as he could while still being clear, caught his wrists and held them. It was important for Noel to understand that this was important(?), and he met his eyes for a long moment before letting him go.'
there's going to be one shitstorm of a riot when it happens, Noel."
Not sure if you need his name here, especially given that this line is bracketed by two identified short snips of dialogue by him.
Colin replied, groping for any details of the dream, the vision maybe, that he hadn't noticed.
Punctuation here. 'Colin replied, groping for any details of the dream - the vision, maybe - that he hadn't noticed.'
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(Anonymous) 2011-01-19 10:47 pm (UTC)(link)I feel like it should be a different action than 'said' - it's a very charged line with a very calm verb. 'Breathed', maybe? Or, add something like 'said, urgency coloring every word'?
Noel sat back and cocked his head, reaching for a clean cloth.
A bit of transition needed: 'Noel sat back and cocked his head, and, satisfied that bolting was no longer an immediate threat, reached for a clean cloth.'
he asked, and Colin gave him a sardonic look. "What? Breakfast, lunch, dinner, what?"
'a sardonic look. "No, really - breakfast, lunch'
Noel let out a little laugh. "Vegetables. So, dinner, probably."
Maybe add something about his voice being reasonable? Not necessarily here, but somewhere: he's basically talking Colin back from a panic attack, and he's clearly doing it very consciously, but the dialogue is very - casual.
Colin shook his head, rising from the bed, but he stopped before he reached the bars.
There's not enough menace in the pacing of the sentence. Maybe, 'Colin shook his head, rising from the bed, and took a step toward the bars. He stopped before he could take another.'
His breath came fast and his head spun; he groped blindly for Noel's shoulder, tugging on the fabric when he found it. Noel turned and tensed.
'His breath came fast and his head spun; blind, he groped for Noel's shoulder. He tugged on the fabric when he found it, and Noel, behind him, looked up and tensed.'
A blacked metal badge gleamed on his chest. One of the Darkman's riders, inside the block.
I'd make the second sentence its own paragraph.
"Holy fucking shit," Noel drawled slowly, climbing off the bed.
Wrong verb... 'drawled' is lazy, relaxed. I always like 'breathed', since it gives a feeling (to me, at least) of stunned awe/fear, but you can even just do, 'said Noel as he climbed off the bed, each word drawn out in disbelief and fear.'
Colin shoved him backwards, stumbling away himself as the rider reached through the bars, but he couldn't seem to get past the iron. His fingers closed on air once -- twice -- and then he opened his fist and disappeared.
'Colin shoved him backwards, stumbling after him as the rider reached through the bars. He couldn't seem to get past the iron: his fingers closed on air once -- twice -- and then he opened his fist and disappeared. '
"Okay, I believe you about the riot," Noel said, and Colin laughed briefly. "What you think he wanted?"
I wanted this to have more of a sense of elapsed time, that awful half-asleep-time-warped kind, though it could be in the preceding paragraph instead. Something like, '"Okay, I believe you about the riot," Noel said, after the silence has stretched for too long, and Colin laughed briefly. "What you think he wanted?"'
"Me, I guess," Colin said. "It's okay. I'm stronger than that, I can go back once things calm down a little. Maybe because I know about the riot, now."
Oddly ordered. '"Me, I guess," Colin said. "Maybe because I know about the riot, now. It's okay. I'm stronger than that, I can go back once things calm down a little."'
Started one or two, on the outside," he added, looking regretful.
I don't think you need the comma after 'one or two'.
and there was no way to escape it. And nowhere to run when the law decided to open fire and take back the prison.
A dash instead of a period between those two? If not, 'There was nowhere to run when the law decided to open fire and take back the prison, either.'
He'd still been half-caught in it, some part of him trapped in the fighting and the fear, his whole life.
I don't get the 'his whole life' bit at the end...
If you'd done time, you'd heard about New Mexico.
'It' instead of 'New Mexico', since it's in this paragraph three times.
"Aw, don't be a drama queen," Noel told him.
'but there was a waver in his voice', maybe?
"That's fucking psycho, hundreds of people die just so he can bust out."
Period instead of comma, I think.
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(Anonymous) 2011-01-19 10:48 pm (UTC)(link)But... from the action, Noel was behind him when Darkman's rider said hi, Colin pushed him back onto the bed, so... Noel would be closest to the wall, right? Meaning that Colin shouldn't have to climb over him?
He sat on his bunk and waited for the doors to open so that he could go to breakfast, because at least -- as Noel had pointed out -- breakfast was probably safe
Transition. 'He didn't sleep when he got back, of course; he just sat on his bunk and waited for the doors to open so that he could go to breakfast’
The hall was lit with amber light, just enough to make Colin unnerved; looking out over the prisoners, he saw it rising off the men getting their daily portion of half-cooked oatmeal and brown strawberries, sour milk.
Hm... awkwardly worded. Also, 'subtle' amber light, probably, since 'lit' implies it being strong. 'it rose off of the men getting their daily portion of half-cooked oatmeal, brown strawberries, sour milk.'
Colin studied the line, rolling his eyes up rather than lifting his head, in case a guard caught him acting strangely.
A combination of odd wording and needing more connection to the emotion. 'Colin studied the line, remembering himself enough to roll his eyes along it rather than lifting his head, in case a guard caught him acting strangely.'
"Maybe," Colin allowed.
The previous line, about Laney, should be connected more; maybe Colin could 'shoot[ing] him a grateful look' or something here?
"I can fight," Laney said. "Bout it, though."
Add a 'that's' before ''bout it'; it was unclear the first time I saw it.
Colin tried to get to him, again, and was shoved back a little more roughly this time.
The puntuation of 'again' is a bit awkward. No comma before it, I think.
The thing was, and this was what went around the prison like wildfire later, Carl never got a single good hit in. The Aryans had Laney by the arms, exposed, his feet scrambling for purchase on the ground, but as Carl came forward, wiping blood off his lip with the back of his hand, Laney raised his head and screamed in rage.
Not crit, just - this whole section, my sweet god. Amazing <3
the guards in the patrol alley knew they'd seen something they should have stopped, and they were vigilant for the rest of the day, to the point of harassment.
No comma after 'for the rest of the day', I think...
Gutierrez's lips moved occasionally, speaking softly to God, but he didn't sound like he was satisfied with any answers he got.
'didn't look like', since if his 'lips are moving' that implies that he's being quiet enough not to be heard.
removing Galano from the kitchen had done nothing, but then he hadn't really hoped it would.
'but then again'
The guards weren't letting up for a minute.
Odd tense. It'd sound better, I think, as 'The guards didn't let up for a minute.'
but he went through the motions, talking as he worked.
Given what he's talking about, I think it'd be worth him 'talking quietly'.
"You're sick, and we don't have the time -- " he started. Colin bit down. Joseph's body jerked.
Not crit - the opposite, actually. I've been ragging on you since Chapter One that I didn't buy their relationship being sexual, even when they were, you know, having sex -- and then WHAM this scene. I, uh, buy it here xD. (whatever makes this scene work needs to travel back through the rest of the novel.)
Somewhere, sometime on the outside, he'd torment Joseph into letting go, really for once taking what he wanted.
It'd be clearer as something like, 'Somewhere, sometime on the outside, in the future, he'd torment Joseph'
He slept fitfully, struggling against the bindings on the bed, and Galano laughed his way through Colin's dreams.
I'm not actually sure if there's a better way to do it, but the whole line feels awkward.
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That "Drawled slowly" took me right out of the story. It sounded like he was making light of something, which I'm pretty sure is not the case. Everything else in that scene really caught me. It was very intense, with an interesting dreamlike quality.
I'm really enjoying the story so far- it's really beautiful, in a gritty sort of way. Looking forward to the next chapter!
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I love how subtle the working of the magic is, like Colin cursing himself with the cigarette ash, I almost didn't get the significance of it. I like that it isn't flashy or showy (well except in Laney's case, that was pretty flashy! And awesome! GO LANEY!!! :D).
Lovely and amazing as always!
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