"You didn't approve of the coup, I take it?"
"Nope, and they took offense to that. In fact, most of the fuckers you see between these fences are those who didn't approve of the coup. I’d say they account for over two-thirds of the current population. Folks like Scar were in here before and they didn't like to share their little kingdom with intellectuals."
"How long ago did this coup happen?"
Luther shrugged. "I’m not sure, honestly. It’s been a while, though—long enough for folks to start accepting the status quo. Until you rolled into the area, that is."
"How is it that you know enough to be locked in here with the rest of us ignoramuses?"
The other man tried to keep a smug smirk from touching his lips. "I worked intelligence. Of course, that was back when it was mostly making sure no one took too much food or catching someone trying to score extra canteen by peddling fuel to the people who came to buy at our gates. I learned a thing or two about this place, and that knowledge helps keep me informed. It can be useful to stay a step ahead of trouble but sometimes, trouble has a quicker step. I never was much of a fighter."
Whatever else he wasn’t, he certainly was a talker.
"And why is it that Scar wanted to beat the absolute living shit out of you?"
"I found out how he got his scar. He told everyone when he got in that it was when enforcement beat a confession of stolen goods out of him. Later on, though, when he was a little off his rocker, he mentioned that he actually got it long before. He drank a little too much stuff he was caught brewing, went to work, tripped on a shovel, and landed face-first on the blade."
"And you shared it?"
"Well, I told him I know and hoped to score some points by not spreading it to the other prisoners. He took it as a threat, though—like I tried to force him into something."
"You're not much good at this kind of thing, are you?"
"I usually only gathered the information. It was on others to use it."
"And you shared it with me because…"
"I feel I don't owe the fucker anything now," Luther17 said and scratched the brown bristle on his chin and ran his fingers through his long hair. "At the same time, I feel I owe you for keeping him from killing me. And I think someone like you might have a use for someone like me. I have ways to find information from the different blocks of the prison, given that's where the rest of your outsiders are being held."
He nodded. "I don't suppose I could cash in on that favor already and ask you to get word out to those folks who came with me. Maybe find out how many of them are still alive."
Luther17 nodded as Hammerhand began to eat with a little more enthusiasm. "I can do that. Is there anything else?"
"I think I'd like to have a word with Scar."
"You don't think he's likely to kill you after you put him on his back like that?"
After a moment’s thought, he shook his head. "I think he's likely to think twice about making the attempt but he'll consider it unless I reach out to him first and make sure he knows there's no bad blood. Besides, I have to take a chance on a big lifer criminal like him having a little good in him someplace."
His companion stood, already finished with his food. "I'll see what I can do. But try not to get your hopes up too high."
Hammerhand didn't want to tell the man that he was already working from the dregs of his hopes at this point—from desperation, really. He didn't seem like the kind of guy to share something like that with. He wasn’t Tinker.
Chapter Sixty-Eight
As the suns moved toward the western end of the cave, they became a little dimmer and the odd effect of them lighting the roof gave the impression of a sunset as well. It was a strange sight, not quite as gorgeous as the real thing and definitely intentional but still beautiful in its own way. The people who had designed it had put in a little extra effort to give the people below a nice show.
Another table was wheeled out and the same type of food as before was handed to the prisoners. They were all eager enough to partake, and Hammerhand felt something like an appetite returning. He took a tray again and sat at the same table.
Once again, it looked like the other prisoners had no real desire to interact with him. They moved to the other tables and threw dirty looks at him as they passed. Or maybe it was their regular looks. He couldn't tell and honestly paid no attention.
At least this time, he noticed when someone joined him at the table, but it wasn't Luther17 like he had assumed it would be. The smaller man was nowhere to be seen. Instead, the considerably larger Scar now sat across from him.
"The little mouthy man told me you wanted to have a word with me."
Hammerhand took a deep breath. He certainly didn't want to keep talking to people. He felt like he needed time to himself to collect his thoughts. But people still needed to talk to him, and he still needed to talk to them. There was no time to gather himself, and there certainly was no time for him to settle in. He was in captivity, after all, and every waking moment needed to be spent trying to find a way out for
