“How did you end up in here, Charlie?”
“The same way you did. Let’s leave it at that.”
He was abrupt and didn’t seem very keen to chat unlike some of the others.
An hour later, Edgar and Cowboy showed up along with another group who replaced those from the morning.
“Hey Jack, didn’t see you at lunch.”
He glanced at Charlie. “Seems someone had other plans.” He thought he’d get a lunch but Jack was told he had to stay the full day, something to do with doctor’s orders. It was bullshit.
Jack noticed in the stream of men entering was Rocket Man. He was sent over to the group dealing with planter boxes.
“Hey Charlie. Since I didn’t get a lunch break, you think I might take a sit-down break? Work on the planters over there?”
“Sure. Just don’t you go fucking anything up.”
He went with Edgar and Cowboy and took a seat at the table beside Rocket Man whose name he came to learn was Mack Roberts but no one called him that.
“Hey Rocket. You want to lower the volume? You’re giving me a headache,” Cowboy said as they worked on assembling pre-made wooden boxes. It was a lot like Lego. The pieces slotted together. Edgar said it was because they wouldn’t hand them a hammer or nails. Certain tools were only allowed to be used by Charlie and those who had proven themselves.
Lost in his own world, Jack leaned over to Rocket. “I heard you escaped this joint. That true?”
“Would I lie?” Edgar said. “Tell him, Rocket. Tell him how you busted out of this place.”
Trying to get a word out of him was impossible. All that came out of his mouth were song lyrics. He went from one tune to the next without missing a beat. If he wasn’t singing he was humming.
“Ah he won’t tell you. He’s in la-la land,” Edgar said. “Anyway, heard you spoke with the doc today. What did he have to say?”
“The usual but I got a coffee out of it.”
“You hear that, Cowboy. Chapman gave him a coffee. He must have a soft spot for you. Never given us anything except hassle.”
Jack was half listening and observing those who were handing back their tools. The one guard wanded them down. He could see how someone could get a tool past him, similar to the way patients avoided taking medication. But a distraction would be required.
“Here, Jack,” Edgar said pulling out a brown roll from his pocket. “Figured you might be hungry.”
“You got that for me?”
“Well it was to create some hooch but hey I can do that another time.”
“Hooch?”
“My special recipe. You see, you need yeast. This is a special kind of bread issued to me because I’m diabetic. It’s a part of my low glycemic diet. Anyway, two of these rolls is enough to make some hooch. There are a few other items like sugar, coffee filters, and juice from chapel. I mix it together, let it ferment for a couple of weeks in a sealed bottle and boom, a bottle of jail wine that I can enjoy or trade for other things.”
Jack stopped what he was doing. “A warm place. Where?”
“Ah, that’s my secret.” He let Jack wonder for a second or two before he said, “There is a compartment, located in a corridor wall over in C unit. It was once used for plumbing or something like that. Anyway, I was given the duty of mopping corridors so when I do that, I sample it and make sure my hooch is vented, and then in a couple of weeks it’s good to go.”
Jack chuckled. “And no one sees you?”
“No cameras in this place.”
“Yeah, why is that?”
“One word,” Cowboy said. “Budget. Or lack of. These a-holes don’t have the moolah. That’s why patients are being attacked at night.”
“Attacked?”
“Yeah. Dragged out of beds, given a beating,” Cowboy said. “They say they’re trying to do something about it but they won’t. Privacy laws, cost and whatever. It’s all excuses.”
Jack nodded.
He looked down and pocketed the roll. “You got that by the guard?”
“Of course. I’m allowed it because I’m diabetic. I could have an attack at any time.”
Jack frowned. “But this wouldn’t stop it.”
“No,” he whispered. “but most of these assholes don’t know that.” Edgar smiled.
A few minutes later, Jack looked at the security guard. “You ever had an attack?”
“In here?” Edgar nodded. “A few times.”
“Must cause one hell of a disturbance.”
Edgar followed his gaze. “What did you have in mind?”
“Oh, you know… a little of this, a little of that,” he said looking toward the lock box.
“Jack, even if you could get a tool out, where would you keep it?”
He stared back at Edgar, a smile forming.
“Oh no. Not with my hooch.”
“Come on, Edgar. It would only be temporary.”
“Yeah? Why, you thinking of breaking out of here tonight?”
“Maybe. I’ll take it when the opportunity arises.”
“You won’t get a hundred yards and the cops will pick you up. Besides, tools aren’t much use if you can’t get through security doors inside the unit.” Edgar got up. “Forget it.” He walked off to get a drink. Cowboy slipped off the end of the bench and said he needed to take a leak.
Sitting there beside Rocket Man, Jack continued working in silence. No more than twenty seconds had passed when he stopped singing and spoke up. “You don’t want to snip the fence. I tried that the first time.”
Jack turned and his brow furrowed. “You understood?”
“Of course.”
“But the singing. The dancing.”
He smiled.
“It’s all an act?” Jack asked.
He gave a nod. “Ever heard of banner blindness?” He paused waiting for Jack. “People consciously or subconsciously ignore what they see over and over again. How do you think I got out last time?”
A guard looked over and Rocket Man burst into song, an off-pitch rendition of “Honky Cat.” As soon as eyes were off him he stopped.
Jack knew he didn’t have
