New Digs

The men were returned to the living unit and the restraints were removed. The area between the two banks of cell doors was expansive enough to be called a common room, containing two couches and four chairs. There was a large flat screen television secured to the wall but inaccessible behind thick ballistic Plexiglass. There was another open area at the end of the cells on the west side with a toilet, urinal, and a shower stall.

There was definitely some palpable tension in the air, particularly between Darryl and Jack. Russell watched on, ready to lend aid in a heartbeat if things got physical while Mordred vanished silently back into his cell.

Squaring off, Jack felt confident he could take Darryl in a straight up fight, especially since the other was still rattled by his experience with the shock collar. Stepping up, Jack extended his right hand. “Us and them,” he said, referring to the con code which put the solidarity of all ahead of personal grudges or unresolved beefs.

Darryl looked down at the proffered hand, then to Jack before nodding slowly, “For now,” he said, taking the hand firmly and shaking it.

Releasing the handshake, both men turned away, two alpha males in a pack of alphas.

“I think what we need to do is figure this shit out man,” Hector said, looking around.

Maynard let out a long pronounced breathe, irritated, “What is to figure out? They are conducting an experiment. The Nazis did similar research on POWs and other death camp detainees in the interest of science. I would be curious to see the project summary to see what they intend for us, it could be quite fascinating,” he opined.

“Nazis?” asked Marcellus.

The doctor shook his head, “Moron,” he muttered.

The big muscular black man walked over to the doctor, “You need to watch what your narrow ass be saying. I know about you and how you poison people or cut throats while people sleep because you don’t got any heart. You ain’t got the jam to go toe to toe with a man, you best not be running your mouth, you get me?” he challenged, several inches taller and at least eighty pounds heavier than the doctor.

Maynard held his ground a moment before backing down.

“Everybody good?” John asked, looking to the faces of the other men. “Maynard’s right on one point. They are doing some type of research project on us and it’s obviously rooted in behavior modification. Over the last hundred years they have been exploring a bunch of different ways to control socially unacceptable behavior, from electroconvulsive therapy, insulin shock therapy, and lobotomy.”

“Moniz won the Nobel Peace Prize in ’49 for his work,” commented Maynard.

“They control the food, the water, the ventilation system, for all we know they could be bombarding us with radiation or white noise or electromagnetic energy,” he continued.

“Like lab rats?” Russell asked.

John nodded slowly. “Just like lab animals and because we are who we are, even if society catches wind of what’s going on, they won’t bat an eye if a handful of convicts are sacrificed along the way. Just some friendly advice, don’t antagonize Dagmara or give her reason to electrocute you and scramble your senses. Like it or not we’re in this together, Dark Side of the Moon, side 2, song 2, like Jack said.”

“Qué?” queried Hector.

“Us and Them,” John answered with a smile.

“So they win?” demanded Marcellus, shaking his head angrily from side to side and frowning.

John shook his head, “I know you’re pissed big man, but we need you to be more strategic in your thinking. How’s getting zapped going to benefit any of us in the long run?”

“Fuck that. There’s nine of us counting Dracula over there in his cage, I say we tear this fucking place apart,” grunted Marcellus, snapping his head back. “Rip it to the ground!” he yelled in a rage.

Instantly, Marcellus was dropped to his knees, hands up near his throat as his collar was engaged.

Jack shook his head and looked at the other men still in the common room, “A lesson for all of us, the moment any of us acts up,” he reached up and tapped a finger against the cool metal around his throat and made a buzzing sound with his mouth.

“What a fucking cunt,” grumbled Cornelius. “My teeth still hurt,” he added, opening and closing his jaw, eyes on Marcellus writhing on the ground.

Marcellus, now lying supine, stopped thrashing.

Looking at Maynard and pointing at the still form of Marcellus on the ground, “You going to do something?” John asked.

The doctor frowned, deepening the age lines in his face. “Fine,” he breathed, tone full of scorn as he dropped to a knee and checked Marcellus’s wrist for a radial pulse. “Still alive,” he said, letting the wrist go and allowing the hand to drop back to the ground before rising. “Happy?” he asked, fixing a look at John.

“Do not underestimate that woman,” John counselled.

“That mami, elle es una mujer caliente,” Hector said, nodding his head slowly. “She probably got some Latin in her,” he offered.

“Dagmara? That a popular name with girls in the barrio homey?” Russell asked, scowling.

“Well if she ain’t got any Latin in her, I can give her a little,” he said, place his left hand on his belly and dancing while giving Russell a wink.

“A very little,” chuckled Russell.

“Dynamite comes in small packages baby,” Hector replied, still swiveling his hips and shuffling his feet.

“How droll,” Maynard quipped, rolling his eyes.

“Mind what you say, this area is definitely under surveillance, probably both audio and video,” Jack cautioned.

John nodded, “Good point,” he said, walking over to Jack. Leaning in close, “We’re going to need to get out of here,” he whispered.

Jack nodded slowly. “Agreed, we need to start gathering as much intel about the layout, routine, guard rotation, assets as possible, the usual, but these bloody collars are going to be problematic though,” he said.

Leaning back, John nodded, “Leave that on the backburner for now,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

A monotone female voice came over the intercom, “Five minutes to lock up. All prisoners are required report to their cells.”