Reality Shift

Home : Stories by Zippit : Because You’re Mine : Reality Shift

Summary: There’s no such thing as permanence.

AUTHOR: Zippit
EMAIL: zippit@cryptoffic.com
RATING: R
SERIES/SETTING: Because You’re Mine
CHARACTERS: Red, Hawk, Red POV.
COMPLETED: October 21, 2008
WORDS: 3,139
DISCLAIMER: If you recognize anyone in this piece, I am in no way affiliated with or know them personally. I am neither making a profit nor plan to do so. This is nothing more than an exercise in fiction. This is a result of an overactive imagination and I claim no truth to these words.
BETA: Thanks to Catw00man for the beta. All other errors are mine.
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Prison Yard: Los Angeles Corrections Facility

Wasn’t sure what the hell to think about the notebook and pencils that showed up on my bunk. It ain’t like I did any favors for anyone. Not willing ones. Though I guess you could say I owe him even more now.  I don’t like owing people, him least of all. Rub the soft cloth covered corner of the book with my thumb where it’s hidden in the pocket of my jumpsuit. Half expected it to be some sort of damn booby trap cause it ain’t the store bought kind. Least not one I’ve seen. I wasn’t gonna be played that easy. Looked through the notebook front to back, page by page, for some message. Did the same with the case of pencils too and turned up zilch. I don’t like being in the dark ‘bout where things come from especially in here where a favor could just as easily turn into a blade in your back.

Lean back against one of the support poles in the chain link fence and gaze out over the yard. Brush my thumb over the page corners, the feel of unblemished paper a luxury I savor. Pencils came with a plastic pencil sharpener which ain’t half as good as a bladed one, but that converts easy to a shank. Can’t be too careful with loose metal and though mine’s plastic I still gotta show it to ‘em every cell inspection. Wouldn’t want to accidentally knife my benefactor now would I? Still ain’t too sure why. I’m nothing but his property and it ain’t like I gave him what he was probably wanting.

Glance across the yard where Hawk’s over with his boys, giving the bars a full workout. I’m not sure where I stand in the hierarchy of things. I know I ain’t got first dibbs on nothing out here and the longer I’ve been in here the more I’ve picked up on the routines. I ain’t as stupid as I been playing at. Hawk likes the bars while Rodriguez and his boys prefer the punching bag. I think it’s cause Rodriquez likes to remind people how he can take on the best of ‘em.

As quiet and “stupid” as they think I am, they let slip a lot of shit they figure’s safe. Not paying too much heed to the “country idiot” being around. I’m taking it all in and keeping a record for when I’ll need to trade on all the things I shouldn’t know. But I gotta keep it discreet. Gotta make it so that no one but me knows what the hell any of it says. Easy ‘nough to hide it in drawings. They know I draw and they won’t look twice if they come across my book. Cause a beat down wouldn’t be the worst I’d need to be expecting then. Nah, I’d be lucky to escape a shanking. Hawk wouldn’t have no say in protecting me. There are greater laws in here than the law of the jungle. Break one of those and there ain’t nobody that can save your skin.

So there ain’t no words in my notebook ‘cept for titles. Otherwise, it’s just drawings that have no meaning but to me. Learned a long time ago that it pays to have your own shorthand key. Cuts down on the chances of getting your plans swiped or ratted out to the wrong people. Nothing but drawings and the key to it all is nowhere but my head. Figure I’m gonna need a backup copy of it drawn out and hidden someplace or with someone eventually. Even then, not gonna make it easy to decipher. They’re gonna need to do some thinking to figure it out. First glance, it won’t be nothing more than a bunch of drawings and symbols. But spend some time with it and if you got the right starting place, it’ll all reveal itself. I haven’t seen any need for it yet, but one day it’ll come. Though secrets ain’t all I got in there.

I draw cause it’s something to do with my hands. Reality ain’t any sort of cake so bringing to life the memories and dreams floating in my head is the best and only respite in here. It’s the same sort of high I got when I was absorbed in cracking some bit of stubborn code. Took some of Hawk’s advice and stopped drifting off in the mess or out in the yard, but fucking laundry duty down in that hell hole is when I can’t help it. Only so much staring at the damn things spinning and spinning you can take before you go loony.

Scuff a foot into the hard packed dirt of the yard as my hand slides further into my pocket, curling my hand around the side of my notebook. The best time to plot out each and every stroke of my next “artsy,” personal piece is when I’m waiting for a load to finish. Though sometimes I use the time to ponder over every angle that could come about from the things I overhear. It’s all about politics in here. You gotta know the game to be able to play it. What better way to play it than to be seen as a nonthreat?

Still gotta protect myself against the downside of that. It’s why I took the damn time to pay attention to the rotation out here. It’s all about seniority. Whichever group’s got a member who’s been in here the longest, they go first. Ain’t by race or gang affiliation. Bit odd, but every jail’s got their own set of rules. That’s just one for this place. Hawk’s a bit of an exception to the rule. It’s usually the old timers with a good head for playing off politics that got themselves as head of gangs but somehow Hawk got sway over his own group through some method or ‘nother. I ain’t sure what he has goin’ on but part of it’s in how he gets things. Other’s in how he holds tons more secrets and lies than I’ve been collecting. I’m getting quite a stash and if it keeps going at this rate, maybe I can barter some to somebody. Always gonna be people willing to listen to the forgotten.

That’s the thing ‘bout Hawk. I’ve already heard bits and pieces of how the rest of the gang leaders got their start, but heard zilch about how Hawk’s risen to the middle of the heap. Cause he ain’t too high up, but he ain’t as low as he should be for the length of his stint in here. Found that out right quick. There’s some secret he’s hiding and I’m thinking if I can find out what it is, I ain’t gonna need to pay up.

Run my hand over my head then finger the edge of the prison issue shirt. At least it’s not the bright orange today. We get two kinds of shirts. Prison orange or dull grey. I prefer the grey. Less of a damn eyesore. Can’t hide in orange though in here you can literally disappear in it long as there’s plenty of other orange shirts around. Doubt I can really avoid paying up. He made it fucking clear what I am. Ain’t nothing but a possession. In here it’s all about what you can own or control. I ain’t want to be something that’s a bartered good cause who knows when Hawk’ll get tired and send me off to some other fool.

That gets started, I could end up in that fuckwipe, Rodriquez’s, hands and then where the fuck would I turn? No, it’s best I find a way to keep “paying” what Hawk wants till I can find a better deal. IF I can find a better deal. I’m the freshiest meat on the damn block. Like I don’t know Hawk’s handling me with kid gloves. It probably ain’t something he’s gonna do often. Not even sure why he’s doing it now. I know what’s eventually coming, just not why he’s taking his damn sweet time in taking it.

Slowly uncurl my hands from the insides of my pockets. Can’t let ‘em see what gets me riled up cause then it’ll be nothing but them trying to find the best way to use it against me. It’s about checks and balances in here. What you can get away with and what you can’t cause you can’t trust the guards anymore than the other prisoners. That’s where instincts and honing the skills you can develop in here are gonna come in handy. Push the boundaries just enough to get what you want, but never too far.

There ain’t no real opportunity for those that don’t belong to get a chance at the workout equipment ‘cause there ain’t no one that don’t belong. Not really. You watch long enough, hidden alliances come to light. Someone that seems a member of one group could really be a member of another. You get strong enough prison trust between two groups that’ll happen.

Sidle over toward the weight area when Hawk and his boys start claiming their favored equipment. Get to the bench press ahead of some squinty eyed dude that gives me the evil eye before he slinks over to the dumbbells instead.

Fuck, when was the last time I touched workout equipment? Only real heavy lifting I did before this joint was only what I needed to build computers and buy whatever I needed to pull off the heists I techied. Pull off the weights left from the last guy and he must’ve been a tank cause I have to pull off close to two hundred pounds before I think I can manage to even lift the bar without looking like a complete boneless fish. Sit down on the bench press, glancing around at all the others absorbed in their routine, before I lay back.

The sigh and screech of worn metal accompanies my search for a comfortable position while the odd square of my notebook settles awkwardly against my thigh. I shouldn’t have brought it out here, but I don’t trust it inside. Guess it’s gonna be another one of those things I have to get used to in here. Shift my shoulders, wincing slightly as the flattened mat on the bench scrapes my back, then plant my feet to start a rep of twenty. Needa remember to bring out a spare shirt from now on.

The eyes don’t stop following me no matter what time of day or where I am. It’s almost become a comforting weight. Would if I didn’t feel the malice. Someone’s still got it out for me. Pretty good idea it’s Rodriquez and I ain’t gonna give him an opportunity. Here’s hoping that the fucking looks I got shot after Hawk “claimed” me will keep me safe. Long as it keeps me safe, I won’t fight the arrangement...too much. Low man on the totem pole I can’t fight it too much. Lose that protection, I’m free for the scooping and I ain’t need that.

All around me is the low grunt and clank-thud of equipment moving against the strain of bodies. I hear it between the push and strain of my own body against the weight of the bar. One, two lifts when I hear low mutters. “Why’s the fish get first dibs on the press today? I wanted to beat my personal best.” Two more lifts and a different voice chimes in, deep as a mountain ravine, “Look at that Ray-Ray. He starts out with near twice the amount of weight you did.”

The flush floods up along my skin. I don’t need to make enemies without even trying. Grunt low when I catch a heavy whiff of smoke from someone walking past for water or to another piece of equipment. Never was into smoking, but the smell brings back memories of sitting out in the woods on the porch of a family cabin. Bite my lip and shove the memory away for now. Memories are for the darkness of cells where thinking of the outside won’t get you looked at like you’re easy prey.

“At least my price of joining didn’t involve screaming in the laundry closet.” That mild voice filled with light derision has got to be Ray-Ray. His words make me nearly drop the bar clear across my throat. That’d be a way to go. Crush my own windpipe in the prison yard during a workout. Force it up again and again until I clank the bar back into place with arms burning but I got a good set of thirty. Didn’t think there was other ways to join in but those options must’ve been rescinded when they jumped me.

Sit up and roll my shoulders. Ain’t gonna matter right now, but tomorrow I’m gonna be hurting like a sonofabitch. I still needa do a few more sets, try for two at least. Need to keep pushing cause I’m kindling to just ‘bout everyone in here. They could take me out with a single swing. Stretch out my arms and figure maybe I can do a decreasing amount of reps per set, but I ain’t gonna be getting anywhere with that. Better to do full sets each time. The voices have found better things to talk about than me. Take slow measured breathes until I think I’m rested enough then lay back on the bench press for the next rep.

My arms feel like fucking jello when I’m finally done with my third set. Roll my head against my shoulders and shake my arms out as I walk over to the leg press. Upper body, lower body, then I’ll hit the track for some laps and call it a day. Tomorrow I’ll hit the bars and maybe do some free weights. Guess I’ll need to get up to doing everything every day. Really ain’t looking forward to that. Slip into the seat for the leg press and make a face at the too warmed metal and the slip of someone else’s sweat on the seat. Attempt to press the leg press upwards and end up biting my lip hard when it feels like I near broke my legs. Look to the side and I shoulda known better. Shift the weight lock to a little over two hundred pounds so I can manage it. Try the press again and that’s better.

Three sets of thirty again and as I count I try to place names to the voices around me. Ray-Ray’s moved to the free weights and the one who tried to start trouble is on the bench press. Think his name’s Fly cause he’s always around when you don’t want him to be. Pretty Tony’s doing some tricep curls next to Ray-Ray and Cowboy’s doing some sit ups with Curly, named for his unruly hair. Take a breather between set two and three, slumping back in the seat and catch Hawk’s green gaze. It ain’t anything overt, he’s just got me in his sight. Wonder how long he’s been doing that. I know the feel of his eyes, but I must’ve missed them when I was worrying about my ass.

Don’t look his way because I’m not ready to give another “payment.” I’ll probably never be, but if I can avoid it a little longer I’ll take it. Eventually he’s gonna come and I won’t say no. Shake my head and start my final set. It ain’t like I hate working out that bad. Was no point on the outside. I had plenty of other things to do than waste my time building up my body. I was fast enough and smart enough to get out of most situations. That’s all that mattered.

But it matters in here. So I gotta suffer through all this initial stuff until I’m as capable as all the others in here. Focus, focus, ignore the pain, the lack of oxygen in your body, and probably how fucking beet red I am. Bad thing about pale skin? It shows every single fucking equilibrium change. Rest my feet on the bench press  when I’ve finished, closing my eyes as I listen to my panting. I know it ain’t a good idea, but no one would chance something right now, would they?

Images of being found shanked on some stupid piece of workout equipment flash through my mind the moment I hear the tread of shoes beside me. Jerk my eyes open and look up into Hawk’s gaze. Blink at him because he wouldn’t want anything here, right now would he? Not where the guards could see....

He tilts his head and the panic running through me eases up. No mistaking that. He wants his turn on here. I’m done anyway. Wipe my forehead and curse under my breath. Shoulda grabbed a towel and some water before heading out here. Wouldn’t feel that damn shitty then. “Take it easy, Red. Don’t need to kill yourself.”

“I ain’t. Just meaning to make it worth my while.” I’m not sure how to act around him. He’s never sought me out before. If anything the only time I’ve really seen him was when he came to collect on what I owed him.

“Got plenty of time. Ain’t gonna be whuppin’ up on Rodriguez’s boys anytime soon.” Flinch slightly at the name and shrug as I look toward the track and I.D. who’s on it. Good, no Rodriguez or any of his boys. I should be good for those few miles I wanna run. Hear the clank and settling of Hawk adjusting the weight on the leg press for his use.

“Don’t wear yourself out, Red.  What you’re doin’ ain’t good for nothing if you’re too tired to fight.” Look back at Hawk’s words and wonder what his motivations are. Cause it’s not concern that has him talking. It’s probably more ‘bout protecting his investment than anything else.

Nod at his words and I probably should remember that. “Any tricky spots on the track I should watch out for?” The intense look Hawk shoots toward the track has me uneasy and the evenness of his reps falter for a moment before resuming their measured pace.

“Take Ray-Ray with you.” Nod slowly and glance toward Ray-Ray still doing curls. Take a step in his direction when Hawk says, “Do what you need, ain’t no need for more.” I think he’ll say more but he doesn’t, shutting me out like I don’t exist. Start toward Ray-Ray again and there’s another thing to add to the list of rules in my new existence. It’s like being thrown into a new programming language with no guide, no hints, and nothing to do but stumble through it. I’ll figure it out. I always have.

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Zippit - zippit@cryptoffic.com