Inter-spem et Metum 29
~*~ The events of this story will incorporate external added elements from the author's imagination into the already rich and exhilarating canon narrative of the HBO original series, Oz. For the most part, the canon of the series will remain intact to preserve a sense of realism to the plot, while also being sensitive of the time flow of events occurring within Oz.
~*~ Although the characters to be featured are prominently factual in their given genre, they are the sole property of Tom Fontana and Barry Levinson, and are copyrighted to Rysher Entertainment and HBO. All original characters are of the author's creation and belong to him alone and, as with the rest of the story, may not be replicated or redistributed in any way without formal consent from said author.
~*~ Underage reading or any other illegalities is neither encouraged nor condoned in any way by the author. He also will not tolerate any form of plagiarism towards any of the words to come, as they are his and his alone. The principal objective is that of enjoyment and entertainment to you, the reader.
~*~ Address any type of question and/or feedback to jc71883@hotmail.com, making sure to add a relation to the story on the subject line of the e-mail to guarantee its reception.
The lockdown had lasted for an entire day, but the hacks and the investigators still was not close to finding the culprit in Urbano's heinous death. Warden Querns had addressed them on two separate occasions during the lockdown about the unacceptability of continued violence amongst the walls of the prison. The stupid fool was slowly losing what little control he thought he had in Oz. All his rules and regulations meant nothing because violence and drugs were still running rampant.
Pancamo had to be nervous about the precarious position that was forced upon him. His top underling was dead and his partner had been thrown in the hole during what had been a carefully orchestrated shakedown. The influence of D-tabs had all but dried up from the life vessels of Oz because of Torquemada's brief nonexistence. It had to remain this way. Destiny had to be destroyed in order to maintain some sense of stability and monotony.
El Cartel had probably already gained control of what was left of El Norte by now---it was why he had airholed Urbano after all. A decent chunk of Torquemada's hold on Em City died when Urbano did. Calderón was not going to let the queen gain as much power as he wanted. Dismantling part of his operation while he was indisposed was only the first strike in what looked to be a bitter and deadly war between them. He would have his work cut out for him once he got out of the hole. It would be his move to make next.
Em City retained an unusually calm feeling as O'Reily sat and watched TV with Rebadow, Busmalis, and Beecher. The earphones were only slightly covering one of his ears as his eyes darted around to see where the two men were. Pancamo was in his pod upstairs with two of his men standing outside the door as guards while El Cartel was nowhere to be seen. The man had many moves to make to get his gang to be a threat again. He had to fortify his numbers first and foremost. With the limited number of Latinos currently in Em City, that was going to be a challenge.
The plan had worked. He had to wait to go into work later to get the blood drawn to be analyzed, but it had ultimately worked. O'Reily had gone crazy in his cell waiting for the lockdown to be over so that he could have the tests done. If Alvarez had given him something---he did not want to think about it. He had to be clean---they both had to be clean. There was no other option in his mind.
"And so, my final Sallycise episode will air in a few weeks," Ms. Sally said from the TV. "But, we'll have a lot of fun and get fit until then."
"Why are they canceling Sallycise?" Busmalis asked as he watched.
"Why do you care, old man? Trouble in paradise with Norma already?" O'Reily said. "She not as good as the real thing?"
"Norma and I are fine thank you!" he snapped.
"You're lucky, Busmalis," Beecher said in a slightly sad tone. "At least you can see---can touch Norma."
"Oh, Tobias. You still miss him, don't you?" Rebadow said in his calm tone.
"You can't just turn off something like that. Not something as strong as we had."
"What the fuck are you babbling about, Beecher?" the Irishman said. "How the hell can two men be that connected to each other? You're fucking out of your mind. Too much Destiny lodged in your brain."
"No. We had something special. I don't expect you to understand. How could you?"
"What's that mean?"
"You've only ever allowed yourself to care about Cyril. Everyone else around are either objects for you to manipulate to get what you want or just dispensable," Beecher said in a somewhat caring way.
"Watch it, Beecher," he warned. "It seems that Keller and I had that in common, then."
"Hey---I don't want to fight. I'm not your enemy, Ryan. Chris did love me---in his own way he did love me."
"He did," Rebadow stated. "It may have been dysfunctional and selfish, but Keller had real feelings for you, Tobias."
"We all knew it, Beecher," Busmalis said. "Love knows no bounds---no sex, no age, nothing."
"And that's exactly what you're getting with your new wife, Busmalis---no sex," O'Reily said and laughed. "How is a marriage supposed to last without sex?"
"Sex is the ultimate physical manifestation two living creatures can experience with one another," Rebadow said. "However, there are some intimate emotions and extrasensory perceptions that can easily conquer the physical contact of flesh. You should know this, Ryan. Especially in the case of your brother, Cyril."
"What the hell? I've never wanted to fucking have sex with my brother," he angrily said and was resisting the strong impulse to knock the old man out.
"No---think about it. When Cyril was executed, didn't you want to be there to see it? Didn't you feel him around you as it was being done? His spirit had to have touched yours in the very moments leading up to his death. That is far more powerful than two bodies being sexually joined together, don't you think?"
"No. I didn't feel any of that bullshit," O'Reily immediately dismissed because he did not want to talk about it anymore.
It was a lie---a strong lie to cover up what he did not want anyone to know. For a few moments in the maze and before Dr. Nathan had come to him, a warm feeling had engulfed his insides. Something had told him that his little brother was going to be okay. O'Reily had never told anyone about it---not even his mother or Alvarez. It was one of the most personal and enlightening forms of deliverance he had ever experienced in his life. No one deserved to know what he went through on that day.
"Then Beecher is right. You have no idea of the boundless sensations one can feel without ever coming in physical contact with another," Rebadow sadly said. "When there is a strong enough shared bond---"
"Right---whatever," he snapped and left the TV area behind.
"Goodness, Bob, don't you think that was a little harsh?" Busmalis said to his old friend.
"Yeah. I didn't want to upset him," Beecher looked at him as he was walking away and said.
O'Reily made his way back to his pod because he was not going to stay there to be condemned and viewed as a soulless void incapable of emotion or feeling. He had nothing to prove to any of them because they were of no importance to him. He dropped the earphones in his trunk and went up to his bed to keep his memories of Cyril from defeating him. Faith had helped him get though the execution, and God had allowed him to say a final goodbye to his brother---to know that he was going to be okay.
Some things the old man said seemed to be true---and he was wishing that they were not. But, there had been a strong enough connection between himself and Cyril without them ever having been intimate with one another. What scared the Irishman was that he had started to feel that connection with Alvarez. They were close so his mind could be confusing what it was supposed to be experiencing. But something further was there between them. It was something so much more than exchanging kisses or sexual advances. He had to condemn Beecher for his intense feelings for Keller because he did not want to experience them himself. But he did.
"Hey, Ryan, Calderón's in the gym. He's got about another hour there," Meaney said after he entered the pod.
"Get lost," he snapped.
"What---what'd I do?"
"Just get the fuck out."
"Geez---bad mood much?" the grunt sarcastically said and left.
He did not feel up to dealing with anything but he knew that time was limited. He had to talk to Pancamo without El Cartel seeing them together and concluding that he was allied with Torquemada as well. That was never going to happen. O'Reily remained still for a few more moments to get his bursting thoughts under control before he got back to what he knew how to do best. He had to push Alvarez out of his mind and concentrate on driving a wedge between Pancamo and Torquemada.
It had to be a delicate process because Pancamo was thickheaded and believed that all the moves he made were the right ones. For right now, O'Reily just had to plant a seed inside his head against Torquemada and nurture it from a distance. He hopped up the stairs and stopped right in front of the two goons, waiting to see if he could have an audience with the muscular Italian. One of them knocked on the glass and Pancamo looked up and nodded.
"Yo, Chucky," he said when he was inside the pod.
"What is it, O'Reily? You got half a second."
"I heard what happened to Urbano."
"Yeah---you and everyone else," Pancamo said and was unimpressed. "What's your business with me?"
"You know who axed him?"
"I have an idea, but we're not in lockdown, are we? When I find out more, someone's going to pay."
"Sure. If you say so," O'Reily agreed.
"You come to reminisce about Urbano?"
"Torquemada."
Pancamo looked over at him and said, "What about him?"
"El Cartel. He's got control of El Norte."
"Stop talking in fucking riddles, mick. Say what you came to say."
"Destiny's fucking up the entire prison. You took a hit and lost some of your men," the Irishman said and wanted to finish the conversation already.
"You offering me some sort of partnership there, O'Reily? There's no other reason why you'd be here---other than to work a fucking angle."
"I don't was shit to do with D-tabs. Those goddamn pills are poisoning Oz. Urbano knew it and that's what got him in the end," he embellished to drive his subtle point across.
"Urbano knew what I told him to know."
"That's probably why he got whacked."
"What'd you say?" the big Italian said defensively.
"Destiny is losing its ground inside here. You've lost men---lost influence. This shit's going downhill fast."
"Only until Torquemada gets out. We'll have everyone back slinging in no time. Destiny will rule Oz like the plan," Pancamo said and was still unsure of where the conversation was headed.
"But you won't. Doesn't look like there's enough spotlight for two with Torquemada around. Face it, Chucky, you're to Torquemada what Urbano was to you."
"Get the fuck out my face, spud!" he sharply said. "Get out of here!"
"Hit a nerve? Looks like my cue to exit," O'Reily snidely said and left the pod.
He was not sure if the muscled idiot had fully grasped the true meaning of the conversation but it was all he could do for now. O'Reily had to play it safe and easily build up doubt Pancamo's mind about Torquemada. He could not launch a verbal assault against the queen because then his position would have been given away. The Italian had to see that he was going to be a waste of air once Torquemada's fingers had spread out far enough inside Oz.
Lunch was over and he was headed to work, and to get his blood taken. Pancamo had given him a few looks throughout his entire time in the cafeteria and O'Reily knew what that meant. It was still too soon to expect anything, but the big Italian had the seeds of doubt plaguing his mind--- cognizant wheels were spinning with possibilities. He entered the hospital and went to sign in as he thought more about his work. Torquemada was in for a few rude awakenings upon his return from the hole.
The infirmary gave him a calming sensation because of how quiet it usually was. There were only a few patients---Robson was no longer there. The Irishman walked to the back room and saw the nurse preparing a needle for another patient. His skin crawled because he hated needles ever since he was in grade school, but he had to deal with it when the time came. Finding out if anything was in his body was far more important than his hatred of needles.
Dr. Nathan called to him from the other room and he went to meet her. She had gloves on already and was preparing a tray with an unused needle and a blue elastic band. O'Reily sat on the empty bed besides her and took a deep breath. She smiled and looked at him---it was not the same anymore. His feelings for her had completely changed and he was no longer interested in her---sexually or otherwise. She was a beautiful woman, but the chances of them being together were next to impossible so he had to give up on that front. She had made it clear on numerous occasions that she was not going to compromise her morals for him. It had to be this way.
"You ready?" she sweetly asked.
"Yeah. I'm just going to look away---I fucking hate needles," O'Reily almost whined and she laughed a little.
"Okay. Relax your arm---your muscles. Don't tense up or it'll sting."
"What's the rubber band for?"
"To help find a vein," Dr. Nathan said as she retrieved it and tied it tightly to his forearm. "I think I see one."
"Go---get it over with."
"Relax."
"Talk to me. Distract me."
"You're such a little kid," she innocently said.
"Hey, how did it feel---holding a still beating heart in your hands?"
"Well," Dr. Nathan said as she stuck the needle into his skin and wiggled it around to find the right spot. "It was an amazing feeling. It was a sad moment too, though because someone had just died. At least we were able to preserve it so that someone else could get another chance at life."
"Oz is a good place to harvest organs," O'Reily said after he felt the pinch. "There are so many dead bodies around here---some even in the walls."
"Ryan, that's a cruel thing to say. And what happened to the Reverend Cloutier is no joking matter. No human being deserves to suffer the way he did."
"Kirk went a little sadistic in the end there. Who knew he had it in him. How's it coming?" he said, with his head still turned in the opposite direction.
"Just a little bit more."
"This isn't so bad."
"Usually, when you relax, most things aren't. There---we're done," Dr. Nathan said and she removed the needle from under his skin and loosened the elastic band from around his forearm.
"Test it for everything. I'm not taking any chances," the Irishman said and sounded a little paranoid.
"The results of the HIV test will take about two weeks to return. I should have the results for the rest of the tests within a few days."
"Great. Sound mind---and all that."
"Can you help the nurse with that?"
"What---don't I get a cookie, or something?" he said and laughed.
"Oh, Ryan."
She taped a small circular bandage at the origin of the needle's entry into his skin and left with the small vial of blood to log it in and run the tests that had to be done. O'Reily walked over to the nurse and helped lift a heavy box of supplies that needed to be unpacked. There were a few more in the back room, so he was tasked with doing that. His nerves were a little rattled because there was some possibility that he might have contracted something from his sexual contact with the Latino.
He did not know how to feel about it. It was probably only in his head, but he had to be sure that there was absolutely nothing between them. Alvarez was now the only one left in Oz that he was able to let some of his guard down with. It grew extremely frustrating and sometimes tiring always to have to watch out, plot plans, and keep up airtight defenses. O'Reily appreciated the fact that he and Alvarez had gotten to know each other on a deeper level---a level where most of those things did not matter between them.
That was why the partnership had come to be so important to him. It offered a desperate release from the routine of Oz. It offered a touch he had prepared himself unable to ever experience because of his life imprisonment. Alvarez had awoken something inside him and he no longer cared that they were two men. He was no fag, but the Latino made him feel good. O'Reily was not going to deny any pleasure he could find in the cesspool that was his life now. Both their bodily safety was something that was important too, though.
At dinner, the Irishman sat by himself and ate while thoughts of his father's trial consumed his head. Rockford had briefly met with him a few days ago to update him on the case. He seemed optimistic about the chances of a drop of the death penalty. O'Reily tried to have a little positivity but, the last time he did, it had not ended the way he wanted it to. Cyril's death still forced him to have nightmares and bouts of severe anxiety. The pills had helped, but he was not going to take the chance of being caught and being thrown in the hole. And he was going to remain sober.
Back in Em City, he grabbed his shower bag and towel and headed to the shower room to wash the residue of the day from his skin. Pleased to see that he was the only one in the room, he stripped off his clothes, rested everything on top of the half wall, and got under a showerhead. O'Reily desperately wanted hot water pounding against his skin and kneading all the knots out of his muscles but the hottest the water ever got was lukewarm. He cursed under his breath as the disappointing water crashed on his skin.
His mind could safely be let out for the time being. He was able to breathe and take a break from being the mind-fucker extraordinaire Ryan O'Reily. His short hair laid flat on his head because the pulsing water made it so. He opened his mouth and accepted some water as he gargled and spat it back out on the already wet floor. The water was not as inviting as he wanted it to be, but the sensation was good against his battered skin.
The Irishman's mind was so wrapped up in its own moment of freedom that he did not hear when the glass door opened and someone else entered his once personal sanctuary. Through all the sources he had in Oz, he still did not know when Alvarez was going to come back from the hole. He must be going crazy in there for this long. O'Reily felt the guilt, but still believed that he had done the right thing for the Latino. The other man skipped the showerhead closest to him and stepped under the next one to get his shower started.
O'Reily finally turned his head and his mind snapped back into place as he said, "Hey."
"Who are you?" Calderón asked when he looked over.
"A dealmaker."
"Got no need for one of those."
"I saw your work firsthand in the hospital," he said and tried to goad the other man into a conversation. "An interesting take on wearing your heart on your sleeve I think."
"I don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about, dealmaker," El Cartel said in a neutral voice. "Don't make accusations you can't prove."
"Hey---hey, relax. Urbano deserved everything he had coming to him."
"You didn't like the guy? Maybe you're the one who did him in."
O'Reily laughed and said, "Now we both know there's no truth there. You're secret's safe with me."
"Got no secret to be kept safe."
"If you say so."
"What are you trying to do?" El Cartel asked as he began soaping his skin.
"Just to see that El Norte is back in the right hands. Urbano was just another puppet."
"So it would seem. The man who is pulling all the strings in the operation got sent away."
"Torquemada?" O'Reily's mind instantly took notice of where the conversation was going. "That cocksucker's on a power trip. Wants to run Em City."
"So, what do you want in return for all this---valuable information? You are a dealmaker after all."
"Keep the Latinos away from slinging D-tabs."
"That would hardly make a difference, seeing as our numbers are in very limited supply here," Calderón said and there was a flash of light in his eyes.
"I'm sure you have a plan to bolster your ranks---bring El Norte back from the dead," the Irishman said convincingly. "An opportunity was created. I'm sure you'll take full advantage of it."
"Was never one to waste a perfectly good opportunity. So, Torquemada---you have anything to do with him getting his time out?"
"Who---me? No. Not at all. He's made a lot of enemies in the short time he's been here," O'Reily said and turned off the shower because he was finished. "That usually happens when someone wants to take over."
"I see. And how do I know this isn't some setup?"
"Listen, you know, all I want is for that fucking fag to not be running anything around here. D-tabs are the key to making that happen," he said as he was toweling off his wet skin. "I'm just a guy looking to restore balance. I'm sure you can appreciate that."
"I will be able to---very soon," El Cartel said with an obvious hint of foreshadowing. "Those who doubted the power of El Norte will come to regret it."
"Yeah---sure. Whatever you say."
O'Reily quickly slipped on a clean set of clothes and left the shower room behind to head back to his pod. The man was guilty of Urbano's murder so that he could reclaim the remnants of El Norte from him. The slight sparkle in his eyes said that he had big plans for the Latinos in the near future. As the Irishman was finishing drying his hair in his pod, he wondered what all those plans would mean for Alvarez. He and the past leaders of El Norte had not exactly had the best partnerships or relationships.
Their main problem was always the same---they had all wanted to control Miguel Alvarez and, when they figured that he could not be, they wanted to break him and put him down. All of them had miserably failed because the loco Latino was an undisputable force to be reckoned with inside these walls. That had been their gravest mistake---that, and underestimating his potential and important usefulness. Alvarez was a man of pride and loyalty, so he had to be treated as such. Those other fools had no idea of the true extent of his potential and skills.
He watched across the quad to see two of El Cartel's men enter the shower room as the boss was just finishing his shower. O'Reily knew the man was dangerous and was going to try to recruit the rogue Latino back into the reformed El Norte---if he had not already tried to. El Cartel could pose a problem to their partnership and he was not going to have that. Both he and Alvarez had worked hard to build up their partnership to where it was and neither Calderón nor Torquemada was going to destroy it.
However, the main threat at present was still the filthy queen and his poisonous D-tabs. Though Urbano was gone, and El Norte had broken away from Torquemada's grip, he and Pancamo still had all the fags, Italians, and some of the niggers and bikers on their side. They were still a powerful force, and Torquemada would be looking for answers and revenge once he got out from the hole. They flamboyant man would also be looking to flood Oz with his precious pills as soon as possible.
The Irishman had to play his next moves carefully if he wanted to keep his partnership with the Latino intact as well as surreptitiously adverting El Cartel's gaze to Torquemada and vice versa. He wished Alvarez were here so that they could give each other ideas---the other man was an endless fountain ideas and suave moves. If El Cid or Morales had ever given him the proper chance, El Norte would have never fallen into ruin as it was now. O'Reily knew the tide was changing in Oz and he had to keep up to survive. It was what he had always done.
The next week had passed without much of anything happening. Pancamo still had default control of Torquemada's empire, but did not have the keys to gain access to the kingdom. He was a leader in name only. El Cartel kept a low profile and the two of them had mainly steered clear of the other. The big Italian had to be frustrated because his hands had been tied since the queen had earned his trip to the hole. He had been awaiting Torquemada's return and Calderón had been trying to grow his gang back.
Dr. Nathan had given him positive news about his blood tests. He had no abnormalities and his body was in healthy condition. The HIV test was the last piece of information to obtain. It still had not been two weeks yet, though. O'Reily stood outside of McManus's office and waited because the unit manager had asked to see him. He had no idea what the meeting was about but had mentally prepared himself for anything. It was no big secret that he and McManus were not exactly fans of each other. A hack opened the door and left and he made his way in.
"You wanted to see me?" O'Reily said after he walked into the office.
"O'Reily---yeah. Sit."
"I'll stand. What do you want?"
"You haven't had a podmate since Father Meehan died. You've been by yourself for too long," McManus said from behind his desk.
"You sticking someone in with me? If you haven't noticed, Em City's been empty lately."
"A few inmates have made parole yes, but there's been a surge of violence and convictions recently. Most of these new inmates will end up filling out the half-empty pods out there."
"So, I'm getting some new fuckhead that doesn't know shit?" he asked and was displeased about it.
"No. I'm putting Liam Meaney in with you."
"Oh, McManus, you have such a sharp mind there," he condescendingly said.
"Don't fucking patronize me, O'Reily," the unit manager stood up and said.
"These new prisoners---they aren't all spics, are they?" O'Reily asked because he had a bad feeling brewing inside.
"That's none of your business. I don't want any trouble from you."
"I'll be as quiet as a sinner burning in hell."
"Try quieter," McManus warned. "I got my eyes on you, O'Reily."
"So---what else is new?"
"Liam will be moving into your pod later in the day."
"Oh joy."
His back was up against the nasty wall as his knees were fastened to his chest with his arms wrapped securely around them. He had suffered long enough and the deprivation had left his body. Alvarez knew Destiny was fully out of his system and real thoughts had flooded back into his mind. Some voices were still there and taunting him, but he fought hard to keep his voice the strongest out of them all---the only one that mattered.
Alvarez desperately craved a shower and clothes to cover his body. He felt his skin crawling with dirt and grime. It made him sick to think of everything that was on his naked body. Now that the withdrawal phase was over and he was spending more time in his real mind, he had more and more time to think. The Latino was still not eating and did not know how many days had passed on the outside. The lack of balance of nature in him continued to make him agitated and upset.
His forehead pressed against the top of his knees and his eyes closed as he thought about being back in Em City---as he often did in his loneliness of confinement. The shower room and scrubbing his skin clean passed through his mind. Walking up the stairs to go to his pod to relax or get some rest on a mattress enticed his brain. Seeing O'Reily making some underhanded deal that would usually end up with someone being hurt or dead stimulated his senses alive.
It was for all the wrong reasons, though. The Irishman betrayed him. It was why he had ended up in the hole. As more of his own thoughts trickled back to him, he was forced to think about O'Reily and being busted for having D-tabs in his pocket. Alvarez knew he never carried around the drug because he was not slinging anything for Torquemada. All the times he had been high, he had gotten and taken them directly from the queen. So there was never a need for him to carry about any of the pills.
He had been unable to piece it together because of his fragile emotional state due to his intense claustrophobia and withdrawal attacks from the abrupt lack of Destiny entering his system. Some semblance of reasoning behind the plotted move had plagued his brain, but he could not come up with anything concrete as to why O'Reily had set him up to fall into the hole. All Alvarez knew was that when he got out, he was going to find the answers to his questions---he was determined to get them.
The Latino felt weak and his stomach was churning out of anger and necessity because he needed to eat to sustain his life functions. He was in no mood to eat and the lunch trays had mostly remained untouched. He was grateful that he was not bound to the chair, as Querns wanted all prisoners in the hole to be. It was an abomination to keep people trapped like that. They were already in prison, and to have that kind of chair exist was purely to shove salt inside already raw and festering wounds.
When the last tray of food had come, Alvarez had managed to eat half the apple and drink the small box of juice. His body threatened to regurgitate the entire meal if he had forced anything more down his throat. It had at least been something to keep some kind of strength in his body. O'Reily was the main attraction in his mind. The víbora had bitten him more than once now and he was growing angrier the more he spent isolated and alone. His mind was especially dangerous when he was this defensive and felt as deceived as he did.
There had been no talking or planning about any of this. O'Reily had taken it upon himself to come up with and execute the capture by himself. Lack of trust had suddenly reared its formidable head back into the straining partnership. Alvarez knew that Torquemada had become a problem between them---that Destiny had caused a rift in the partnership. But being thrown in the hole without him knowing about it beforehand was unacceptable. The answers had to be good ones or the Latino was not sure of what he was going to do.
His body started to feel cramped so he stretched out and laid back down on the floor as his eyes caught the small light bulb hanging in the center of the damp and cold room. He desperately wanted it to be his own personal sun, but the false rays did not offer any kind of heat or warmth. Alvarez rested his hands at his sides and looked up at any point on the roof as his eyes focused wherever they wanted to. It was a cruel and ironic joke hanging that bulb from the middle of the room.
Alvarez did not want it to be this way. He did not want to feel such unbridled rage towards O'Reily. But, it was hard to ignore or swallow it down because of how sneaky the Irishman had been about it all. Their partnership was supposed to be about full disclosure and trust. That was what made him mad the most. They had gone so far out of their way, and comfort zone, to prove their trust to one another only to end up back in the same dismal place as before.
He was anticipating being let out to find answers to the questions that had been burning him for what seemed like months---there was no sense of time anymore. He was unsure of how much longer he could keep himself sane and alive in here. Alvarez turned to face the wall to try to get some rest---to get some form of escape before he woke up and had to experience the rejection and aloneness all over again. A shaking and stirring sound rumbled from the outside and he did not even want to turn to see what was going on.
"Miguel---Miguel, can you hear me?" he heard McManus call out.
"What---" he slurred out and turned his head, but the immense invading light beyond the doorway seared through his corneas.
"Miguel, are you all right?"
"Weak---tired. My stomach hurts."
"Can you sit up?" he asked and then turned to one of the guards. "Get his clothes."
"Yes, sir," the hack said and left.
"Miguel, can you sit up? I'm getting your clothes for you."
"Why?" Alvarez asked without looking back.
"The guards tell me you're not eating."
"Not hungry. Can't eat."
"Why? What's wrong?"
"Here," the officer came back with the Latino's clothes.
"Miguel, come on---get up and get dressed."
"No. Why?"
"Okay, here's the deal, Miguel. I'll take you out of here, but you have to stop using drugs and attend drug counseling sessions with Sister Pete. I'm signing you up."
The Latino's mind came alive with the words and he finally turned around to see if the words were true or not. McManus was there kneeling with clothing at the end of his extended hand. It had to be some kind of trick, but he was frantic to get away from the enclosing walls of the hole. In a swift motion, Alvarez grabbed the clothes---something reminiscent of the outside, and slipped the t-shirt over his head. He used the wall to help himself up and put on his pants. McManus and the two guards turned away to give him some privacy. He still believed that Alvarez could be saved from this fate.
"So, does this mean we have a deal?" the unit manager asked before he prematurely accepted his small victory.
"Anything to get me the fuck away from these walls. I---I don't feel so good."
"You want to go to the hospital?"
"No---no. I need a shower and someplace to rest that isn't the floor," the Latino weakly replied.
"Okay---let's go, then. Can you walk on your own?"
"Yeah. I have to get out of here."
"Miguel, who's supplying you? Tell me," McManus said when they were walking out of the walls of the hole.
"No," Alvarez said because he was going to deal with that on his own. "Don't want to talk about this."
"You will have to tell me."
"No. No---no."
"Okay---okay. Let's go back to Em City. It's almost time for lights out. You'll have the chance to take a shower before then."
His mind was revitalized at the sudden turn of events as his eyes easily became used to all the light now assaulting his eyes. McManus told him that he had spent seventeen days in the hole and that both Father Mukada and Dr. Nathan had been worried about how he would fare the longer he had stayed isolated. Together, the three of them had managed to convince Querns to let him out early. Alvarez was grateful even though he knew he did not deserve it because of the reckless way he had been behaving recently.
Alvarez knew eyes were on him, especially one pair in particular, as he made his way back into Em City and up to his pod. He grabbed his towel, soap, and toothbrush and walked back down to the shower room. He was not going to pay any attention to O'Reily---not yet anyway. Calderón had taken notice of him as well, but he did not bother to look back and acknowledge the man. The Latino stepped under the blasting showerhead and only concentrated on getting himself clean---getting the hole as far away from his body and mind as remotely possible.