C41 was taught to fight and never trust anyone but a select few. But in order to leave prison, he might have to work with those who can break him.
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Inmate C41 is the youngest...
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I hated nights. Nights were long, and we were never allowed to leave our cells back in Ireland. Here though, every nocturnal prone person got an hour outside. I was sitting on a bench in the yard, enjoying the late summer breeze. Well, as one can in Scotland.
Only 10 people were allowed out at the same time, and C59 and I weren't on the same team. I didn't know any of these guys, and they kept their distance.
That was until this one guy sat down on the bench next to me. He looked maybe a couple of years older than me. Long hair tied up in a ponytail and almost black eyes. They were probably brown. Olive skin. Very fit. As in... Very. He was very fit... Broad shoulders, big arms, such narrow hips... He was looking at me like he knew me when he turned his head.
"So, who're you?" he said with a hoarse voice. I looked at him without really turning my head and looked back at the fence.
"No one," I muttered.
"Well, I'm Che. I hear we play on the same team."
I turned my head towards him and narrowed my eyes at him.
"Cal or C59 told me about you," he explained. I eased up a bit. "So... I guess we're both on the twelve o'clock playtime outside."
Cal? C59's real name was Cal?
"I guess."
"I'm an owl. So nights are a bitch."
I nodded.
"What're you?"
I didn't answer. I was not really interested in being friendly right now. I just wanted to enjoy the outside. Alone.
"You're not a big talker are you?"
"What gave me away?"
He laughed a little. "At least you're funny." He leaned back and crossed his legs at his ankles. "So, I'm not here to make friends. We need you to do something for us. There's this bird guy snooping around. Your supervisor. We need to know a bit more about him. Like, why the prison would pull in a very well-known soldier from America to be a supervisor for some feral kid. Don't you find that odd?"
"I didn't know he was famous."
"Oh, he is. He has over twenty confirmed kills on wild ferals. He's a machine. And now he's here. How could you not know about him?"
"We didn't get a lot of news from the outside in Ireland."
"Aye, I've heard," he sighed. "I guess you stop caring about the outside world after a while, huh?"
I got on my feet. We were threading into a subject, I was not going into. I had in my mind written off on the real world outside. It no longer existed. The fact that my own world had grown from being one place to two places now was more than enough. And our time was up anyways.
