Cold West by Clayton Snyder

Author:Clayton Snyder [Snyder, Clayton]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-02-28T22:00:00+00:00

Twelve

Time passed. I only knew from the shifting of shadow to light on the walls of the Pit.

I got to know the old man in the cell beside me. He’d been lead down a week before, and mostly kept to himself. Still, he reminded me of Kent in a way. Grizzled, tired, unwilling to deal with a lot of shit. It was work, finding another human to connect with. I’d given that up when my boys went.

I went to his cell with my tray of food. I’d been eating well and could stand to miss a meal. I knocked and pushed his door open. He sat up, rheumy eyes searching the dim confines of the pit.

“Whozzat?” He asked.

“Just Wil,” I said. “Next door. Just wondering if you’d like a little extra food.”

He squinted, craned his neck. “Yeah? What’re you up to?”

I set the tray down and backed away. “Just makin’ friends. It’s lonely down here.”

The old man crouched, reaching a tentative hand out. When I didn’t grab him, he lifted the tray and took it back to his mattress. He tucked in, devouring the scraps of bread and bruised apple.

“What you want?” He asked. “Ain’t a thing a man does in here without wanting sommat.”

“Mebbe I just want someone to talk to,” I said.

I lowered myself into his doorway with a groan. He watched, chewing thoughtfully. He swallowed.

“You the one what done for Dolan and his boys?”

“Dolan?”

“Big man. Two nutless wonders with him.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I did that.”

“Good work that.” He shoveled another chunk of bread into his mouth, took a sip from the tin mug. “So, what you want?”

I spread my hands. “A man can’t do something like that without making a name. Was hoping for someone to watch my back.”

“Aye, oh aye. Tell you what—you bring me food; I’ll keep an eye out.”

“That make you more comfortable?” I asked.

“Aye, more comfortable than chewin’ on yer root. What you want me to watch out for?”

“Let me know when the guards are headed back up the ramp tonight.”

“That all?”

I stood. “Yeah, that’s all.”

“You want a signal?”

“Just three whistles. You do that?”

He puckered his lips around the three teeth he owned and let out a short sharp whistle. He grinned. “Good enough?”

“Aye, good enough. Remember, tonight.”

He nodded and went back to cleaning the tray. I made a slow circuit of the tier, checking the other cells. This must’ve been used as an overflow ring. Aside from me and the old man, only two other inmates lived on our tier, and they lay on their bunks, snoring blissfully. I marked the distance from my cell to the nearest, and from his cell to the ramp—it was the closest—then walked back to my bunk. I laid with my hands behind my head, looking up at the earthen roof.

Beetles, millipedes, and other insects crawled in and out, sending small rivulets of dirt raining down. I practiced opening gates and killing them in quick, precise strikes. Their bodies fell like pebbles, littering the floor. I tested my other theory then.

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