Sleepers

'Maybe at di

'You two get any lunch?' Nokes asked, stubbing out the cigarette with the front end of his boot.

'I got to smell it,' Michael said. 'That's better than eating it.'

'How about you finish it now?' Nokes said.

'I'm not hungry,' Michael said.

'I don't give a fuck you hungry or not,' Nokes said. 'You eat 'cause I'm tellin' you to eat.'

I started to walk past Nokes, back toward the lunch counter to get a new tray. Nokes put a hand against my chest and held it there.

'Where you think you're goin'?' he asked, his voice louder, playing it up for the inmates watching.

'You said to get lunch,' I said, confused. 'You boys don't need to go back on line for food. There's plenty to eat right where you standing.'

I stared at Nokes and tried to imagine what had been done to him to make him this cruel, had driven him to the point that his only pleasure came from the humiliation of others. I more than just hated him. I had passed that state months ago. I was digusted by him, his very presence symbolizing the ugliness and horror I felt each day at Wilkinson. I thought there wasn't much more he could do to me, do to any of us, but I was wrong. There was no limit to Nokes' evil, no end to his torment. And now, we were about to take one more plunge into the hellish world he had forced on us. Michael and I didn't move.

The inmates were pointing and whispering among themselves. A few of them giggled. The guard in the center of the aisle held his position.

'Let's go boys,' Nokes said, smiling now, his anger having found an outlet. 'There ain't much more time in the lunch period.'

'I'm still not hungry,' Michael said. Nokes immediately brought the back end of the baton down against the side of Michael's head. He quickly followed it with a level blast across his face. The force of the shot sent blood from Michael's nose and mouth spraying onto Nokes' uniform shirt.

'I tell you when you're hungry!' Nokes shouted, swinging the baton again, this time landing a sharp blow to Michael's neck. 'And I tell you when you're not! Now, get on your fuckin' knees and eat.'

Michael dropped to one knee, a shaky hand reaching for a fork, his eyes glassy, the front of his face dripping with blood. He picked up the fork and jabbed at a piece of meat near his leg, slowly bringing it to his mouth.

'What the fuck are you waitin' for?' Nokes asked me. 'Get down on your knees and finish your goddamn lunch.' I looked beyond Nokes at the faces of the inmates staring back at me, their eyes a strange mixture of relief and pleasure. They had all been at the edge of Nokes' baton, had all felt his fury, but none would ever move against him for the sake of two prisoners they barely knew. Nokes could have killed us on the floor of that lunch room and no one would have said a word.

I went down on my knees, picked up a spoon, scooped up a potato slice and put it in my mouth.

I looked up at Nokes, his shirt drenched and tinged red, his face splattered with Michael's blood.

'Eat faster,' Nokes said, swinging his baton against the base of my spine. 'Don't think you got all fuckin' day.'

Nokes walked between us as we ate, smiling and winking at the other inmates, stepping on the pieces of food we were about to put in our mouths.

'Let's go,' he said, pulling the top of Michael's hair and slapping his face. 'Nobody leaves here until you clowns are finished with your meal.'

Nokes walked to the edge of one of the tables and rubbed his boot on top of a crushed slice of bread. He took a cigarette out of an open pack in the front of his shirt and put it in his mouth. He lit it and sat on the side of the table.

'There's some bread over here,' Nokes said, blowing two smoke rings toward the ceiling. 'Can't have a good lunch without a slice of bread.'

Nokes spread his legs, looked down at the bread, took in a deep breath and spit on it. He took another drag of the cigarette and wiped at the sweat and blood on his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

'Now, how about you boys crawl over here and get yourself some?' Nokes said.

We were on our knees, chewing our food, our bodies trembling more out of shame than fear. Each humiliation plotted by Nokes and his crew was meant to be a breaking point, to make us crack and finally give in to Wilkinson. We were too young to know that the break line had been passed the minute we entered the prison walls and we were much too stubborn to understand that nothing we did or didn't do would allow us to defeat Nokes while we were still behind those walls.

'I don't see either of you scumbags crawlin',' Nokes said, finishing the cigarette and dropping it down on top of the bread. 'Don't make me come drag you on over here.'

We went down on our elbows, rubbing against the gravy that was spread across the ground, our faces inches from the food and dirt. Michael's nose was still bleeding and the swelling on his face had forced one eye to shut.

'That's it, now you're startin' to listen,' Nokes said. 'Show the boys here how to do a good crawl. Show them you know how to follow my rules.'

'It's one o'clock, Nokes,' Marlboro said, standing behind us, his voice filled with smoke. 'Your lunch shift is over.'

'I'm not through here yet,' Nokes said. 'Got a few more things that need cleanin' up before I can leave.'

'It's my tour now,' Marlboro said calmly, walking past us and moving closer to Nokes. 'I'll clean what needs cleanin'.'

'Stay outta this one,' Nokes said. 'This ain't got nothin' to do with you.'

'I stayed outta too many as it is,' Marlboro said, putting a cigarette to his mouth and lighting it. 'This one I'm go

Nokes jumped down from the table, his face as red with rage as his shirt was with blood. He walked up to Marlboro, standing no less than five inches from the taller man's face.

'Don't tuck with me, boy,' Nokes said. 'I'm warnin' you.'

'Fuck with me, Nokes,' Marlboro said in a calm voice. 'I'm askin' you.'

Nokes continued the stare-down, his eyes locked in on Marlboro. None of the inmates moved, their attention focused on the first visible break in the wall of guard unity. Michael had stopped chewing his food, tossing his fork to the ground, too humiliated to care who would win the battle shaping before him. I held a spoon in my hand, rolling its head against my thigh, my eyes on the floor, wrapped in the silence around me.

Nokes took a deep breath, letting air out through his mouth, and shifted the weight on his feet. He slapped the baton against his open palm, measuring Marlboro, the crease of a smile inching its way to the sides of his face. Marlboro stood his ground without a change in expression, content to let the pressure of the situation percolate at its own pace.

Nokes was the one to back down. His smile faded and he let his head drop, so his eyes didn't meet Marlboro's.

'You eatin' into my shift,' Marlboro said.

'I'll get out of your way,' Nokes said. 'For now.'

'I take what I can get,' the black guard said, walking away from Nokes and over toward us. 'Just like you.'

Marlboro helped Michael to his feet and looked over at me, the soles of his shoes sliding on the slippery turf smeared with food, spit and hardened gravy. He nudged his head toward the guard standing in the aisle.

'If you through standin',' Marlboro said to him, 'I could use some help.'

'What do you need?' the guard said, his eyes darting, checking to see if Nokes was clear out of the room.

'Get the boys on their way,' Marlboro said, pointing to the inmates at the tables. 'They've seen enough to last till supper time. I'll take care of these two and what needs cleanin' up.'

The guard nodded and began to clear out the lunch room, one table row at a time. The inmates moved with a quiet precision, eager to leave now that the threat of violence was at an apparent end.