Page 34 of Caged In

It requires some deep soul searching and concentrated conviction to get his legs with the program, to shuffle his ass down the corridor. His legs still insist that Izz should be lying in bed asleep. He has to agree with them. Smart legs. The rest of his body is on a similar track, unhurried and dragging. He can’t remember the last time he was awake to start his day before the sun.

Slinkingpast the empty cafeteria feels surreal and slightly haunted. His mind running wild with thoughts of imaginary creatures watching him from the dark corners of the shadow-filled room. It’s creeping him out. His heart pumping rapidly to wake up his body with microbursts of adrenaline sparkingthrough his bloodstream. Tiny shots of caffeine to energise his brain and bodyinto the land of the coherent.

Shaking off the creepy vibes, Izz sucks in a deep breath to centre himself, before pushing past the doors to enter the kitchen—it’s strange being on the other side of the food serving bar—roundingthe partition, he walks in on a whole flurryof activities.

Inmates rushing all over the place. Meals being cooked, the air swirling with multiple scents. Trays being stacked, pots and pans and utensils clanging loudly.

The organised chaos is dauntingfrom the outside. And that’s what he feels like. An outsider. From what happened to his cellmate and self-appointed best friend, and the conversation he overheard between three other members of The Gang—the ones he thought he was on okay terms with—his essence is rather drained.

“You made it.”

Izz twists in the direction of the familiar voice, heart skipping and catching in his throat. The painkillers—he hopes they’re painkillers—are doing their job. His body is numbing out. Allowing him to move without gasping and curling over in agony.

The beefy server is approaching Izz with a grin, “heard about what happened, wasn’t sure if you’d be in The Hole or not. Glad to see you are not.”

“. . . Yeah. Thanks . . . I guess.” Izz mutters, wincing at the thought of the others being punished in his place. Not that he started the fight, he was the target for an unknown reason. Reni and Zidie were only trying to help him. They don’t deserve The Hole as a punishment.

The server loops an arm over Izz’s shoulders, he doesn’t have the heart to shove the inmate away. He kind of needs some human contact right now, to get him out of his head and away from the guilt eating at him.

“I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced, after all this time. I’m Levis.” The server waves his arm in an arch, indicating the whole kitchen, “I run this place, and these sorry losersyou see, they’re the cogs that keep this shit running moderately well. I’m sure they’ll introduce themselves later on, or not, who cares, they’re not really important. The only one you got to listen to around here is me.”

“Alright.”

Izz counts fourteen others in the kitchen, working around multiple benches, busy with various tasks. All the inmates have the same tattoo above their eyebrow like Levis. So they must be part of the same gang.

Great. I was hoping they weren’t all gang affiliated.

“Today I’ll start you off slow.” Levis informs Izz, leading Izz over to the side, towards the serving trays in the food bar. “I’ll have you on cleaning for today, to get a feel for where everything is and how things are set out and the routine.”

He’s in no way thrilled to be stuck on cleaning duty. He’d rather try—and fail, several dozen times—at the cooking aspect of this job. Not the cleaning. He does not want to be stuck as a dishwasher, it’s bad enough he’s stuck in prison. Now he has to do chores?

Reni’s words filter down to Izz, their conversation on why he would have been shoved into the kitchen and not with them in the laundry.

As the inmates in the kitchen are in the same gang, it’s likely he’s chosen asthe designated cleaner. Why wouldn’t they bring in an outsider to do the labour for them. So no one in their gang has to do it. And it appears he drew the short straw on the cleaning job.

Levis removes his arm from Izz, but doesn’t step back, “Under there—” Levis points at the closed cupboards under thefood bar. “—you’ll find the cleaning gear for the bench tops and trays.”

Izz nods his understanding. He’s not thrilled with this job assignment. Had he been in the laundry at least he would have Zidie to keep him occupied and make the hours bearable . . .

Except Zidie wouldn’t, would he? He isn’t in the laundry room. He’s in The Hole. Probably lying in the middle of the tiny box cell, twiddling his thumbs, bored out of his mind.

Because of me. It’s my fault.

When Levis flicks his hand towards the cupboards, Izz’s face flushes a little.

Right, he’s supposed to get the stuff out.

Bending down he pulls the doors open, grabbing out a spray bottle and wipes. Anglingit towards Levis for inspection to ensure he pickedthe correct products.

Izz frowns at Levis, he’s sure the man had been staring at his ass. But he can’t be sure where Levis’s eye level was at.

He brushes the thought off, chocking it up to a paranoia thing. He’s agitated over being attacked, that’s what it is. Levis had not been staring at his ass. No way.

“Wipe down the countertops, and all the trays. To prep it for when the food comes out. I’ve got some other things to handle, come find me when you’ve finished, and I’ll show you where to load the dishes and trays for cleaning.”

And that’s how Izz gets stuck scrubbing down the food serving bar. Cleaning the areas where the trays will sit with the breakfast selection. Wiping the bench top inmates slide their trays along to collect food. Scrubbing it down nice and clean.

A lifetime passes before he finishes, the place looking shiny and sparkling new. Ready to go.

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