In Dreams...

It was night time in the precinct, and all was quiet. As the rain started to fall, the prisoner finished saying his prayers. He was knelt next to his stone bed, and his knees were cold from the concrete floor. Even though the man had finished praying, he kept his hands clenched before him. He looked at the window, hoping to see some ray of hope on the horizon, but all that was there were grey storm clouds. He saw the rain start to flow down his wall, where they met a pipe and started to drip onto the floor, forming a small puddle there.



As the man unlaced his fingers and sat on his bed, he looked at his bare surroundings. There was nothing in the room other than the bed on which he sat. The room was made of plain stone, and the walls were covered in scratches where the previous inhabitants had torn at the room incarcerating them. As he laid his head against the cold stone, he felt a sense of dread and self-pity overwhelm him.



An hour or so later, he was awoken by what he thought were thunderclaps, but it was actually someone beating against the door.

"Wake up, Sunshine!" A harsh voice cried. "The doctor wants to see you!" The prisoner rose from his floor. He did not open his eyes. He fingered the cross that hung around his neck. The door was soon flung open, and shadows entered the room.



"I thought I told you to get up already!" one of the shadows slapped the prisoner across the face. He felt the pain of the slap, but it did not register anger with him. Just more self-pity. Strong hands groped at the prisoner, and they soon started to drag his reluctant body from the cell.

"Do something about that dripping, will you, David?" From beneath his eyelids, the prisoner sensed one of the shadows going to the window and he heard fumblings in the dark. The dripping slowed until it finally stopped. A new set of hands then grabbed him, and they started to drag him away. When the dragged man heard the door of the cell begin to shut, he allowed his eyes to open. He saw one last drop of water glint in the black, caught by lightening, tumbling from the pipe into a blank pool of despair, and as he watched this droplet fall, he felt every last ounce of hope he had fall and scatter into an ocean of despair.



The door slammed shut. The men began to pull their quarry away across the floor of a rouch stone corridor. Soon the prisoner's feet began to bleed. He soon got over the unbearable pain, being used to such torture. Gathering his senses to him, he looked around as best he could. Strangely, at intervals the man could feel himself sliding through moist patches, so he supposed the roof must be leaking. He could see the lightening flash every now and then, as there was no form of lighting here. Amidst the thunder and rainfall, the prisoner could hear the occasional scream come from above, from the ground, from the very air that held fast around him.



They came to an open space now, and the convict felt the rain slapping him. The man was so covered in bruises that every drop of rain pained him greatly. He looked up and saw the moon look down at him through the clouds; to him the moon seemed to smile sadistically. He wondered what he had done to deserve such treatment. He looked around and observed what seemed to be hundreds of people walking in single file around in circles. The open place was bordered by a brick wall which did not seem to end. The inmate also noticed that not one of the prisoners smiled. Next to the damned stood well-dressed men with whips.



Suddenly, one of the prisoners fell down. One of the well-dressed men stepped forward and shot the man, who continued to shiver as if still afflicted by the cold.



"God damned storm..." said the shadow who wasn't David. The prisoner did not shed a tear for the man, but he did shed a tear when he was dragged under the shelter of a roof. He noticed that they had stopped walking at this point, and so he assumed they must have reached a sort of destination. This was confirmed by a loud, yet civilised knock.



"Come" said a voice, and a door was opened. The prisoner was forced to his feet, but was soon relieved by a chair. Within the room was the only constant source of light the prisoner had seen in years. The door to the room was shut, and the two shadows were gone. Apart from the lamp on the ceiling, the prisoner could see nothing that could have taken the shadows' place. He saw nothing.



"Pleased to meet you Mr...well, what is your name?" the voice was attached to no body, and the prisoner did not speak.



"Well, you must have a name!" said the voice jokingly, and the owner of it revealed himself. A small, stiffened man stepped into the light, the light baking his well-greased hair. He had white skin, and the captive man was not sure whether this man existed or not. His red suit was even darker than the blood that spread from the prisoner's feet, and his face looked as though a child had scattered whilst playing, with the nose about an inch from the centre of his face and his smile took the position of a moustache.



"My name?" The prisoner's own voice did not relish its first outing for years, and he did not remember himself sounding like that.

"Or can't you remember? Well, the man I work for can remember. In fact, I doubt he will ever forget. You remember him don't you, Daniel?"

"I don't know what you are talking about!" said Daniel. As his name was spoken, he had a rush of memories from his life. His house. His wife. His line of work. Why he was here. It all came flooding back, and he felt the worse for it.

"So, you can't remember why you are here? For manslaughter. It would have been a murder charge, but you managed to get out of that, didn't you?" Daniel soon remembered that this person was the sort of person he despised, asking lots of questions that they know the answers to.

"You made a deal, at the cost of my boss's entire business. Well, he is very upset, as I'm sure you can imagine. He sent me here to...give you your just desserts. Do you remember me?" As he finished speaking, he pulled Daniel's face up to look into his. As Daniel looked into his eyes, he saw nothing there.



"I don't know you..."



"Well, you wouldn't, would you? well, I have to say Daniel , it has been nice knowing you." with a grin, he started to walk around Daniel, his hands tracing his shoulders. The man knelt down next to him.

"Do you remember the name of the man you killed, Daniel? Do you not remember Martin Kennedy? Well, Tell him I say hello when you're in Hell, would you?"

Daniel felt the man's presence behind him, and he started to breath heavily. He had never feared death, not until now. he didn't live much of a life here in the prison, but he lived.



He Lived.



Daniel stared at the floor, and in the light it seemed to stare back at him, with eyes wider than Daniel's. As he closed his eyes, he fingered the cross hanging around his neck. As he felt the colness of it against his fingers, he felt the coldness of a gun being thrust against the back of his head...



He opened his eyes. There was no steel against the back of his head. There was no dark room lit by one swinging lamp. He was knelt on the floor with his arms on a mattress spread in front of him. He must have been praying and then fallen asleep. He started to pray again. when he had finished, he looked around. he was in a sparsely furnished white room, but it was furnished. It had a small table, a toilet, a basin and a bed. He got up and sat on his bed, and he looked out of the window. The sun was splittling the bars on his window. He looked down and saw that the pipe going through his room was leaking, and that it was dripping into a small puddle on the floor.

"Andrews? Andrews? Are you up? It's time for your physical!" With this the door opened, and there stood two guards in clean uniforms. Daniel fingered his cross as he stood up, ready to be escorted to the infirmary.

"Do something about that leak, Fred!" said one of the guards, and the other guard set about fixing the leak. The other guard gave Daniel a body search and by the time he had finished, Fred has fixed the leak. As they left the room, Daniel glanced back. He saw one last drop of water fall from the pipe and splash into the puddle on the floor. Daniel was reminded of something, but he merely shrugged, hoped it was mopped up before he got back, and started down the corridor.

The corridor was pleasantly lit, and the guards patrolling the corridor nodded to the men escorting Daniel. He couldn't hear anything anything except for their own footsteps and the talking of the guards. the floor was wet, probably from just being mopped. Occasionally, the guards would ask Daniel a question and he would answer them coureteously.

Eventually, they came to the yard. It was full of prisoners getting their morning exercise in before breakfast, and there were the guards with guns standing at the top of towers topped with Barbed wire. As Daniel looked around, he saw one of the prisoners fall down, and a guard ran over and helped him to his feet.

"Beautiful Weather..." said fred, with his face towards the sun. They had crossed the yard by now, and the doors to the infirmary swung open to greet them. They walked along and they passed several very good looking nurses, who smiled at them as they passed. They must have come to their destination, as the guards sterred left to face a blue door. They knocked.

"Come!" said a voice inside, and Daniel stepped inside with the guards.

"That will be all, gentlemen!" said the doctor, smiling at the guards. The guards turned and muttered goodbye to Daniel, who had begun to study the doctor. He was a large and kind looking man, with not much hair. He was very ordinary. Daniel took a seat on the bed at the doctor's invitation.

"Som you are Mr. Daniel Andrews, is that correct?" Daniel nodded, and said Yes, Sir, speaking as one does to a superior.

"May I ask some questions to clarify that?" Daniel thought this sounded a little odd, but again he nodded. Yes, Sir. The doctor looked at his clipboard.

"Good, good. Did you own a house prior to your incarceration?"

Nod.

"Were you Married?"

Nod.

"Good. Now why are you here, in prison?" He never looked away from his clipboard.

Daniel took a breath and explained all. He spoke of Martin Kennedy and the 7th of November. Of his connection with Mr. Steven Dresner and how that had saved him from death by needle.



"I see. Well thank you answering my questions Mr. Andrews." The doctor looked from his clipboard and met Daniel's eyes, and there he saw nothing. Again, this reminded Daniel of something. He stared at the spotless floor, trying to remember, and the floor seemed to stare back, warning him. Daniel tried to finger his cross around his neck.



"Now, Mr. Andrews, you have absolutely nothing to fear." Came the doctor's pleasant voice in his ear. Daniel closed his eyes, and the room seemed to grow dim around him. He expected the doctor to give him some more encouraging advice, some more consolation, but he remained silent. Daniel tried to remember what it was he was being reminded of. the doctor opened the window.

"I feel like fresh air, don't you?" he said, and a blast of cold air hit daniel in the face. as he felt its coldness swirl around him, he remembered the dream. As his eyes snapped open, he felt the touch of cold steel on the back of his neck.