When Dez awoke, he found himself being touched by something. Awareness and fear made him leap out of his sleep, legs thrashing in an attempt to push off an attacker before he realized he felt nothing now. Yawning tiredly, Dez slowly sat up in his bed and looked below to see what disturbed him.
?
He scanned the scene, taking in the heavy-duty metal door before him. The abysmal-looking toilet and sink, the cracking paint of the walls, and finally, the culprit for his sleep being disturbed.
Hector stood before him, holding two straws tied together, forming some sort of makeshift stick, a poker in this instance. He was smiling ruefully, rubbing the back of his head as Dez fixed a glare upon him. “Welcome back to the world of the living, Des. I hope you can forgive me for disturbing you…”
?
Dez certainly wanted to snap at the man; the stress and rut he was in made it feel appropriate, certainly. But something about him was hard to be mad at. He sighed and nodded. “It’s Dez by the way.”
?
“That’s what I said.”
?
“Whatever, is there a reason you woke me up? I’m not exactly looking for a social call right now.” Dez bluntly asked.
?
“My friend, you’ve been resting for a while now. I simply wanted to wake you up a bit before Recreational Hour.” Hector said, shrugging his shoulders. “You don’t wanna miss it.”
“Recreational Hour?” Dez asked with a raised brow. “So our outside and pod time are separate?”
?
“Oh, Des,” Hector said sadly with a shake of his head. “This is maximum security, my friend; only the worst of the offenders are sent here. We don’t get to enjoy the lives of normal prisoners as you may have before. We get what they call a “twenty-three and one” schedule. We are inside this cell here together for most of the day and allowed out in the Courtyard for activities and some sunlight, assuming weather allows, of course.”
?
Dez raised an eyebrow but offered Hector an appreciative nod. It was a hard reality to swallow, but he had to adapt to this now. And five minutes within the room, smaller than even the last cell he had been in, was already making him feel closed in. He hopped off the top bunk, groaning as his back offered a deep ache. It seemed the mat, not the mattress, was uncomfortable. Dez flinched as Hector handed him a pair of folded sheets.
?
“Try this, my friend, these mattresses are no bueno,” Hector said. “Unfold them until they're single-folded and use them to cover half the mattress each. Will be luxury in hell, Des.”
?
A part of Dez wanted to suggest he didn’t care. But he knew better than to rescind his kindness; in a new environment like this, he would need allies. He would spend the rest of his life here, regardless; he may as well make the most of it. So Dez climbed back up and did as Hector offered, remaking the bed as Hector spoke.
?
“So recreational hour is Muy Bueno, of course. It also serves as our shower time, as it were. But we do need to be a little careful. Like any prison, there are various clubs; only refer to them as clubs, my friend, lest you want problems." Hector explained. “Best to keep to yourself till you're approached.”
?
“They check paperwork here?”
?
“Of course.”
?
Checking paperwork was a common incarcerated practice; even most county jails did so. Inmates of all walks of life would enter these walls, and not all of them would be what Dez would call street-certified. An office worker locked up for a single instance of snapping wasn’t quite the same as a trusted gang member after all. So, checking the cause of inmates' imprisonment was seen as vetting them. Someone would be chosen or forced to approach him and ask for the paperwork given to each inmate, then spread the details to the rest of the residents.
“That's your way of asking, Hector?” Dez asked with a raised brow as he hopped off the bunk. He subtly stepped toward Hector, the man catching on and doing the same. Though Hector was even shorter than Dez, he flinched at the relaxed look in his eye. It was clear the guy wasn’t afraid, no, he was used to this sort of thing. Prepared. Dez prepared himself for a struggle, somehow confident it might not go his way, a tingle in his spine.
?
“Now, Des,” Hector said for the first time, his voice taking a grave edge. “I couldn't care less about why you are here. I am here as well, and for a grave sin indeed, my friend. Doubtless it is the same for you, but I care little for it my friend… though to be honest…
?
“Damn it all…” Dez said with a heavy sigh. It was clear to him in an instant what had happened. Such a high-profile case like his was bound to catch attention; it seemed even death row inmates were aware of his circumstances. “Great , so I’m an open book anyway.”
?
Hector chuckled, affection pounding Dez on the back with force that made him wince as he stepped back. “There ya go, my friend, Al mal tiempo, buena cara!”
?
“My Spanish isn’t that good,” Dez said apologetically, padding his way over to their sink and toilet that served as their bathroom area. Using the limited supplies the facility offered, he did what little hygienic care he could.
?
“Put a good face to the bad times, my friend,” Hector said simply. “Something my Abuela used to say.”
?
Dez nodded respectfully; he sort of liked it. “Well, if that’s the case, you sure I’ll get checked?”
?
“Makes it more likely, my friend, you’ll have a lot of attention on you. And you may very well need it.” Hector answered. “While I care little as we are all sinners, the majority here very well may.”
?
“The Woods?” Dez asked, concerned. Suddenly realizing just why Hector was as friendly as he was.
?
“The one and the same, my friend. The “righteous and pure” are among us and aggressive. They likely will not like what you did, and may check to see if you are an easy target.” Hector explained apologetically. “They’ve tried me before, and I have done nothing…”
?
“So they’ll practically be guaranteed to head my way…” Dez said with a hum. “I can handle myself, but picking a fight…”
?
“Would go poorly! Luckily, they are unlikely to pick a fight with you unless you seem weak or pick one yourself.”
?
It could be worse; in an intensive facility like this one, there was bound to be confrontation, especially with newly added residents. As long as Dez was kept solid and his head on a swivel, he should be alright.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
?
As if to test his confidence, a bell sounded, and the sound of boots clacking off the ground sounded from the hall beyond their solid metal door. There was a series of clicks and clacks before the door was swung open, revealing two guards armed with what looked to be pokers of some sort.
“Step out of the room with your hands behind your back. You will be transported to the waiting area, at which point you may select to shower and or enjoy some outside air.” The guard explained boredly. “Act out of line and expect to be smacked back into it.”
?
Dez and Hector were both wise enough to not test the man. Stepping out and turning their backs to him so he could cuff them both. At which point they walked down the hall, the other dozen or so inmates being led the same way. They trekked through the facility, Dez noting how the others seemed to look nicer before they had trekked across it entirely, being led to a small area full of seats, tables, and a single ancient television, seemingly locked onto the local news channel.
?
Dez idly took in his surroundings. There were about seven white men, most of whom were heavily tatted and rough-looking, who crowded around a table staring at him. The Woods seemed already aware of his arrival, though they hadn’t made a move yet. There were also a couple of scattered duos, mostly a mix of black and vaguely Hispanic. Hector nudged Dez and led him to a pair of guarded doors. After being checked, the two were allowed out into what they called the Courtyard.
?
A dingy-looking patch of concrete, they were weights and meager equipment present, but all of which were long past their prime. Nearby was a smaller sniper tower, a guard toting a rifle, boredly watching them all. They sat at an unclaimed bench, Dez watching warily as at least half the group joined them in the small lot. He noticed the Woods were mostly missing.
?
“We may be good for now, my friend,” Hector explained, catching on for now. “The Woods always claims first showers, save for the ones that choose to work out. So the first half of the hour should be relatively safe; it’s the last half we have to look out for.”
?
“Are there any other clubs we can utilize?" Dez asked. “What about the Kinsfolk or Chicanos?”
?
“They exist, but unfortunately not in Death Row. We’re mostly on our own, and the Woods react aggressively to any new clubs trying to form here.” Hector answered. “It would be good to seek peace, my friend, or we’ll likely encounter violence.”
?
Dez smiled slightly. It was a grim scenario, but somehow, he knew he could trust Hector. The man just had the right vibe around him. However, Dez’s smile was wiped off his face as Hector spoke again.
?
“So, Des, if you don’t mind me asking, why did you do it?” Hector asked earnestly.
?
Dez frowned deeply. “I didn’t intend to, didn’t even pull the trigger.”
?
“So you just stumbled upon him, and violence erupted?” Hector asked doubtfully.
?
“Y-... No. We were there for that dude that night. I just had no intention of going all the way. One of them went for a gun, and my friend started firing… It went too far… the bastard used us for his own revenge…” Dez explained.
?
“So you truly thought this little ambush of yours would go well?” Hector said with a laugh. He shook his head. “Come on, Des, you knew it would get ugly. Besides, a man doesn’t blame others for their mistakes." Hector grinned. "?Dime con quién andas y te diré quién eres! Which means, tell me who you hang out with and I’ll tell you who you are. Abuela, again, my friend.”
?
Dez glared at the man, but in truth, his words cut deeper than he could know. He had thought the same on his way here. As tempting as it was to blame Hooks or claim ignorance, he knew he was not innocent. He had chosen what he did that night. Jack hadn’t.
?
“Now now,” Hector said, raising his arms and offering a friendly smile. “I didn’t mean to overstep. Besides, let me share my own sin. It's only fair, no?”
?
Dez unclenched his fists, shoulders dropping as he realized the man had merely spoken his mind, something Dez often claimed to support. Dez studied him. “You seem like a good man to me. How did someone like you end up here?”
?
"We all have demons, Des," Hector said, sigh heavier than Dez’s own. He paused before continuing, "Mine have always been tied directly to familia. My Viejo and Madre are passionate lovers but volatile, meaning they have the highest highs and the lowest lows. Sometimes it got violent, something I wasn’t aware of. I had just moved out, and apparently, the tension between the two increased after. Without me around, Viejo would abuse her. I came over to visit, saw it with my own eyes and… I just lost it. Started beating the man the way I’ve never beaten anyone else. Next thing I know, La Poli had arrived, and he was dead…"
?
That stripped the air from Dez’s lungs. He'd carried the crushing weight of Jack's death since it happened, but imagining holding blame for your father’s death seemed like another realm of agony. Dez’s voice was barely more than a whisper. "It sounds like he deserved it."
?
“I appreciate you, Des, but no one deserves to die. I could’ve restrained him, called La Poli myself, stopped short of killing the man. But I didn’t. It doesn’t matter if it was intentional or not; I did it. The two of us are sinners, my friend, but it isn’t the end of our story.”
?
“We’re on Death Row, Hector. It is almost certainly the end of our story.” Dez joked.
?
“No, our time is short but vital, my friend; we can still save our souls,” Hector said with a nod.
?
“I’m not really religious,” Dez said apologetically.
?
“You don’t have to be, you strike me as a man who values integrity. Some come here proclaiming their innocence or bemoaning their circumstances, but you seem to accept it to an extent. That is good, my friend. Before our time comes, we can make peace with ourselves, accept what we did and how it led to where we are, and change.” Hector said with a sage nod.
?
“Changing in your sake is worth it due to the potential reward of a good afterlife, but for a man like me, it’s too little too late.”
“It is for you, my friend, the same way it is for me,” Hector answered with a shrug. “I’d love it if the Lord were willing to forgive, but it is foolish to assume I’m worthy. No, expect my afterlife to be unpleasant, and my legacy shamed. But I will face it content to know I grew from it all, that the man who paid the consequences was a greater one than the one who committed the crime.”
Dez was speechless at that. And didn’t have the chance to reply, for another voice cut through their chat suddenly.
“Hello there, my colored friends.” A silky smooth voice said. The two turned to see a prim and proper white man who seemed out of place among the other inmates. While he wore the same green jumpsuit they all wore, his was pristine, unwrinkled, and unmarred. His hair was somehow stylized into a little too pleasant to be a naturally messy cut. His glasses were designer, and an extra pair hung from his neck. He would’ve looked like an office worker if not for a white supremacist crest tattoo jetting just over the left side of his chin. Hector and Dez both locked eyes, both standing up to face the new arrival. “No need to be so tense, I'm merely coming to say hello. My name is Vance, a representative of the Woods. This is a mere formality, really. My brethren within the Club would like me to read over the paperwork of our new friend here.”
?
“And if I say no?” Dez asked with a raised brow.
?
“Dez-”
?
“It’s okay, Hector, a man of any worth wouldn’t buckle so easily. Besides, it was merely a ploy anyway. We all know who you are; you killed some family members of the boys in blue. Cruel and tasteless for my liking, but those pigs can be quite annoying. See, we Woods run this little cell block, and we don’t mind leaving your kind in peace, long as boundaries are established.”
?
“Boundaries?”
?
“A turn of phrase, brother.”
?
“I’m not your brother…” Dez said pointedly.
?
“Yes, yes, pride and all that, the point is we’re the ones in charge here. And all we ask for is that not to be your problem is a small tax.” Vance carried on.
?
“Who the hell are you to tax me?” Dez asked, incensed, and he saw from the corner of his eye Hector shake his head. But he didn’t care.
?
“A larger group willing to use our might,” Vance said with a shrug. “Thought your kind would get that and get down.”
?
“My kind doesn’t get down,” Dez assured.
?
“History says otherwise,” Vance taunted, a smug smile curling on his lips.
?
“Well, they say times change.” A new but shockingly familiar voice sounded out. Dez blinked as the newcomer booted Vance directly in the chest, sending the man flat on his ass as he stepped forward. The two other Woods rushed forward but stopped at another sight, somehow even more shocking. A tall woman stepped between the newcomer and the two rushing white men. So massive was she made that both seemed small, and they had to look up to face her.
?
The two people joining their conversation were known, other than Hooks, and a woman Dez had never seen before. Vance crawled to his feet in front of his boys and made to step forward, but stopped as he locked eyes with the woman, unconsciously taking a step back as he did. Dez could see the conflict in his eyes; if he backed down, he looked weak in front of his boys. But the woman before them clearly was not one to be trifled with.
?
Easily over six feet tall, with her hair tied into a bun, toned dark body, and sharp eyes, she made for an intimidating sight; her shifting into a kickboxing stance as they approached only made it all the more clear. “Calm down, boys, aye?” She asked her voice to take on an accent Dez had never heard before.
?
Dez had a lot to process—Hooks’s presence, a woman in a men’s prison, and why he’d picked a fight even after Hector’s warning. But one thought overrode it all.
?
While Hector had made a point, and Dez knew he had to accept his own fault for his circumstances. There was no denying Hooks had his own part in it as well. And Dez had always been somewhat impulsive.
?
Dez surged forward, dropping low as he drove his shoulder in, diving into the back of Hooks knees as the man was about to taunt Vance. His former best friend cried out in shock, as surprised as he was. But Dez wasn’t done, moving swiftly, he wrapped his arms around Hooks throat, attempting to lock in a choke hold, but Hooks, even though caught off guard, was clever. Managing to snake an arm in to defend his throat.
?
The very next instant, chaos kicked off.
