years already.
In fact, the only thing that seemed real to Caleb just then was the stench of the cell and the constant thumping of the guards’ feet as they walked back and forth to check on him before thumping back to a nearby desk. Caleb sat upon his cot, which was actually an old, broken door covered in a horse blanket. One leg was stretched out in front of him, while the other dangled off the edge to rest upon the floor. His back was propped against the wall, and his eyes remained partially open as they had for the entire night.
He hadn’t said a word since he’d been tossed into that cell, which had done a world of good for his jaw. Having only been able to sleep for a couple hours, he’d spent the remainder of his time behind bars flicking at his stitches with the tip of his tongue. The little jabs of pain gave him something to focus on instead of the constant noise coming from his neighbor.
Dr. Holliday was in the cell next door, and when he hadn’t been talking to Caleb over the last ten hours, his coughing fits had filled the air with a wet, hacking sound that was impossible to ignore. More recently, Holliday hadn’t uttered a word. His coughs had died down and were soon replaced by another sound that was just as bad for Caleb’s nerves: snoring.
As Holliday’s snoring continued, it started to feel like a dull saw being dragged across Caleb’s eardrums. Part of that irritation came from the situation, while another part came from jealousy, since Caleb would have traded a few of his own fingers to get a couple hours of such restful sleep.
Just thinking about it made Caleb clench his eyes shut so he could try to will himself into oblivion. His back ached, his eyes were burning, and every bone in his body was crying for mercy. Every breath was a hardship, and Caleb knew for a fact that he couldn’t have gotten up from his cot without a whole lot of strenuous work. Even with all of that, sleep would not come.
Holliday kept snoring like a well-fed mutt, while Caleb was forced to watch the sunlight grow brighter against a wall as his eyelids slowly pasted themselves into haggard slits. Caleb opened and closed his mouth, only to wince at the pain those simple motions caused.
The same set of boots thumped against the floor, just as they had every half hour or so since the arrival of the fresh-faced guard at dawn. The guard couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet but walked as if he was punishing the floor. More than a little of that confidence surely came from the gun at his hip and the stout club in his hand.
Strutting past Caleb’s cell, the guard looked in through the bars with a scowl on his face. He nodded approvingly when Caleb stayed in his place and kept on walking for a few more paces. Straightening up to his full five feet eleven inches, the guard took hold of the bars of the neighboring cell and rattled the door noisily.
There was so little space in the cramped hallway connecting the cells that Caleb could still see half of the skinny guard’s frame from where he was sitting.
“Rise and shine, Holliday,” the guard said.
The snoring was interrupted for a moment as Caleb heard the sound of something shifting upon a board similar to the broken door beneath his own smelly blanket.
The guard fidgeted with a ring of keys hanging from his belt, and when he looked up from that, he started smacking the bars impatiently with his club. “Come on! I said get up!”
Hearing the guard’s overeager voice echo through his aching head, Caleb pinched his eyelids together and let out a groan.
“I won’t hear nothing from you,” the guard said as he leaned a bit to one side so he could peer in at Caleb.
“What the hell?” Holliday croaked.
After finding the key he’d been looking for, the guard fit it into the cell door’s lock and turned it. “Get on out of there. Ben says you can go.”
Caleb only had to tilt his head to one side and press his ear to the wall
In fact, the only thing that seemed real to Caleb just then was the stench of the cell and the constant thumping of the guards’ feet as they walked back and forth to check on him before thumping back to a nearby desk. Caleb sat upon his cot, which was actually an old, broken door covered in a horse blanket. One leg was stretched out in front of him, while the other dangled off the edge to rest upon the floor. His back was propped against the wall, and his eyes remained partially open as they had for the entire night.
He hadn’t said a word since he’d been tossed into that cell, which had done a world of good for his jaw. Having only been able to sleep for a couple hours, he’d spent the remainder of his time behind bars flicking at his stitches with the tip of his tongue. The little jabs of pain gave him something to focus on instead of the constant noise coming from his neighbor.
Dr. Holliday was in the cell next door, and when he hadn’t been talking to Caleb over the last ten hours, his coughing fits had filled the air with a wet, hacking sound that was impossible to ignore. More recently, Holliday hadn’t uttered a word. His coughs had died down and were soon replaced by another sound that was just as bad for Caleb’s nerves: snoring.
As Holliday’s snoring continued, it started to feel like a dull saw being dragged across Caleb’s eardrums. Part of that irritation came from the situation, while another part came from jealousy, since Caleb would have traded a few of his own fingers to get a couple hours of such restful sleep.
Just thinking about it made Caleb clench his eyes shut so he could try to will himself into oblivion. His back ached, his eyes were burning, and every bone in his body was crying for mercy. Every breath was a hardship, and Caleb knew for a fact that he couldn’t have gotten up from his cot without a whole lot of strenuous work. Even with all of that, sleep would not come.
Holliday kept snoring like a well-fed mutt, while Caleb was forced to watch the sunlight grow brighter against a wall as his eyelids slowly pasted themselves into haggard slits. Caleb opened and closed his mouth, only to wince at the pain those simple motions caused.
The same set of boots thumped against the floor, just as they had every half hour or so since the arrival of the fresh-faced guard at dawn. The guard couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet but walked as if he was punishing the floor. More than a little of that confidence surely came from the gun at his hip and the stout club in his hand.
Strutting past Caleb’s cell, the guard looked in through the bars with a scowl on his face. He nodded approvingly when Caleb stayed in his place and kept on walking for a few more paces. Straightening up to his full five feet eleven inches, the guard took hold of the bars of the neighboring cell and rattled the door noisily.
There was so little space in the cramped hallway connecting the cells that Caleb could still see half of the skinny guard’s frame from where he was sitting.
“Rise and shine, Holliday,” the guard said.
The snoring was interrupted for a moment as Caleb heard the sound of something shifting upon a board similar to the broken door beneath his own smelly blanket.
The guard fidgeted with a ring of keys hanging from his belt, and when he looked up from that, he started smacking the bars impatiently with his club. “Come on! I said get up!”
Hearing the guard’s overeager voice echo through his aching head, Caleb pinched his eyelids together and let out a groan.
“I won’t hear nothing from you,” the guard said as he leaned a bit to one side so he could peer in at Caleb.
“What the hell?” Holliday croaked.
After finding the key he’d been looking for, the guard fit it into the cell door’s lock and turned it. “Get on out of there. Ben says you can go.”
Caleb only had to tilt his head to one side and press his ear to the wall
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