Hidden Faults (12 page)

So finally someone had discovered my secret when it no longer mattered. “So what? I’m a para. No one cares anymore.”

Oh be careful what you wish for, Jodimai.
I should have realised Marra would find a way to punish me for my perverted existence.

“
I don’t care neither.” He pointed the homemade knife at me, but not in any threatening way. “You’re fresh meat, boy. You gotta have an owner, or you’re gonna be a rogan’s meal. Me? I’m a rogan. I get to eat boys like you. I call the shots. I been in here for most of my life, one way or the other. I know the system. Fresh meat don’t. I was fresh meat too, once. Learned the hard way how to make it work. Now, you look like a nice kid. You didn’t fight or bite, or get all hysterical. You’re smart. The smart ones, they don’t end up in here much, but when they do, they usually do okay. The stupid ones, they fight the system, think they can beat it. They don’t.
They
get beat. You listening to me?”

I looked at one of the glassy-eyed women on the wall behind his head, avoiding his stare. “Yes. I don’t know what you’re trying to say, and I don’t know if I care.”

His fleshy features creased up in a frown. “Boy, you make yourself care. You are
fresh meat
. Two things gonna happen. Tomorrow, we go to the canteen. You go on your own, you gonna get mobbed. Tore apart. Happens once, twice a week here, regular. The boy? Ends up a mess, if he lives. You want to end up like that?”

I shook my head.

“
No, you don’t. Cos you’re smart. So the other thing that can happen is you go in with me. I’m your boss, people leave you alone. I trade you for some favours now and then, you don’t get hurt. Anyone touches you without me saying so? They bought themselves a
world
of trouble.”

“Then why the...?” I pointed at his crotch, my stomach knotting painfully at the memory.

“Seeing if you would. Like I said, I don’t like men. Blowjob’s a blowjob, but I can take it or leave it, understand? But there’s men out there, bosses, men who want favours from me, who like boys. Or they ain’t fussy like me. You got something they want. They can either buy it from me, or take it from you. Which one you figure is easiest for you?”

“So I’m a whore as well as a para. Marvellous.” I rested my head on my folded arms, across my knees. I had to stop thinking this couldn’t get worse.

“
Boy, there’s men here raped women, kids, murdered their sisters. You don’t wanna know what they done. Whores? Hell, we
like
whores. They ain’t bad people.”

I lifted my head. “What did you do?”

He chuckled, which sounded most odd coming out of his brutal features. “Me? Oh, I’m bad people, Jodi. Ain’t never killed no family though. Or raped no kids. Don’t give me that look. I ‘xplained that.”

By his twisted logic, he hadn’t raped me either. Didn’t make a whole lot of difference to my stomach, or my shakes. “So you sell my services for favours, and I get not to be....”

“Ever been fucked over a table with a broomstick and nothing to ease the way? That’s what they done to the last fresh meat who wouldn’t let me boss him.”

“You said—”

He grinned. “He was broken all right. I kinda lied when I said I done it. I coulda done it. He was too dumb to work it out.” He turned serious again. “I
will
break you, boy, you give me attitude, or try something. I ain’t a nice man.”

“No, really?”

He chortled, giving a great big belly laugh, like I’d come out with the best witticism he’d ever heard in his life. “You’re smart. You’re spunky too. You gotta be both to get on in here, Jodi. Now, you get some sleep. Breakfast’s real early. That’s when you decide if you walk in with me, or walk in on your own.”

“
You’re giving me a
choice
?”

“Sure. Ain’t much of one, but ‘s only fair, right?”

I stared at him in utter bemusement. In his head this all made sense, and by his lights, he
was
being fair. If I wanted to survive, I didn’t have a choice. I’d be walking in with him, and be seen as his property. “Just for the record, I hate your guts.”

He nodded as if I’d remarked the sky was blue or the grass green. “‘S only fair, too. I kinda like you. But cross me, and that makes no difference, understand?”

“Completely.”

“Good. You get top bunk. I tried it up there, broke the shitting thing. Your pretty arse won’t even dent the mattress none.”

“Ha ha,” I muttered. Strange as it seemed, I just wanted to sleep, I was so exhausted and shocked and reeling from this appalling day...or days. “How do you know what time it is?”

He reached into his overall pocket and pulled out a small timekeeper—a ladies’ one, dwarfed by his enormous fist. “Supper was at five. It’s seven now. Don’t worry about sleeping too late. They make sure you don’t.”

“I’m sure.”

I got to my feet, swayed a little. As I did, the lights in the cell went out and the only thing to see by was a dim emergency lamp near the bars.

“They do that every night. You get used to it.”

I doubted it. I didn’t
want
to. It meant accepting what had happened, and I wasn’t ready for that. Without answering him, I made my way to the bunks and pulled myself slowly into the top one. I ached all over from whatever they’d done to me in the bar, and from all the rough handling since I’d woken up after that. I’d never been this unwell or hurting in my life. Nothing had prepared me for this. I’d either have to be a fast learner, or I’d drown.

A screaming siren woke me and, for a second or two, I thought it was the fire alarm in my house. Then I saw the pictures on the walls and remembered. I would have covered my face and gone back to sleep, but Ganwe was there, yanking on my sore arm.

“Stop it,” I said, giving him a glare.

“You gotta get up. Guards don’t like it if you don’t. You don’t wanna make them mad.”

Aching and muzzy-headed, I dragged myself up and nearly fell trying to get down the narrow ladder. My movements were clumsy and slow—another effect of the naksen, but also of tiredness. Sleep had made no difference. Ganwe stood and watched me haul myself into a semblance of consciousness. Outside the cell, the guards bellowed orders, screamed abuse at sluggards. Cell doors clanged, men groused and muttered.

“What?” I snapped, unnerved by Ganwe’s steady look.

“You make your mind up, Jodi? You walking in with me or not?”

I thought of Rotinwe, and his answer to me. “Everyone’s a volunteer in prison, aren’t they?”

Ganwe folded his arms. “I ain’t gonna make ya, Jodi.”

“No. You’ll stand by and see me beaten to a pulp. Yes, I’ll walk in with you. I still hate your guts.”

He smiled, then patted me on the shoulder, before gripping my neck in a possessive but not painful way. “Oh, you’ll hate me more than this. It’s how it’s gotta be. I won’t let anyone kill ya. Promise.”

“How reassuring.”

The cell door opened, and a guard with an electroreed gestured us to move. Ganwe kept his hand on me the whole time as we walked with the mass of prisoners down between the rows of cells.

He leaned in to whisper in my ear, “You don’t talk ‘less I speak to you. No one else, no matter what they say or ask. I’ll hurt you if you do. You’re my boy. You do as I say. Nod if you understand.” I did as he asked. Did I have a choice, really? “Good.”

The canteen smelled revolting—sour, dirty and mouldy. Paint peeled on the walls which dripped with moisture, and my shoes stuck to the floor as I walked. No windows, just ceiling vents—I remembered what I had read about the prisons all being almost completely self-sustaining, with their own wind and solar power generation, growing their own hydroponic food. The government was quite proud of the fact. Were we underground? I had no idea where I was in the country—but then, it didn’t matter any more.

My stomach churned at the slop thrown onto the metal tray by the server—another prisoner, a para. I supposed there had to be quite a few of them—us—here. He didn’t look at me, but I noticed he took a lot more care with Ganwe’s food, and an extra pat of vegetable spread graced Ganwe’s tray as we moved away to find a seat. People made room for him—plenty of room. I seemed to be the possession of a boss whom everyone respected—or feared.

He didn’t look at me as I poked the grey stodgy porridge and decided I could only face eating the bread. I could only hope the food was fortified with essential nutrients because it
looked
the most dreadfully unhealthy stuff one could imagine.

I tried not to attract attention, and didn’t look around—partly because I felt overwhelmed and afraid that if someone poked me, I’d run screaming out of the room. Try to, at least. I stared at my tray, tried not to throw up at the sight of the disgusting porridge, and slowly ate the bland bread with the tasteless spread on it. The naksen tremor forced me to grip the food with both hands. Unfortunately I wasn’t one of the lucky ones who escaped this side effect, but what did it matter since I’d never need to earn a living again.

Ganwe ate with a huge appetite, and when he saw I hadn’t touched the porridge, grabbed my tray, scraped my portion onto his tray, and then pushed mine back at me. All without saying a word.

People moved around me, but I kept my head down. Someone sat next to me, far too close for my comfort.

“This the pretty one you ordered, Gan?”

“He’s on a test run. So far, he’s real smooth.” Ganwe let out one of his strange chuckles. “Want to try him out, it’s gonna cost.”

“Maybe. He’s got a mouth like a girl.”

“Sucks like one too. Sweet and tight. Mmmm mmmm.”

I clenched my jaw as the newcomer giggled. It wasn’t like Ganwe hadn’t told me the deal straight out.

Other men came up, curious about Ganwe’s new ‘acquisition’, but also making hasty, whispered negotiations for this and that, which Ganwe agreed to or didn’t, as he chose. No one had yet put in a request for my favours. I wasn’t under any illusion that it would be long before they did.

We didn’t have long to eat our breakfast. It was a relief to get out of the noisy, noisome place, even at the cost of being shoved and shouted at by the guards. About a hundred of us were then sent on a long walk through concrete halls and dimly lit corridors to a massive hydroponics garden, growing fruit and vegetables. Enormous lights flared hot and bright overhead, simulating daylight. The humid air, turned lazily by huge fans interspersed with the lamps, smelled deceptively sweet, though hardly fresh.

Ganwe, apparently, was the boss of this as well, and I was to work for him. We collected rubber boots, caps and coverall coats from a supply hatch, and then we dispersed into an apparently endless series of bays and rooms where fruit and other produce grew in vats and trays.

Ganwe kept his hand on my shoulder. I would stay in his area.

“Here, Jodi, you’ll get this right away. Setin, show Jodi how to run the water tests. Jodi, that’s your job until I tell you different.”

I felt relieved to get away from Ganwe’s overbearing presence, but I felt exposed too. Setin had no curiosity about me, and without using any superfluous words, showed me how to handle the simple testing procedure. The controls were all designed to be idiot-proof, and I was grateful they didn’t need any fine motor control because my hands had a constant tremor. Naksen shake. I wondered if the people who’d ordered the mandatory drugging of paranormals had ever tried the drug themselves.

The work wasn’t hard, and though not interesting, it at least gave me a slight distraction from my thoughts. Being around the plants gave an illusion of freedom, and I welcomed the warmth and light from the huge ceiling lamps. There was constant activity, none of it conducted at great speed. The two guards at each door paid very little attention to our doings, but there didn’t seem any obvious way a prisoner could cause trouble in here. The chemicals
could
be used to make explosives, but the quantities required were far greater than that being doled out to us by a hard-faced administrator through a hatch at the far end, and they had that side of it under strict control.

The testing took a long time, and then after making pH and nutrient adjustments, had to be rerun. When I finished, I was about to ask what I should do next, when Ganwe approached, a thin-faced man at his side.

“Jodi, go with him. Do what he asks, then come back.”

“Do—?” I bit my tongue at his hard look. “Yes, sir.”

The thin-faced man turned, and I followed him to a storeroom full of pots and tools. There were no guards at the door, but the room only had the one entrance. As soon as we were inside the door and out of the line of sight of the other workers, the man shoved me to my knees and pulled out his cock. I didn’t need further instructions.

Five more times that day—twice before lunch, three times after—I went to the store room to service men. The final time, there were two, one watching and jerking off as I sucked off his friend. I had to find a sink and throw up after that.