Bones awoke with a start. His back ached where the bars had pressed into his body while they slept. There were no cots in the cells or beds of any type—everyone either stood, sat or lay on the floor. Many were curled into the corners of their cells sharing warmth through the bars with others in neighboring cells.
It wasn't uncomfortably cold, but it wasn't warm either. Nobody had spoken to them or responded when spoken to, despite repeated attempts. Maybe this place is bugged and they are afraid of being overheard?
Bones watched as white-coated attendants filled water bowls and food dishes and changed out the larger pans for fresh wood chips. They didn't make a lot of noise as they went about their business, but their activity must have woken him. They had come once before, possibly an hour or two previously, he couldn't gauge time very well in here and they had taken his watch. They didn't speak to the inmates either, but they did threaten them with a short baton if they came near.
Bones couldn't figure out what the baton was until one of the inmates went crazy. He started whooping and hollering, running around his cell, banging his arms and hands against the bars and shaking his head like he was getting his courage up or putting on a display of ferocity, or both. Bones was freaked out by the guy's behavior and thankful Caleb wasn't awake.
After several feints, the man rushed the attendants but they were ready for him and hit him with what looked to be about 100,000 volt stun batons. The man pulled his lips back and shrieked, fell to the floor and lay convulsing. Eventually, he dragged himself off the floor and squatted in the corner of his cell making what sounded like self-soothing noises.
Bones found the whole experience disquieting and was again thankful that Caleb had slept through it. They must have come by when he and Caleb had dozed off because there was food and water in their bowls. He was starving and thirsty, but he didn't think it was worth the risk to eat or drink anything they brought—the white mush didn't look that appetizing anyway.
"Dad?" Caleb was waking up woozy and tired.
"I am here, it is your uncle." Bones rubbed Caleb's back. After they had arrived, the boy had looked around for a minute and then asked Bones if he could sit in the corner with him. They both sat and Caleb was conked out before Bones could say a word.
"Is that food?" Caleb was eyeing the stainless steel bowls.
"No. Well, I think so, but I do not think we should eat it. I think they are drugging everyone in here." Bones looked around, impressed by the idea that had just popped into his head from nowhere.
"I'm thirsty, can I have some water at least?" Caleb's cheeks were sagging and his lips were obviously dry.
"Okay. You try a little of the water and we can see if it has any affect on you." Bones didn't have the heart to deny him. Caleb drank and fell immediately back to sleep. Bones observed again the cells nearest them. To their right, there was a massively fat man with a great white mustache that ran across his upper lip and down both sides of his mouth ending below his chin.
The man was clearly drugged as he spent most of his time rolling around the floor of his cell, sometimes raising his head and shuffling forward using rolls of fat to propel himself—he must have been 400-500 pounds easy. Bones had chosen to lean against the left side of their cell precisely because Fat Albert was on the right.
To the left was a girl of about nine or ten. She seemed completely normal, if somewhat aloof. She was the one Bones had tried to talk to the most, but she would just stare at him or look away completely uninterested it seemed. He couldn't make her out, but at least she didn't look potentially harmful.
Behind them was a different story. A boy in his twenties variously stared at them with his tongue out and a friendly expression on his face or ran back and forth along the bars, stopping at the same place and staring at them as if he was about to say something. Several times, Bones thought he was about to get an answer to a question only to see the boy run off again.
Bones awoke with a start. He must have dozed off again. He couldn't see any attendants as he scanned through the nearby cells. Caleb was still sleeping, the poor boy was exhausted from what had been a very trying day. Bones tried to shift his body to relieve the aches without disturbing Caleb. He got as comfortable as possible and closed his eyes... then he felt it.
Something was watching them.
Bones blinked open his eyes to find a man, a very thin man, sitting on a simple wooden chair gazing intently at them directly in front of their cell. How had he missed him? The man remained motionless simply staring with a sort of professional curiosity—no guile or emotion at all—as a man might study a spider before exterminating it.
"Why are we here?" Bones didn't have anything to lose at this point.
"We can't let you go. Before long, you won't want to go anyway." The thin man smiled a self-deprecating smile, slim lips rubbery and almost purple under a comically French pencil mustache. He looked around with a fatherly expression at the other cells raising his eyebrows and motioning with his chin for Bones to take a look around.
"Why are we here?" Bones was at least thankful the man spoke English.
"Progress. Progress for which you will thank me." His tone was genuine and emphatic.
"We are American citizens…"
"Expand your mind, become a citizen of the world. I will help you. Get your rest. Your treatments will begin tomorrow morning." Without another word, the thin man stood gracefully and walked to the end of the room and left by a door Bones had not noticed before. All of the attendants came through a different door at the other end of the room.
He had to think of a plan before Caleb awoke. He had to give the boy some hope, even if he didn't have much himself. God help us!
"What did he mean by treatments?" Caleb hadn't moved but apparently he had been awake and listening.
"I think they are drugging these folks, maybe to keep them from trying to escape. That means our best chance is now."
"What can we do?"
"Pretend like we are sleeping and then jump the attendants and get their batons and keys." Bones couldn't think of anything else.
"Do they open the door when they feed us?"
"That is when we will strike. They come every two hours or so by my calculations." Bones was praying he was right.
"What if they don't come again before morning?" There was no emotion in Caleb's voice, just matter of fact questioning.
"Try to get some sleep. I will wake you when they come." Bones didn't have anything else to say. He didn't want to reveal his own desparation.
Bones woke in a dream—his wife was singing. He could hear the sweet strains: How deep the Father's love for us, how vast beyond all measure. That He should give His only Son and make a wretch His treasure… Bones no longer recognized the voice in his dream. Coming fully awake, he immediately noticed Caleb was not leaning on him. Had they taken him?
"Behold the man upon the cross, my sin upon his shoulders. Ashamed I hear my mocking voice call out among the scoffers." Bones turned to see the boy singing softly but with passion. Caleb faltered when he saw Bones watching.
"Please continue. I think you are having a wonderful affect on our fellow inmates."
Looking out past Caleb through the bars, Bones had noticed that the inmates had drawn as close to their cell as possible, many reaching out hands toward Caleb as he sang. Everyone stood silent with rapt attention and faces filled with hope and longing at the sweet strains coming from the young boy's heart.
"His dying breath has brought me life, I know that it is finished." Caleb was leaning against the bars a few feet behind Bones, his hand stroking the little girl's hair through the bars. He let the song linger in the air, quiet, contemplative. The girl stretched her back and legs, long and lean, before curling up again under Caleb's hand. He resumed stroking her shiny black hair.
Bones felt his heart go out to the teenaged boy and the young girl. What was this madness they found themselves in. Why was the Cuban government willing to risk American ire by treating them this way. That thought scared him more than anything. Treatment like this didn't usually end up with a friendly prisoner release.
"Do you hear it?" Caleb looked up expectantly.
"Hear what?" Bones looked around quickly.
"She's purring. Hear it?" Caleb was quiet so Bones could hear. He did hear a soft repetitive sound coming from the back of the girl's throat, louder and louder. Caleb looked up in triumph as he continued to pet the girl's head.
"Ouch!" Caleb turned back as the girl stood up, stretched and walked slowly to the other side of her cell without looking at him.
"What happened?"
"She bit me!"