Confederation of Corrupt Dictators

Gregor Tchotayev found himself inside a cold and dingy hell. It hadn’t been long since he had been shipped to this prison, and already he felt as though he knew every detail of the walls, floor, ceiling, door. There was nothing else to do in the cell but rot.

The cell door opened with a rusty screech, and to his surprise, the old man from the boat was thrust into the room by a guard. He collapsed onto the hard floor as the metal door clanked shut behind him.

“Lousy prick.” The old man muttered from his grey beard. “You’re alive!” Gregor exclaimed with surprise. The man’s skeletal figure implied fragility, but he had survived so much already. Gregor helped the man to his feet. “Why’d they put us together? Because we were talking on the boat?” The old man steadied himself before sitting on the thin bunk opposite Gregors’, and shrugged his arms. “I guess we both needed a cellmate.” “But I had a cellmate.” Gregor stated with the seriousness of somebody who was speaking to their cellmate only a few hours ago. The old man looked up at Gregor unsympathetically. “Then he’s dead now, as is mine.”

Gregor sat down on his bunk, across from the man. They sat together in silence, possibly considering the coincidence of the situation. “I never got your name.” Gregor said. The old man looked up at him. There was a distinct lack of feeling in his eyes.
“I am Elias.” He croaked.

Gregor had spent his short time in this prison thinking about his friends; Yasmine, Dila, and Miczel. He worried for them. They were all targets of the state now. After a while of not speaking, listening to the occasional pair of boots passing the door or a door closing somewhere in the complex, Gregor had more questions for Elias.
“When we arrived, the guards taking us in weren’t soldiers. They were mercenaries.”
Elias did not shift from his position, now lying flat on his bed, staring at the ceiling with his hands folded neatly on his abdomen. He allowed a couple moments to pass before responding.
“I know.” His voice sounded tired, like the question pained him.
“You said on the boat you knew where we were going. Hellhole, or something.”

“Hellbound, Zokivka island. I knew it was a prison. I did not know about the mercenaries.”
“So why send us here? There are internment camps and labour camps everywhere now.”
Elias did not meet this question with a response. He just continued staring at the ceiling above him. The cracks in the off-white paint almost formed a spiral pattern, like an intricate web.

Elias held the side of the bed’s frame to pull himself up. He was not a strong man. About an hour had passed. Or perhaps half an hour. Or ten minutes. Impossible to tell.
“Have you got any cigarettes, Gregor?” He wheezed.
“I don’t smoke.” Gregor replied bluntly.
“Hm. Good, they’re bad for you.” Elias’ wrinkled face cracked a slight smirk between his beard. Gregor smirked back with a sharp nasal exhale in place of a real laugh. “Are they a currency in this prison? I thought they made that up for television.”
Elias leaned back against the stained wall behind him. “No point in currency here. Nobody stays long enough.” Gregor’s smile disappeared.

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An alarm blared through the halls. It sounded distant but was no less piercing. A repeating flash of light shone through the gaps around the cell door. It felt as though they had only just gone to sleep. There was no sunlight creeping into the cell from anywhere.
“What’s happening?” Gregor’s unawake voice creaked out as he sat up from his bunk. Elias leaned upwards and watched the door, almost expectantly. He then returned to his position lying down as if he would attempt to go back to sleep despite the noise and lights. “Don’t do anything.” He raised his voice so that Gregor could hear him. “What do you mean? What’s the alarm for?” “We’ll be fine, just stay in the cell and go back to sleep.” Gregor was dumbfounded. “Are you mad? Can you hear that alarm?” “Lie down, Gregor, and go back to sleep.” Gunshots could now be heard across the prison. They also sounded distant, like the alarm. It was coming from a cell block further away. There was audible shouting, though you could not make out a word of it. Gregor moved his gaze from the flashing light around the door back to Elias, who was now watching him. Gregor laid back down on the bunk, and waited. After what felt like the whole night had passed, the buzzing alarm stopped, the flashing lights shut off, and Gregor passed back out in the cot.

—————————————————————

The cell doors automatically opened. The loud electric hum woke Gregor. He opened his eyes and sat upright in the bed to see Elias leaving the cell for breakfast. Gregor threw off the cruelly thin blanket and pursued the elderly man. Elias casually walked to the hall as if nothing had happened.

Gregor sat across from Elias on the metal bench and set his food tray on the table. “Did you know that was gonna happen?” Elias continued eating without looking up. “What, the alarm?” “Yes, the alarm. Was it a breakout? I almost thought my friends had come for me!” Elias looked up at him. “Ha! If your friends even considered coming here, they’d be dead before they left the coast!” This made Gregor feel worse. The reality of how inescapable the situation may be was beginning to weigh down on his spirit. “Should I expect that alarm thing to happen often?” “Not really. Only a week or so after new arrivals. And many get sent to the camps these days anyway.” Elias returned to nonchalantly eating.
“Is it because new arrivals try to escape? Before their spirits are crushed and they stop trying?” “No, it is because they try and make you escape.” A guard patrolling the hall passed by the table on his rounds. His face was obscured, and his gear looked military quality. For a prison, it seemed overkill.
“A short time after new arrivals come,” Elias continued, “they put the ones they think are most violent into the same block. Then they lock them in.” “Don’t we all get locked in? This is a prison…” Elias almost laughed at the comment. “No, no. We get to leave our cells for food and showers. They get locked in their cells.”
Gregor seemed confused at this strategy. “So the mercenaries just leave them to starve in their cells? Can they do that?” “It’s their prison, they can do what they want. Try telling them otherwise! The ones who get locked in, they realise that they will starve, or they must break out, so they do.”

“The guards let them break out?” “Yes, yes. The guards don’t even go to that cell block once they lock them in. When the prisoners get desperate and break out, the guards come back, and they kill them for rioting and escaping. They usually get salary bonuses for preventing the escapes.”
This realisation hit him like a bus. The gunshots. A hundred or more people were killed last night, just to thin out the herd and cull the people predetermined to be nuisances.
“You are shocked by this?” Elias added. “I’m more shocked that you didn’t stop eating while telling me about it…” Elias finished his thin metal cup of water. “Only so little time we get to eat. Hurry, hurry, before they send us back to cells!”

Gregor was frozen in place back in the cell. The horror that washed over him didn’t leave. It was more of a blanket of shock than a wave.
“The alarm and gunfire sounded distant.”
“Yes, it was a cell block on the other side of the prison.” Elias was picking at his fingernails. Gregor watched him as he mangled the ends of the nails out of boredom. “If it wasn’t our block, why did you tell me to lie back down?” Elias stopped and looked up at him. “I didn’t know for certain that we would not die. I wanted to minimise the chances of us being perceived as nuisances.” Gregor did not want to not be a nuisance to the fascists. “What point was there in telling me to try and go back to sleep during all that racket?”
Elias paused for a moment.
“Because we all want to die in our sleep.”