Life in prison got harder and harder. The Guards got stricter and less merciful. Some were beaten on the spot at the slightest provocation. Some were even killed. The portions of food got smaller, the water wasn't clean anymore.
Everything was gray.
"I been 'ere tree years," Eric whispered to me one day, "And it ain't never been dis hard."
By now I've gotten used to his speech and Jon told me that I had picked up some of his accent.
We all sat, talking at lunch when another man, one of Matt's friends, came up to us. We all started talking, and when he was called away by a different group, Matt gave him a handshake and I saw Matt pass him a note from hand to hand.
"What was that in his hand?" I whispered.
"Nothing. Just... spreading the news," he said, picking up his spoon and taking a bite of his broth.
I looked around. "Where'd you get the paper?"
Matt, Jon and Eric all laughed.
Matt smiled. "Traded half of my soup for a piece, split that into five pieces, and then handed it to different people that I know will pass it on. That's the best way to do it. We just have to hope that they won't get left around."
"With something as big as this," I said quietly, "I don't think they'll leave something like that just lying around in their cell. They'd be beaten and pretty much everyone else would, too."
"I've heard of a few people not wanting to do it," Jon said.
"What? They have to! This is their only chance."
"Sh! Yes, we know. But you have to look at it from their point of view. It might not work, people will get killed... it's gonna be a mess, and if it doesn't work, things are going to be even worse."
"Don't worry about it," Matt said to me. "There are more people that want to get out of here than those who just want to play it safe."
"I sure hope so," I said, and thought of Krista.