Code Name: Camelot (Noah Wolf #1)(13)
“Yes, Sir,” Noah said, coming to attention, “and I apologize for my disrespect a moment ago. The way the light is set in here, I couldn’t see your rank tabs.”
The lieutenant smiled. “It’s not a problem, we don’t stand on a lot of ceremony in here. At ease. Have you got everything you need?”
Noah shrugged. “I don’t know that I really need anything,” he said, “but would you know offhand when the book cart might come around? Oh, and when do we get to order from the commissary?”
“Well, I can send the book cart down in just a few minutes, that’s no problem, and you can go ahead and put in a commissary order whenever you like. You get it the next day after your order. There should be an order form in one of those tablets on the table.”
Noah looked quickly, and sure enough, he found the form tucked into the back of the tablet he’d been using. “Thank you, Sir,” he said. “I’ll do my best not to cause you any headaches.”
The lieutenant nodded again. “I’ve actually been going over your file, today, and from what I can see, you must have been a model soldier and a model prisoner. Never so much as a disciplinary action, until now. I’d just about bet that there’s a lot more to your story than meets the eye, but I’ve been around here long enough to know that it probably doesn’t matter a whole lot.” He glanced down the hall to his right, then back at Noah. “We got a pretty good psychologist here, a lady named Doctor Oakes. She can’t do squat about your case, but there’s a very good chance she can help you cope with it better. Don’t hesitate to put in a request to talk with her, when things start to get to you.”
Noah smiled. “Thank you, Sir, but not a whole lot gets to me. I’ll be fine. Of course, it’ll help when I can get some books to read.”
“Okay, then,” the lieutenant said. “I’ll see to it the book cart comes in just a few minutes. And if you feel the need to talk with me again, I run this unit on an open-door policy. You just tell one of the guards, and they’ll let me know. I’ll come to see you at my first opportunity.”
The door closed, the keys rattled, and Noah was locked in again. He sat down at the table and began checking off things he wanted to purchase from the commissary. He ordered shampoo, soap, deodorant and an assortment of snack foods, and added a deck of playing cards for good measure. If he was going to be in solitary confinement, he might as well play a little solitaire.
Lieutenant Spencer was true to his word, and by the time Noah finished preparing his order, he heard keys rattling again, and the door swung open. A guard stood in the hall and watched as an inmate trusty pushed the book cart into the room.
“You allowed to keep four books in your room,” the trusty said, in the down-home dialect of the South, “and after this time, you got to give me back a book to get a new one. If you tell me what kind of books you like, I’ll try to pick some out the library and put on the cart for you.”
Noah grinned at him. “I appreciate that,” he said. “I like stories about history, especially stories that talk about how people did things a hundred years ago or two hundred or however long. Westerns are good, too, and if there aren’t enough of those to go around, I like spy stories and stuff like that.” He was looking through the books on the cart as he spoke, and pulled out a book about King Arthur, and another about magic. “These kinds of stories would be okay, too,” he said, and the trusty nodded.
Noah chose his four books, and set them on one of the shelves. The trusty began to pull the cart back out the door. “Okay, I be back in a couple days, and I see what I can do for you. My name’s Benny, you be seeing me a lot.”
The guard closed the door as Benny left the room, and Noah sat down to begin reading. King Arthur was one of his favorite quasi-historical figures, and Noah enjoyed reading about his adventures, whether from the original legends or those written by later authors.
Life settled into a routine rather quickly, mostly involving reading, eating the occasional snack, working out in the room, and his once-daily, hour-long recreational break, which took place in a concrete square somewhere in the middle of the building. The top of the square, but for a double layer of chain-link fencing, was without a roof and open to the sky. Since the weather was warm, he enjoyed the sensation of being outdoors, even if he couldn’t see a tree or blade of grass anywhere.
The rec yard, that concrete square, was just about fifty feet on a side, so Noah calculated that twenty-seven laps would constitute about a mile run. He ran for the full hour every time he got to the rec yard, averaging a mile every eight minutes, which gave him a little over seven miles a day.
In his room, he did push-ups, sit-ups, squats and jumping jacks, averaging three hours of PT every day. His shower stall had a solid rod across its door from which a curtain hung, and he began using it for chin-ups, inverted crunches and other workout exercises that he devised. He had always kept himself in good condition, but he was rapidly getting into the best shape of his life, even if only to escape the boredom of death row.
He had been there a month when Lieutenant Mathers turned up. He was in the middle of a workout when the door opened, and one of the guards told him that he had a visitor. Since he hadn’t been expecting her, he had to go to the visiting room covered in sweat, and he was surprised when she rushed across the room to give him a hug.