Ex-Convict Attack

Chapter 11

Everyone gathers in the backyard. Each of them already held a tool for gardening. San was holding a plant shovel with a rusty tip. Standing right behind him, Sandy whispered, "Can you fight?"

San frowned in surprise at the random question.

"If not, you should at least have good running skills."

San really did not understand what Sandy meant. Didn't they gather in this field to do routine gardening tasks? There is a separate schedule for each class of prisoners, and today is the first day.

After the chief warden made a few useless motivational speeches—at least for prisoners who had received life sentences—they split up according to their respective groups.

San doesn't know why the prisoner with the number 4555 keeps following him.

"What are you doing?" asked San with a little curt. The reason is Sandy is in a different group from him. San and five people in his group were tasked with planting new seeds on vacant land. As for Sandy, I am still determining what task the man got. San should have paid more attention to it earlier.

"Think of it as a guide for new members," said Sandy, shrugging.

San needed clarification about how to respond. Jail could be a better place to be to the point of having a celebration coming here. But that's okay, too, because San gets a place to live and eat for free.

Free.

San is pensive due to his own thoughts.

"The land here is wide. You might get lost."

Even if you get lost, San can't escape this territorial area.

"By the way, why did you ask like that?" San chose to change the topic.

"Like what?" Pause for a few seconds. "Ah, that—" Sandy rubbed his neck and looked doubtful. "I just wanted to give you a warning."

"About what?"

"I just wanted to tell you that you have to be careful with the people who are here."

San remembered what prisoner 3888 had said last night. Of course, everyone living here is a criminal. So, it's strange if San thinks his life will be expected and fine without disturbance.

"I know." San just walked away when Sandy opened his mouth to continue the explanation.

Sandy clucked in annoyance. "He's tough to approach."

***

San was washing his hands and shoveling the soil-splattered plants. At that time, two big men were heading toward him.

"You're the new kid, right?" said one of them.

Seeing no response from San, the man turned off the water faucet, which stopped San's hand movements.

"It turns out that everywhere is the same place. There is always bullying for those who appear weak." San spoke to himself. "Or—those powerful people who feel superior to others. So sickening!"

San's shoulder was pushed by the man. "You mute? Speak with your mouth, man. Not with your gaze!"

Suddenly, another person hit San's stomach hard enough to make him fall. Dissatisfied, the man kicked San several times and stepped on San's hand until the pitiful young man screamed in pain.

"Aaaah!"

"Watch your attitude, boy!" The first man sneered at San with a devilish grin.

After being satisfied, San, who had been sprawled, left just like that.

San winced as he tried to move his hand. It really hurts. He coughed and held his throbbing stomach. There might be a bruise there.

***

Lunchtime has arrived. All the inmates gather in the prison canteen and line up to get their lunch.

San came with a limp, and when he was going to take the food tray, someone nudged him so that the food fell. All splattered on the floor and attracted a lot of attention.

"Aw, annoying! You don't have hands, do you?!" cried the bald man who had nudged San.

"Not only do they have no hands, but they are weak too. Look at the body. It's like he always eats poorly. I think he is malnourished!"

Everyone laughed loudly. While San tries not to care about those people.

After cleaning the floor, San returned to the line to get his food again.

"Sorry, but each person only gets one meal. You already got it earlier," said the canteen waiter when it was San's turn.

"But you see, my lunch fell because-"

"That's not an exception."

San clenched his fists, even ignoring the bruises on his injured hands. He walked briskly, and his eyes showed a gleam of anger slowly fading.

He stopped in front of the desk of the bald man who had nudged him. "You must be responsible."

The man slammed his spoon on the table. "Unlucky! You're interrupting my lunch, asshole! What do you want?!"

"I didn't get my lunch because of you. Give me your food instead." San said that without hesitation. He only felt entitled to ask for compensation. Whether you want it or not, it's an obligation for people who harm others to be held responsible.

"Ohoho! How dare you!" Another prisoner who was with the bald man made a comment.

"You really want my lunch?" asked the bald man with a disdainful smile.

"I already said that earlier."

The atmosphere in the cafeteria was suddenly quiet. A few meters away, San's roommates—Sandy and Bobby, watched.

Sandy looks upset. "Even though I warned him." He also saw San's condition had not been well since he entered the cafeteria earlier. It's useless to give someone a warning to be careful.

"He's just not used to—" Bobby's voice trailed off when he heard the commotion. Apparently, it came from the row of tables where San was.

"Eat. I gave my rations to you," said the bald man after spitting out the food he had just chewed. He asked San to eat the former chew.

San saw the food that looked like wet dog food, already mixed with saliva.

Some people who saw it cheered happily as if they were watching a circus show. However, others seemed to hold their breath as if afraid of being hit by the sap.

"I said eat it, you bastard!"

San clenched his fists, and he glared at the bald man. "You really are disgusting."

One second after saying that, San felt his breath being forced to stop. The bald man strangled his neck, and everyone screamed seeing that.