Dez had secretly hoped some fresh air might make him feel better. But that hope was predictably dashed as they were let outside. The former asylum's massive grounds were sectioned off, a thick, towering cement wall looming over it all. It seemed impossible to escape; the wall was smooth and straight, making climbing seem more a dream than an option. At the top of the wall were curls of thick barbed wire, cables entwined with the metal wire, making it clear it was electric as well. There seemed to be another wall towering over it, guard patrolling along the top of it, armed and ready to fire.
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“These are the outside grounds.” One of the guards grunted.”You can go and do as you wish, as long as you're out here behaving. The guards along the secondary walls are expert marksmen with full permission and ability to put you down at any time. You are not safe out here, in the event it comes out you can be taken.” The two guards, having apparently spoken their piece, walked back within the building, leaving them to their work.
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Just like within the building, the work was clear and extensive. Thick grass and weeds had made a whole section of the yard inaccessible. There were holes, ditches, and irregularities galore within the yard, the history of this place making it anything but a smooth surface. Trash had accumulated over the years, likely before whatever this was had started.
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“You impure have fun,” Vance said with a casual wave as he walked off from the rest. “I’m gonna check out our new playground.”
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“Crackerjack has the right idea.” Hooks said with a nod. “This might be forced labor, but it presents a good chance to find a way out of this.”
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“So gang, let's split up and search for clues?” Dez joked with a roll of his eyes. “All we need now is a half-speaking dog.”
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"What are we even looking for?" Goof asked, confused.
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“Something we could use as a ladder or to assemble one. Something that might allow us the chance to climb over the wall, or dig beneath it.” Hooks explained.
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“And what good does any of that do us with the guards?” Dez pointed out. His sense flickered with agreement. “I imagine that threat of taking us down would be carried out if they spot us escaping.”
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“Eh, it’s a piece of the puzzle, Brother.” Hooks said with a shrug. “One step at a time.”
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“We’re not on the same side, Brother.” Dez spat back, and the two shared a look. Dez hoped to convey the betrayal and anger he felt toward the man, but the look Hooks gave him back was weird. He couldn’t quite place what it meant, and it wasn’t anger. All the same, Dez let the matter go as Hector approached them, pushing a wheelbarrow full of gardening gloves and various gardening tools.
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“Enough with the pointless arguing,” Hector said with a shake of his head. “We were told you’d be coming, so I came to give you the supplies you need.”
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“You guys just been doing as you were told?” Hooks said, unimpressed. “With this opportunity.”
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“Of course not, culo,” Hector replied with a roll of his eyes. “K suggested that as soon as we got here, currently she and Darnell are covering the south and west sides of the property, and I was handling the east. Though now we can cover more ground.”
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“Then I’ll go find K,” Hooks said with a nod. “At least she still has love for a brother. Think over what I’ve been saying, Dez, it’ll make sense real soon.”
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“I’ll join Mug then,” Goof said with a shrug. “Wanna talk to him anyway.”
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Dez nodded, being left with Hector.
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“That man is one piece of work,” Hector said with a shake of his head, tossing over a pair of gardener gloves to Dez, and a moment later, a shovel. Without missing a beat, Hector began to push the wheelbarrow and led Dez deeper into the yard. He led them to a small clump of thin young trees growing alongside the wall. Hector removed his own shovel, slamming it into the ground just in front of one of the trees, stomping it deeper to sever the roots, and beginning the slow process of prying it free from the ground.
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Dez raised an eyebrow at the man, wondering why he would bother. He joined him all the same, picking another tree and beginning to copy Hector’s process, though he noted with a raised brow that he was much less efficient.
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“If you’re wondering, my friend,” Hector said as he removed the tree. Dez noted he propped it up even after it was fully uprooted, digging deeper into the ground as he did. Dez scanned along the wall where they worked, now noticing a small line of holes where other trees must have been earlier. “This serves both of our purposes at the same time! I am renovating and working on a potential out.”
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"We use the trees for cover and dig under the wall." Dez: "I'm surprised you're doing so well..."
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“Today was a hard day, and based on what we were warned of earlier, it will become harder still,” Hector said with a sigh. “But I’ve already made my peace with my death, if at the hands of some sort of monster or a guard, I mind little. But this place is even worse than I imagined. This isn’t right, it isn’t godly, and it surely can’t be legal. So while I’m content to allow the card to fall where they may, I intend to help you all along the way.”
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Dez frowned, surprised by how much it bothered him. Locked up, he’d believed his life was over—almost certainly true. Hector was the one who’d pulled him out of that darkness, embodying an ideal friend ever since. Yet Hector seemed to see himself as insignificant, as if surviving didn’t matter, or even made things worse.
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"So what, you're just gonna die here?" Dez snapped. The sharpness in his tone startled him. If the man was a dead man walking, that was his business. Streets one-o-one: mind your own. But it didn’t matter. If they died here, it'd be only after giving all the hell they had. If Dez fought back, Hector would too.
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“No man should seek their own death, and I don’t seek mine, my friend,” Hector replied, easily digging up a shovel full of dirt. “Merely find this all sort of ironically fitting. Criminals disposed of by a real monster. Almost funny, no?”
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Dez did snort beside himself. It sounded like the sort of thing people would suggest for criminals. He had heard it countless times, to society, those labelled criminals were seen as less than human. Who would mind if those beasts were torn apart? “Suppose it is. All the same, I have no intention of dying, not here and not like that. So you're not allowed to die either.”
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“Oh?”
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“You only came here to save my life, makes me responsible for ya,” Dez explained, dumping his own shovel. “In other words, you're not allowed to go throwing ya life away. I’ve got a vested interest in seeing you survive this.”
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Hector stared at him for a moment with narrowed eyes, intense enough that Dez questioned whether he had pushed him too far, but eventually the man’s face broke into a smile, shaking his head at Dez, and he got back to work.
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“Supose so.” Hector replied, mocking him. “Fine, you’ll get your way again, Dez. We will both survive this; look out for one another. That makes you Carnal.”
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“Carnal?”
“Flesh.”
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“A little closer than I was thinking, Hector,” Dez said with a nervous chuckle.
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“It more refers to flesh as in familia culo,” Hector said with a shake of his head. “Either way, I want some time to myself, need to think this all over. Besides, I dig better alone.”
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“You’ve dug before?” Dez asked with a raised brow. He surrendered to the man’s quest, brushed dirt from his clothes, and glanced at their shallow hole. He noted they hadn’t made much progress. If this was their method of escape, it might prove too little, too late.
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“My father, before… back when the culo could still hold a job, was one of many workers for the government, paid well but worked to the bone; he had little time to do anything else but work. Things were better back then; the familia was happier. He worked for the Mexican government, built the roads, and repaired them. Called for a lot of digging and picked it up from him.” Hector explained. “The man had his demons, as we do, Dez, but I’d like to think somewhere buried beneath it all, he was a good man. That’s why I am the way I am; I believe in the inherent potential and worth of human life. Regardless of where we are now, and where we have been, there is no telling where we’re going. So for those like us, who have taken that potential away… I feel we deserve the worst.”
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Dez was silent at that, wanting to object but unsure how. All the same, he grit his teeth and blustered through it. Confident, this was important for Hector to hear. “Maybe we do deserve it, maybe we are the lowest of the low, and we don’t ever deserve peace or redemption. But we are still human, still alive, still learning! Doesn't that mean that as long as we are, we have the responsibility to become better people? Don’t we owe that much?”
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Hector was silent and still at that.
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“Shame Hooks is such a bastard; he’s good at the whole motivational speech thing.” Dez cursed to himself. “But my point stands, we’re alive, and as long as we are, we don’t get to mope or wish otherwise, not when we still have the chance to be better. If we wanna become good people, you’ve already made it clear how earlier. Good people help people, and you can’t help anyone if you can’t help yourself.”
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“You do suck at this,” Hector said with a laugh. “But you are right… Now that alone time?”
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Dez nodded, pleased he had gotten through to the man, and it somehow made him feel better as well. He walked off, deciding to continue their scan for weaknesses. Breaking into a speed walk, he was determined to scan the fence line for any weakness before they were called in. This abandoned building had clearly been prepared with the express idea of the death of all of them save for two of them. Meaning they would’ve prepared for them to fight or hide, which left only escape as the way to survive.
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But it seemed too well thought out. Save for the ground, there didn’t seem to be anything over or through the wall. And while the guards didn’t seem bothered by him looking around or not working, it meant any attempt they did make would either have to be explainable or quick. There was only one entrance, connected to the building's original entrance, which was crawling with armed guards and turrets; he even saw guards patrolling the grounds. Their options were limited, and even if they did escape, where would they go?
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His thoughts were drowned out by the sound of a large, likely industrial mower going off in the distance. Hearing something so innate was almost startling here. So he found himself subconsciously walking toward it. Discovering the cause of the noise mere minutes later.
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Dez paused as he crossed a trio who were causing the noise. Two of the three were crouched over a rather large puddle in the thick, untamed grass, Mug mowing the lawn around them to disguise what seemed to be some sort of work by Hooks and K. The two were sprawled low, hidden in the tall grass, Hooks watching boredly as K examined each nearby blade of grass carefully, plucking one on occasion that seemed to please her.
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Dez matched eyes with Mug and nodded. Who nodded back in response and swung the driven mower around, passing by Dez a moment later. Without missing a beat, Dez used the moment of cover to drop low to the ground into a prone position and crawl towards K and Hooks. It took a moment, and several curses, but soon he emerged through the grass, joining Hooks and K, who glanced at him.
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“Brother.” Hooks said evenly, despite their circumstances, unalarmed by his sudden presence. Perhaps the two had already spotted him, Mug had signalled them somehow, or with K present, Hooks was confident Dez couldn’t touch him.
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“Listen, if you're here to pick a fight, pick another time,” K warned with a sigh. “I really don’t wanna have to hurt you.”
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“I come in peace,” Dez said, shooting Hooks a sharp glare to get his girl off him. “Was checking the area as we discussed before, and noticed you guys, so I wanted to check in.”
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"Good thing you did—maybe you’ll be good at what she’s trying," Hooks said, showing a tangled piece of grass. "K thinks she can make us a way out of here."
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“Homegirl is getting tired of getting called Homegirl, and would like to remind you Homegirl can break your arm without breaking the contract,” K warned dangerously.
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“K whatever.” Hooks said with a roll of his eyes.
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“Which is?” Dez said, ignoring Hooks.
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“This is Sweet Grass, a useful grass I can use to weave rope.”
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“Wouldn’t the barbed wire slice it apart, to say nothing of the guards,” Dez replied with a raised brow.
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“Normally, yes, but if the rope is thick enough or designed right, it should work regardless. As for the guards, aye, they are a problem. But one we can navigate easily enough with a distraction. Besides, we’re in a time crunch here; we need every option available to us.”
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“Can’t argue with that.” Dez began looking at the grass around him suspiciously.
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“Well,” Hooks said, rolling over before lurching up and beginning to walk away from them. “I’ll leave it in your capable hands. This grunt work thing isn’t my style, gonna find out if I can charm or steal a cigarette from a guard. Have fun~!”
“I hate that man,” K complained.
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“Then why work with him?”
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“Saying that would breach my contract.”
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“Kind of your catchphrase, huh?”
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Dez nearly winced at the glare she shot him then. But smiled at her all the same, she had a bit of a temper, and it was surprisingly fun to tempt it. But it served two purposes. To distract her and to allow him to pry more easily. If he was stuck with Hooks, he needed to be careful. Which meant figuring out why K and Hooks were thick as thieves was important; even better, he could convince her to give up her job.
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“Aye,” K said simply. “If you must talk, let’s do a more… safe topic.”
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“Fair enough, tried going that far already,” Dez admitted with a shrug, plucking a strand of grass and staring at it. Before blinking owlishly, K snatched it from his hand and tossed it away. “Okay, so what kind of strand am I looking for?”
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“Long healthy strands that are flexible,” K replied easily, her tension relaxing as he took the hint. “We need them to be flexible, so they're pliable when used, and healthy ones will be stronger than dying ones. And work fast, we’ll need at least two days to dry them.”
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Dez bit back a sarcastic reply and nodded. Taking more care in his next selection and being pleased when she nodded back at him. His pace increased, and he became confident, and the two began working efficiently, quickly amassing a decent pile in two hours of silent, hard work.
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However, curiosity and boredom ate at Dez. Even with his life on the line, he wanted some stimulus as he worked. Was life worth living if bland after all?
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“So you can kick ass and weave apparently…” Dez said with a laugh. “You some kind of G.I. Joe or something?”
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“Or something,” K said with a chuckle of her own. “My mentor raised me to be a jack of all trades.”
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“A mentor raised you?”
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“My parents died when I was young. My father, the owner of a shipping company out of Australia, died during a cruise around the Mediterranean. When they did, my Mentor saved me from the foster system and began teaching me to take up their work.”
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“So how’d you end up here?”
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“Not for any reason you're thinking of. But I can’t go into detail either.”
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Dez smirked. “So mysterious.”
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“So screwed more of. But you seem to know Hooks.”
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“Well enough to say you shouldn’t trust him, if you can find a way out, take it.”
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K arched a brow, her face creasing in incredulity. "You’d say that regardless. What is the problem between you two anyway? Would make my life easier if I didn’t have to keep an eye on you.” Dez noted her expression as they spoke.
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“You don’t know? Almost everyone else I’ve encountered seemed at least somewhat aware.”
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“I don't watch the news much,” K answered with her shrug, suddenly standing and beginning to gather her pile of grass to carry. Dez followed suit, joining her as they walked.
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“Well, let’s just say he betrayed my trust, and in the process made sure I went down with him,” Dez answered with a sigh of his own. “For years, I thought of him as a brother, the one family member I could trust.”
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“Not close with your parents?”
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“Never was. It always felt like we couldn’t connect for some reason. Though now I wonder if the problem was me all along.” Dez answered honestly.
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“So you're that type.”
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“What does that mean?” Dez asked defensively.
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“Some people seem to spend their whole lives pushing the right people away,” K said with a shrug as the two walked toward a small, decrepit shed stored next to some of the guards. They seemed unbothered by them, even with their grass, and the two opened and entered the shed without issue.
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Inside the shed was warped and clearly under threat of collapse. Yet all the same, K seemed to approve, setting her grass on a slanted table nearby as she started to check every nook and cranny of the shed.
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“I’ve been told something similar before,” Dez answered her as he looked at the thick layer of dust covering the old tools and supplies within the shed. He watched as K, unbothered, cracked open a drawer and, with a pleased nod, removed an old tarp from it and laid it out on the ground. She grabbed her grass, dropping it in a pile on one half before grabbing Dez’s grass and doing the same. “Maybe they were all right along with yourself, but I’ve just never felt… satisfied. I’m living, moving, making choices, but I’ve never felt like there was a reason. For a while, I assumed it was to enjoy my time with the people I loved, but that list shrank over the years. Made me doubt everything.”
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“You’re lost,” K answered simply, folding over the tarp on top of the grass and picking up several dusty tools to weigh it down. “It happens to plenty of people who have lost touch with their roots. Your family and all of your other loved ones are among the few gifts given to us in this world. Without them, we lose who we are and begin to feel hollow. I can remember little about my parents, but I cherish each memory I do have. If you ever want to feel at peace, satisfied as you put it, you’ll need to confront your past, or at very least come to terms with it. Okay, we’re done here. These will sit here to dry out, though we’ll have to wet them before use.”
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Dez wasn’t sure how to respond to that, silence stretching for a moment as K stared at him boldly. It was strange, here he was surrounded by Death Row inmates, yet they seemed to offer him wisdom…
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“Why not begin the creation of the rope now? We can always wet it when we need it and make sure it's done. Dez chose to approach the easier topic rather than continue that one. K rolled her eyes in response but allowed the change in topic.
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“If we tried now, it would rip or simply not weave well,” K explained, wagging her finger at him like a sage teacher. “The drying process is to toughen it up. We wet it before use to keep it flexible. As for the actual weaving, it’ll take time, and only I can do it. Not ideal, but as long as we’re careful and decisive when we make our move, it's doable.”
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“Can’t help but notice all the plans we’re coming up with involve luck.” Dez countered with a finger wag of his own. “It seems awfully like we’re screwed to me.”
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“A matter of perspective, really,” K said with a casual shrug. “But something my master always says: Victory sides with the lucky. As long as you're not counting on it alone, it can be a useful tool.”
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“They sound smart,” Dez replied as the two stepped outside. “You’ll have to tell me more about them when we make it out of this place.”
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“Sounds like a deal.” K agreed; however, the two paused when a guard waited outside the shed for them.
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“Sir Olaf has ordered the workers be brought in for rest, eating, and safety.” The guard barked at them. “What were the two of you doing in that shed?”
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“We were disposing of some grass,” Dez said with a bored shrug. “Mug is cutting it up, and we needed somewhere to put it. Figured with this shed being so shitty, it’d be the perfect spot. When it becomes too full, we can empty it.”
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“We can move it, if you’d like, sir.” K offered, Dez raising a brow at the sickly sweet tone she held.
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“Not necessary, come along now.” The guard ordered.
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The three of them trekked through the asylum back toward the entrance where they were kept. The others were already there, Dez noting the room was split into two sides. And at the center, Hooks and Vance were staring down. Mug and Goof at his side, and Derby and the apparent Spencer at Vance’s.
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The guard didn’t care, locking the doors behind them as the two of them stalked toward the conversation. K is likely to protect Hooks, but Dez is most likely to be close if something goes down. He wasn’t sure if he’d help Hooks or hurt him, but either way, he’d need to be close.
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“Tell your boys to get away from the grub.” Hooks demanded, sneering, looking downright murderous as he inched closer to Vance. As he said, Dez took a closer look at the other Woods. They were seated and standing around the kitchen area purposely. Blocking it off with their bodies, normally, it wouldn’t be a true barrier. They could easily bypass it, especially if they were willing to get their hands dirty. But with the rule in place, they couldn’t harm one another; there didn’t seem to be a good way to deal with it. “We all need to eat here.”
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“That we do,” Vance replied casually. “But that doesn’t mean we all get to. Worry not, though we’re not cruel even to you impures, but you and the bitch don’t get to eat, and they're not to share with you.”
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“And how are you gonna stop me?” Hooks asked dangerously. “We can’t exactly scrap this out?”
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“But it says nothing about blocking you,” Vance said with his own dangerous tone. “You and that bitch are dangerous in a fight, alright, but we outnumber you…”
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Dez had heard enough. K, Hector, and he joined the other standing across from Hooks. “Do you?” He chimed in simply.
