Equity

Chapter 4

He sat bolt upright in bed, eyes searching, trying to grasp something familiar, anything. His lungs were pumping air in great, ragged gasps, his mind still seeing the snake. His sheets and pillow were soaked with sweat. Then things began to focus—he recognized the bars of his cell, the bare toilet, the smooth concrete walls. Jesus. Just a dream, he was telling himself, trying to convince himself.

Then he remembered the little man.

"Guard! Brandon!" he yelled, his voice too high, out of control. He had to talk to Stroud, he thought; make him understand. He had to tell him—tell him there was something wrong...the dream; there was something wrong with the dream.

"For Christ's sake, Sampo. Do you know what time it is? You wake the rest of this tier up and your ass is in a real bind." There were a few murmurs and shouts from some of the nearer cells now.

"Brandon," his eyes wide; his voice pleading, "I have to make another phone call."

"Are you outa your mind?" the guard was really irritated now. "Go back to sleep Sampo," as he made to leave.

"No, please," he begged. "Brandon, you gotta let me make one more call. Here," he said, as he pulled some money from the pocket of his jeans, "here's a hundred bucks; take it." He shoved the bills through the bars at the guard.

The guard considered for a moment. "All right Sampo, but don't bother me again. You hear?" he menaced, tucking the money into his shirt pocket.

#

"Stroud, you've got to fix it—the dream. It—it's not like it was."

"You lied to us, Mr. Sampo." he said dispassionately.

"No, no. It just slipped my mind; I'll tell you where the other location is."

"I'm afraid it's a bit late for that now."

"Then take the dream back," said Sampo desperately. "I don't care about the money; you can keep it."

"Oh, I don't see how I could do that, Mr. Sampo. Unlike you, and as I affirmed to you during our last visit, I never go back on my word." Sampo, the phone still to his hear, stared far away in dumb silence, as he heard the click and then the dial tone.

Back in his cell, he was lying on his cot staring at the ceiling, afraid to close his eyes. Mustn't sleep; mustn't close my eyes, he told himself. Mustn't close my eyes...