Nothing in the World by Roy Kesey Read Free Book Online

the fat man shrieked, and laughter echoed through the cellblock.
    Cell 12 held only one prisoner, a gaunt pale man sitting in a pool of urine in the middle of the floor. Dried spittle crusted his beard, and when he
     saw Joško he rolled onto his stomach and scuttled into the farthest corner.
    - Welcome to the Split Sheraton, said the guard who was holding Joško as the other opened the cell door.
    Magarac stepped forward.
    - Hold on a second.
    The guard smiled, removed Joško’s handcuffs, and Magarac kicked high into Joško’s chest. Joško flailed and fell, landing in
     the pool of urine. The door slammed shut and the men walked away.
    He dragged himself to the nearest of the three beds, rested for a moment before heaving himself up, but couldn’t get his leg to catch on the
     mattress, and fell back to the floor. Under the bed was a small plastic pail, and Joško wondered who had left it there. He folded one arm under
     his head, and darkness lowered and held him.
    * * *
    Joško felt someone pulling him onto his side, felt hands groping at his belt clasp. It was his cellmate, naked on the floor beside him. Joško
     shoved him away, cinched his belt and stood.
    The man crawled to his bunk, got in and closed his eyes. Joško sat down and kneaded his stomach. Everything hurt, but his breath came easier, and
     the bed was at least as comfortable as his cot in Šibenik had been. There was a barred window set high in one wall, and he stared at the rectangle
     of sunlight that lay flat against the opposite wall. It stretched diagonally at one end, almost like the prow of a ship, and Joško remembered
     Klara, the Serb ships, the shelling.
    He shouted for the guards, and the cellblock became a hoarse fanatic choir. A guard came running down the line of cells, swinging his baton to both
     sides, and walked slowly back up to Joško’s cell.
    - Did you start all this?
    - I’m sorry, Joško said, but I have to go. My sister—
    - You’ll leave when the guys in 105 say you can leave. Until then, shut the fuck up or I’ll break your elbows.
    The guard walked up the hall and turned the corner, and Joško sat down on his bed. He listened to his cellmate crying in his sleep, and to the
     ranting of those in other cells. The rectangle of sunlight slid up to the center of the wall, widened into a perfect square and faded to nothing.
    Then he heard footsteps. The two guards were escorting a battered soldier down the hall. One guard opened the door to Joško’s cell, and the
     other thrust the soldier inside. The man’s left hand was wrapped in blood-soaked bandages. He sat down on the one empty bed, swung his legs up
     and lay back.
    - What happened to you? Joško asked.
    The soldier looked across at Joško, and rolled over to face the wall.
    * * *
    The guards brought breakfast early the next morning: paper plates of bread and canned meat, paper cups of water. Joško took his plate and cup from
     the floor, went to his bed and emptied the cup in one long draught. His cellmates hadn’t gone to get their food. The man who’d been there
     when he arrived was still asleep; the other soldier was sitting upright on his bed, and his eyes were open and empty.
    - You really should eat something, Joško said.
    - Why?
    Joško had no answer. The man looked down at his bloody hand.
    - What happened was, I didn’t want to die.
    - What?
    The man scratched lightly around the bandages.
    - I ran. We all ran, at least at the beginning. Some of us stopped, and some of us didn’t. Me, for example. And Tomislav. And Dubravko.
    - Where are they?
    - I don’t know. They were here a few days ago, but I don’t think they’ll be coming back.
    - I don’t understand.
    The man stared at Joško.
    - Deserters get taken to Room 105. Sooner or later you sign your confession and then you disappear.
    - But if you’re a deserter too—
    - I told them that the others had forced me to go along because I was the only one who knew the trail. It wasn’t a very good