Irin sat hunched on the cell floor with his back pressed against the wall. He stared at nothing in particular as the guards dragged those guys away in cuffs.
The sounds of boots slowly faded down the corridors until guards slammed the iron doors shut, and soon silence returned to the prison block.
The only thing Irin could hear was Barak's voice ringing like an alarm in his head.
'Avoid trouble when I'm not around.'
Barak had said it so many times that it had become part of Irin's daily routine.
Irin pressed his forehead to his knees and closed his eyes.
'It wasn't my fault,' he told himself.
He had replayed the moment over and over. He hadn't thrown the first punch. He hadn't thrown any punches. He had only spoken a few words that worked to his advantage.
If the boys had chosen violence, that was their doing, not his.
What made the whole matter worse was that they would be going for the next coal detail.
Irin's stomach sank. He had been chosen for the next shift. The guard had said it with a smile as if he were handing out cookies to a bunch of kids.
Barak would know the moment he returned. The guards would enjoyed making sure of that. Irin could already imagine Barak's reaction.
Barak would lose his mind if he found out he was going to the coal mine alone without him nearby.
Irin waited.
He waited for the inevitable reckoning that came with the sound of Barak's footsteps entering the cell and scolding him for not listening to him.
Instead, another footstep slowed to a stop outside his cell.
"Irin."
The voice was unfamiliar as it called out.
Irin looked up to see a guard standing there with keys in hand. This one was slender with a sharp face.
Irin rose slowly. "What is it?"
"Step out," the guard said, unlocking the door. "You're coming with me."
A chill slid down Irin's spine. "Where?"
The guard paused. Then said almost casually, "The infirmary."
"Infirmary?" Irin's body tensed. "Why?"
The guard stepped aside, pointing down the corridor. "You'll see soon enough."
As Irin exited the cell, his heart started to pound erratically.
"Is it Barak?" he asked, unable to stop himself.
The guard did not answer while they walked in silence.
While en route to the infirmary, they passed many cell sections and completely avoided a particular section. Irin observed that many blocks were vacant, but a few were occupied. Consequently, prisoners from those unoccupied sections were chosen to dig the coal mine.
Even though they worked tirelessly exporting coal that powered the entire country, these prisoners lived in conditions more dreadful than hellimaginable.
Upon reaching the infirmary, the guard opened the door and pushed him inside.
The aroma of herbs and antiseptics was the commonest smell one could perceive upon entering the infirmary.
Sick prisoners who were attended to by the physicians lay on their beds. Some were bandaged entirely. Others had their legs or arm hanged on a support beam. While a few coughed violently due to their deteriorating health.
It was evident that their bad health could be attributed to the complications that came from rigorous mining or an accident in the coal mine.
A single lantern burned brightly in the center of the room.
And on the far bed in the room lay someone Irin had dreaded not to see the moment he stepped his foot inside the infirmary.
"Barak."
The name tore itself from Irin's throat as he broke free of the guard's grasp and ran.
Barak lay motionless. His broad frame lay still on the bed, and his complexion was pale under the lamplight. His beard was matted red with blood, and a stained cloth was stuffed into his mouth.
For a terrifying instant, Irin thought Barak was dead.
Irin sat on a chair closer to Barak and held his hands.
"I'm here," Irin said before removing the cloth from Barak's mouth. "I'm here."
Barak's eyelids twitched a few seconds before they slowly opened. It took him a moment to focus his gaze. And when he finally did, he was able to recognize the person sitting close to him.
"Irin…You're here?" Barak murmured.
Irin felt an overwhelming wave of relief that almost made his legs buckle.
"You're alive," Irin said, gripping Barak's hand tighter. "You're alive."
"I am," Barak said.
A thin man in a white coat stepped forward. He was the infirmary head doctor.
"He was poisoned," the doctor said bluntly.
Iri turned sharply. "Poisoned?"
"He ingested a significant dose of poison. He would have been dead by now if two inmates hadn't found him near the wash trough, collapsed and vomiting blood."
The doctor adjusted Barak's blankets to cover his feet. "I'll step away and let you have a moment with him."
The doctor stopped as he was about to leave. Glancing toward the guard stationed outside the door, he added, "Talk quick. Your time with him is limited."
Then the doctor left, leaving the two of them alone.
Irin leaned closer. "Who did this?" he asked. "Tell me who poisoned you."
Barak swallowed with visible effort. "I don't know," he said hoarsely. "Could be anyone."
"I swear I'll find them," Irin said immediately.
Irin felt Barak's weak grip tighten around his fingers.
"Listen first," he said. "Before you do something without thinking it through."
Irin nodded in obedience. "What is it?"
"It's too late," Barak said slowly, "I'm afraid the poison had done its work. My insides have been severely damaged from the effects of this poison. And it won't heal anytime soon."
"The doctors will fix it," Irin said hopefully. "He'll have to."
Barak smiled faintly.
"There's something you need to know," Barak said, forcing the words out.
"It's bout you."
Irin went very still. "What do you mean?"
Barak inhaled shallowly. "You're not my biological son. Neither were you brought here in a basket by a neighbour."
Irin said nothing. He already had his suspicion about this from the way Barak retold the story every time someone asked.
"You were born here," Barak said. "In this prison."
The words struck Irin harder than he expected.
"What of my mother?" he asked.
Barak looked up at the ceiling. "I only knew her that night. She was from the Sarashu tribe, if I recalled the name correctly. A tribe that disappeared mysteriously in the Third Epoch. Due to my confinement in prison, I couldn't gather much information about her. I even had to work more in the mine so the guards would get me historical records."
"However, you need to be aware that every account of your tribe has been meticulously erased from all historical documents I found."
Irin felt his skin prickle.
"She was chained in Block Nine by the former chief warden," Barak continued. "On that cold night, two powerful, rich men came with him. I didn't know their names. Only by the mark on their wrist."
Barak raised his hand slightly and traced an invisible symbol on Irin's palm.
"They wanted something from her," Barak said. "But they couldn't get what they wanted. Whatever they tried… it failed."
His breathing became uneven.
"They left her there thinking she had died," he whispered. "And there she gave birth to you."
"She died shortly after," Barak said. "I was there when it all happened. I took you in and lied about you to the guards and everyone."
"You would have told them the truth and exposed the chief warden?" Irin said.
Barak looked at him. "Things would have gone badly. Lying was the best option."
Irin closed his eyes as he painfully recalled something. Another memory not of this life world resurfaced in his mind.
'He saw a courtroom filled with people, with him at the center. Heavy chains bind his wrist like a disgraced criminal.
He was framed and unjustly executed for a crime I didn't commit. Only to be Reborn in another world… And born to a mother who was also framed and imprisoned till her death.'
He exhaled sharply upon opening his eyes to a startling realization. A bitter, disbelieving laugh rose to his chest.
"The symmetry of it all…So fate thinks this is funny," Irin muttered.
Barak frowned. "What?"
Irin shook his head. "Nothing."
Barak looked at him with quiet sorrow. "I'm sorry," he said.
Irin squeezed his hand. "You did what you had to do. You don't need to be sorry."
Barak began coughing again, harder this time, with blood spilling freely.
The door opened, and the guard walked in.
"That's enough," the guard barked. "Your time is up."
"No," Irin said, standing. "I'm not leaving."
The doctor rushed in. "You have to go," he said firmly. "If you stay, I won't be able to save him."
"I'll come back," Irin said. "Please stay alive. For me… For us…"
Barak smiled weakly. "I'll be waiting. Go," he said. "And come back soon."
The guard seized Irin's arm and dragged him away.