The old man was awake. The darkness showed him sitting on his bed. He did not move. He just sat there, like he had been waiting.
"Who are you?" the old man asked.
Terrified, Alejandro fell off his bed as if he had seen a ghost. His heart pounded in his chest.
"Help me!" he screamed.
Footsteps echoed down the hall. It stopped for a moment, then moved again, stopping at doors before moving on. The sound came closer and closer.
"I mean no harm," Alejandro said, his voice shaking.
The steps stopped right outside the door. Alejandro could hear someone breathing on the other side. His body shook. He felt warmth spread in his pants. He had peed himself. He did not care. He just stared at the dark figure sitting on the other bed.
The figure did not speak.
The door burst open.
Alejandro jumped to his feet and rushed forward. He hugged the guard, who stood there holding a cart filled with bread.
"There!" Alejandro cried, pointing into the dark room.
The guard stepped inside with a small lamp in his hand. The weak light filled the room. It showed the old man sitting on his bed, his wrinkled face pulled into a slow smile.
"What's the problem here, boy?" the guard asked.
"I thought I saw something," Alejandro said. Now that the light was on, he felt foolish.
The guard snorted. He walked to the beds and dragged out two rubber plates from under them. They were filthy, stained, and crusted over. They looked like they had been used and never washed.
"I can wash those," Alejandro said quickly. He stepped toward the guard, but the guard pushed him back.
"It doesn't matter," the guard said.
He placed a piece of bread on one plate. The bread looked dry and rough. It was pale and cracked, like it had been left out for days. On the other plate, he dumped some beans and scraps that looked like garbage.
He filled a jug halfway with water and set it down between the beds.
"Listen well," the guard said. "Young one, you take the bread. The old man takes the rest. We're out of food. Meals are for those who make it after "the white room."
He turned and left. The door slammed shut. The light went with him. The room sank back into darkness.
"Help me, son. My back aches," the old man said softly.
Alejandro picked up the plate and carried it over. The old man's hands shook as he took it. He tried to eat, but he could barely chew.
Alejandro stared at his own bread. He broke off a piece and put it in his mouth. He bit down.
Dust.
It tasted like dry dirt. He spat it out.
"Good meals are not for criminals," the old man said.
"But I'm innocent," Alejandro said. "I was framed. I don't deserve this."
He forced himself to take another bite. The bread scraped his throat as he swallowed. It felt like it would not go down.
The room was silent except for chewing and slow breathing.
Then Alejandro remembered what the guard had said.
"What's the white room?" he asked.
The old man stopped chewing. He swallowed slowly.
"It's below us," he said. "They take us down there. They use us as lab rats. They test things on us. I don't know what they test. All I know is that men go down there and come back… different."
Alejandro's stomach turned.
"I'm not going to survive down here," he said.
No one answered for a moment.
"How long have you been here?" Alejandro asked.
The old man gave a dry laugh.
"For so long I can't say," he said. "I can't tell day from night. There are no windows. Only dark."
He tilted his head.
"Do you hear that?"
Alejandro listened. At first, he heard nothing.
"Hear what?" he asked.
"The water," the old man said. "It drips from somewhere above. I count it. All day. All night. Drip. Drip. Drip. It's like a clock. It tells me I'm still alive."
Alejandro held his breath.
Drip.
He heard it now. A faint sound from the corner of the room.
Drip.
He could not bear it. It felt like each drop landed inside his head.
The old man shifted on his bed.
"Can you give me a hand? I need to pee."
Alejandro froze for a second. Then he nodded, though the old man could not see him.
He helped the old man sit up. The smell in the room was already bad, but when Alejandro moved closer, it grew worse. Sweat, dirt, waste. It all mixed in the air.
Alejandro helped him aim toward the bucket on the floor. The old man's body shook. Alejandro helps him stick out his slimy manhood, which was covered with hair that needed to be shoved apart. Before Alejandro could steady him, the stream missed and splashed onto the floor.
The stench grew stronger.
"Ugh," the old man grunted as he finished.
Alejandro swallowed hard and helped him lie back down.
"That was a good one," the old man said, as if nothing had happened. "Help me lie flat."
Alejandro pulled the thin blanket over him.
The room fell quiet again.
After a while, the old man spoke.
"To whom do I owe such thanks?"
"Alejandro," he said quickly.
"Alejandro what?" the old man asked. His voice changed. It sounded sharper.
"Alejandro Andrea," he replied.
"No!", that can't be….