Said showed Gabriel his hands, but his hands continued to tremble and Gabriel noticed the beads of sweat on Said’s brow.
“The police,” he said. “When the train stopped, the police, they come for me. I told them, I have lost everything. My family, I have left my family behind. Despite my education I cannot feed my family. I am no longer a teacher. I am here to begin my life again and I have the appetite to do this so they must help me, yes? I told them I have a case to present, but they do not listen to me. I tell them, please do not send me back to my country. Not there. The policemen they ask me, what happened to you in your country? I told them that I cannot talk of this or I will lose what little appetite I have left. The policemen looked at me, so I ask them, is it true? Is it true that in England you can smell freedom in the air? That it is a different air? But they will not answer me. I say, I have smelled a little of the air and it is good, but why are you putting me in this prison? I do not want these filthy trousers, or this grey T-shirt that another man has worn. I will not wear your slippers. England is not my country. I have done nothing. I am not a criminal man. I have never been a criminal man. I have two hands, I can work.”
Gabriel asked his new cellmate if he was all right, but Said shrugged his shoulders.
“I am cold, but I have no money to see a doctor. And now maybe I will never see England again. But have you noticed? The light in England is very weak. It depresses me. They have taken the sun out of the sky.”
Said looked forlorn, and so Gabriel suggested that he try to sleep. Gabriel squeezed his friend’s shoulder, and then he climbed onto the top bunk and stretched out. He listened as beneath him Said continued to cough and splutter. Sadly, for the past three days, his cellmate’s condition has only deteriorated.
And now the night warder arrives back at the cell, and he javelins a wet mop and then tosses a roll of paper towel through the bars.
“Here, clean up this shit, Gabriel. It will make everybody feel happier.”
Gabriel looks down from his bunk, but the night warder is already walking back to his television set. Gabriel climbs from his perch, and he picks up the mop and the roll of paper towel and he begins to clean up the floor around Said’s prostrate body. His friend continues to breathe in a rasping whisper, and although his eyes are still open he appears now to be incapable of focusing on anything. Gabriel bends down and he places the roll of paper towel underneath Said’s head so that it becomes a squashed tubular pillow. During the past three days, the story of Said’s life in Iraq has become increasingly improbable and riddled with contradictions, but Gabriel has been a patient audience. He readjusts the roll of paper towel under his friend’s head, and listens once more as Said struggles to make himself heard.
“Please,” whispers Said. “My brother and my children. You must tell them.”
Gabriel takes his friend’s hand and squeezes hard.
“Said, you must continue to allow hope to grow.”
“Please, you must tell them.”
And then Said’s eyes fall shut. Gabriel leaps to his feet, scattering the mop to the far side of the cell.
“Mr. Collins, it is Said. Please, we need a doctor.”
The night warder abandons his precious television set, and he moves quickly to the cell. For the first time Gabriel can see concern on the face of the man. The night warder speaks to Gabriel, but without taking his eyes from Said.
“I’ll call the doctor, but they do everything in their own sweet time.”
The night warder leaves Gabriel marooned with his friend. According to Said, his brother is still in Iraq, but at other times he is in America. And sometimes Said has a wife, and at other times he is a bachelor. But he always has children, a boy and a girl. Gabriel looks at Said until he cannot bear to look any more, and then he slumps down to the floor and rests his back against the bars of the cell.
It is the sound of keys in the cell door that alerts Gabriel to the fact that he has fallen asleep. A tall, thin man ignores Gabriel and steps quickly into the cell. The night warder follows him. The man puts down a brown leather bag, and he kneels beside Said. Gabriel stares at this reed of a man, who now stands and turns to face the warder.
“He’s been gone for some time.” The night warder looks shocked, but the doctor is ready to leave. “I suppose we’ve got some paperwork to sort out, right?”
The night warder waits for the doctor to stride from the cell, and then he locks back the door. Gabriel clambers to his feet.
“Please, Mr. Collins, you cannot do this. You must take him away!”
The night warder does not trouble himself to look at Gabriel. He calmly escorts the doctor back in the direction of the television set, and Gabriel retreats to the furthest corner of the cell and huddles his body into a tight ball. He slides to the floor.
Eventually, the day warder arrives. He is a short, but powerfully built, man who looks as though at one time he might have enjoyed a career in professional sport. He stands by the door to the cell and looks contemptuously at Gabriel.
“So what’s the problem then? What are you wailing about? He’s dead. He ain’t gonna bite.”
The man in the cell next door starts to laugh.
“You should make him eat him. Fucking noisy cannibal.”
The warder steps to his right and looks into the neighbour’s cell.
“And you can shut it, you stupid little cretin.”
Obviously these few words are enough, for immediately there is silence. The warder steps back and looks at Gabriel, who now realises that the impossibly thin doctor is standing with this man.
The doctor peers into the cell, and then he simply instructs the warder to “open up.” Gabriel climbs slowly to his feet. The doctor whispers something to the day warder, who begins to peel off his jacket.
“Well, sonny, what’s with all the shouting? You losing it up here?” The day warder taps the side of his head.
Gabriel stares at the warder, and then slides back to the floor and curls himself into an even tighter ball. The warder shakes his head in disgust and turns to the doctor.
“You might have to help me get him up and onto the bunk.”
The doctor puts down his leather bag and he now slips out of his jacket. Unlike the warder, whose jacket lies in an untidy heap, the doctor folds his neatly and places it on top of his bag.
“What’s he in here for?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“He’s not an illegal then?”
“Oh, he’s that all right, but that’s only half the problem.”
The warder takes Gabriel’s legs while the doctor grabs his arms. Gabriel begins to kick out, but he is powerless in the grip of these two men.
“Which bunk?” asks the doctor, who is now struggling to keep control of Gabriel’s flailing arms.
“It doesn’t matter. Stick him on the bottom.”
Gabriel continues to kick and wrestle, but they easily lift their malnourished patient onto the bottom bunk and the warder reaches into his pocket and pulls out four strips of rubber. He passes two to the doctor, and they begin to strap Gabriel to the frame of the bed.
“This should hold the bugger in place,” says the warder. He gestures, with his head, towards Said. “What about him?”
The doctor pulls his final knot tight and then takes a step back. He begins to slip his jacket back on.
“They should be here for the body before too long. But who knows.”
A terrified Gabriel watches as the doctor opens his bag and pulls out a syringe and long needle.
“Don’t tell me,” says the warder. “Cutbacks, right?”
“There’s just not enough ambulances. In some boroughs they’re using private cars.”
The doctor sits on the edge of the narrow bed and focuses on Gabriel.