Snippet #2815487

Ulrich came for her four days later, in the night. In that time, the nurse had stopped by daily, dispensing two aspirin and nothing else, and ignoring the old woman's polite requests for a cane. An officer came every afternoon to take her to the disciplinary unit's small caged-in yard for an hour of exercise, which for the old woman meant a slow walk around the perimeter, hand against the wall all the way around, before she sat on the matted, browning grass in exhaustion until the hour was up. Meals came on a trolley, and slid through a slot in the door meant alternately for cuffing or feeding, usually covered by a locked plate. They came cold, soggy, and thoroughly unappetizing. Otherwise, the only other contact she had with a living soul came when one of the sergeants dropped off a copy of her disciplinary ticket, without so much as a passing comment. Until Ulrich returned.

He arrived sometime between two and four in the morning, seeming for all intents and purposes to simply be another officer on night patrol, conducting the first count of the twenty-four hour cycle. But then he unlocked Drulović's cell, sliding the massive metal door open, and descending on her with a knife in hand aiming for her throat. Her eyes opened. "This time, no games," he rasped, "I finish it. You die."