Somewhere just outside the window they heard the whining growl of a dog straining excitedly against the leash. Almost to man, everyone dropped what he was doing and lay down on the floor. Each was careful to turn so that his arms extended overheard could be clearly seen, palms up and empty.
The door burst open. Before it had struck the wall next to its hinges, the dogs swarmed across the barracks, hoping against hope there was someone not in compliance so they could bite. At the same time, they sniffed about for scents of forbidden items.
When the dogs came back and sat down in front of the door, disappointed at finding nothing, the guards came inside.
“Inmate one-eight-four-nine! Roll over!”
There was a sound of movement between two bunks and the finger tips of hands carefully kept facing palm up. The dogs watched with mild interest. The squad leader who had barked the command strode heavily to the place, nearly stepping on several sets of hands on the way. He placed a restraining device over the wrists, then roughly lifted the man to his feet.
As he was led out, none of others dared to twitch until the dogs were called out of the building. As the men slowly returned to their activities, one or two were heard to mumble something about being glad it wasn’t themselves.
They marched past the building normally used for punishment and torture. Even now with the sun almost gone, it was still hot enough to draw a fresh sweat from the brisk pace. He recognized the backside of the headquarters building. There was a very small door which had obviously been added after the building was finished. The squad leader opened it and shoved the prisoner toward the doorway. It was a big step up, but the prisoner did his best to comply quickly.
The tiny room was dark, but not so dark he couldn’t see it was empty. He wasn’t a young man any more, but it was protocol which told him to sit against the wall next to the door. He heard the locks click before the sound of footsteps faded away.
It took a moment for him to realize the room was air conditioned. How long had it been since he had felt that? His perspiration was not quite dry when the light came on and the opposite door opened.
A burly guard looked inside. He gazed at the prisoner who was hugging his knees. The small wooden stocks were worn smooth and just loose enough to permit this position with a modicum of comfort. The prisoner was careful to display open palms. The guard, face frozen, entered with a folding chair. He set it up along the side wall away from the doors. Then he hoisted the prisoner up and sat him roughly on the chair. Behind him, another burly guard entered with another, much better padded folding chair. This was opened facing the prisoner.
The guards then stood themselves in the two corners behind the prisoner. A few minutes passed. For a man clearly in trouble, the prisoner was quite relaxed, patient, even serene.
Eventually an officer stepped to the door, paused to look inside a moment. Gazing at the prisoner, he sighed, then came in and closed the door behind him. He took the empty chair with an air of relaxed command, which suddenly gave way to a sense of intensity. He frowned at the prisoner, who had not yet dared to raise his eyes. Grabbing each knee, he locked his elbows. The officer pursed his lips a couple of times, the spoke. “Tell me why the others want you in isolation.”
Upon being spoken to, the prisoner raised his face with that calm level gaze which never seemed to leave him. “I’m not willing to join their little gang, Sir.”
The officer, head cocked to one side, considered this for a moment. He folded his arms and stroked his chin. “Which gang?”
The prisoner might as well be the one in charge. Without breaking any protocol, he remained relaxed, with the faintest trace of a smile. “I often wonder, Sir, how you got stuck with this job. When I refused to accept a role in organizing a resistance committee, they threatened to plant lies about me. I knew you wouldn’t believe the report.”
The officer smirked. “You would be the last man on earth to say something naughty about my daughter. I find it hard to imagine you would resist much of anything.”
“Well, Sir, I resisted their conscription. They knew I had worn stripes a few decades ago, and assumed I would be willing to recruit a squad.”
“So they know what’s in our files, but don’t know you. We’ll have to see who among our staff is open to helping them.”
“Or is simply careless.”
“Yes,” the office chuckled. “I suppose you aren’t going to play informant, either.”
“Sir, I cannot. Because no one on this earth can be trusted, I always insure there is nothing which requires trust. Anyone who asks will get an honest report of what I know or believe. The truth is worth far more than my insignificant existence.”
The officer shook his head, not quite with impatience. “So you said during the intake interview. I’ve already figured out punishment means nothing to you, and since you have complied with everything, there’s no need to pretend making an example of you.” He paused for a moment, staring at the ceiling. “So if I accept their bogus accusation you insulted my daughter’s honor, I give them what they think they want. If I do not, they suddenly become more suspicious of you. What do you think?”
The prisoner shrugged. “I can’t pretend to advise you, Sir. It makes no difference to me. If you lock me up, I get more time to pray and meditate, while you investigate this new resistance. If you send me back, I get more time to teach the few who will listen, and the rest will draw away even farther.”
The officer pursed his lips again. “Hm. What can you tell me about his new committee?”
“They spoke of organizing and drilling on communications first. They seem to think they can bring the other gangs to heel some way, then organize a mass revolt and escape, I suppose.”
“What do you think are their chances?”
“Zero.”
“Is that why you didn’t join them?”
“No, Sir. If I really believed it was necessary to try, futility would not stop me. I don’t concern myself with results, but obeying my convictions. That’s why I didn’t join them. They don’t understand the one and only way anyone could escape is not the path they walk.”
The officer’s eyes narrowed. “What way would you expect to escape?”
“Sir, you miss my point. On human terms, there is no escape. On spiritual terms, there is no prison. If my God didn’t want me here, nothing you or anyone else did would keep me. When He is ready, I’ll leave, either alive or dead, but I’ll be gone. Until then, I remain here at His sufferance.”
The officer relaxed a bit. “Yes, that mystical babble again. Meanwhile, I have a bunch of military veterans playing SERE games in my camp.”
The prisoner smiled. “Then you already know who they are. You can easily estimate the types of things they’ll do. Their ingenuity can only take them so far in this sort of camp.”
“Maybe you are right … just a tempest in a teapot. Forewarned is forearmed. I think I’ll hold you a couple of days just to see who acts differently when you are gone. You don’t suppose this is going to accidentally implicate any of your friends, do you?”
This time the prisoner smiled more plainly. “Sir, are you aware of the concept ‘leaderless resistance’?”
The officer nodded recognition.
“I teach leaderless religion. I won’t let anyone become dependent on me, warn them to limit their trust in me, but find their own path. Several of the men have fully embraced it since coming here. Those closest to me in friendship are the ones who need me least, so they should act the same in my absence.”
The office nodded. “What keeps any of them from deciding God wants them to try to leave?”
“Nothing.” He paused, “Of course, I try to discourage it.”
The officer froze. His eyes slowly drifted downward, opening wide as he stared at the floor. His right hand drifted up to the side of his head, where the fingers spread and began pressing little indentations in the skin. He looked up suddenly and barked at the two guards. “Get him back to his barracks. Now!” By his hasty departure, you might think the officer was fleeing the little room.
