I have not forgotten all my Avarice readers expect a chapter per week as I work on closing with book three. So enjoy.
Mobilong Prison is an Australian low and medium security prison for men located at Murray Bridge, South Australia. It has a capacity of 472 prisoners, housed in cells and cottage style units. The center provides education and vocational training, as well as drug and alcohol counseling.
Dahlia
Aran had been incarcerated in a small holding cell. There was disappointingly very little to see here. He had not sighted Keith since shortly after his arrival in this place called Mobilong; and assumed the man had left upon completion of his delivery, and he would not see him again.
The cell was small and solid. Nothing but concrete and stone to greet his pacing feet and exploring hands. No bedding or comfort of any kind, nor a place even to relieve himself.
Perhaps this would only be an incarceration of short duration?
The warrior mused. He stared blankly through the stout bars at the sickening shade of depressing green paint, peeled, decrepit, and carved with graffiti and time.
The creak of a metal hinged door made Aran suddenly look up. A bearded man entered, red bandanna tied about his shaggy head, bearing the captive a plate of hot food and departing without the slightest interaction.
Aran stared for a moment at the tray that sat before him on the floor.
Was that rice?
He had to confess he had not seen the delicious grain for years, he knew it was mostly imported from Asia as his country had very little water to grow such a crop.
Surely though this grain could not be over eight years old? Harvested before the war?
In the absence of eating utensils the warrior sat cross legged on the floor and poked at the well baked grains with his fingers. Cooked perfectly and still hot. Alongside the rice another dish that appeared to be a curry with real meat, possibly lamb. Aran could wait no longer, and ceased his inspection to very swiftly consume the aromatic meal mindless of his dignity.
He sat for some moments after he had finished, strangely sated and dare he say even comforted. It had been a very long time since he had enjoyed good food, not since his dalliance in the strange hospitality of John'stown had he eaten anywhere near this well. The feeling made him both drowsy and satisfied. Though in a few more moments it struck him his food had been laced with a sedative as he crumpled helplessly to the floor.
*****
Aran woke groggy and disoriented some hours later. For a moment the golden warrior thought he remained in the holding cell he had first been interred here. He sat up with a suddenness that made his head spin. Realizing all at once he had been moved and he now wore about his wrists, ankles, and throat heavy closed rings of steel.
