The mess hall was quiet tonight. Men were exhausted from their day out in the forest, and the guards wore tense expressions. Williams’s suspension had angered them, and the inmates knew they had to keep their heads down for a few days so as not to fuel the guards’ need for vengeance.
Joe sat at his usual table, next to Novak and across Levin. The three of them ate their sloppy meal in silence, glancing around the large room, hoping to get through the hour without incidence, yet secretly wishing for a release―an explosion that could allow them to unleash their repressed violence on these men and their sticks.
Across the room, at an empty table, Dubois sat alone staring down into a bowl of pea soup, but Joe looked away before Dubois caught him watching.
Levin looked over his shoulder at D
