3. Bug-Infested Cell
Cell 95 was called the Bedbug Den. It measured three and a half by two meters. Along the sides of the cell stood two sets of double-tiered plank bunks. The walls were roughly covered with cement plaster. There were already about eighteen men in the cell. The first thing that struck me was that no one was lying on the bunks. I greeted them, but no one paid me any attention; each was absorbed in his own world. Some had been arrested a few days ago, others just a few hours. And none of them had yet recovered from the shock of the arrest. I noticed a young guy, about twenty-two years old. Someone I could have a conversation with, I thought. He was squatting on his heels, not leaning against the wall. I went over and squatted down beside him. “Where are you from, friend?” “From Nakhodka.” “Been here long?” “Since this morning.” I saw the guy perk up when I started talking to him. “My wife and kid are still out there, free. My little daughter’s only six months old. How are they going to manage now? I’ll get a three-year stretch, as sure as eggs is eggs.” “What did they get you for?” “Article 88, illegal currency operation. I was working as a waiter in the restaurant at the seaport.” “Why do they call this cell the Bedbug Den?” “Well, the whole cell is full of bedbugs here. See, no one’s sleeping on the bunks. Bedbugs everywhere, in every crack, in the walls, in the bunks. You’ll feel them soon enough.” “And how long do you sit in this bedbug den?” “They say three days, and then, they say, it gets even worse – they put you through the ‘cabernet’ to soften you up.” “What’s that?” “Don’t know myself, everyone’s just afraid of it, that’s the word going around.” Just then, I felt something drop onto my shoulder. A bedbug, the size of a little fingernail, was running across my shoulder. With disgust, I flicked it off with my finger. A toothless old man was watching me. It was clear this wasn’t his first time here. “One of the intelligentsia, I suppose?” he asked, and without waiting for an answer, continued: “The ‘paratroopers’ have started jumping.” He meant the bedbugs. I looked up at the ceiling. Bedbugs were scurrying across the ceiling. Pinpointing their victim, they would drop down with astonishing accuracy. By morning, some of the prisoners could no longer endure squatting or standing; they lay down on the bunks, but within minutes they would jump up, scratching themselves, cursing, then lie down again, only to jump up once more. Some gave up the idea and squatted again, careful not to lean against the wall, as the bedbugs could attack from there immediately. Others tried sitting on the bunks for a while, then lying down, but they got up too. Only the toothless old man lay down, put his hands behind his head, and calmly lectured: “What’s a bedbug? A bedbug is nothing. So it drinks a little blood and runs away. You’ll scratch for a day afterward and forget it. But the cops suck your blood your whole life. Once you land in here, they’ll drink every drop. And when you get out of here, they won’t forget you; they’ll keep hunting you down to bring you back here again. Now those are bedbugs! Are these really bedbugs? And anyway, bedbugs don’t go after just anyone. One might run up, bite you, and if it doesn’t like your blood, it’ll run off and tell the others, and they won’t bite you anymore.” It was stuffy and hot in the Bedbug Den. Clothes stuck to sweaty bodies. Legs ached from the constant strain, from standing or squatting all the time. Through the slatted blinds, clouds of green flies flew in – fat, disgusting things. They swarmed in front of sweaty faces, trying to land on faces, on hands. You constantly had to wave them away. One didn’t even think about food, only an unbearable thirst, and there was no water. By the evening of the second day, some prisoners started banging on the door, demanding water. The noise brought the guard running. The prisoners call them “dubaks” – the chillers. The feeding hatch, a small window in the middle of the door for passing food through, opened. “What do you want? Why aren’t you letting the prison sleep, what’s all this noise?” “We haven’t had water for two days! It’s hot, we want to drink.” “Do you have mugs?” “Yes, we have a few mugs.” The prisoners started getting their mugs out. “No, no, just one. I’m not a camel, I don’t drink much water. My bladder’s only designed for one mug.” Silence fell in the cell, but after the dubak’s words, everyone began shouting, and the dubak quickly slammed the feeding hatch shut. The prisoners started yelling even louder and pounding on the door harder. Only the old man didn’t get up from his spot and said: “They’ll come to ‘rejuvenate’ us now.” At that moment, the hatch opened again, and a hand holding a sharp-pointed wire appeared. They use that kind of wire to probe mattresses during cell searches. The hand poked the wire in different directions, then disappeared, and the broad mug of a Buryat dubak appeared in the hatch, with eyes narrow as slits and a nose almost without a bridge. “I’ll give you a drink right now!” he yelled. A minute later, the cell door opened. Four men were standing in the doorway. The dubak’s eyes swept over the prisoners. His gaze stopped on me. “Your face looks awfully intelligent. What are you in here for?” I named the articles of the criminal code I was charged under. “Some strange articles you’ve got there.” He seemed to be trying to remember something, trying hard, then pointed his wire at the old man and at me. “You two stay here. The rest, outside into the corridor, quickly, one by one!” In the corridor stood four dubaks with iron rods. Instantly, everyone lost their desire to drink.
Related articles
- 19. Death of a Friend To my surprise, I wasn’t put in a punishment cell. They led me into a cell. Anatoly and Fedos became…
- 4. The Dance Hall I sat in the Bedbug Den for three days, and on the fourth, we were all taken out into the corridor. The neighboring…
- 27. Khabarovsk Prison We arrived in Khabarovsk at night. Again the same thing: night, a searchlight beam in the face, a narrow passage…
- 21. New Year’s Surprises The year 1980 was drawing to a close. In prison, the dubaks always invent various entertainments for themselves. These…
- 26. Circles of Hell On October 8th, right after the count, the dubak opened the feeding hatch and shouted: “Perchatkin – with your things!…”