“Here he is. Here’s my boy,” Pop growled warmly. He peered through the rusty peephole into the cell, his grey-blue eyes catching the light coming from inside. “Time to put your arm in the box, Beanie.”

Pop smoothed out the ends of his white mustache with his perfectly manicured fingers, then quickly opened and closed his fist. He blew on his fingertips and waved his hand in front of a sensor on the wall. At first, the keypad flickered back and forth between red and green. Finally, Pop found the sweet spot and it stayed green.

The lock gave a happy click, and the heavy cell door began to open with an ear-splitting creak as metal scraped against metal. As it opened, we caught a glimpse of a shackled foot, next a dirty pair of pants, then a torso covered with welts and sores. Finally, a misshapen head. And, at last, we could see what was left of the man called Beans.

Almotta was the place the Imperials put snitches, while they waited to snitch. We called it the “Tin Palace,” on account of it being shaped like a giant tin can, sunk into the brackish waters of Deep Cove. That’s where we found Beans, down on deck seven, his feet shackled to the wall, lying on the floor, soaking in the piss and the mold, and the smell of rotten eggs. The three of us held our breath as we shuffled in.

It was a small cell, just big enough for Pop, Tonee, and me to stand, with Beans on the floor, chained to a rusty metal ring hanging from the wall. There were bugs everywhere. Small ones and big ones. A shiny, black beetle, as long as my little finger, crawled across the floor toward us, and Tonee eagerly crushed it under his boot with a loud pop. The flies buzzing around loved the rind on Tonee, and he let them crawl all over him. The cell’s corners were wet and full of black mold. Beans looked as bad as a fella could look—purplish skin, bones sticking out all over, and dark circles under his eyes. He was covered in dirt and stink.

And dozens of bug bites.

Pop set the long wooden box he was carrying down on the floor next to Beans. It was as long as a man’s forearm and not very tall. The outside was made of wood painted dark green, covered in scuffs and dents. As Pop let go, the handle made a knocking sound against the top. Then, he removed a covering from one end to reveal a small, fist-sized opening. Closer to the opening, the scuffs and dents got much thicker and there were more layers of paint to cover up the stains that accumulated from its regular use. At the bottom of the box, along the side, was a small but visible engraving. It read: –Property of P. Papadopoulos.

“Let’s have that arm,” Pop said.

Beans shook his head. He did not want to put his arm in the box. I couldn’t blame him.

We all knew what the box did.

“Doesn’t talk much for a snitch-ch-ch-ch,” Tonee said. People thought Tonee had a stutter, but it was more like he had to keep chewing on the last thing he said.

“Look at you,” Pop said to Beans. “We should have brought you a snack. Tiny boiled up some bagels this morning—I bet you would have liked them. Maybe next time we visit.”

Beans made a barely audible groan.

“How’s about it?” Pop said cheerfully. “I think it’s time.”

“In the boxxxxxx,” Tonee hissed, drumming on the sides of the box excitedly. As he spoke he flashed a row of badly yellowed teeth, filed down to razor sharp points.

Beans shook his head again.

“C’mon, Beans, make it easyyyyyy!” Tonee growled at him. “It ain’t so bad. I had my arm in the box. Everybody takes a turn. It just tingles a bit, you’ll see. Sure, music don’t sound quite right for a while, but that goes away, you’ll seeeeeee.”

I didn’t like Beans before he snitched on us, and I liked him a lot less afterwards. He should’ve been lower down than me in Pop’s crew, but he wasn’t somehow. He never had to do shit work like the rest of us, chasing down people that owed money or digging holes in the woods. He always got the good gigs, and he got to hang out with the girls upstairs. He was the one who’d given me my first nickname. Handsome Frank. It was not a compliment.

Well, now he was fucked, and I was glad. He’d either put his arm in the box or get dead. Revenge was sweet. Pop started in on him. Telling him about the moon and the tides. The pull of gravity and all that bullshit. The unavoidable and calculated path in front of each of us. Pop saw it all.

“You know the kind of man I am, Beanie. There’s only one way you get out of this with your head still attached,” Pop said. “There’s only one way I can be sure.”

Beans was resolute. He was breathing heavily, but still wasn’t talking. If you were on the receiving end, talking to Pop rarely did anyone any good. Beans knew that. We all knew that. Pop smiled and turned away from Beans, looking at me.

“Any thoughts, Frank?”

“How about we shove him out of an airlock?” I said to Pop. “They’ll think he died trying to escape.”

“Food for the fishiessssss,” Tonee said.

I liked Tonee. Tonee was a creep, but loyal. Tonee liked working and getting paid. I liked getting paid, too. For guys like us, it was about having enough money to tear it up every night. Tonee could get fucked up with the best of us, and you could count on Tonee in a fight the next day. Tonee didn’t hesitate. And Tonee was no snitch. Tonee would never rat me and Pop out to save himself.

“How’d that be, Beanie boy? You want to do the airlock instead? Tonee and Frank will be glad to help you,” Pop said.

“Not much time left. We gotta be gone before the guard comes back. We gotta be ghosts by then,” Tonee said. He smiled and pleaded to Pop, “Aw, let me do it, Pop-p-p-p-p-p. Let me squeeze him out of the airlock.”

“You see it, don’t you Beanie? You know what will happen if you go against us?” Pop asked. “If you think this is bad, wait until after you squeal. You won’t get off free. Not after killing one of them. Not just one of them, either, an officer.”

Pop put his hand on Beans’s shoulder. “That’s on you, boy. No, after the trial they’ll send you to an Imperial prison for big boys. Oodon or Wixly. And me?” Pop gulped and narrowed his eyes. “They’ll hang me in the square. By my neck. I’ll be the lucky one. And Frank here, he’d be locked up with you. And—he’d probably owe you one.”

Pop waited a beat and then nodded at me.

“It’ll never be over,” I said. “Always looking over your shoulder. And there I’d be. Waiting to stick you. That’s what we do with squealers.”

I imagined sneaking up on Beans in the prison workshop. Catching him by surprise. I thought I could do it, but then, maybe Tonee and Pop just made it sound easy. I was scared to death of prison, but, by god, if he ratted me out, I told myself I’d get him any way I could.

“I’ll try to kill him too, Pop,” Tonee grinned. “I’ll wait till he’s out of prison, even if he’s an old man. I think he’s got a sister, too. I’ll give her a visit. I’ll keep an eye on her while he’s awayyyyyy.”

“You’re a good one, Tonee,” Pop said.

We all fell silent for a moment and then Pop continued.

“So? How about it, Beans? If it helps, you won’t remember a thing. I promise.”

We all stood silent a few more moments as the pieces settled into place for Beans. There was no getting out of it. The Imperials had him. But they didn’t have us. Not yet.

Beans looked up at me, his bloodshot eyes pleading, like I should help him somehow. He’d been down there a while, but his face was still tan and freckled. He always kept his head shaved, but it was growing in now, curly and black on the sides, and bald on top. He would have made a good clown. I was glad to see him suffer. And yet, somehow, he thought I should be his friend. Why, because he saved me an ass-kicking once or twice? The old Beans would have known, even if I tried to help him, Pop and Tonee would kill us both. But Beans wasn’t the same now, he was changed. Now, he was Beans the coward, the loser, the rat. That’s what happens when you snitch. It was his fault we were all in this mess.

Pop nodded at me.

My throat was suddenly dry, so I swallowed and looked back down at Beans.

“Do it,” I told him.

He looked away, and I thought I’d pressed him too hard. Then, he took a breath, closed his eyes, and slipped his arm into the box without saying a word. A wave of relief passed through me.

“Good boy,” Pop grinned. “That’s my good boy.”

The box was quiet when it did its thing. No moving parts. No lights, no heat. But if you were close enough you knew it was working because everything was completely silent at first. You couldn’t hear anything. It sucked the sound right out of the air.

Until the world comes roaring back, all at once.

And then, it was Pop’s turn. He counted down, “Five–four–three–two–one. What is the funniest thing you’ve ever seen?” Pop asked Beans.

Beans’s eyes rolled back in his head, his mouth hanging open. Sweat poured off him. A smile crept over his face.

“The time . . . my brother lost his eye,” Beans said. “I played a joke on him. We were yelling into this pipe down in the old shipyard. I found a long stick, and I told him, ‘Look through the pipe and you’ll see a naked lady.’ And when he looked, I jammed the stick in his eye. Doc had to cut it out. Best joke I ever played.”

Tonee laughed.

“Good. Good boy,” Pop grinned. “That sounds like a funny joke.” He waited a moment before he continued.

“Five—four—three—two—one. When you think of me and Frank what do you think of?”

The smile on Beans’s face faded.

He said, “I think of the job. All the people that died. I think of the fire. How you fucked us. Hiding in the sewer. The rats and the maggots . . . mostly I think of killing you.”

“Wrong,” Pop said. “You can’t think of the job. You can’t think of the people that died. You can’t even remember what we stole. All you can think of—is the time you played a funny trick on your brother and he lost his eye.”

Beans began to choke and shake and contort. His body would collapse and then go taut. Over and over again, frothing at the mouth, gagging. As he flailed around, his arm scraped against the opening of the box and his skin started sloughing off. His nose began to bleed, and then he finally relaxed little by little. He finally laid out on the floor again with his eyes wide open.

Pop pulled Beans’s hand out of the box and closed it back up. I wiped Bean’s nose with my handkerchief and straightened him out a bit. I stood back. It was hard to reconcile the memory of Beans with the crumpled-up heap on the floor. Pop motioned for me to say something.

I asked, “Hey Beans, you remember what we were talking about?”

He looked up at us, from me to Pop to Tonee. And then, he said, “Did I . . . ever tell you about the time I got my brother so good?” Beans looked directly at me. Behind his eyes, I saw his thoughts being unfolded and folded again, into a new, different shape. He couldn’t do anything to stop it. What was left of the color in his face drained. His eyes darted back and forth, frantically searching for something—a memory that was no longer there.

Beans began to laugh a horrible laugh. A forced laugh, a laugh you can’t laugh along with. His laughter echoed off the metal walls of the Tin Palace and down the halls, until he had to gasp for air. Even then, he laughed, only painfully, slower and slower, choking, until he drifted into a stupor. After a moment, he sat up a bit and asked, “You guys here to bust me out?”

He seemed hopeful. Maybe it was an act.

Beans continued, “Frank, god it’s you. Handsome Frank . . .”

He paused, eyes swimming, before going on, “Hey, Frank, I was thinking, remember we went to East Bird that time and took the cure? That was some fun. When I get out of here we should go again.”

He looked at me and he had hope. You can’t fake hope.

“Sure,” I said. 

I looked at Pop.

Pop smiled at me and Tonee. The moment sagged, even as relief washed over me again. If any of us had regrets, it didn’t matter. There was no undoing the thing we’d done.

We said our goodbyes and closed the door to the cell. When it closed, it didn’t squeak at all, like it had when we opened it. Instead, it was almost silent. Quiet, like a finger lightly drawn across a kitchen table.

As the three of us walked away, I tried to think of the fresh air waiting for me above. The clear night sky, the moon, and the stars. But, instead, I wondered when it would be my turn to put my arm in the box. And, wondered again, if maybe my arm had already been in the box and I couldn’t remember it happening.

We stepped onto the lift that would take us back to the surface, and heard Beans breaking out into laughter one last time.

“What a comedian-n-n-n-n-n,” Tonee said.

It wasn’t funny, but I forced a laugh all the same.