Noble Warrior by Alan Lawrence Sitomer Page B

you, in here with murderers and armed robbers and sickos who’ll take your manhood quick as they’ll take a muffin off your breakfast tray.”
    Motor Mouth leaned forward and looked compassionately at the guy not named Timmy. “Baby, you wanna know what’s gonna help you survive in here? Do ya?”
    Motor Mouth leaned gently forward and spoke slowly, making sure to clearly pronounce each of his words one at a time.
    “Not. A. Damn. Thing.”
    A grin, big and wide, grew across Motor Mouth’s face. “You need to abandon all hope, motherfucker, ’cause baby, you about to enter a place from where you ain’t never
gonna return. Haaa-haaa-haaaaa!”
    “Aaaeerrgggh!”
Thud.
“Aaaeerrgggh!”
Thud.
“Aaaeerrgggh!”
Thud.
    Motor Mouth cackled like the Wicked Witch of the West, Banger smashed his head against the wall, and McCutcheon watched as a new wave of whiteness washed over the face of the guy not named
Timmy.
    “And what’s your deal?” Motor Mouth asked, turning his attention to M.D.
    McCutcheon didn’t reply.
    “Oh, the strong, silent type, huh? I bet you’re one of those bitches who thinks he ain’t even did nothing wrong to be in here.”
    M.D. glared, wordless and fierce.
    “
Ooh-weee
, you got a mean mad-dog stare on you, don’t ya now?” Motor Mouth said, practically feeling the energy ooze from McCutcheon’s chest. “Well,
that’ll help you some in here, but ain’t nothing gonna save you from the food. They be serving toes in here for lunch.”
    “Aaaeerrgggh!”
Thud.
“Aaaeerrgggh!”
Thud.
“Aaaeerrgggh!”
Thud.
    Krewls stomped back into the room and smashed Banger in the gut with his baton. “Cut it out. You’re giving me a headache.” Banger doubled over from the blow. It was abusive but
it worked, and Banger stopped banging.
    “Can I just say how much I hate these lawyer paper jockeys always sweating us for overcrowding? Okay, listen up,” Krewls announced. “I only have four beds right now and
one’s in the infirmary. But my problem is ain’t a one of you need the infirmary.”
    Krewls looked up from his chart. “Yet,” he added, as a sinister smile crept across his face.
    The major looked around at his five charges. “Okay, which one of you wants to send another to the hospital for me?” he asked. “Come on, come on, I ain’t got all
day.”
    Night Train surveyed his peers then nodded his head. “Smith and Wesson’ll do the honors for ya, boss.”
    “Great, we have one volunteer. Who’s next?” The other four prisoners, Motor Mouth, Banger, the guy not named Timmy, and McCutcheon, all stayed mum.
    “Okay, if that’s the way it’s going to be.” Krewls tucked his chart underneath his arm, walked into the center of the room, and began tapping each of the remaining
prisoners on the top of his head.
    “Duck. Duck. Duck...GOOSE!”
    Krewls’s hand stopped on the guy not named Timmy, and the new convict’s eyes practically popped out of his head.
    Me?
the look on his face said.
You want me to fight this animal?
    “I’ll do it,” M.D. suddenly blurted out.
    Krewls shook his head back and forth. “Oh, no,” he said in a disapproving manner. “Please don’t tell me I just boated a fish with a conscience.”
    “I said, I’m in,” McCutcheon replied.
    The guy not named Timmy looked up at M.D. with wide, thankful eyes.
    “All right,” Krewls said. “I guess I get to road test my new ride to see what I got under the hood before the big show begins.”
    Krewls uncuffed M.D. and then Night Train. Both stood.
    Night Train, three inches taller, seventy pounds heavier, stepped nose-to-nose with McCutcheon.
    “I’m gonna fuck you up.”
    “I don’t have a beef with you.”
    “You will in a sec.”
    “I don’t want to fight,” M.D. said in a calm and tranquil voice. “We do not have to do this.”
    “Shit, if I were you, I wouldn’t want to fight me either,” Night Train said. “Prepare to meet Smith and Wesson.”
    Night Train rolled his neck