The Fixer. John Stewart

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СКАЧАТЬ guard behind Mark stepped past Mark and picked up the book. “The warden gave it to him to read, and he wants it back.”

      Mark rubbed his wrist where the cuffs had been. Kyle had cards from various people. Books on his shelf and some sketches he was doing on the desk. Mark looked at his area, and he had nothing. No pictures of family. No letters and no books. He had been in prison for months now and had not made one attempt to fit into this new life. Honestly, he hadn’t planned on staying. He would find a way to break out or he would be dead. One way or the other, he knew this was not going to last for him.

      He lay down on the bottom bunk and stared at the bottom of the bed above. He reached up and between the steel and the mattress, he pulled the shiv out that he took off the guy a month ago. He slid it in his sock.

      Two skinheads appeared at the cell door. One a skinny little runt guy missing several teeth from the meth he had done prior to prison and the other a taller, wider guy. Bald and tattooed head to toe.

      “We been waitin’ for ya, bitch,” the bigger guy said.

      Mark let his gaze drift from the bigger guy to the smaller. The smaller guy blew him a kiss and mouthed, “Bitch.”

      Mark came off his bed razor fast. The two men jumped and moved away from the cell door. He stepped out of the cell onto the mezzanine balcony and leaned on the rail overlooking the cellblock. The two skinheads had moved down the cellblock and went down the stairs to the lower level. The skinny little guy walking behind the bigger guy. Mark watched them as they walked across the room. The bigger guy never looked up at him. He kept his focus dead ahead. Trying to look as menacing as possible. The little rat behind him kept looking up, shooting Mark a bird multiple times as they crossed the room.

      Kyle came out and leaned on the rail. “You know those guys are going to kill you, right?”

      Mark nodded. “Yeah, I know. They’re gonna try. You gonna watch my back?”

      Kyle stared at the floor and scratched at his neck. “Ah, man, you know I ain’t no fighter like you. These guys get pissed at me, and it’s a bad day in the shower. You know what I mean?”

      Mark slapped him on the shoulder. “Yeah, man. I know what you mean. Besides, when I get done with them, they’ll probably kill you just because you’re my cellmate. It’s all good.”

      Kyle walked back in the cell. “Great!”

      Mark looked up, and directly across from where he stood was the head guard. Mark pointed at the two men and then dragged his thumb across his neck.

      The guard nodded yes and turned to walk away, never looking back at Mark.

      Mark laughed out loud. “Fuck me. He wants me to deal with those guys.”

      As he walked back in the cell, Kyle was looking to see who he was talking to. “Who were you talking to out there?”

      “God!”

      “Did he answer you?”

      “Yeah, he said, ‘Sorry I can’t help you.’”

      The next day they went to breakfast. Mark sat in the same place he always did. Against the wall in a corner. That way, whatever was coming at him came from in front of him and not behind. Twice the Nazi guys circled near, but the guards were too close, and they couldn’t get in quick enough.

      Both times Mark was ready and had the shiv just under his leg so he could get to it fast. The time between breakfast and lunch was spent in the cellblock, and Mark stayed on the balcony the entire time. Again, he didn’t want to be cornered. He figured it would go down either at lunch or in the yard after.

      At twelve thirty, the bell rang for them to go to lunch. Most of the cellblock had exited into the main hall going to the lunchroom. He was about twenty guys deep in line to go through the door. Kyle was behind him in line.

      Three guys came from nowhere it seemed and hit Mark from both sides. They hit Kyle as well, and he went down immediately. Mark got the first guy that hit him by the throat. The second guy hit him in the ribs hard with a body blow.

      As Mark went down, he pulled the guy by the throat into the curl of his arm and snatched his head violently as he went down. He heard the bones crack and knew that he was finished. Unfortunately, with both hands tied up, he hit the ground hard flat on his back with a guy power driving into his ribs. It hurt, and he knew this was going to go really wrong if he stayed on the floor with two guys.

      Mark let go of the broken-neck guy when they hit the floor. He was done. The guy breaking his ribs on the other hand was now getting on top of him. This was the tattoo guy from earlier that called him a bitch. The third guy now having dispatched Kyle was coming to help. Mark grabbed the guy by the throat with both hands. He began to push in with both thumbs directly on the guy’s voice box. Mark pressed as hard as he could. He could feel the guy’s throat begin to cave, and the guy quit swinging and grabbed both of Mark’s wrist.

      Mark pressed harder and felt cartilage break. The guy’s grip loosened, and Mark gave one last hard squeeze. He quickly let go and drove the heel of his hand hard into the guy’s nose. Just as he did that, he looked left and saw the size 10 shoe hit him in the face. Two swift quicks and he was beginning to feel dizzy as he got to his feet. His eye was beginning to swell shut.

      As he got up, he pulled the shiv from his sock. The guy that kicked him took a step back. The other guy hit him in the back as hard as he could. Mark lunged at the guy in front of him, sticking the knife between two of his knuckles as he stumbled forward.

      The fight had caused such a commotion that the doorway into the cellblock bottlenecked, and no guards were getting through. The one guard that was bringing up the rear of the group was being held by two Nazi guys. Mark saw there was no help coming as he stumbled forward from the last hit to his back. He used the momentum of his forward motion and ran forward around the table bolted to the floor. He took deep breaths, trying to shake the hits to his head.

      The alarm was going off, but the guards had to go all the way around the cellblock to get in. Most of them were in the main hall to keep things calm during the lunch transition. Mark either stood his ground and fought, or he would die right here. Mark looked at his attackers. One was down and not moving, broken-neck guy. Another was on the floor, hands at his throat and blood gushing from his nose. He was almost dead and no longer a threat. The third guy was screaming with a shiv stuck a good three inches into his knuckle on his right hand. Pretty much out of it at this point. The fourth guy was a problem. Mark’s head was still fuzzy from the two kicks to the face. He now couldn’t see out of one eye, and he could taste blood.

      He knew that in just a matter of minutes, some of the skinhead buddies would step out of the crowd now at the door. The guard was not getting free and being beaten pretty badly. Mark had to end this last guy quick.

      He now locked eyes with the man. He was big. His arms looked like tree trunks attached to a pure muscle body. This wasn’t going to be pretty. He had lost the shiv, so that was no help, and could only see with one eye. Mark decided to go mental with the fight.

      He stood up straight and spit a wad of blood on the floor. “What are you waiting on, asshole? Come on over here and get some.”

      The guy was bouncing foot to foot like a boxer. He stopped and assessed his buddies. He then looked back at Mark.

      Marked smiled with blood-soaked teeth. “I’ll make it СКАЧАТЬ