Noble Warrior by Alan Lawrence Sitomer

Author:Alan Lawrence Sitomer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Disney Book Group

“You read the papers?”

“Do they even make newspapers anymore?” M.D. asked.

“It’s an expression. It means, do ya follow the news?”

“Sometimes.”

“Remember that crazy big drug bust in D-town about eight months ago? Four tons of powder and fourteen mil in cash. Hear about it?”

McCutcheon shook his head. “No.”

“Well, you got smartness, do the math,” Demon said. “A pound of coke costs about seven thousand dollars. That’s fourteen million dollars a ton, wholesale. Multiplication that times four tons, and you talking about fifty-six million dollars.”

M.D. reached his arms over his head and rotated his neck around in a full circle. At some point soon he’d need to spend some time putting his body in motion. Moving some energy, working some muscles, raising his heartbeat—he needed to stay sharp.

“Is there a point to this?” McCutcheon asked.

“O’ course there’s a point,” Demon said. “Five-O bust up a drug deal, get four tons of powder, but only about fourteen mil in cheese at the drug buy? Where’s the rest of the cheddar?”

“You mean, where’s the rest of the...” M.D. took a second to figure it out. “Forty something million dollars?”

“Forty-two million, three hundred eighty-seven thousand, six hundred fifty-two dollars and no cents.”

“You know the exact figure?”

“Of course I do. It’s mine, ain’t it?”

M.D. paused. Then he let loose with a big laugh.

“Man, I’ve heard some bullshit out of you before but this has got to be the biggest bullshit yet.”

“Fine, fuck you then. Don’t believe me,” Demon huffed. “And you’re welcome for saving your ass, too.”

“I never needed your help.”

“Not what it looked like to me.”

The two stopped talking and Demon, frustrated, tried to peek his head down the hall to see if he could spy any other inmates. Though he couldn’t, he knew the pedophiles were out there.

“Can’t believe they got me in here with the Cho Mo’s,” he screamed out. “YOU SICK FUCKS! Better hope I don’t get a chance to get these hands on you!”

Demon’s words echoed down the hall, but none of the prisoners replied. They’d heard these sorts of threats a thousand times before and most were used to living with a perpetual target on their back. No one felt sorry for them. No one would help them if attacked. Most people in prison, as well as in society, would be happy to see them dead.

First beaten, wounded, and severely abused, then dead.

Time in lockup passes more slowly than it does on the outside. Each tick of a clock’s second hand feels heavier, more methodical, more plodding and pronounced. After ninety minutes with nothing to do and his curiosity piqued, M.D. reignited the conversation.

“G’head, finish your story.”

“My story?” Demon asked.

“Well, what would you call it?”

“Factualness.”

“Whatever,” M.D. replied. “I’m listening.”

Demon stood up and began acting out his tale as if he were doing a performance of Penitentiary Theater.

“So I go to the feds, ya see, to turn in the High Priest and make a deal, ’cause the Priests was all up into my ass since you lost that fight against Seizure.”

“I didn’t lose,” M.

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