Lights Out (13 page)

Diggs kept his eyes forward, but he saw all. His boys moved around him like water, and they kept their eyes wide fucking open. There wasn’t a cracker alive was gonna get in sticking distance of him. Now all he had to do was act like what he was: the baddest motherfucker in the whole wide world.

***

Marquez sat at a table with his boys. Casually, he shook a carton of milk as his eyes darted back and forth between Diggs’ posturing and Sweeny’s maneuvering. He wanted to sigh. It was like a chess match between retarded pitbulls. He kept his cool, however, watching them. He rolled his neck once, shot a glance in Ribisi’s direction. The old man tossed him a nod in reply, and he knew he had nothing to worry about.

Nothing left to do but wait.

***

“It’s bullshit,” Gino said. The contempt in his voice cut through the applesauce in his mouth.

Ribisi gave the guy a sharp glare. “Say it again, and you’re out. You think you can survive in here without a crew, just say one more fucking word.”

The thug spooned another load of sauce into his mouth and grimaced.

Anton sipped at his water and kept his eyes open. He’d noticed Sweeny and his fucks were up to something as soon as he entered the chow line. They were too well behaved, and that fucking half-smile on the main asshole’s face gave away everything. Idiots were always the most dangerous.

He saw Morrow enter the cafeteria, avoiding his gaze, and he almost smiled. No way some lockdown was shutting his fucking business down, not when he had people like Morrow under his heel. Grind down just a little bit, and they yelp like puppies and run to fetch a bone.

He wanted to savor the thought a moment longer, but then Diggs and his boys exited the chow line.

***

Sweeny had to fight the urge to hop up and down on the balls of his feet. Diggs was heading for a table no more than fifteen feet away. So close. No way in hell could the little nigger possibly get out of this one. He had six of his homies around him. Like that was gonna mean jack against the thirty or so Aryan Brothers Sweeny had on his side. He bit down on a giggle. This was gonna be huge. Enough sticking, and they just might wipe out the bangers forever.

He slipped a hand into his pocket, wrapped his fingers around the sharpened stick of metal inside, and gave the signal.

***

Diggs heard the Aryans stand a second before a guard shouted for them to “Sit the fuck down!” His boys were already pulling in close. He looked around and saw dozens of skinheads moving his way.

The guard yelled out again, and he realized it was the cracker who’d paid him a visit earlier. He was headed toward him, too, and Diggs didn’t need his GED to know the guy had a shank just like all the rest. That was cool though, because Diggs had a blade of his own, and this motherfucker was about to become Exhibit A in the Case of Do Not Fuck with Diggs.

He drew his piece and smiled. Time for some bleeding.

***

Morrow saw the commotion and moved to cut off the impending attack. A sea of Aryans was rushing toward Diggs and his posse. The bangers were outnumbered, out armed. He saw a few officers moving in already, grabbing at inmates, but most weren’t anywhere close. The air stank of coming violence.

He grabbed his nightstick and waded in. He could only hope he’d reach ground zero in time to stop the explosion.

***

Sweeny grinned so hard he thought his face might break. He was so close to Diggs he could smell him. Shoving people aside with one hand, he pulled the shank from his pocket. Come hell or high water, he was going to get a shot in on the nigger. He was gonna cut that bastard good and deep.

***

Diggs saw the tide of white boys headed his way and felt a stab of adrenaline right in his heart. He looked at the sea of white faces charging toward him and felt the first twinges of fear. There were too many. No way was he gonna get out of this without taking a shot or two. It didn’t matter, though. You did what you had to, and you didn’t waste time bitching about it.

Letting out a warcry that would have stopped a tiger in its tracks, he rushed forward. He wasn’t gonna go down unless he went down swinging.

***

Morrow cracked a skinhead across the back and sent him to the floor. He did the same to another, but there were too many between him and the bangers. It didn’t how many swings he took; he’d never reach the real trouble in time.

Morrow fingered his mic to call for back-up. He wondered how many more bodies they’d have on their hands by the time help arrived.

***

Marquez clapped his hands.

***

So did Ribisi.

***

Suddenly, a pair of Latinos stood in front of Sweeny shoulder to shoulder. More stood on either side of them. And behind them. The Sicilians were in there, too. A wall of bodies had sprung up between The Brotherhood and their target. Sweeny stared in shock for a moment. He didn’t know what else to do.

***

Diggs shoved his shank back in his pocket and eyed the Mexican and Sicilian backs that now stood in a ring around him. What the fuck was going on here?

***

Silence hung over the cafeteria as everybody watched everybody else. No one moved. The air felt like it might crack if anyone so much as breathed.

Marquez stood slowly. He stretched, old joints popping, and climbed on top of his table. He saw Ribisi do the same across the room. Every head turned to them.

“Everybody’s going to sit down and eat their lunch now,” he said.

“There will be no violence here today,” Ribisi finished.

“If you want the lockdown to go on forever then go ahead and stab the shit out of each other. Otherwise, let’s just cool the fuck out so we can get back to hard labor.”

The line earned a few chuckles. He cocked an eyebrow at Ribisi and waited.

“Any complaints,” the Sicilian said, “Can be written out on a card and shoved right up your ass.”

The chuckles turned into laughter.

Omar waited for quiet again, then spoke.

“You’ve all seen how goddamn useless the hacks can be.”

A few shouts of support.

“As of now,” Ribisi said, “Marquez and I will be maintaining order until the C.O.’s can get their heads out of their asses long enough to stop all the fucking murders around here.”

The crowd roared its approval. Men stomped their feet, pounded on tables. The sound thundered through the cafeteria. Omar smiled as he took in the roar of support.

Slowly, the throng of inmates dissipated. People scooped up their lunches and returned to their seats. The C.O.’s moved through the group, trying to act like they’d pulled off this miracle.

Omar turned to Ribisi. He gave the Sicilian a deep bow. The old man returned it, and they climbed back down to their seats.

***

“You’re lucky as shit, Diggs,” the guard said as he slipped past.

“I’ll make time for yo ass later, bitch,” Diggs replied. He meant it, too. As soon as he had a chance, he was ending that motherfucker’s life.

He looked up and found Sweeny moving across the floor. The Nazi was glaring at him, mouthing something through those inbred lips. The skinhead shot him the bird and walked toward the rest of his crew.

***

Sweeny sat next down beside Hodge, muttering to himself.

“Fucking spics and greaseballs, man,” Hodge said. “We gonna have to kill every asshole in this entire place?”

“If we have to. Get the word in the pipeline. I still want that nigger Hall dead by morning.”

“Will do.”

“You fucking better,” he said. “I don’t want any mistakes. We’re at fucking war, here.”

***

The hands fell on Omar’s arms like claws, rough and angry. He looked up to see the C.O.’s glaring down at him.

“Yes, gentlemen? Need help finding your cajones?”

“C’mon,” one of them said. “No talking during lockdown. You know that.”

He watched Morrow and another officer lead Ribisi out of the room.

“Of course.” He shrugged off the hands and stood. Time for a chat with the warden.

Seven

Marquez followed Morrow and Ribisi into Timms’ office. The head hack had already been inside, no doubt telling the warden all about the throwdown at lunch. Morrow had looked pissed the entire time he’d led them through the prison, and Marquez understood why. The C.O. was a good man, and he tried to do right by everybody, but the rest of his team were a bunch of first class assholes without the slightest hint of sense. The man didn’t want the inmates rubbing the fact that shit was out of his control in his face.

Omar hadn’t been to the warden’s office in a long while, but the place still looked the same. Boring as hell. Maybe the warden thought it was soothing, or maybe he wanted to remind himself his life at Burnham was just work. Either way, it was a failure. Omar had seen slums cozier than this, and even the desk and bookshelves said, “This is your entire world.”

No wonder Timms was such an asshole.

He gave the warden a single, slow nod, not saying a word. From the corner of his eyes, he spotted Ribisi playing it cool, just standing there waiting to be spoken to like he was above this shit.

“How about you two sit down?”

Omar grabbed one of the chairs and sat. He eyed Timms, waiting, following Ribisi’s example. They hadn’t asked to pay this visit. It was up to the warden to get this party started.

Turns out, it didn’t take long. “What’s this shit during lunch? You guys decide to play guardian angel?”

Marquez looked to Ribisi, received a shrug for his trouble. He turned back to the warden. “We had that talk with Father Albright the other day. We’re trying to stick to that.”

“I don’t want you stomping around like vigilantes. You don’t get to be vigilantes in here, okay? If you’re anything, you’re neighborhood watch.”

“Fine, then. About ten minutes ago, a bunch of the Nazis killed a bunch of gangbangers. Please go bag the bodies.”

Ribisi chuckled.

“You think that’s funny?” Timms asked.

“Yeah, I do. You think we’d turn rat? Time to take a vacation, warden. Stress must be getting to you.”

“Look,” Marquez said. “We saw a war about to break loose, and we put a stop to it. You don’t want us to, fine. We’re going to protect our own, though. You can’t keep us from doing that.”

“I can’t? What are your people going to do when you’re both rotting away in solitary for the next ten years?”

“Go on and try,” Ribisi said. “My lawyer will be up your ass so fast you’ll think you sat on a spike.”

“You don’t scare me, Anton.”

“And you can’t fool me, warden.”

“Talk your trash all you want. It won’t change the fact you’re just an old man in prison.”

“Nice talk. I give a fuck.”

“Where’s your smart ass comment, Marquez?”

“I don’t need one. We’re losing people out there, and we don’t want to lose more. So until things settle down, we’re going to keep a lid on the violence.”

“We don’t need your help,” Morrow said from the back of the room.

“Nobody’s talking to you,” Ribisi replied.

Timms jutted a finger at the Sicilian. “That’s enough out of you, Ribisi.”

“Am I getting under your skin, warden? How many people are dead today? How many are missing, and what are you doing about it besides sitting in your own shit like a fucking infant?”

“I said that’s enough! Officer, take this piece of garbage back to his cell.”

“Garbage? I love it when you talk like you have a pair! Why don’t you stop by in a half-hour or so? I’ll let you rub some real balls, see what they feel like.”

Morrow lifted Ribisi to his feet. “Marquez, too?”

“No. Leave him.”

“Show me those balls, warden!” Ribisi called over his shoulder. “Prove to me you don’t have a pussy under those pants! You’re losing this place, you asshole! You’re fucking
losing it!
”

The door slammed shut as Morrow dragged the Sicilian away. Marquez could still hear the old man’s voice, though, and he almost choked as he tried to swallow his laughter.

“Anton’s, got a temper on him,” he told the warden.

“No shit.” Timms smoothed his tie and leaned back in his chair. “The lockdown’s not ending. You get meals, but that’s it. Don’t agree? Tough shit.”

“You can’t find the bodies. You don’t know who killed them.”

“You have any information?”

“Nobody’s seen shit. If they had, I’d know about it. Ribisi hasn’t heard anything, either, and if that’s the case, it’s safe to assume it isn’t even an inmate doing this.”

“Please. You expect me to believe the staff is killing inmates?”

“I don’t even know what I believe. Why the fuck should I tell you either way?”

“Now isn’t the time to play cute.”

“Who’s playing? Bad shit’s coming down, warden. Hell, I can smell it. I could smell it on the first day. You ain’t getting this one under control. It’s too wild.”

The warden’s brow furrowed. “What are you even trying to say? I sense a point to all this. I’m just waiting for it to show up.”

“You superstitious?”

“No.”

“I’m Catholic, so it runs in my blood. My mind. There’s bad shit out there, warden, shit people like you and me ain’t ever seen before. Now, we might not want to believe in that shit, but that doesn’t make it just disappear.”

“Are you trying to tell me ghosts are killing prisoners?”

“I’m trying to tell you I think it’s something bad. That could be anything, but I’ll be good and surprised if it turns out to be one of us.”