Incarcerated Minds

By Matthew Galindo

Manny had heard stories about Lion's Gate. From what he was told, it was a fitting name for a state prison. Lion's Gate had a reputation to house only the most violent criminals in the state. What went on inside of the walls of Lion's Gate took place at no other prison in the state of Arizona. It was the last facility that was actually run by the inmates themselves. All the guards did was pick up their checks and make sure no one tried to jump the fence. The guards could care less what the inmates did to each other. To them, it was a job that paid the bills and required very little of them at most times. They did what they had to do when they had to do it, but no more than that.

Not being one to believe everything he was told, Manny still couldn't help but feel a nervous knot in his stomach tighten at the thought of actually beginning his sentence at Lion's Gate. He expected to start off on a medium-custody-level yard, where they allowed a lot of free time and offered self-help classes. He figured he would get a job in the kitchen washing dishes and would just stick to himself, do his own thing. If Lion's Gate ended up being the starting point of his journey, he somehow knew that his time would be spent much differently.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jun 8, 2015
• ISBN: 9781504916028

Matthew Galindo

Matthew Galindo served sixteen years in Arizona State prison, where he wrote his novels "No Way Out" and "Incarcerated Minds" as a way to pass time. He was released from prison in April of 2011.

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© 2015 Matthew Galindo. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 06/04/2015

ISBN: 978-1-5049-1603-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5049-1602-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015909051

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Thoughts From An Incarcerated Mind

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

About The Author

THOUGHTS FROM

AN INCARCERATED MIND

We all have demons that we must face. Many choose to run from their demons while others choose to stand and fight theirs. Some hide from their demons by masking their overwhelming presence with some sort of mind altering substance. Although it may help these few individuals escape from reality and forget their problems temporarily, it only makes it worse in the end, for the demon remains lurking in the shadows.

I choose to fight my demons, to never allow myself to falter to their malicious intent, never giving into their need of self destruction. In this harsh realm in which we live, we are forced to deal with our problems, given no other choice but to do battle with our demons, or roll with the enemy that would like nothing more than to see us burn, to see us suffer.

Our demons take many forms inside of these walls, they have many faces. Faces of loneliness, hate, frustration, addiction, you name it. Once you’re on the demon’s path of destruction, the demon of your choice, of your vice, has control and it will snatch you by the balls, lead you down that path and force you to do its deeds. It is never impossible to slay one’s demons, but it is not an easy path to trek back through once one has journeyed so far down that road.

Being stuck in a cell for days on end never makes these tasks any easier to deal with when one’s thoughts are constantly filled with things they cannot have, people they cannot see, places they cannot go. Many lose sight and don’t see the point in fighting off their demons; they do not see use in it, especially those who are never leaving these fortified concrete walls topped with razor wire. Their lives have pretty much ended. As far as they are concerned, they have no life other than the one they are being forced to live in captivity. They have no future other than the one that has already been set out for them. They have no hopes, no dreams, nothing to look forward to because what they wish for the most has already been taken from them. And if they do get a taste of what it is like to be free again, they will have to constantly be looking over their shoulders, keeping a watchful eye out for those demons who are still lurking in the shadows, looking for their opening, waiting for their chance to drag them back into the fiery depths of hell where they belong to suffer alongside the other poor unfortunate souls who have been cast out from society to a place they hate so fiercely, yet refer to it as home.

I believe that there’s always a reason to fight. This place is not my home, even though I have been here for the last fifteen years. Perhaps it is because my future is not as grim as many others that I can speak positively, for I will be leaving this place one day. We all will be leaving this place one day.

Many will walk out on their own. Some will be carted out by the hand of another. Many will leave only to return to the place that they had declared a passionate hate for, each time their stay will be a little longer then the one before. And even with each year lost and talks of never returning increases, their demons will continue to grow stronger each time they refuse to change and keep going back to what they know best.

Change is the hardest thing to do in here. Surrounded by so much negativity puts a great deal of pressure on a man who is looking to change the ways and habits he has had for so many years. Everyone says they want to remain free once they leave these places, but very few actually talk about making the necessary changes in their character to stay out of prison and jail longer than a few months. And when they return, it’s always the same excuse. The blame is placed on the drugs, the alcohol, their friends, or the fact that life is hard on the outside. Never do they blame themselves for their own actions, their own stupidity, their own lack of self-discipline.

The Truth about one’s self is the biggest demon of all. So many are afraid to face the truth about themselves that they would rather be controlled their entire life than to have to face the truth about themselves.

To free an incarcerated mind, one must free himself of the demons that try to hold them back from seeing the truth about their self. Take a look in the mirror and see if you recognize the person looking back at you.

Where’s your mind at?

CHAPTER 1

They all looked like mutated carrots. Some looked like pumpkins that had sprouted arms and legs, sporting chains around their waists and steel cuffs around their wrists and ankles. The prisoners differed in size and shape, but they all shared the same look on their faces as they were packed onto the gray bus. Blankness covered the faces of the men as they shuffled up the steps and were forced into the first available seat. This is when Manny realized that the fun had ended.

He never thought it would come to this. He believed that he had it all figured out, ironed out all of the wrinkles and hemmed up all of the loose ends. Nothing could go wrong as long as they stuck to the plan. Stuck to it they did, but they had never planned for the unexpected. The unexpected is what had Manny jammed three deep in a bus seat, squished against the side panel and uncomfortably close to the next man who probably felt the same way that he did. Stuck!

There were just over a hundred inmates packed onto the bus, three to a seat where there was enough space for it. The bus was like a cage on wheels. Diamond mesh enclosed the interior of the bus, bolted over the windows with a locked down toward the front. The door protected the three armed guards and the driver from the soon to be state prisoners. Two of the guards sat with shotguns in their laps, fingers just outside of the trigger, eyeing the crowd carefully, trying to spot any troublemakers, looking for a reason to put the weapon to use. The third guard pulled the bus’ door closed as the driver started the engine and settled into her seat, trying to get comfortable for the long ride.

Many looked out the window through the spaces in the diamond mesh and took one last look at the county jail that had been his home for the past year. He was glad to be leaving the place but a part of him wished that he was staying. Leaving the county meant that he was about to begin the ten year sentence the judge had gave him for the crime he committed. His journey was just beginning. Manny knew when the journey would end, but he had no clue what he would encounter in between. That was the only thing that worried him, not knowing what would happen.

The bus pulled away from the county jail and soon it became just another vehicle on the highway. The miles increased slowly and the surrounding city quickly disappeared. The concrete turned to sand, the buildings turned to cactuses, the clouds in the sky fled from the sun’s intense heat. Squirming in his seat, Manny tried to settle in and find some comfort in his cramped situation, trying to find some enjoyment in the ride. It would be the last one for a very long time.

Hey man, the guy beside Manny said nudging Manny gently on the arm as he spoke, What’s your name?

Manny looked over at the man, eye-balling his shaggy hair. It looked like someone rung out a dirty mop and placed it on his head. Manny, he said quietly.

They call me Petey Boy, the man said, extending his chained hand toward Manny as he introduced himself. This is my third time back to the joint. They laid me down this time! Smacked me with twenty-one like it wasn’t shit! The judge I had was passing out years like a parent passing out candy to trick-or-treaters on Halloween! Is this your first time down?

Yeah, I got ten for armed robbery. Manny had been around plenty of repeat offenders during his stay at the county jail. Even though it was his first time being incarcerated, he had experienced enough of the first night to know that once was more then enough. Why anyone would serve time only to return again and again was beyond him. But, what did he know?

Ten years, huh? Kind of steep for a first timer. Petey Boy said as he brushed a stran of mop hair away from his face, straining the chain around his waist to do so. Your time will pass quickly if you do it right. Just don’t let that shit get to you. Gotta stay busy or this place we’re headed to will eat you alive! Fuck around and never come out of there!

Manny heard Petey Boy’s words but wasn’t paying attention to much that the man was saying. Petey Boy may have had more knowledge under his belt about the system then he did, but how was one supposed to take advice from a person who had screwed up three different times? No one could be that stupid! How was he supposed to stay busy in prison? It was his punishment. Manny expected it to be slow and boring.

I hear they’re taking us to Lion’s Gate, Petey Boy continued when Manny didn’t reply.

Manny had heard stories about Lion’s Gate. From what he was told, it was a fitting name for a state prison. Lion’s Gate had a reputation to house only the most violent criminals in the state. What went on inside of the walls of Lion’s Gate took place at no other prison in the state of Arizona. It was the last facility that was actually run by the inmates themselves. All the guards did was pick up their paychecks and made sure no one tried to jump the fence. The guards could care less about what the inmates did to or with each other. To the guards, it was a job that paid their bills and required little from them at most times. They did what they had to do when they had to do it, but no more than that.

Not being one to believe everything he was told, Manny still couldn’t help but feel a nervous knot in his stomach tighten at the thought of actually beginning his sentence at Lion’s Gate. He expected to start off on a medium custody level yard where they allowed a lot of free time and offered self-help classes. He figured he would get a job in the kitchen washing dishes and would just stick to himself, do his own thing. If Lion’s Gate ended up being the starting point of his journey, he some how knew that his time would be spent much differently.

Is it true what they say about Lion’s Gate? Manny asked after swallowing the lump that had built up in his throat while trying to keep his tough guy face on.

Petey Boy chuckled and then put on a twisted grin. It depends on what you’ve been told. He paused for a moment to shit in his seat. I’m not trying to scare you, but I’m not going to bullshit you either. Lion’s Gate is crazy. I was nervous as hell the first time I went there, thought everyone was out to get me and shit, but it ain’t that bad. You will be tested, believe that. But if you hold your ground, you’ll be all right.

Manny didn’t find Petey Boy’s words very reassuring. He didn’t know what to take from his response. Hold his ground he would, but just how crazy was Lion’s Gate? Deciding that he was going to find out for himself either way it went, Manny thought it was best to keep the rest of his unasked question to himself. They would be answered soon enough.

* * *

Losing track of time, Manny somehow drifted off to sleep. For how long, he was unsure, but when he woke the bus was pulling up to the massive gates of the prison. The entrance to Lion’s Gate was blocked by a twenty foot solid steel wall that slid on a track guided by wheels to allow the bus and any other type of transportation vehicles to pull into the sally port. The perimeter of the prison stretched further than Manny could see. It seemed to just keep going, miles of chain link fence guarded by rows upon rows of razor wire. The prison was protected heavily and was meant to discourage anyone from trying to get out, but it also kept anyone from getting in without permission.

As the main gate slowly slid open, Manny tried to count how many guard towers he could see lining the inside of the prison. He felt like he was being taken into some sort of new age castle, due to be thrown into come dungeon to be punished for the crime he committed against society. He counted thirteen towers off to his left before his vision started to blur. He turned to count he towers on the right when the bus pulled into the sally port.

Other inmates were starting to stir. The bus began to fill with anxious chatter, some happy to be getting off the crowded bus while some were wishing that the bus ride had never ended. Whether they wanted to or not, they would all be getting off of that bus. Whether by choice or by force, that bus would be headed back to the county jail empty, ready to be filled again. As the gate banged shut, reality seeped in further.

Petey Boy rolled his shoulders next to Manny, trying to work out the kinks in his neck as he awoke from his short nap. Looks like we’re here, youngster, He told Manny. Here’s where they separate the boys from the men, the real from the fake. Be prepared to be judged in a fashion you’ve yet to experience.

Manny glanced over at Petey Boy, not knowing what to think about what he had just said. How were they going to separate the boys from the men? How were they going to decide who was real and who was fake? Who was they anyway? Manny swallowed the lump that returned to his throat with a loud gulp and ten did his best to hold the tough guy look. His thoughts must have been written all over his face. Petey Boy seemed amused.

Smiling, Petey Boy shook his head and laughed. Hold your tongue and you won’t have anything to worry about, youngster. I’ll show you the ropes through intake, but from there you’re on your own. I do my own time and I won’t be responsible for you.

I didn’t ask you to be, Manny glared at Petey Boy. I can take care of myself. He would hold his own, but he was hoping that he wouldn’t have to learn the ropes on his own. I don’t need anyone to be responsible for me. I’m my own man!

Okay, tough guy, we’ll see, Petey Boy laughed. As much as he wanted to help the kid, he didn’t know Manny from the rest of the fools on the bus and he didn’t know how he would adapt to prison life. Manny would either sink or swim, and until the kid proved himself, Petey Boy wasn’t going to associate with someone who just might sink. Just remember what I told you about holding your tongue. That’s my only advice to you.

Just as Manny was about to say that he didn’t need advice from a three time felon, the front of the bus opened and two guards stepped in holding clip boards in their hands. The guards started calling out names and the called inmates began to shuffle from their seats to the front of the bus, chains jingling and dragging across the metal floor. Manny looked out the window to see several more guards standing outside of the bus directing the inmates who were called to stand in front of squares painted on the concrete beside the bus. Manny had no idea what the squares were for, but they inmates seemed to be lining up behind them randomly.

What are the squares for? Manny ask Petey Boy.

They’re splitting us up into the tiers we’re going to, Petey Boy replied. Each colored square is for a tier in the cell block. Once we go through intake, they kick us out to what ever tier they line us up on. Petey Boy paused to look out through the window. We should all to the green square, which is orientation, but I heard they don’t do that anymore. Blue and yellow is where you would go after orientation.

What about red? Manny asked.

Petey Boy tilted his head to look at Manny. Red is where the killers sleep.

Where the killers sleep? Manny though as he looked back out the window and noticed that the other colored squares were filling up quickly while the red currently only had two men lined up behind it. The two men definitely looked like killers. They had a state raised look to them. Tattoos covered the exposed skin that their jumpsuits could not hide. Their faces held a menacing stare and they stood as if they were ready to pounce upon some unseen prey. Manny didn’t know if the men were killers, but he didn’t want to find out.

Sanchez!

That’s me! Petey Boy said as he stood up and shuffled to the front of the bus. Many watched him step off of the bus and line up behind the blue square. The bus was beginning to clear out, there was only a dozen or so inmates left waiting to be called. Manny was beginning to think that he was going to be the last one off of the bus when his name was finally called.

Flores!

Rising slowly, Manny did the two step shuffle to the front of the bus and stopped before a bald-headed officer holding a clip board.

Name? the officer asked.

Flores, Manny answered. Please don’t say red!

The officer marked something on the clip board before looking back at Manny. Okay, Flores, line up behind the green square.

Manny let out a silent sigh of relief as he stepped from the bus; happy that he wasn’t lining up behind the red square. Many took his place at the back of the line, noticing that most of the med ahead of him all looked to be fairly young. He doubted that anyone in the green line was old enough to drink.

As the bus emptied, a second gate identical to the one they entered began to open at the other end of the sally port, giving Manny and the other inmates their first glimpse of the yard. A sea of blue was all Manny caught sight of before four officers marched in through the opening.

What appeared to be Army drill sergeants marched to stand directly in front of each colored square before turning to face the newly incarcerated inmates. Each officer wore dark tinted glasses and ball caps that matched their chocolate brown and khaki uniforms. The officers pulled bill clubs from their waists and quickly held them behind their backs as they stared at the inmates, waiting.

Manny wondered what the wait was for when his question was answered. The second gate slid completely open and a nicely dressed man in a gray business suit stepped into the sally port. He was a middle aged man with thick salt and pepper hair, tall and well built. They were about to learn quickly that this was the man who ran Lion’s Gate.

The man in the gray suit strolled over to stand between his officers and took up the same stance, looking over the newest batch of criminals. After a few moments, he cleared his throat and began to greet the new arrivals.

"Listen up! I will not tolerate anyone speaking while I am speaking! I will not be interrupted! So if you’re still talking, shut the fuck up!" The man in the suit said loud enough for everyone to hear. Anyone who had been talking up to that point quickly ended their conversations.

My name is Warden Hansen and I run the facility here at Lion’s Gate, the man in the suit continued. "You all are now property of the state of Arizona and while you are here at Lion’s Gate, you are my property. This is my prison and you all are my guests, whether you like it or not. I am the law here. What I say goes. If you cannot adapt to and follow the rules that I have set, you will be forced to adapt. If you think you can rebel and buck the system, you will quickly be cut down where you stand. Go with the grain and you will survive your stay here at Lion’s Gate. Go against the grain and you may never leave Lion’s Gate. With that, I welcome you all to Lion’s Gate state prison."

CHAPTER 2

Watching the new arrivals being marched into the intake building, Lizard stood against the fence smoking and trying to pick out which inmate would be filling the empty bunks down in the basement. He didn’t recognize any of the new faces and really didn’t care who moved into the basement. He already had a cellmate so it didn’t matter to him. Lizard continued to watch until the last of the new arrivals disappeared into the building before flicking the butt of his cigarette into the dirt and turning away from the fence.

The main yard of Lion’s Gate reminded Lizard of an over grown play ground no child would ever venture into. Four sets of full length basketball courts lay directly ahead of him, the Blacks and Whites each had their own court while the Mexican had the other two. Integrated sports had stopped for the most part years ago after a fist fight over a hard foul turned into a riot that left a few inmates hanging from the very rims they had been playing beneath. Lizard kept his distance from the Courts. He liked to ball, but a whole different game was played on the courts at Lion’s Gate.

To the left of the basketball courts was where the weight pile was located. On any given day it was packed with tattooed, sweaty, muscle heads, lifting incredible amounts of weight. It was a deadly place to be. A twenty pound dum bell could easily crush a man’s skull. The weight pile was patrolled by sharks, a dangerous place for a guppie to swim into. Even though Lizard knew most of the men who frequented the weight pile, he steered clear of that spot. He had no desire to have his chest crushed under five hundred pounds of pig iron.

To the right of the basketball courts is where Lizard spent the majority of his yard time. Lizard was a light weight, barley pushing a hundred and fifty pounds when soaking wet with a couple sets of clothes on, but he was ripped and most of it was because of the time he spent hitting the bag. The speed bag and the heavy bag was his thing. Lions’ Gate was the last prison in Arizona to still have its weight pile and boxing equipment still in use on the yard. Every other yard across the state had cleared out the weights and boxing equipment years ago due to the fact that the pig iron was being used as weapons during fights and riots, and also because the inmates were over powering the officers. Half of the inmate population were built like tanks……unstoppable.

An attempt was once made to remove the weights and boxing equipment from Lion’s Gate, but it was a failed attempt that left many officers injured which resulted in half of them quitting their jobs as correctional officers. The inmate population banded together and put up a fight that lasted weeks. The prison was tore to pieces, the battle contained within the walls. Anything that wasn’t securely bolted down was either used as a weapon to attack the riot squad or was burned to fuel the fire.

Lizard was glad they hadn’t removed the punching bags. It gave him a way to release frustration and anger he felt within when the walls around him started to close in. Plus, they helped him to improve his skills with his fists. After one too many ass whoopings, Lizard had decided that it was about time he learned how to fight. People thought it was funny that a thirty year old man who had ran with a gang his whole life didn’t know how to fight. Lizard didn’t see the humor in it.

Lizard watched a dozen or so men hitting the bags for a moment before continuing ahead. The basketball courts, the weight pile and punching bags took up half of the yard and kept most of the inmates busy during yard time, but the boxing ring is what kept them entertained. One would never expect to see a full size ring in the middle of a prison recreation yard, yet it was there. Bleachers lined each side of the ring, normally filled with inmates eager to witness some sort of violence, thirsty for blood to be shed, but they were empty. A couple of inmates stood in the ring sparring while a few more stood alongside the ring watching. This is where Lizard found what he was looking for.

Not too many inmates had girlfriends outside of Lion’s Gate, but Lizard was one who could say that his girlfriend lived with him while he served his prison sentence. Only his girlfriend wasn’t a girl at all. To Lizard, love was love and it all felt the same.

Nicky! Lizard called his cellmate, watching him flirt with one of the guys getting ready to climb into the ring to spar. Nicky jumped at the sound of his voice and quickly turned to face Lizard, taking his hand off of the other man’s arm. "Get your ass over here!" Lizard said as he pointed to the ground in front of him.

Nicky, born as Joseph Cruz, had lived with Lizard for over a year. Lizard was the most jelous lover he ever had, but Lizard took care of him, so Nicky put up with his shit. Nicky smiled as he strutted over to Lizard, swaying his hips and holding a hand out to the side as he did so, wondering what Lizard wanted now. What’s up?

Grasping Nicky by the upper arm, Lizard pulled him away from the ring and over toward the bleachers where they could talk without interruption. Lizard released Nicky’s arm and quickly looked around, scanning the yard to make sure no one was close by to overhear their conversation. Where’s it at?

Where’s what at? Nicky asked with a puzzled look.

"You know what! Did you give it to that fool? Lizard asked, pointing to the inmate inside of the ring. Did you give my shit to that pretty boy motherfucker or what? I’ll fuck you both up if you did!"

Babe, calm down! Nicky said as he placed his hands on Lizard’s forearms, looking him in the face. It wasn’t the prettiest face to look at, but Nicky thought that Lizard was handsome in a weaselly sort of way and often complemented Lizard on his looks to stroke his ego. I got it on me. Don’t you trust me?

Lizard stared at his cellmate for a moment, knowing that he was hearing a lie. He wouldn’t believe a word Nicky said until he showed him his stash. Let me see it then!

Nicky dug into the front pocket of his skin tight blue jeans, found what he was digging for, glanced around and pulled his hand from his pocket. He extended his hand to Lizard and opened his fist to reveal what looked to be a rock of coal wrapped in plastic resting in the palm of his hand. Here, Nicky said as Lizard quickly snatched it from his palm.

Squeezing the package in hi fist, Lizard tried to determine whether or not any of the product was missing. A gram of heroin was expensive in prison and he was going to be damned if he let Nicky give any of it away to some pretty boy punk.

Lizard stuffed the gram into his pocket, noticing that he was beginning to sweat. His skin began to itch all over his body; he was having a reaction before he even did any of the drug. He was no longer upset with Nicky, he completely forgot about him flirting with the pretty boy. It was time to party and that’s all that mattered.

I’m going back to the house, Lizard told Nicky as he scratched at the crook in his left forearm. I’m going to jump into the spoon. You want to join? He asked, but he already knew what Nicky would say.

"Of course! Do you think I’d let you party without me?"

Nicky asked with a smile, reaching out to stroke Lizard’s rough face with a slim finger.

Lizard smiled widely, exposing the rotten front tooth that had died and turned black years ago. Let’s go!

As Nicky and Lizard made their way toward the cell block, a voice came over the intercom that could be heard all across the yard, announcing that yard time was over and that all inmates were to report back to their assigned cells. As other inmates started to exit the yard, Lizard sped up his step and tugged Nicky along close behind him.

Lion’s Gate only had one building where the cells were located, but it was a massive building. It was three stories high with four levels, one hundred two-man cells per level. Green was considered to be the very top while red was tucked away underground in the basement. Blue and yellow made up the middle levels. Few inmates made their way downstairs to the basement, even though the basement was pretty much filled to capacity. Most of the inmates chose to stay out of the basement, even some who lived down there.

Lizard quickly made his way down the stairs, pulling Nicky along with him. A familiar sight greeted them as they made their way toward their cell. It looked like a body builders’ meeting in the basement. Muscled men were scattered throughout the run of the basement, some seated at steel tables playing cards. Many smaller sized inmates mixed in with the bigger men. Lizard knew that what the smaller inmates lacked in size, they made up for with the shanks they carried. The basement was ruled by force, and force came in many shapes and sizes.

Paying no attention to the whistles and shouts coming from the other inmates directed at Nicky, Lizard pushed his cell door open and pulled Nicky into the cell before closing the door behind him.

Put the sheet up! Lizard told Nicky as he searched for his materials.

I’m already on top of it, Nicky replied as he took the sheet from his bed that was folded neatly atop his pillow. He shook out the folds and tied one corner to the top row of the bars that lined the front of the cell before stretching out the sheet and tying off the other end.

When Nicky turned around, Lizard had the gram of heroin opened up and placed on top of a plastic mirror. He cut off a sliver of the black rock with a razor blade and dropped the sliver into the bottom of a soda pop can that had been cut off to cook the drug in. Lizard used the syringe he held in his hand to put several drops of water from his drinking cup into the bottom of the soda can before reaching for his lighter. He held the can by a handle he created while he placed the flame from the lighter under the can.

It didn’t take long for the heat from the flame to boil the water, mixing the drug and quickly pulling the undesirable cut to the edges of the puddle. Come on, Lizard said, motioning with his hand that still held the lighter, waiting for Nicky to drop the cotton in. The cotton soaked up the drug within its fibers, separating it from the cut and leaving only the pure product for the pulling.

Taking the syringe from the table,