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.“Toe the door.”Gage walked to the door and did a military right-face.He sucked in a great breath of air, wondering if he’d be alive in twenty-four hours.The attendant punched a metal knob on the wall with his hand, making the door swing out.From behind him, Gage heard one of the two guards yell “Entra!” Putting one foot in front of the other, Gage stepped into the gladiator’s arena, immediately smelling the piss and sweat of the prison’s male inhabitants.The din slowly faded away as the mostly tattooed, largely bald prisoners stopped what they were doing to turn and stare at the new arrival.In all his years, Gage could honestly say he’d never felt quite so singled out.Behind Gage, standing at the door, Capitana de la Mancha had appeared.She discreetly crossed herself as she whispered, “Que Dios esté con usted.” Even with no idea who Gage really was, de la Mancha found him interesting.She also wondered if his first trip back through the door would be to the infirmary or, perhaps, to the walk-in kitchen refrigerator that doubled as a makeshift mortuary.Chapter ThirteenThe walk to Gage’s cell passed without incident.The main bay, as it was called, was hexagonal and three floors high.Wide concourses ringed the top two floors of cells, protected by floor to ceiling chain link fencing—presumably so no one would take an accidental, or deliberate, tumble to the floor of the main bay.The center of the main bay, on the first level, was the common area.There were built-in steel tables and chairs, along with Plexiglas encased televisions mounted on several large columns.As the guards instructed Gage to climb to the second floor, he viewed the prisoners staring back at him.Some had been playing cards, others watching TV.On the concourses, men who had been shooting dice, stacks of strange-looking money in piles by their feet, eyed Gage with dripping contempt.There were clumps of men standing on the concourses and, as Gage could see when he passed by each cell, occasional prisoners reading or chatting on their bunk.Every prisoner stopped what they were doing to stare down the new arrival.Ignoring the gawkers, Gage turned to take in a sweeping view of the main bay as he ascended.Despite its modern appearance, it was the devil’s gut, churning with acidity, eating away at every man forced to call it home.The smell intensified with each step upward, redolent of sweaty men in need of soap and deodorant.Gage halted, memorizing the image, forcing himself to accept it as his new home.A baton poked his already sore lower back as his escort growled at him to keep moving.There were a total of six staircases leading to the higher floors, one on each line of the hexagon.At the top of the tall flight of stairs, Gage was told to move straight ahead before being ordered to halt.Next to him was an open door of a cell.One man was inside, on the lower bunk, reading.Upon hearing the guards he sat up, sneering at Gage.“Meet Salvador.He’s your new best friend,” one of the guards chuckled.“Go in and make your bunk according to the diagram on the wall.” At the end of the top bunk, military-like linens and a blanket lay “stockaded” much in the same way Gage recalled from Army basic training.There was a small diagram affixed to the wall at the end of each bunk, showing a properly-made bed.Both guards laughed before their heavy boots could be heard clanging back down the steel stairs.Inside his cell, Salvador, Gage’s new best friend, stood and tossed his book on the bed.Unlike many of the other prisoners Gage had seen, Salvador had a full head of hair with a pronounced widow’s peak.His face was lean and menacing as he rolled a toothpick steadily back and forth between his narrow lips.Salvador’s most prominent feature, obviously a mark of his gang, was the massive tattoo of a horse emerging from under his prison uniform.Done in black ink, the horse’s head exploded from his narrow chest and terminated on the highest area of Salvador’s neck.The tattoo was dominated by the steed’s piercing red eyes.Therefore, Gage pegged Salvador as a Semental gang member.Based on what he’d read, the Sementals had a small presence in Berga.Despite the menacing tattoo, the remainder of Salvador was unremarkable.He appeared to be about 5’9” and weighed at least sixty pounds less than Gage.Maybe seventy.Upon entering the cell, Gage got a full whiff of Salvador’s scent as he perused the square confines of his new home.The bunks were naval steel beds with rounded corners protruding from the wall and supported by hinges so they could be folded to the wall.The mattress was very thin, like two magazines stacked on top of one another.Next to the bunks, also built of stainless steel and rounded, was a sink.Beside it, a pubic hair-encrusted toilet with no lid and no seat.The far wall held three recessed shelves, all holding paperback books, and the rest of the wall, and nearly the entire cell, was covered by pictures of a woman and two boys in various stages of youth.All in all, the cell was bigger than what Gage might have envisioned, approximately fifteen feet square.He nodded to his cellmate, seeing a clear plastic container on his bunk containing his toiletries.Gage noticed the bottle of shaving cream.Prisoners began gathering outside the cell.Ignoring them and Salvador, Gage reached for the container on his bunk.Salvador grasped Gage’s arm and threw it backward, shouting an unintelligible threat and leveling a finger at Gage’s face.Shit.Hating the fact that he was already being challenged but steeling himself to stick with his plan, Gage took two steps backward.Salvador came forward and swiped at Gage with an open hand but missed.Gage raised his fists and bounced on his toes.Outside the cell, the prisoners stood ten deep.Money began to change hands as bets were levied.Salvador took up a fighting stance and began to circle.Here we go.Salvador’s smile was broad and threatening, glinting at the corners due to his gold-capped canines.He must not have thought much of Gage, or he was a good actor, because Salvador looked like a sneaky fox who’d just been granted access to the fattened hens’ coop.His first action took Gage by surprise as he suddenly dropped and attempted a front sweep by spinning himself with his right leg extended.It was a piss-poor fighting movement for this setting
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