“Manson, are the new prisoners adapting to our routines?” Howard Tyree said to the burly guard standing next to him.

Manson had an eye patch over his right eye. And as he glanced up Stone knew why. Manson was the one he’d hit in the eye with his belt.

This is just getting better and better.

“It’s taking some work, but we’ll get them where they need to be, sir.”

Stone watched as Manson curled and uncurled his fingers as he stared at Stone with his one remaining eye. The man’s look was one of unconcealed homicidal intent. He lifted his billy club out of its holster and stuck its end against Stone’s jaw and pushed.

“This one here will take a little extra work, but we’ll get him to understand our ways.”

“Good man,” said Tyree.

When Manson pulled the club back he did it in such a way that a jagged edge of the wood tore at Stone’s face. It started to bleed, but Stone didn’t make a move to wipe it away.

Tyree said, “You know, at most supermax prisons the prisoners eat in their cells and recreation time is only done one inmate at a time. But here at Blue Spruce we’re a little more liberal than that.” He surveyed the deadly quiet room. “Here, we allow our inmates to experience some human touches. A nice meal together, some camaraderie.”

Tyree placed a hand on Stone’s shoulder and squeezed lightly. Stone would’ve taken the bite of the rattlers in the mine over this man’s repulsive touch. Yet he didn’t flinch and Tyree finally released his grip.

“And because of our compassion and understanding on points like that,” Tyree continued, “sooner or later they all learn our ways. But I’d be the first to admit that the route can get bumpy at times.”

As he walked along with a wall of guards every inmate stared down at his plate, as though it was the most wonderful cooking they’d ever seen.

These guys are not only drugged, they’re terrified, thought Stone, because they know this guy will kill them, and there’s nothing they can do about it.

He can kill me too. And probably will. Unless Manson gets to me first.

Only when Manson and Tyree had left the room did he wipe the blood off his face with his napkin.

Chapter 66

CHAPTER 66

AFTER THE MEAL they were allowed thirty minutes outside. Outside being a floor of concrete in the middle of the prison courtyard with a sheet of razor wire as a roof and a lone and netless basketball hoop and patched ball as apparently the sole recreation.

So much for the liberal human touch, thought Stone.