Some of the prisoners slowly jogged in tight circles, one bounced the ball, yet most just stood there staring down at their shoes. Up on the tower walks were the guards, their AK-47s, shotguns, and sniper rifles at the ready and clearly visible to every man down in the pit. Stone noticed that there was a blue line that ran around the concrete field.

“You cross that line, put one toe over it, the man up there shoot you.” This came from a small, twitchy inmate with a bristly gray mustache, wild hair and eyes that didn’t promise much of anything behind them.

“Thanks for the scoop,” Knox said. “They forgot to mention that in the orientation class.”

Twitchy looked at Knox and laughed. “Hey, that’s a good one. That’s a damn good one.” He looked at Stone. “You boys ever getting out?”

“Doesn’t look that way,” Stone answered. “You?”

“Life, life, life,” Twitchy said in a singsong voice. “Three life sentences to run consecutively instead of concurrently. That’s a big-ass difference. Oh yeah, I found that out. Both begin with the letter ‘c’ but that’s where the similar shit stops, man.”

“I can see that.” Stone methodically eyed the position of each tower walk, and the shooting angles available to the guards up there. He came away impressed with the design of the place. It wouldn’t take great skill to kill any man down here before he even had a chance to piss on the concrete, much less make a break for freedom.

“Is that what most people are here? Lifers?” Knox asked.

“Everybody I know is, and I been here eleven years. Least I think it’s been eleven. Used to keep a calendar but I ran out of wall space. It ain’t matter. No parole for old Donny boy.”

“What’d you do, old Donny boy?” Knox asked, the distaste clear in his tone though Donny boy seemed oblivious to it.

“Killed me three little kids,” he said as matter-of-factly as though he were merely giving his date of birth. He blew his nose in his cupped hands and then wiped them on his thighs.

“And why the hell would you do that, Donny boy?” Knox asked as his fingers curled into a fist.

“’Cause the bitch told me to, that’s why. They was her kids from her second marriage, man. Insurance money. Least that’s what she said. Seduced me. That’s right. Gave me some ass. High on shit when I killed ’em too. You’d think that’d be a defense, wouldn’t you? But hell no it ain’t. I was robbed, man, robbed. I mean, where the hell is the accountability?”

“Accountability?” Knox said incredulously.