Michael Gabriel is seated on the edge of the wafer-thin mattress, his vacant black eyes staring at the floor. His mouth is open, saliva dripping from his lower lip. His bruised left forearm is turned palm side up and is resting on his thigh, an offering to the butcher. The right arm is tucked by his side, the fist slightly balled.

He hears the orderly approach. “Hey, Marvis, is it true? Is this the vegetable’s last night?”

Mick takes a breath, trying to calm his racing pulse. The presence of the seventh-floor security guard complicates things. You only have one shot. Take them both out if you have to.

Marvis turns off the television in the pod and finishes wiping down the grape-juice stains on the coffee table. “Yeah. Foletta’s taking him to Tampa tomorrow.”

The door swings open. In his peripheral vision, Mick sees the sadist approach, the shadow of another man waiting by the door.

Not yet. Marvis will slam the door closed if you jump. Wait until it’s clear. Let the animal stick you.

The orderly grabs Mick’s left wrist, then jabs the syringe into the swollen vein, nearly breaking the tip of the needle off as he injects the Thorazine into the abused blood vessel.

Mick tightens his abdominal muscles in agony, forcing his upper body not to flinch.

“Hey, Barnes, go easy on him, or I’ll write you up again.”

“Fuck you, Marvis.”

Marvis shakes his head, then walks away.

Mick’s eyes roll up in his head. His body turns to Jell-O and he falls onto his left side, staring straight ahead on the bed like a zombie.

Barnes verifies that Marvis has left, then unzips his fly. “Hey, girlfriend, you wanna taste something?” He bends down and leans closer to Mick’s face. “How about we open that pretty little mouth of yours and—”

The orderly never sees the fist, only the explosion of purple light as Mick’s second and third knuckles slam into his exposed temple.

Barnes collapses to the floor, shaken but still conscious.

Mick pulls him up by the hair and looks into his eyes. “Trick or treat, motherfucker.” He drives his knee into Barnes’s face, careful not to get any blood on the orderly’s uniform.

10:18 P.M.

Dominique enters her numerical password, then waits while the infrared camera scans her face. The red light flashes green, allowing her to enter the central security station.

Raymond turns to face her. “Well, look who it is? Come to pay your last respects to your psycho boyfriend?”

“You’re not my boyfriend.”

Raymond slams his fist against the steel cage. “We both know who I’m talking about. Little bit later, I’m gonna be paying him a nice visit.” He flashes a yellow smile. “Yeah, Sunshine, me and your boy are gonna have a real good time.”

“Do whatever you want.” She heads for the elevator.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”