“CHAPLAIN, CHAPLAIN,” Starn yelled, his voice sounding sad and whiny.

“Did you have Johnson stuck?”

“The pig had him stuck because he was tired of getting stuck in the butt.”

He jumped up suddenly from his crouched position at the slot and began dancing around the cell, crashing into the sink, bed, and walls as he did.

Then he started singing. “There is power, power, wonder-working power in the blood of the lamb.”

“Jacobson,” I said. “Jacobson.”

“Power, power, wonder-working power in the blood of the lamb.”

Evidently the officer at the nearby cell heard me, and rushed over and looked through the narrow glass window of the cell door. He yelled for the other officer, who was still seated at the end of the hall, to come quickly and began to fumble for his keys.

“CHAPLAIN, CHAPLAIN.”

“Step back, Father, please,” he said.

His voice was an octave higher from the excitement, his fine strawberry blond hair moving about as he moved, and his face, previously pink, was now deep red.

I complied.

He pulled the handcuffs from the back of his belt and opened them. As soon as the rotund black officer joined him, Strawberry Blond unlocked the door and stepped in, Rotund following closely behind him. As Rotund entered the cell, I could have sworn I saw him smile.

“Would you be free from the burden of sin? There’s power in the blood, power in the blood.”

Strawberry Blond told Jacobson to assume the position.

Jacobson responded with many colorful obscenities, some of which I had never heard before.

Suddenly Jacobson was on the floor.

It happened so quickly it took me a moment to realize that it had.

While Strawberry Blond was telling Jacobson to turn around and spread his legs, Rotund stepped up and punched him hard at the base of the neck.

In a matter of moments Jacobson was cuffed, face down on the rough concrete floor, then snatched up to his feet, a mild abrasion on his forehead.

“Let’s get him to Medical,” Rotund said. “See about these cuts.” Then he added to Jacobson, “Next time I’m using the gas.”

“You better ask your captain first,” Jacobson whispered.

“Nobody touch this blood,” Rotund said as if he hadn’t heard Jacobson. “It’s bad blood in more ways than one.”

“Let me call the OIC first,” Strawberry Blond said, beginning to walk back toward his desk. “Chaplain, can I talk with you for minute?”

“Sure,” I said looking back at Jacobson, who stared blankly at the wall in front of him.

As we walked down to the officer’s desk at the end of the corridor, I learned that Strawberry’s name was Rogers. When we passed by Starn’s cell, I stopped and looked in.

“Chaplain,” Starn asked, “do you believe that a demon can possess a man?”

“We already talked about this, Starn,” I said.