But he took comfort in knowing that unlike the rest of them, he would be out soon; he was only there for the alibi.

The line turned a corner, placing Gavin out of view of the guard in back, and the man ahead of him suddenly turned and punched Gavin in the stomach—once, twice, three times. It happened so fast that Gavin didn’t have time to react. He dropped to the floor, his body curling in upon itself, his lungs empty, and his stomach heaving bile up into his throat.

The man did not continue the attack, but simply turned and walked on as though nothing had happened. The men behind Gavin stepped around him as if he were a pile of dog feces.

By the time the rear guard got to him, Gavin had worked himself up onto his knees. The man radioed to the control center, telling them to look at the security footage to see if anything was caught on tape. He lifted Gavin to his feet and asked what had happened. Gavin wasn’t sure he could explain it even if he wanted to, so he simply shook his head.

In the mess hall, Gavin took a seat far away from the long-haired man. The attack had beaten the appetite out of him, but he cut a piece of Salisbury steak and put it in his mouth anyway.

As he was cutting a second piece, Gideon Doss took the seat across the table from him. “That was quite the tumble you took back there,” he said.

Gavin didn’t answer. At first his silence was because he wanted to be left alone with his thoughts, but then it occurred to him that Gideon had been one of the men to step around him as he lay on the hallway floor, trying to breathe.

“Jail can be a dangerous place,” Gideon said. “Lots of accidents. Prison’s even worse if you piss off the wrong people.”

“What’s going on, Gideon?”

“Word is, you have some enemies in the big house.”

“Big house? What are you talking about?”

“Stillwater, Oak Park Heights, Lino, St. Cloud...It don’t matter which prison you go to—there’s some folks who are pretty pissed off at you.”

“I don’t even know anyone…”

“But they know you.” Gideon reached across the table, picked up Gavin’s Salisbury steak in his fingers, and took a bite. “That’s the thing about prison,” he said. “It’s like its own little world with rules and…What’s that word? Hi-er…hierarchs…?”

“Hierarchies?”

“That’s it. You’re a smart fella.” He took another bite of steak and tossed the remains onto Gavin’s tray, licking the gravy from the tips of his fingers.

“What’s any of that got to do with me?”

Gideon opened his jumpsuit and pulled the collar of his T-shirt down enough to show Gavin a tattoo on his chest, a lightning bolt with an A on one side and a B on the other. “I’m bettin’ a smart man like you can figure out what this is.”