its head, cleaning chunks of flesh from the spines of its legs and wiping its face in deft, catlike motions. Then it stepped back into line with the trees, undulating until it mimicked perfectly the movement of the surrounding foliage in the breeze. It swayed with the trees, all but disappearing from sight.
Chapter 6
Minutes to Burn (2001)
23 DEC 07
W ater was dripping somewhere nearby. The window didn't cast enough light through Savage's cell for him to see the water dripping, but he heard it. He glanced up at the small square of blue, split three times with steel bars, and saw that there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Probably a busted pipe somewhere, he thought, some faulty plumbing. Probably did it on purpose, those bastards. Chinese water torture.
He walked to the front of his cell, resisting the urge to grip the bars like some yahoo criminal in a Western. He was still missing one of his boots, and the ground felt moist through his sock. He'd been arrested on a Friday, and they'd taken their time processing him, ensuring he'd have to wait through the weekend for a Monday arraignment. It had been a peaceful two days.
Across the way, a pale, fleshy prisoner was sitting on the floor, legs kicked wide like a child's. Across the chest of his shirt, FIN was written with a black marker. Probably got hauled in drunk and naked last night. He was rubbing himself through his jail-issue pants.
"Lovely," Savage said.
"Hey, buddy, you trying to steal a free peek?"
Savage went back to his bed and flipped it over, dumping the thin stained mattress on the moldy floor. He leaned the narrow frame up against the wall, hooking two of the legs on the ledge of the window. He climbed on top of the frame, threading his legs through the aluminum bed slats, and leaned back down the incline. Some of his reddish-brown hair fell loose from the bandanna.
Fin was on his feet, staring across the dim corridor into Savage's cell. "You trying to break out, buddy? You think you're goin' somewhere?" He laughed, a high-pitched cackle. "I'm in the big leagues, you know. Got me a little girl, cut her up like a paper doll."
Savage tuned him out and began his incline sit-ups, trying to move his shoulders directly toward the ceiling to increase the strain through his stomach. Once he was well into his set, he began grunting slightly with the exertion.
Fin started grunting along with him, drawing the grunts out into moans. When Savage finished his set and rolled back over his shoulders to the ground, Fin continued his moaning, elevating to yells and hip thrusts. He squealed loudly through a fat grin and shuddered, as if he'd come. When he finished, he bounced on his toes and laughed a flat, atonal laugh.
Savage stared at him, unimpressed. He leaned forward into a hand-stand, placing his legs barely against the wall. He started doing push-ups, moving his body directly up and down. The cell was so cold he could see his breath.
"I wish I was over there, buddy," Fin called out. "You bouncin' up and down like that, it's givin' me a little tingle in the tummy. Make me wanna--"
Savage could hear him making some kind of furious gesture, but he ignored him, straining through his final push-ups. The strain in his triceps intensified, and he lowered himself from the wall and extended his arms straight out before him to loosen the knots.
"Bet you'd like to think that, huh, buddy? That I wanna fuck you? Well, I ain't no faggot. Have me a lady on the outside. I don't go in for no backdoor action, if you catch my drift. I ain't no queer." Fin slapped his chest with a fist, and it sent a ripple clear down to his stomach. "I don't want no piece of you. No sir."
Savage glanced up at him. "I don't remember making you an offer."
Fin ran a hand along the sallow skin under his chin, pushing it to one side. "I saw you lookin' at me. When I had my hands on myself. I know that look. I broke people's faces for less. Got in a brawl one time down south,outside of Ciudad