The Tower

Spade's size-fourteen feet were finally touching the floor. He gazed up at the limp piece of meat in his outstretched hand. His face and bald head were splattered with blood from the wound where Jonsten's bone had punctured the skin, and he laughed deeply as he licked the spray from around his lips.

Dropping his weight, Spade swung from Jonsten's arm, which was taking on the appearance of a grotesque chandelier. There was another pop (accompanied by more screams) when Jonsten's shoulder left the socket, and the flesh around his upper arm bunched up above the bars. It began to give way, and as it tore, bone, muscle, and ligament came into the dim light in front of Spade. He no longer had to stand on his toes.

He heard a series of whimpers coming through the ceiling, and he smiled before climbing on the bed and reaching through the gap again. He grabbed a handful of Jonsten's hair, and using his body weight again, ripped it out.

Jonsten passed out, giving the other inmates a break from his delirious screaming. Mercifully, he didn't have to be awake as Spade's meaty hands closed around his neck, and with a single quick jerk, snapped his spinal cord.

The only prisoners who actually witnessed the episode were those on the eighth and ninth levels and, of course, Allander. He lay on his bed, watching Spade's exertions with a mixture of amusement and contempt. The inmates on the lower levels realized something was wrong only as the blood made its way down, dripping from the ends of Jonsten's fingers through the floor bars. A few of them cackled and cheered, licking the blood gleefully from their fingers, remembering the flavor and the hot scent.

Spade settled down on his bed. Lying back, he opened a book and began to read as Jonsten's arm swung lazily overhead.

Chapter 5

J O N S T E N ' S death came on Allander's tenth day in the Tower. Prior to that time, Allander had been largely ignored by Spade, who had been too preoccupied with the cell above to notice him. Shortly after the incident, the guards had arrived to view the scene. They reprimanded Spade, showering him with obscenities and turning a hose on him. Spade merely laughed and flexed in the water's spray. "Whatcha gonna do, put me in prison?" he taunted.

After the guards cleared Jonsten's mangled body from his cell (the warden decided to leave 11B vacant for the duration of Spade's sentence), Spade focused on the small, shivering prisoner across the Hole.

"So… you're the clown boy. We heard about you. Heard you all in the news and on the TV. I remember that. Young boy gettin' fucked in the ass, and not even in prison. We were waiting for you though."

Allander said nothing, remaining collected and distant.

"Let me ask you, child. You glad you don't live upstairs from me?" Spade tilted his head back, indicating the bars, which were still caked with blood and hair despite the hosing. "Guess I'm not too good a neighbor." He laughed his deep, booming laugh and climbed into bed.

Allander awoke to a tapping on his forehead. His hands moved over his face in a rush and he realized it was wet. He looked through the ceiling and saw Claude Rivers standing directly above him, his legs slightly spread so Allander was gazing up at his crotch.

Claude held his shirt, which he had doused in the toilet. He twisted it, forearms cording with muscles, bringing down another slow series of drops on Allander's head. Allander stood up, rubbing his forehead. It was sore, as if the water had worn a groove in it.

Claude watched him with interest, but said nothing. Allander crossed his unit to the vents. Overhead, Claude slowly shadowed his movement. He paused, wringing his shirt again, bringing a few plump drops down on Allander's head. Allander looked up at him, but no change of expression flickered over Claude's face. His eyes were light and wide, like holes through his head. When Allander went back to his bed, Claude did not follow.

Allander fell back into an uneasy sleep. When he jerked awake later, it was pitch black. He sat up in his cot quickly, glancing through the bars of the ceiling, but it seemed Claude was asleep.

The Hatch was open and the noises of the guards on duty drifted in. It was a moonless night and Allander peered around his cell, trying to adjust to the lack of light. He had the sense that something was in the cell with him, something was watching him. Finally, his night vision eased into effect, and he could see Spade's enormous meat-cleaver hands around the cell bars.

Allander sat up and stared across the Hole at Spade's cell. Spade's eyes slowly emerged from the darkness, then his white teeth flashed in a smile and Allander sensed a reflection from his skull. In that faint light, Spade looked as if he was made of only two hands and a floating head; the rest of his body faded into the black cell.