The Animal Factory by Edward Bunker Read Free Book Online

grasping, burly arm covered with red hair. The arm missed and Gibbs was loose in the yard, running in a ludicrous pigeon-toed gait, his shirttail flapping behind him.
    Running was forbidden and the quick movement immediately attracted the attention of a gun rail guard. A police whistle bleated. Sergeant Kittredge froze and turned as Gibbs ran toward him—and saw the four thugs scurrying along the cellhouse wall. He also saw Earl—and Earl knew it, so instead of walking away he entered the cellhouse. After all, he lived there.
    The bottom tier was active, especially around the television set where the Army-Navy game was about to start. Fear gnawed at Earl’s stomach. They could all spend a year or two in segregation over this, and it had been a long time since he’d been in the hole. Kittredge had seen all of them, and if Gibbs was questioned by Lieutenant Hodges … Earl next felt anger, wondering what the fuck had gone wrong in the rotunda. Had Gibbs balked? Unlikely. Someone had punched him when it wasn’t necessary, had scared him too much, and he’d panicked.
    Earl went to the front row of the television seats where his place was saved by Preacher Man, a chubby thirty-year-old member of the Brotherhood who handled the North cellhouse tickets. Preacher was bundled in a heavy melton jacket zipped to his throat, and a black knit cap was pulled over his ears. It was Preacher’s usual mode of dress and, also as usual, he needed a shave. Earl gave him all the tickets he’d collected on the yard, which was the reverse of the usual process, and told him to hold them until later. Sensing something amiss, Preacher wanted to know if help was needed. Earl shook his head and went back through the rotunda. He stopped in the shadows to peer out. Kittredge, Gibbs, and the black were gone. Nothing was happening. The sergeant would have had to keep going with the black, so there would be a delay before the repercussions started.
    The gang had scattered. Earl prowled in the direction they’d gone and found Paul.
    “What happened back there?” Earl asked.
    “Ernie trying to be a bully. He smacked the chump in the mouth and the guy broke and run. He was scared shitless. Ernie couldn’t wait for the chump to dig it out of his sock.”
    “We shot a blank, then?”
    Paul made a face of disgust and nodded. “We might wind up busted, too … if Kittredge saw us.”
    “He saw you. Where’d Gibbs go?”
    “They got him, took him to the hospital.”
    “So where’s everybody at?”
    “Vito split to the West block, Ernie’s with his friends, and the Dynamic Duo went to the gym. Bad Eye is madder’n a motherfucker . He’s cussin’ a blue streak. T.J. is phlegmatic as usual, but you know how he is. He can be murderous and you never know it. If we go to the hole, Ernie might be in trouble.”
    “He’s just a fool who wants to be a killer. It isn’t worth a killing and the risk because he’s a fool. What the fuck …”
    Earl fell silent, knowing that although he and Paul had as much influence as anyone over the two young men, it wasn’t enough. Conditioned by a lifetime of violence, he was willing to use a knife if he felt threatened, or if it was a question of saving face, but he didn’t believe in revenge unless it was necessary to avoid ridicule. He was capable of violence while disliking it; T.J. and Bad Eye both thought of violence as the first answer to any problem. T.J. was less quick but more relentless; Bad Eye was more explosive but could be reasoned with after the first blaze of temper. Earl didn’t care about Ernie, a loud-mouthed braggart whose ambition was to be a big shot in prison’s violent world, but Earl did care about his friends.
    “It might come out okay,” he said. “Kittredge is Seeman’s protégé and he likes us okay. It depends on whether Hodges gets our names. If he does, we better pack our shit for ‘B’ Section.”
    “What can the guy tell ’em? He can’t tell ’em we tried to rip him