The Virus

Frank staggering forward. He quickly recovered, pivoting to the right as his opponent advanced. The young prisoner continued aiming at the weak spot, but with Frank stood sideways; his right shoulder forward, he could not reach.
With a roar of frustration, the opponent targeted other parts of his body, giving Frank the opening he was looking for. As the prisoner aimed for his face, Frank caught his fist in an open hand. A brief look of surprise came over the younger man as Frank lunged forward, breaking his opponent’s nose with his forehead. The crowd cheered in delight as the prisoner staggered back.
“Yes! Knock his fucking teeth out!”
Razor’s voice was barely audible over the hollering crowd. Frank stepped forward and threw a powerful jab, keeping his injured arm out of reach. The young prisoner reeled back as blood pumped from his face. He stared wide-eyed as Frank came at him again, throwing punch after punch with his right hand. The younger man tried to block the attacks, but his efforts were futile. Jab after jab struck his mangled face. In an act of desperation, the teenager lurched forward and grabbed his opponent’s left arm. His effort was short-lived as Frank sent a knee into his midriff. The youth doubled over before a second knee crashed into his face with crushing force. The crowd roared in delight as the young man’s head snapped back. His legs buckled and he crumpled to the ground.
“Get up you piece of shit!”
The angry outburst came from Barry Henderson, who had pushed his way through the jeering spectators. The teenager didn’t respond. Henderson turned a dark shade of scarlet. Veins throbbed in his temples as he glared at Frank.
“Lee! You’ve had it!”
“Bite me.”
“Oh, I’ll do more than that.”
He lurched forward, thrusting a baton into Frank’s abdomen. He doubled over, coughing and wheezing as Gus Razor made his way into the circle.
“Take your frustrations out on someone else, Barry. It won’t get your money back.”
The guard turned on Razor, who folded his arms as his colossal bodyguard stepped beside him.
“Well, well, Gus, it seems we have a bit of a situation here,” Henderson said. “You must have, what? A century? Two centuries on you? You can’t walk around with that much product. You might get hurt!”
The smile slid off Razor’s face as the guard held out his hand.
“Why don’t you hand it over and we’ll keep it safe for you.”
“Put your hand away, Barry, or I’ll have Tony rip it off.”
“Well, I tried to play it peacefully.” Henderson shrugged his shoulders as he turned away. Frank watched as he unclipped a two-way radio. “C’mon then boys.”
A flurry of footsteps echoed off the high ceilings of the room as an army of officers entered. They all wore riot gear, some carried large, Perspex shields, and others held firearms. The walkway above them clanged under a flurry of footfalls. Frank looked up to see more officers pointing weapons at them. The guards already in attendance had drawn their batons. Razor looked back at the smug guard.
“You slimy cunt,” he said, as Henderson held out his hand again. “You’re a dead man. You know that, right?”
“Sure, Gus, whatever helps you sleep at night.”
He waited as Razor produced a large transparent bag containing a variety of individually sealed drugs.
“You’re a dead man.”
“We’re all dying, Sunshine.” Henderson winked as he pried the bag from the man’s chubby hand. “My, my, you have been a busy boy.”
He inspected the contents of the bag before stuffing it into his pocket. He looked past the seething gangland boss and down at Frank, who had propped himself up on one knee, still struggling to catch his breath. The mass of armed security began leading the protesting convicts back to their cells as Henderson approached him.
“Just think, Lee, all of this could have been avoided if you had just sat down like a good little dog.”
Henderson swung a boot into Frank’s face, knocking him sideways.
“Take this piece of shit to segregation.”
“What about the kid?”
A guard motioned towards the young prisoner who still lay motionless.
“Take him to the inpatient beds. If he wakes up, throw him in the seg. If not, bury him outside.”
Frank felt rough hands clasp him under the arms, hauling him to his feet. He watched as Gus Razor and Big Tony were forced out of the hall at gunpoint.
“Get that fucking pellet gun out of my face!” Gus turned on the guard who had motioned for him to move. “I’m going to get you, Henderson!”
Frank watched the men leave until more prisoners obstructed his line of sight. He looked at the guard who held his arm in a pincer-like grasp.
“Fancy loosening your grip?”
The officer responded by squeezing his arm tighter.
“Oh, you little bitch.”
Frank glanced from room to room as he was led down a corridor which housed the segregation cells. The majority were empty. He frowned at the guard.
“Am I not good enough for these cells?”
The man ignored him, leading him further down the corridor. Frank looked in at some more empty rooms, noting that each had the same layout.
“Does it matter which one I’m in? It’s just four walls and a shit-bucket. Put me in any.” They stopped at the end of the corridor. Frank glanced into the empty cell before looking back down the corridor.
“You made me walk all this way just to come in here?” He laughed as the guard shoved him into the room and slammed the thick metal door.
Frank turned to look at his new surroundings. The room was identical to all those he had passed. The thin mattress on the floor was the only luxury offered. Aside from the primitive toilet in the corner, the room was empty. He sat on the edge of the mattress,