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  If he closed his eyes, Gunnar could often replay a video in his mind of his father getting into the Toyota and waving as he drove off with a big smile, making grimaces at Gunnar making him laugh like a small child, which he at that point didn't feel like he was anymore, not until about half an hour later.

  The sound of the tires screeching, his mother coming out, looking worried, concerned, almost panicking. Then the screaming, his mother running down the street, Gunnar running after her, yelling "What's wrong, Mom? What's wrong?"

  The sound of his own voice echoed still in Gunnar's head now when the guards yelled that the doors were closing and he was yet again locked up with his own solitude and now his new companion, the sadness.

  Gunnar threw himself on the bed and cried for the first time in many years. Cried for poor Torben who had bled to death, cried for his dad who had been killed in a stupid car accident where a drunk driver had blasted into the side of his car and killed him instantly on that nice spring morning in April. But most of all he cried for himself, for having to grow up without the dad he had idolized. He cried even more for having to live through his teenage years with a depressed mother who was unable to do the simplest things and whom he constantly tried to cheer up and be happy for even if his heart was crushed and he felt like he was broken on the inside, even if he felt like staying in bed crying all day too. A mother he constantly feared to find dead, feared that she would kill herself while he was in school, a mother who once told him that she wasn't sure he was enough to live for.

  Gunnar knew why he had gotten into trouble. He knew very well why he started fighting in school, getting himself thrown out, why he hooked up with the wrong crowd and started fighting and later was arrested for beating someone half to death. He knew why and he recognized the anger at the world for taking his dad and his family away. He just didn't know how to stop.

  Right before he fell asleep on this night he knew he didn't want to stop anymore. He wanted badly to hurt those guys and make them pay.

  14

  SO THE BOY HAD DIED. It was most unfortunate, yes, and not part of the man's plan. No, the plan was to save the boy from himself as well as the innocents on the outside that he might end up hurting. No one was supposed to die.

  But wasn't it so, that in all good deeds there were losses? Didn’t the famous World War I French Marshal Ferdinand Foch say that it takes fifteen thousand casualties to train a major general? The man thought it was. He was also the man who said that the most powerful weapon on earth was the human soul on fire. He was so right. The man knew that very well. He was on fire; his soul was on fire for this cause. Somehow this death would eventually turn out to not be in vain, it would eventually serve its purpose which was to teach these youngsters a lesson. This death would scare them and make them sorry for what they did. It might even end up scaring them from doing anything bad again. No it wasn't in vain at all. The boy had died with a purpose.

  The man nodded while pointing at the doors and counting. "Eenie, meenie, miny, moe ..."

  The man hadn't planned on acting again this soon, but it was with this as it was with so many other things in this world. If you were thrown of the horse you had to get back up.

  The finger ended on door number seven. Gunnar Thorkildsen. The man pulled down the ski mask remembering what he knew about this boy. A fighter. Arrested and convicted for beating a bouncer at a local club in Naestved half to death even if the guy was twice his size. Motive? Well the bouncer made racists remarks towards Gunnar's friend who was from Pakistan and refused to let him inside his club. Gunnar Thorkildsen attacked him and sent the bouncer to the hospital where he had to have twelve stitches. He had beaten him with his bare hands. The man was impressed. He closed his eyes for a second and braced himself for the fight. This was going to be a difficult one, but the man knew how to deal with those as well. There hadn't been any to this day that he couldn’t handle. This little midget wasn't an exception.

  The man found the key and opened the door, careful not to make too much noise. A boy like Gunnar needed to be taken by surprise.

  But as soon as the man entered, he realized that he was the one in for a surprise. Gunnar was waiting behind the door and swung his fist at the man and hit him so hard, he actually stumbled a step backwards.

  Startled he touched his jaw and felt the blood through the mask. He slammed the door shut behind him and while anger took the best of him, walked towards Gunnar with the stun gun in front of him.

  The gun crackled in his hand and he reached out and touched Gunnar with it, leaving his body to shiver, his eyes to grow wide in shock. But in his spasms, Gunnar's leg kicked the gun out of the man's hand and caused it to fly up into the air and land in the corner. Gunnar was fast, as fast as anyone the man had ever attacked. He sprang for the gun and grabbed it before the man could. Now Gunnar was holding it in his hand and turning it on. The blue light flickered before the man's eyes and suddenly he felt the grip of anxiety. Gunnar grinned as he walked closer and the man stumbled towards the door. But Gunnar was faster. He blocked the door and stood with the stun gun sizzling and sparkling in his hand looking like the devil himself. The man calmed himself down, knowing he was much stronger than the boy. He walked slowly towards him, chuckling, letting him know he knew he would never use it. But he was wrong. The man was so very wrong. Gunnar stuck the stun gun right into the man's throat and held it while gritting his teeth, showing the man that he enjoyed this, that he - just as the man expected, liked to hurt people. The man felt the shock waves go through his body and soon the muscle spasms took control. The man managed to grab the boy’s wrists and yank them so hard he heard the bones break. The boy screamed and dropped the stun gun to the floor, where the man picked it up. The boy was on the floor, crying in pain, staring at his hands that looked like they were backwards. His screaming was so loud; the man knew it would only be a matter of minutes before the guards heard him. Perplexed by the sudden turn of events, but yet still satisfied that he managed to somehow give the boy the punishment he so deserved, the man unlocked the door with his key, and then sneaked outside without making a sound. He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the door lock automatically behind him.

  The man was long gone before the screams finally forced the guards to leave their coffee and cake behind in the guardroom.

  15

  "I KNOW WHO IS behind the attacks."

  It was morning and Brian had just gotten his oatmeal and sat down, when Johnny came and sat next to him. Brian was happy to see that he was finally out. He had never himself gone to ISO, as they called the isolation cell, but he knew it was tough on most people.

  "Where are the others?" Johnny asked looking around as if he expected them to be sitting somewhere else or maybe still waiting in line for their food.

  "Torben is gone. Gunnar was attacked last night. Spent the night in the hospital. They broke his wrists, but otherwise, he's okay, rumors say."

  "What do you mean 'gone'?" Johnny asked.

  "Dead," Brian said swallowing hard to keep the tears of fear and anxiety in place.

  "Dead?"

  Brian nodded. He woke in the middle of the night and recognized the screams as Gunnar's and was relieved that he at least was able to scream, which meant he wasn't dead. Brian hadn't slept anymore that night and as soon as their doors were opened he found the guy he knew Gunnar usually got his information from, the guy who knew everything that went on in this place before everyone else, for the simple reason that he gave one of the guards a blowjob from time to time in exchange for information. In a place like this, information was king. So were cigarettes by the way, which he also got for his services and sold for a cheap price to the rest of them.

  He told Brian that Gunnar was in the hospital with two broken wrists. Brian paid him for his information while feeling relieved that it wasn't worse than that, but still furious that the guys from the East Wing once again had managed to hurt him.

  "Torben was killed in his cell the other night
. Bled to death."

  "Wow," Johnny said.

  "I know. We're planning his revenge, and now Gunnar's too for what they did to him."

  "You afraid you might be next?" Johnny said with his mouth full of cereal and milk.

  Brian sniffled, and then spat on the floor. "I'm ready for them if they dare coming near."

  "I don't think it's the East Wing guys, man," Johnny said and ate some more cereal.

  Brian looked at him. "What do you mean?"

  "I had a lot of time to think in ISO, and I don't think it's them."

  Brian scoffed. "Who else could it be?"

  "The warden, man. I tell you, he creeps me out."

  Brian laughed and shook his head. "You're insane," he said.

  "I don't think I am," Johnny said. "There was something he said. When I was in his office and he decided to keep me in ISO for a few more days just for the fun of it, just to teach me a lesson."

  "And what was that?"

  "He talked about the Muslim countries. How they punished their criminals and then he said that they had a way here to make people understand, to make them never do wrong things again. He asked me if I knew how they punished criminals in the Muslim countries and then said something about us understanding each other."

  "I don't understand," Brian said feeling confused.

  Johnny looked behind his back and then to the sides to make sure no one was listening in, and then he leaned over to Brian and spoke with a low voice:

  "I think he likes to punish the inmates by doing it the 'Muslim way' if you understand."

  "Like cutting off the hands if they steal?"

  "And put acid in their eyes if they lust after women like Jon, and castrate them if they rape like Ali."

  "And cut off someone's fingers if they steal like Torben," Brian continued. "And break their wrists if they fight like Gunnar."

  Johnny shrugged. "You get the picture."

  Brian sat back in the chair feeling like the entire room was spinning. Could it be? Was the warden really that sick? All he knew was that the warden used to be a professional boxer and that he was a sadistic bastard who liked to see them suffer and put them in ISO even for minor things. Yes, he was probably sick enough, Brian concluded.

  "What do we do?" Brian said, feeling sick to his stomach. If this was true, then none of them were safe in their cells at night.

  "We reveal him," Johnny said.

  "Nobody will ever believe us, if we try and tell," Brian said.

  "Then we tell him we'll keep his secret if he leaves us alone."

  16

  GUNNAR CAME BACK LATER that afternoon with a cast on each hand. Johnny told him about their theory and was happy when Gunnar confirmed that there had been only one attacker in his cell last night and that he seemed to be working alone. He could also confirm that the attacker had in fact grey eyes - like steel, and not brown eyes like the boys from the East Wing all had. Johnny was sure of his theory and determined to save himself from being the next victim.

  "So exactly how are we supposed to reveal the warden?" Brian said when they were sitting in the courtyard at the bench, smoking cigarettes.

  "I might know something," Gunnar said and nodded towards Brian who lifted the cigarette and helped Gunnar smoke. He inhaled and Brian withdrew the cigarette and smoked it himself. Gunnar blew out the smoke and the wind carried it across the courtyard through the air.

  "Like what?" Johnny asked.

  "Well, the thing is, I hurt him. I managed to get the stun gun from him and put it to his throat. It paralyzed him for a few seconds but not enough apparently. I thought about it in the hospital while they put the casts on my hands." Gunnar nodded towards Brian again and the cigarette was placed between his lips.

  "I didn't know this, but a stun gun actually leaves a mark," he continued. He looked at Brian. "Lift up my shirt," he said.

  Brian grabbed his t-shirt on the side and lifted it. Gunnar was badly bruised, but between the purple marks was another one, one that looked completely different. It was a bunch of small holes with a red ring around them.

  "The ring and the small holes. That's from the stun gun. A nurse told me that."

  "So what you're saying is we need to look for a mark like that on the warden's throat?" Johnny said and killed the cigarette under his sneakers.

  "If it left a mark like this on me, it must have left at least something like it on him as well."

  Brian agreed to be the one to do it. Gunnar said he would have volunteered as well, but with both hands in a cast he felt kind of handicapped. After four days in ISO Johnny was afraid to go back. Brian said he didn't mind, he could take it if it came to that.

  It wasn't often they saw the warden, but every day at four o'clock, just before he went home to his wife and kids, he would stroll through the hallways to make sure everything was in place, always flanked by at least two prison guards who would act even more viciously towards the inmates than usual, just to show off to the warden. Often they would yell at them and tell them to behave, even sometimes pick someone innocent and beat him with their truncheons if they felt like it. Normally they hid from this parade, but not today. Today they were planning on being first in line as the warden walked by. This afternoon, Johnny, Brian and Gunnar were going to be taking an extra careful look at the warden's neck.

  They all stood outside Brian's cell when the clock struck four and the warden began his stroll. The guards were already talking loudly and yelling at the inmates, telling them to watch out, to go back to their cells and not stand around doing nothing. Most of the inmates crept back inside and sat on their beds while the warden passed, strolled like a king in his parade, Brian thought to himself. Like the naked Emperor who thought everyone was admiring his new clothes.

  The comparison made Brian chuckle as the warden came closer. The warden suddenly looked at him. Their eyes locked for a second and Brian was certain he detected just the right amount of viciousness he would expect from this person who had been hurting his friends. Brian stopped laughing as their eyes locked. He felt a chill of anger and breathed heavily to calm himself down, to restrain himself from throwing himself at the warden and killing him with his bare hands. He thought of Torben for a second and clenched his fists hard. The warden walked while staring into Brian's eyes. At that moment Brian was certain the warden could feel his hatred towards him. At least he must have detected something in him, or else he wouldn't have approached him instead of just passing by.

  Brian stared wildly at the warden's throat as he came closer. He was wearing a turtleneck, probably to cover up the bruises, Brian thought and kept staring at it. Brian bit his lip to keep from saying something.

  Not yet. Not just yet. Let him come a little closer.

  The warden walked even closer, now with a smirk on his face, making it even harder on Brian to restrain himself.

  "And what do we have here?" the warden said. He walked up to Brian and patted him on the cheek. "Such a pretty boy," he added. "Such a shame it will go to waste in here." The warden held on to Brian's chin and then squeezed it hard like he was angry about something. His nostrils were moving heavily, like he was excited. Brian felt a wave of disgust run through his body. The warden let go of his chin and then started laughing like a mad man, turning his head to look at the guards. As he did, Brian reached up and pulled down the turtleneck.

  Brian stepped backwards startled as the warden turned and grabbed his hand and held on to it tight, speaking through gritted teeth.

  "Careful what you do, boy."

  Brian stared frantically at the bared neck. There was nothing there. There was no mark!

  Brian shook his head and felt the desperation arise on the inside. The warden was hurting his wrist. "It has to be you," Brian whispered. "I just know it is you." Not knowing what else to do, Brian clenched his fist and slammed it into the warden's face, wanting to hurt him, wanting to get the revenge he had longed for so long. But Brian couldn't stop. He kept hitting the warden till he fell bac
kwards. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the guards spring towards them in slow-motion, but before they could grab him, he managed to throw in a couple of more punches and a kick.

  Then he felt a pain in the back of his head and everything went black.

  17

  "FORGIVE ME FATHER, for I have sinned."

  Johnny chose his words carefully, imitating what he had seen in movies which were the only place he had ever seen a confessional before. Actually Johnny had never been to church before in his entire life so this was all very new. But today he felt like he needed it somehow. He needed to talk to someone.

  The priest behind the curtain was quiet for a second, and Johnny wondered if he had done it wrong somehow. Then he spoke.

  "How can I help you, son?"

  "I don't really know how to do this, but I thought I'd give it a try. So what do I do?" Johnny asked.

  "There is no right or wrong way, child. You are new here?"

  "Yes."

  "Is it your first time in prison?"

  Johnny bit his lip. He considered lying, but then thought it kind of messed up the entire point of it all. He was here to be honest, to tell the truth to someone who would have to keep his mouth shut about it.

  "No. It's my third. But this time I didn't do it."

  The priest went quiet for a second.

  "I guess you hear that a lot," Johnny said.

  "Well, yes," the priest answered. "But we are not here to talk about others. We are here to talk about you. What did you have on your mind child?"

  Johnny drew in a deep breath. This was an unusual situation for him and he suddenly wasn't sure he was ready for it yet. He wasn't quite sure if he could trust this priest to not pass on everything he said. "This is confidential, right?"

  "Yes. I'm not allowed to tell anyone what you tell me."

  "Okay. That's good."