Blood Brothers
by Chris Deal

"Listen, cocksucker, because I'm only going to ask you this once," Green said as he leaned down, eye level with me. "Why'd you kill my brother?" He grabbed my bearded jaw with one hand and pulled back his other into the threat of a fist.

"I never killed anyone.” He let go of my face and there was a moment of silence between us, a calm center like the eye of the storm raging outside of the cell. The moment broke when he brought his fist against my cheek, which bounced my head against the concrete wall.

I traveled among the stars, in and out of nebulas before following the tail of a comet back to my body.

The riot went down like this: lunchtime, the majority of the inmates, save those in solitary, were congregated in the cafeteria. They were packed in like cases of beer to the tables, segregated by race. They were much more quiet than usual. I'm walking between the lines and a screech cuts through the smooth day and when I turn, Green is standing behind me, a meal tray in his hands. It comes down and I'm out. Then I wake up and my hands are cuffed behind my back and Green stands above me, pushing the gun into my face. He started asking me, over and over, who killed Ali, while outside the cell I’d been dragged to, fire and chaos were law.

The cell's floor was cold against my face, or that might have been the blood.

"All you got to do is tell me why, motherfucker. Why? And all this is over."

"I didn't kill Ali, the Nazis did."

"Them? Those fools ain't shit. They just bald little pussies waiting around to get fucked and my boys are doing just that right now. Now, I know you did it, I fucking know it. Just tell me why."

"I didn't kill anyone.”

Green spat in my face, covering the denial.

My hands were bound behind my back with the handcuffs I carried on my belt; otherwise I would have wiped it all away. On the cot beside me was the rest of my gear: mace, radio, baton, and various keys. Green, who walked over to the open bars and looked out at his fellow prisoners, had my service pistol tucked in the back of his pants.

"You're just going to get these guys killed. The governor will send in SWAT before nightfall."

"No, you're going to kill them. This will all be over once you fucking tell me, no sooner. These people listen to me, like they listened to Ali. He was a god to them."

"He was a dealer, nothing more. What fucking good did he ever do? What good will this-" The shattering of a few ribs took my breath and stopped me from finishing my sentence. He had crossed the cell in a single stride and dug his foot in like he was kicking a fifty yard field goal, straight down the middle. I tried to curl into a ball against the next three kicks but the handcuffs dug into my wrists, keeping me from protecting myself.

"Don't you fucking say a thing about him, motherfucker. He did more good than a bitch like you ever did."

"He sold drugs, man. Destroyed lives. He wasn't even your brother, wasn't even your blood."

"We're all blood. We're all brothers. Don't you get that?"

"I didn't kill him."

There was an explosion, gunfire from the lower level, shouting, curses.
"Looks like they're earlier than you thought," Green joked.

Harsh smoke wafted in through the open cell door, burning my nostrils, choking. Green stood before the door with the gun held at his waist, silhouetted in the smoke by the flashlight beams coming down the block.

"Put the gun down." Green stood still, like a statue, in the face of the SWAT. "Put the god damn gun down." He lifted the piece, heavy, but before he could even begin to point it at the SWAT behind the flashlight, there was a dull concussion and Green fell back, and we’re face to face, his blood mixing with mine on the cement as I stared into the eyes of the second man I’ve killed, his eyes growing dull, always growing dull, still, everyday of my life staring into his eyes.