Dance of the Bones

The table was generally quiet that evening, but there was nothing out of the ordinary—-nothing that hinted something bad was coming. Jason was back from his smoking break and bending over to release the brake on the chair when all hell broke loose. The melee erupted in the middle of the room and soon spread to all corners. Inmates leaped to their feet while metal trays flew through the air and crashed to the floor. As sirens sounded and guards shouted warnings and orders, tables were overturned.

Knowing he was trapped in the corner with no way to escape, John watched as two men emerged from the fracas and started toward his table. With everyone else wildly throwing punches and contributing to the general mayhem, those two moved purposefully but almost in slow motion toward the corner. John’s initial assumption was that they were coming for the child molesters. It was only when he saw the shiv slice into Jason’s back that John Lassiter realized, too late, he was the real target.

He grabbed his tray and tried to use that as a shield, but the tray only managed to deflect the blow. The shiv plunged first into his side and then into his chest. His chair tipped over, spilling him out of it. He was lying on the floor on his side, looking up and waiting for the next blow, when Sam used his own tray to hammer the side of the attacker’s head. The little man’s swing was powerful enough to knock the offender unconscious. The shiv fell from the attacker’s hand. He toppled over and landed heavily on Jason’s too--still body.

Through the din and the milling feet around him, John caught sight of someone else on the floor. It was the young Indian kid—-the Tohono O’odham. There was a gaping hole in his neck. He was trying to breathe, but John knew it was no use. He was about to drown in his own blood.

He’s dead, John Lassiter thought as his brain finally registered the pain in his own body and the blood pouring onto his hand. And so am I, but at least I’m out of here.

Then his world went black.

CUTTING THROUGH THE TAPE WAS a long, difficult process. Several times Tim whimpered and jumped reflexively, telling Gabe that the knife had cut into his friend’s flesh rather than simply into the tape. But at last, with a satisfying snip, the tape gave way. A moment later, Tim used his newly freed hand to peel the tape from his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know he’d come after you. I didn’t think he’d come after any of us.”

Gabe’s muffled reply sent Tim’s fingers in search of the tape on Gabe’s face as well.

“Who?” Gabe asked when he, too, was able to speak.

Tim was already fumbling for the knife. “Henry Rojas,” he answered. “I saw him kill Carlos and Paul. I ran. I thought I’d be able to get away, but he caught me anyway. He said he’d shoot me if I didn’t tell him where the jar was. I thought he was kidding. Why would you shoot someone over a jar of peanut butter?”

“It’s peanut butter full of diamonds,” Gabe answered.

“Diamonds?” Tim asked. “Are you kidding?”

“No,” Gabe said, “diamonds for sure.”

The blade of the knife slipped. Gabe felt it slice into the side of his arm. A trickle of blood meandered away from the cut. He winced but managed to stifle the cry that rose in his throat. After all, hadn’t he just done the same thing to Tim’s arm?

“How did he get all three of you?”

“Carlos had already gone to town. He told Paul that he was going to talk to the big boss and ask her for more money. He said that he didn’t know where she lived but that someone was going to meet him and take him to her.”

“The big boss is a woman?” Gabe asked.

“I think so,” Tim answered. “I know Carlos was scared of her. He told us before he left that we should put the jar in a safe place. That’s when I brought it over to you even though I knew you were busy last night. I worried about what your parents would say, but then they weren’t home, either. So I left the bag on your porch and went home.

“Paul and I played video games for a while, waiting up for Carlos to come back. Finally I got tired and went to bed. I was sleeping when something poked me in the arm.”

“A needle?” Gabe asked, biting his lip when the tip of the blade bit into his arm again.

“It was a needle. How did you know?”