Prison Blues

1 - The Riot

When the alarms sounded, Adam's heart sank. Prison riots were no joke. People died, be they guards, inmates, ancillary staff or even visitors. When things got bad, they got bad quick. Too many of the inmates had nothing left to lose and everything to gain by fighting. Too many of them were here for a damned good reason. And now something bad was going down.

Remembering his training, Adam sprinted for his assigned station. But he never made it. Later, when he thought over what had happened, he believed that the inmates were waiting for him. In the end, they'd caught him completely unprepared. Adam hadn't even seen the cracked door of the supply closet, never suspected that the men were hiding inside, watching through the crack as he ran blindly up. The next thing Adam had known, he was face down on the floor.

Adam's training had advised that, in the event of capture, he should cooperate with rioting inmates. By not resisting, by being compliant, he could show that he was not a threat. The theory was that this made it less likely he'd be hurt. But theory went out the window when Adam found himself pressed down against the floor, a knee in his back and hands clutching at his arms, twisting them behind his back. Fuck cooperation. Adam yelled, kicked, squirmed and thrashed. He twisted his arms and managed to get one free long enough to punch someone in the face. He had no idea how many inmates were on him. All he knew was that he was being pinned down. The inmates were trying to get both of his hands tied behind his back. If that happened, he'd have no way to defend himself. "Get off! Help!"

"Stop struggling, pretty boy!" a harsh voice warned.

Yeah, fuck that.

With a grimace and a grunt of effort, Adam somehow managed to throw the inmate on his back off. A few kicks and elbows thrown, and suddenly, for one moment, he was free. Adam scrambled to his hands and knees, tried to charge forward. But what felt like half a dozen bodies suddenly dove on top of him and he was pinned down once again. Frantic, Adam struggled, but he could barely move. Angry, cursing men knelt on or around him, holding him fast to the floor. "Get off of me!"

"Not a chance! Get this bitch tied up! I can't believe he's causing this much trouble."

"No, let go of me! Help!" Where were the other guards? What had happened? Adam couldn't stop the inmates from twisting his arms painfully back. Ropes lashed tightly around his wrists. He continued to fight and struggle and yell, raising his head to look desperately around for any sign of help. But all he saw were screaming, racing inmates. It looked like this level of the prison was overrun. And here, he recalled with a sinking heart, was where they housed the worst of the violent sex offenders. They called me "pretty boy." What are they going to do to me?

Adam's hands had been tightly tied behind his back. He was dragged to his feet and shoved forward. Adam tried to kick his captors, but that resulted only in his falling heavily to his knees and dragged until he could get his feet under him again. The second time that happened, Adam unhappily let himself be moved to wherever the inmates were taking him.

It wasn't far. The laundry sorting room was deserted when Adam and his captors came in. Adam was dragged to one of the sorting tables, turned, and pushed back against it until he was forced onto his back, the edge of the table jamming against his buttocks. And then hands were all over him, unbuttoning his uniform top and pulling up his undershirt, rubbing at his chest and abdomen. His belt and pants were undone, a hand shoving in to squeeze painfully at his genitals. Hands tangled in his hair, clutched at his throat to hold him down.

Adam struggled with all his strength. "No! Leave me alone!"

"Or what, pretty boy? You gonna tell your daddy the warden on us?"