David Baldacci - The Last Mile

There came an audible crack as the spine was pushed past all point of return. And it was over, just like that.

Bleeding from the mouth, an unconscious Dee crumbled where he stood, the shiv dropping from his hand.

Linebacker down.

Mars pointed to the blade as it hit the floor. “Hey, man got a blade,” he said to the closest guard. “Y’all be careful now. Somebody might get hurt.”

He saw in his periphery what he expected to see.

Dum was hesitating now after the quick slaughter of his larger twin, but then how could he not follow through with all the dudes and especially Big Dick watching?

Man had to go. No choice. Else he’d get a shiv in his gut later. Just how it was.

America didn’t have prisons. It had chaos pens where men were transported back seventeen centuries. Where the strong survived until it met something even stronger, and where the weak died every time.

Dum screamed and ran at Mars at the top of his speed.

It was almost too easy, really. Dum was all muscled up and yet slow as gravy. Big in the arms, light in the quads. And the man was about to pay a steep penalty for that imbalance.

Mars again bent low, pivoted, blocked Dum’s arm where his shiv was held, got his shoulder under Dum’s belly, and exploded upward. It was the same move that had launched three-hundred-pound defensive linemen off their feet.

The two-hundred-and-fifty-pound Dum went airborne, soaring over Mars. The crowd parted and Dum landed hard on the concrete and slid across its smooth surface headfirst into a cinderblock wall with shattering velocity.

There was a crunch of bone as his spine compressed and he lost about an inch of height. He didn’t move again. He’d just been in a car accident without benefit of a vehicle. Blood seeped from his mouth. His shiv had fallen from his hand and clattered to the floor.

Dee and Dum out for the count.

Blood from their wounds pooled on the filthy floor. Their last lines in the sand.

Adios to the Texas correctional system.

Actually, Mars didn’t know if they were dead. And he really didn’t care. Quads for life might be better justice.

He looked up at Big Dick and called out, “That man got him a shiv too, sir. Lotta that goin’ round. Best tell the warden.”

That’s when the guards pounced, beating Mars with their batons until he went down.

Smiling all the way.

Who the hell are you?”

Melvin Mars had just awoken and was looking up from his hospital bed.

Amos Decker stared down at him. “You may be the luckiest guy in the world, Mr. Mars.”

“You trying to be funny?”

Mars tried to sit up, but his wrist was handcuffed to the bed railing and it was a struggle because every part of him was hurting. His face looked like a balloon from all the swelling.

Decker dipped his big hand under Mars’s waist and hoisted him to a sitting position against the pillow. He pulled up a chair and sat down.

Mars studied him. “Do I know you?”

“Not unless you remember a linebacker at Ohio State that you humiliated about twenty-two years ago.”

Mars squinted and looked Decker up and down. “I humiliated a lot of people on the field. You pretty big for a backer. You put on some weight?”

“About a hundred pounds. You, on the other hand, look exactly the same.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m with the FBI.”

“You an agent?”

“No, I just work with them.”

“Didn’t know that was a thing.”

“It’s not really.”

“Why are you here?” asked Mars.

“Because of your case. The recent development.”

“Why is the FBI interested?”

“They are because I am,” said Decker.

“Which gets back to my first damn question. Who are you?”

Decker held up his ID badge. “Amos Decker.”

“Why did you say I was lucky? ’Cause I don’t feel lucky.”

“Three reasons: Because someone came forward and confessed to the murders you were convicted of, you might be released. And despite the beating you took, you have no broken bones and no permanent injuries. The docs said your concussion was relatively mild, which means your head is very hard.”

“And the third reason?”

“Two of the guards ratted out their colleague about the ambush back at the prison. So you will not be held legally accountable for what happened.”

“What did happen?”

“One man dead, another man paralyzed.”

“And the colleague, Big Dick?”

“Is right now being processed and jailed by Texas authorities.”

Mars smiled and then laughed out loud, his split lip starting to bleed. “Damn, man. Big Dick on the other side of the bars? It’s a miracle.”

“Forget about Big Dick. You need to focus on you.”

Mars settled his gaze on Decker. “Did we really play college ball against each other?”

“You remember when your Longhorns beat my Buckeyes by five touchdowns? In Columbus?”

Mars smiled again. “Man, were you the one asked me how I did what I did?”

Decker nodded. “That was after your third touchdown.”

Mars shook his head. “What can I say? Worked my ass off, but a lot of it was God-given.”

“God wasn’t as generous with me.”

Mars looked around. “Where am I?”

“After we heard what happened, we had you transferred to a hospital near your old home.”

“When did you get here?”

“We landed about six hours ago.”

“You keep saying ‘we.’”

“I came with a team.”

“A team of FBI agents is interested in my case? Why? Just ’cause some dude confessed? Is it that unique?”

“Unique enough. But it also had some parallels to another case.”

“What case was that?”

Decker said, “One to do with my family. You don’t have to know the details, only that the similarities are striking.”

“So that’s why you’re here?”

Decker studied him. He was good at sizing people up, but Mars was proving a tough one to crack.

“Tell me about your parents.”

“Where’s the rest of your team?”

“You don’t believe what I’m telling you?”

“I don’t believe nobody ’bout nothing.”

“Believe him, Melvin,” said a voice.

Mars looked toward the doorway where his attorney, Mary Oliver, stood. She walked over to the bed and took his free hand as he sat up more.

“Thank God you’re all right,” she said, her eyes moist with tears.

“I’m good, Mary. You know this dude?” Mars asked, indicating Decker.

“I just finished speaking with Special Agent Bogart,” she said. “Mr. Decker is the real deal, Melvin.”

Decker added, “We’re here to try to figure out the truth.”

Mars sat back against the pillow. “The truth? After all this time? I wish you luck.”

“Luck may set you free,” noted Decker.

“Do I have to go back to that prison?” asked Mars.

Decker shook his head. “After what happened, we’re moving you to another place.”

“Where?”

“Federal custody.”

“What does that mean?”

“That means we’re accepting responsibility for you. You’ll have two Feds standing guard over you while you rehab here. After that, you’re in our custody until the outcome of your case is determined.”

“And the state of Texas is okay with that?”

“The state of Texas has its own problems,” said Oliver. “Namely, you can sue them for what happened to you.”

“Are you serious?”

“A conspiracy headed up by one of their guards nearly resulted in your murder. And then they almost beat you to death. So you have a plausible civil claim against them. And a criminal one against the guard and anyone else from the prison involved.”