What you're about to hear is based on actual events.

Listener discretion is advised.

It's somehow warmer and had in cell than the rest of the prison.

The stench of rot isn't as overpowering now as when John first had to start sharing the

space with the men.

He doesn't have to live there, thank God.

But he does have to be there.

And that's enough on its own.

The stink isn't had in, though it clings to him well enough.

But rather the lumps and strings of rotten food he's hidden all over his cell.

Lumps of what could be apple or cheese.

Strings of dried sausages or maybe grapes.

All of them covered in thick green or white or sometimes faintly purple fuzz.

Hadden pulls free a slice of toast, slicked with fungus-infested jelly, and tears it into

strips that he lays over his thigh.

John averts his eyes, looking out into the Genpop area, where a few cons are playing

chess at one of the permanent boards etched into the metal tables.

A few eyes he catches looking at him are full of quiet laughter.

So the military was pretty much over after that, which was fine for me because I hated being

there anyway.

Hadden says, continuing some thought John had barely heard.

Military guys are the worst sort of bullies you know.

...