By reason of insanity

39

The next day, as Cat finished her lunch at one of the bolted-down picnic tables, she heard an argument break out on the other side of the pod. Apparently a young Hispanic woman named Eva had accused a larger African-American woman of cheating at cards. They stood up and pushed each other a few times while the inmates gathered around, shielding the women from the guard station.

Cat stood to get a better look and watched in horror as the larger woman grabbed Eva and threw her against the bars of a cell, holding her upright while she banged Eva's head against the steel. Eva screamed in pain, her eyes going glassy, but somehow managed to grab a hunk of the other woman's hair and pull with all her might.

She released it when the African-American inmate brought an elbow smashing into Eva's face, causing blood to spurt from the smaller woman's nose. Cat, her sight blocked by the other inmates, couldn't see exactly what happened next, but she heard the fist of the larger woman slamming into bone. The sickening thud was audible even as the inmates cheered and the woman cursed at Eva.

Cat glanced at the guard station- Do something! She pushed her way into the inmates who had formed a semicircle around the combatants.

"Stop them!" Cat shouted, repulsed by the bloody face and limp body of the smaller woman. "She's killing her!"

When nobody moved, Cat stepped in to try to stop the beating. But somebody bear-hugged her from behind and pulled her away from the brawlers.

"It's not your fight," Tasha said, speaking into Cat's ear.

Over her shoulder, Cat saw the larger inmate scrape her fingernails across Eva's face, spit on her, and then toss her prey to the floor. By now, six deputies had entered the cell. "Break it up," one of them ordered, shoving a few of the gawking inmates out of the way. "Fun's over."

The deputies helped Eva to her feet and took the woman, barely conscious, to receive medical treatment. They handcuffed the other inmate, presumably to move her into isolation. Then another deputy appeared with a mop and bucket and pointed to Cat, the newest fish. "Mop up the blood, O'Rourke."

While Cat cleaned the blood, the other inmates went back to their card games and lunches, as if they had witnessed nothing more than a verbal spat between friends. Cat trembled at the brutality of what she had just witnessed, amazed at how long the deputies had let the fight proceed before they broke it up. Cat kept her head down and mopped every inch of the concrete floor where the women had been fighting.

When things returned to normal, Tasha pulled Cat aside and gave her some advice. "Trouble will find you soon enough," she said, her jaw barely moving. "Stay out of other people's business."

Cat wanted to protest. She knew Tasha and this other woman were part of a gang that included most of the African-American inmates, though they were closed-lipped about it. But everyone couldn't be in that gang. How could the others just stand around and watch a fellow human being get beaten to a pulp?

Cat already knew the answer.

This is jail, she reminded herself. Civilized societies had complex moral codes to restrain behavior. But in here, things were basic. Raw. People were treated like animals. And, like animals, they were governed by one overriding principle.

Survival of the fittest.