The Target [antikvár]

CHAPTER ' .'I - .v!h> I I '!- 'nIFour hundred men lived here, most for the rest of their time on earth.And then hell would get them for the rest of eternity.The walls were thick concrete and their interior sides were layered with repulsive graffiti that spared virtually nothing in its collective depravity. And each year more filth was grafted onto the walls like sludge building up in a sewer. The steel bars were nicked and scarred, but still impossible to break by human hands. There had been escapes from here, but none for more than thirty years once outside the walls there was no place to go. The people living on the outside around here weren't any friendlier than the ones on the inside.And they actually had more guns.The old man had another severe coughing fit and spit up blood, which was as much evidence of his terminal condition as any expert medical pronouncement. He knew he was dying; the only question was when. He had to hang on, though. He had somethingr.'.'ii'filii&V;';'!;iii I. '." ffyiiH-^'rI ,' i i , .I',;-'