Tony blinked at the slot in surprise, not having expected it to open so soon following breakfast. Without waiting for the order he got off his bed and pushed his hands through, pulling them back when they were cuffed, and moved to face the back wall. His door was opened and six guards entered, leading him outside. He was led downstairs and straight through the block, outdoors past A-Seg and round B Block. He was led through the administration building where a bored clerk crossed his name off a list. A guard gave him a push to get moving, and he was led outdoors again, into the entrance courtyard.

Tony gazed around, sobered. A bus stood in the centre of the yard, surrounded by armed guards. Two prisoners awaited their turn to board, shacked as he was. He failed to recognize either of them. A couple of guards moved the first one inside, and a minute passed before the second was summoned. Tony was moved further along the queue, turning to gaze behind him as a couple of prisoners were added to the line. His features softened before he could help himself, and Sanchez gave him a brief grin before a guard poked him sharply in the ribs.

'Get moving, prisoner.' Tony followed him up the stairs of the bus and was moved to the first row. 'Sit!' ordered a guard inside the bus, shackling his legs to two bolts on the ground, his arms to the two arm rests and placing a chain round his waist, securing that into the side of the chair. 'Prisoner secure,' called the guard and another moved to the door of the bus. 'Next'.

Tony watched as Sanchez was led inside, delighted to have him pushed into the seat beside him. They remained silent while Sanchez was secured, turning to face each other as the guard fetched his next prisoner.

'So, amigo, we're going on a journey,' Sanchez said, with a sigh. 'I haven't been anywhere for the past eight years,' he admitted softly.

Tony shuddered, unable to imagine remaining anywhere for that length of time. He found himself unable to formulate a single reply.

'I only have another year left,' Sanchez continued. 'I kinda thought I'd spend it with the rest of the guys, over here.'

'I'm real sorry,' Tony began, but Sanchez shook his head.

'Amigo, it was nothing to do with you. They were real pissed off; they wanted to grab someone else too.'

'At least you'll get to see them next year,' Tony said softly. 'Where did you guys all live, anyway?'

'LA, same as you,' Sanchez told him, amused. 'This move gonna bother your visits with your family, amigo?' he questioned astutely.

Tony nodded. 'Si.'

'They do it all the time in Federal Prisons, amigo, even if you didn't do much. The moment you get visitors showing up regularly, and lots of mail, they transfer you. They don't even need a reason to do so – lack of room is quite sufficient. I wander where we're going.'

Tony shook his head, having no idea. He rested his head against the glass window, sighing quietly. 'It's bullet proof.'

Sanchez nodded without comment. They watched four black men led to the back of the bus, followed by six white thugs seated directly opposite them in the front. 'It's gonna be an interesting journey,' Sanchez predicted to a mystified Tony. 'Look, amigo, these here are the Aryan Brotherhood, and those there are the Black Panthers!'

'I take it they don't get on?' Tony asked unnecessarily, eyeing them warily.

Sanchez laughed aloud. 'Amigo, you've been living in your own 'dream' world. They'll kill each other given half a chance. Oh shit, look what else we got.'

Tony saw two Spanish looking prisoners seated directly behind the Aryan Brothers. He shrugged. 'What's wrong with them?'

'They're the Mexican mafia, amigo. Southern Mexican. You don't want them to notice you. Don't look at them.'

Tony gazed out of his window. 'Fine with me,' he agreed. 'Look, some bikers are coming.' They watched two of Dogface's group being led onto the bus; he recognized one of them from the fight. They were shackled directly behind them. Tony glanced around rapidly. 'Seems we're full up. There's only a few more seats for the guards.'

'Here comes the driver,' announced Sanchez as the last six guards climbed aboard, and a driver settled in a bullet proof cage at the wheel. 'Now for the speech.'

Tony groaned quietly as the warden climbed on, calling for silence. Everyone stopped talking and stared at him. 'Convicts, you are being moved to another facility – the majority of you troublemakers could use time away from your mates. I'm gonna miss each and every one of you personally, especially you, Almeida,' he snapped, noticing Tony had turned to gaze out of the window. 'You're gonna be real welcome in the new penitentiary, real welcome. Now let me warn you, this bus won't be stopping till you arrive, so don't imagine you're getting any toilet breaks! The slightest disturbance will result in your confinement in the SHU upon arrival. That's all, have a safe trip.' He gazed at them disdainfully and left the bus.

'Bye' Tony muttered, wishing he had the use of his hands to wave. Sanchez gave a snort, shaking his head.

'Amigo,' he said, as the engines started up, 'a word of advice. You're not that new to prison anymore. You've seen you can't win against them. Just keep quiet and go with the flow. We're not exactly going to a holiday camp!'

Tony nodded in silence, watching the gates open up for the bus. He stared at the car park he had been discovered in, stared at the highway, watched them turning onto it, heading east. He wandered about their destination, unaware of any prisons in the east of the state. Chewing his lip he watched the farms along the highway, staring at horses and cows, tractors and occasionally people. Every turn of the wheel carried him further from his home, from Michelle and his parents. He wandered when they would even be notified of his destination.

Mom and papa are gonna cry again. You're not bringing them much joy, Almeida!

The bus raced along the highway, following its original heading. A niggling thought entered his head, growing as they progressed. We're leaving California!

'Where the hell's lunch?' demanded an Aryan Brother, supported immediately by his entire group.

'Alright, you scum, listen up, listen real hard, coz I'm only saying this once,' called a prison officer. 'You can't eat with hands chained…'

'Too bloody right,' snapped the persistent prisoner.

'So you're not being fed till we arrive.' A howl of protest erupted through the bus. 'I hear another sound I'll start taking names and there won't be dinner either.' He gave them all a meaningful look and settled back down. Tony gazed out of the window disinterestedly, noting the increasing dryness of his surroundings. Sometime during the afternoon they crossed into Nevada. He watched an entire sunset, enjoying the fiery red of the sky.

It was dark when they arrived, and a lot of prisoners had fallen asleep. Tony was half asleep too when he felt the bus leave the highway and turn onto a secondary road full of potholes. They followed it for several minutes before he glimpsed a bright light in the distance, focusing on it as it gradually took shape. A huge compound lay in front of them, surrounded by high walls and towers. Instinctively his hands moved to rub his face, pulled up short as they were held forcibly in place by the cuffs. The gates were opened and the bus moved inside slowly. He turned his head back to catch a final glimpse of the outside before the gate slammed shut.

Armed guards and dogs met them as they were led off the bus and stood in a queue. The dogs strained at their leashes and barked furiously at the exhausted prisoners. 'God I'm cramped,' Sanchez muttered. 'And I need to go…'

'Silence!' bellowed a block administrator, glaring at them. 'Move inside the block and strip! I find any contraband, that person gets the hole. Go now!' They stumbled inside, undressing the moment their chains were removed. A search was conducted individually, video taped by a guard. Tony's face burned as he was examined; using all his self control to cooperate.

'He's clean.'

'Alright, convict, into the shower,' snapped another guard and he entered the large bathroom in relief. He stood under the cold water attempting to relax, fighting down his desire to grab the video camera and haul it against the nearest wall together with the producer. Sanchez gave him a warning look as though reading his thoughts. He pressed a small piece of soap to Tony. He washed rapidly, not wishing to be ordered out soapy, aware his skin would itch all week if it happened.

'That's enough,' bellowed another guard. 'You're clean now! Out of the shower and dry yourselves off, and get your clothes.' They shared a handful of worn towels between them and stepped out of the bathroom naked. 'Over to that counter,' yelled a guard and they moved to stand in a queue while a junior prison clerk handed them various sized orange jumpsuits. Tony gazed at his pile disbelievingly.

It's orange! I don't wear orange, not any kind of it, let alone such a fluorescent hue! Even Michelle wouldn't wear this. What the hell happened to the blue denims and blue shirt? He felt a warning hand on his arm and turned to scowl at Sanchez. I know, my friend, you're telling me to put them on and keep my mouth shut. I will, I will, just let me get over my dismay.

They dressed silently, staring at the jumpsuits. Tony pulled on a white t-shirt and socks before pulling the suit onto his legs, slipping his arms inside and reluctantly buttoning up the front. Oh God, Michelle's gonna see me in this! He chewed his lip vigorously, imagining her amusement.

Sanchez almost smiled when he stared at Tony, who gazed disinterestedly at the ground. 'Amigo, orange suits you! Relax, look at the others.'

Tony looked up slowly, running his eyes over the group, noting how ridiculous they all appeared. Feeling slightly better he moved closer to his friend.

'Alright, convicts, listen up. The warden decided you're gonna be fed,' began the same officer. 'You're gonna take your tray to a table and settle down and eat EVERYTHING before you. I hear any bullshit, you got the hole. Move!'

Tony followed the others into a communal dining hall with white tables and bright orange chairs. A counter stood at one end and they lined up silently, grabbing a tray and carrying it to a table. Sanchez settled at a table towards the back and Tony placed his tray down opposite him, sighing quietly. 'Guess I'm a bit hungry,' he admitted.

'Me too,' Sanchez told him, swallowing a first mouthful. 'Yuck, some green shit.'

Tony examined his plate in amusement. 'It's cauliflower.'

'Whatever,' Sanchez said, groaning aloud. 'Look at this, mostly that green shit and a few bits of potato and some lamb.'

'Cauliflower is healthy,' Tony told him, cutting his up and eating it with his lamb. 'It contains lots of folic acid, as well as vitamin…'

'Spare me, amigo. You sound like my mom! Take mine, would you, I swear I haven't touched it.' He pushed his over to Tony's plate, nodding firmly as Tony asked whether he was sure. Somewhat guiltily Tony handed him two small pieces of potato and they ate hungrily. To his surprise he found his plastic cup contained milk rather than water. As soon as they were finished the door opened, admitting a handful of extra guards and a man in a warden's uniform.

'Welcome to Thorndale,' began the man. 'I'm Warden Jeffries, and I'm a fair man. You piss me off, you get the hole. You choose to behave; you can participate in a number of educational programs and get a radio. Thorndale is a little different from your pervious prison, we eat in a communal dining hall and you get to use the yard for two hours a day, before lunch. We're real crowded right now; you'll have to double bunk. Find someone to partner you and give your names to Mr. Abbot.' He turned and left.

'What does he mean, "double bunk",' Tony inquired. Sanchez sighed.

'It means there's too many cons for the cells, amigo. We get to share with someone.' He gazed at his empty plate.

Tony scratched his face vigorously. He had hated being imprisoned alone in a small cell, but at least he had been able to pace whenever he felt the need to do so. The thought of another person staring at him every waking moment was almost more than he could bear. He watched the other prisoners walk over to the warden's assistant, the Panthers together, the two Mexicans together, and the group of Aryan brothers together, the last group arguing among themselves as they had an odd number. 'I'm not going with no nigger nor spic,' one of them cried indignantly.

'Amigo, it's either him or me,' Sanchez said quietly. 'I'm sorry.'

Tony shook his head. 'You, of course, I won't have that nutcase near my stuff.' Sighing heavily he made his way over to the administrator, giving him their names.

'Alright, Almeida and Sanchez, you got D Block,' the man told them. He called a guard. 'Douglas, take these two and that lot,' he nodded at the Aryan Brothers and the Mexicans, 'to D Block.' They were placed in handcuffs and had their feet shackled and were led away by ten guards, out of the block and through a wide courtyard. Tony gazed at the illuminated walls, noting the reflection of the spotlights on the barbed wire, struggling with despair. He took the small half steps the shackles permitted him to take, gazing at the two guards on either side of him, one holding a stun baton to his chest. A two storey building loomed ahead of them, D BLOCK written in large letters on its front. They moved to the door and a guard opened it, escorting them through the double steel entrance.

Pale green tiles lined the floor, which was surrounded by cells on three sides. The ablution room lay on the fourth side, on top of which was the supervisor's office and guards' room. The Aryan brothers were led upstairs, and Tony and Sanchez were ordered to follow them. They were led to the second tier and halted while two Aryan brothers were locked inside a cell. The neighboring cell was unlocked and a guard turned to them. 'You two spics, inside.'

Tony's fists clenched as he followed Sanchez into the cell, a typical eight by ten room. Lime tiles lined the floor, the walls were grey painted brick, and a bunk bed lay along a wall. Opposite it lay the regulation basin and toilet, and a table was bolted into the ground in front of them, with two chairs. Two shelves lay along the wall near the bunk, one for each level. Rubbing his face he moved to the corner and sank down, burying his head in his hands.

He heard a chair scraped along the floor and Sanchez sat down, wordless.

'Hey, you two spics! Undress and pick a bunk and lie down by the time I count to ten, or the pair of you got the hole! One, two…'

Tony leapt to his feet before Sanchez, throwing off his jumpsuit and gazing at the bunk. 'Amigo, you take the top this week,' Sanchez said, settling rapidly on the bottom. Tony scrambled onto the top bed, pulling his sheet and blanket over himself, managing to stick his arms out as the guard reached 'ten'. 'Alright, that's better. I see either of you out of bed before the wake up siren, you got the hole. There won't be any warning. I hear either of you talking, you got the hole. I see either of you sit up, you got the hole. Got the picture?'

'Yes sir,' they echoed, and the guard left.

'God I hate these young kids,' Tony whispered. 'They don't seem to understand they can tell you nicely too. Where are the old guards?'

'They usually quit long before,' Sanchez answered softly. 'Buenas noches, amigo.'

'Buenas noches,' Tony replied, turning to face the wall. He gazed at his empty shelf, wandering when his things would be transferred. He missed his letters, longing to hold them in his arms as he fell asleep. Carefully he pulled Michelle's picture from his vest, kissing it. 'Goodnight, sweetheart,' he whispered so softly Sanchez barely heard him, placing the photo under the blanket. He pressed his eyes shut, longing for sleep.

It eluded him completely. Within minutes his weariness vanished, and he tossed and turned, hearing Sanchez snore. He longed to pace the cell, but didn't dare, examining the bed instead. It appeared to be made of cast iron, with a foam mattress thrown over the top. His fingers felt along the edge of the mattress, finding a ring at the edge of the bed. Puzzled he rolled onto his stomach, pushing the mattress a little further down. An iron ring was welded onto the top left hand side of the bed. Frowning thoughtfully he examined the right hand side, noticing an identical ring. Once the guard patrolled the tier he sat up rapidly, crawling to the foot of his bed, discovering two more rings. He lay down hurriedly, pulling the blanket over himself.

Oh God, I know what they're for. A prisoner can be lain down and shackled to the bed, arms and legs stretched out. He shut his eyes, praying he would never experience it firsthand.