Con Doctor

Con DoctorThey've come for you at last. Outside your cell door, gathered like a storm. Each man holds a pendant sock and in the sock is a steel combination lock that he has removed from the locker in his own cell. You feel them out there, every predatory one of them, and still they wait. They have found you. Finally, they crowd open the cell door and pour in, flailing at you like mad drummers on amphetamines, their cats' eyes glowing yellow in the dark, hammering at the recalcitrant bones of you...