Read Friendly Fire for Free Online Page A

shower,” Taylor said in a light tone. “And then you get your new wardrobe.”
    â€œIt’ll prevent diaper rash,” added the cop in the window.
    Ethan felt his heart race. He wondered if color had drained from his face. He felt a rush of dizziness.
    Take your clothes off and be quick about it.
    I don’t want to.
    I don’t care. Don’t make me hurt you.
    That was before, he told himself. That was not now. The monster was not here. The monster was dead. He knew that because he’d witnessed the blood spray.
    â€œLook,” said the guy behind the cage. “There’s an easy way to do this, and there’s a hard way. You can shower and be clean, or you can shower and be bloody. Your choice.”
    Taylor seemed to sense something. He cocked his head. “You okay?”
    Ethan didn’t answer. He opened the three buttons at the top of his polo shirt, and pulled it over his head. He dangled it in the air, unsure what to do with it.
    The cop at the window tapped the top edge of the lower door. “Right here.”
    Ethan draped the shirt, and then kicked out of his shoes. Reeboks, the most expensive shoes he’d ever bought, purchased four months ago in celebration of his first real job. He picked those up and placed them on top of the shirt. They were still damp with his piss. He bent at the waist to pull up his pants legs and get at his socks.
    â€œYou can sit on the bench if you want,” Taylor said.
    Sit on the bed if you want. I can help you.
    Ethan sat. He took his time, pulling each sock down below his ankle bones before scooping them off his feet one at a time.
    â€œOh, for Christ’s sake, we don’t have all day,” Window-man said.
    Be quick about it.
    He unbuttoned his jeans. Unzipped them. Paused.
    â€œWe’re not going to hurt you, Ethan,” Taylor said.
    I’ll go easy. It won’t hurt. I promise.
    He lifted his butt from the chair and pulled his legs out of the holes. He folded the pants vertically at the seam, wet leg over dry leg, and then folded them again, and then again, creating a nearly perfect square.
    Those tight little underpants, too.
    â€œWhat?” His head shot to Taylor.
    â€œWhat what? I didn’t say anything. But we need to get on with this.”
    Ethan hadn’t worn tight underwear in eleven years. Not since that day. He stepped out of his soaked boxer shorts, folded them, and placed them on the bench atop the rest of his clothes. He felt tears pressing behind his eyes, and he saw that his hands were shaking.
    â€œOver here.” Window-man beckoned Ethan with two fingers.
    Naked now, Ethan carried his clothes to the deputy and placed them next to his shirt and his shoes.
    â€œTry not to gain or lose too much weight over the next twenty years,” the window cop said with a chuckle. “These are your go-home clothes, too. And holy crap are they gonna stink by then.”
    Ethan hated the man behind the bars. He was a shithead bully with a badge. An asshole who sensed weakness in others and preyed upon it. He was a predator.
    â€œThis way,” Taylor said. He beckoned for the next door. This one was wooden and needed no buzzer to pass through. On the other side, a row of three shower heads protruded from the wall, dripping water onto iron-stained once-green tiles. Taylor gestured to them with an open hand. “There’s soap in the dispensers on the wall. I advise you to be thorough. After this, once we transfer you to the Adult Detention Center, you’ll be limited to two showers a week.”
    Ethan hesitated, his hands covering himself. “Are you going to watch?”
    â€œ ’Fraid I have to. Believe me, there are other things I’d much rather be doing.”
    Ethan moved hesitantly, haltingly. With his hands still cupping his genitals, he stepped over the two-inch curb that marked the edge of the shower and shivered as his feet hit the ages-old accumulation of