Free The Scrubs by Simon Janus

his disapproval.
    Allard’s frivolity evaporated and he turned serious when the fight seemed to reach a stalemate.   “Okay, Leff, stop the foreplay and just fuck him.”
    Keeler may have been a fool for taking O’Keefe’s suicide mission, but he didn’t intend on going down without a fight.   He jerked his knee up into Lefford’s gut and planted his heel in the ground to keep the hog man impaled.   Lefford curled up in agony, giving Keeler the vital second and the extra inches he needed.   He reached out and grabbed his shank.   The hog-man squealed as he sensed the balance of power shifting and Allard stiffened.   Keeler dealt out a ferocious deluge of rabbit-punch-like stabs.   Each thrust found a path between Lefford’s ribs and towards the heart.   Occasionally, he struck bone, but each time, the spike glanced off to find flesh and penetration.   None of these stabs were lethal individually but the combined onslaught was.   Lefford’s strength waned, gushing out of his wounds with his blood.   His body sagged, crushing Keeler.   Keeler couldn’t afford to be trapped by the overwhelming weight of his fellow inmate.   Allard was snapping into action, jumping to his feet.   Keeler needed Lefford off of him and quick.   He plunged the spike into Lefford’s throat.   He ripped it out, tearing chunks of flesh with it.   A death rattle leaked out from the new wound.   Lefford toppled to one side and Keeler shoved the dead hog-man off him.  
    Allard jammed the machine gun’s butt into his shoulder to fire.   Keeler didn’t give him a chance and threw the spike.   The shank thudded into Allard’s chest, only a couple of inches to the left of his heart.   Only three inches of the wrought iron jutted from the inmate’s ribcage.   He staggered back still trying to take aim, but his legs gave out and he crumpled onto his back.   Allard’s wound was fatal, but here in Jeter’s world, who knew?   Nothing could be taken for granted.   Keeler hurled himself at the failing Allard, knocking the machine gun from his grasp and pinning him to the ground.   Allard’s snake eyes lunged at Keeler’s face, but he kept a careful distance.
    “Keeler, Keeler,” the boy screamed.
    “I’m okay, Davey.   I’m not hurt.”   Keeler turned his attention to Allard.   “Who’s going to die now, asshole?”
    “You think you’re free now, huh?” Allard croaked.   “You’re fucked.   You just don’t know it yet.”
    “We’ll see.”
    Allard stretched for the machine gun and snagged the strap with a couple of fingers.   Keeler placed one hand over the other and thrust down on the shank jutting from Allard’s chest until its entire length disappeared inside him.   Allard groaned and curled into a ball.   Keeler lost his balance and pitched forward.   He ended up lying cheek to cheek with Allard.   The snake-eyed man edged closer to him.   Keeler noticed death lurking in his golden eyes.   He expected Allard to speak in the moments before death claimed him, but instead, Allard pursed his lips as if to kiss Keeler.   Keeler didn’t shy away from the man who’d tried to kill him.   It was the least he could do after what had happened to him here in the Rift.   Allard leaned in close and, with his dying breath, he spat.   His spittle struck Keeler in the eyes.   Fire ignited across his face and he recoiled from Allard’s corpse.   At the sound of the Keeler’s screams, the boy joined in.  
    Keeler raked at his face to wipe the venom out of his eyes, but the spittle’s corrosive power seemed to have no end.   Tears poured down his face, but did little to dilute the effects of Allard’s spittle.   Keeler’s vision dissolved into hazy blobs.   He closed his eyes to shut out the pain, but within seconds he could see again.   His eyelids had melted away.   He touched his face for confirmation and found nothing to touch, but the mutilation didn’t end at his eyelids.   His