You have to do something about Boo Boo.

What am I supposed to do?

Move him to the infirmary before he infects everybody on the block.

He’ll ride it out.

Maybe none of us will.

Return to your cell.

He’s spitting up blood.

You sucker-punch him?

C’mon, man, he’s dying.

Prison is not a hospital.

So get him to one.

He’s a lifer like you.

Lifers got no rights to medical care?

The way I see it, your cellmate’s already quarantined in isolation. Just like the doctor ordered.

Boo Boo deserves help.

This is a penitentiary. You’re doing life without parole. You’re supposed to die in here.  I got no mask. I got no hand sanitizer. You and your homies expect kid glove treatment before me? Now get in your cell.

Boo Boo, can you hear me?

Help me, Roland.

Stop coughing.

I’m going to die.

You’ll be OK.

I can’t breathe.

Sit up.

I’m hurting.

You want water? Guard! C’mon, Boo Boo, don’t cry. Guard!

Keep it down, OK? You want to start a riot?

Do something.

I am doing something. I’m keeping you animals locked up so law-abiding taxpayers can sleep at night.

Boo Boo needs a doctor.

You crack me up. Boo Boo? Like on the cartoons with Yogi Bear? I’ve seen worse. Maybe he’s faking.

The man is sick. Look at him.

I keep my social distance from everybody except close family. You two are like man and wife, though, right?

Roland hit Sgt. Miller with a tight left hook on the right lower jaw. The guard stumbled backwards into the metal railing before Roland hit him again, this time with a straight right hand flush on the face. Roland grabbed Miller with both hands around his throat.

How many of us have been diagnosed? How many of you? Why aren’t we being tested? Why aren’t we getting treated?

Guards rushed up the steps from both ends of the tier.

Back off! Let him go!

Get away from me. I’ll drive this shiv through his throat. I will kill him.