Doom Wind

A brutally frank expose of prison life! Clarence Hastings had been like every other brother willing to take a chance on the man coming down on him bad when he had sampled seventeen-year-old Judy Latimore's milky whiteness. But for him the black boy's dream became a nightmare when he was sentenced to three-to-five behind gray granite walls where three thousand inmates mostly black were confined in cells barely suitable for a dog run. The prison was an island to itself; a society with its own rules wherein money and muscle became the unwritten laws. It was a place where time got inside a man's soul and twisted and scarred it into something that made puny boys bend to the asshole bandits for the protection of brothers, and made black dudes bitter with hate and mean with frustration. In whitey's stinking jail Clarence was pitted against his own kind. A good grip on a homemade shank was better than day-to-day degradation when the hardened ones tried to play him cheap, and he was spurred on by the gnawing anger at the injustice that penetrated from the courtroom to the prison. That, and his unshakable promise that somebody was going to pay for what had gone down!