Dog Blood

anywhere.
    What’s my little girl doing? Is she fighting? Is she already dead? Is she in another room in this building? Is she in the room next door? What if Mallon doesn’t come back? What if I’ve fucked up and blown my chance with him? What if he leaves me here to starve to death, strapped to a piss-soaked bed?
    What a fucking failure. All that noise and fighting and bullshit-four months of it-and I’ve let myself get beaten by an unfit, overweight Unchanged who looks like he couldn’t fight his way out of a paper bag. He can’t be the only one running this place. There were at least four out on the street when they got me, and none of them were as fat and out of shape as Mallon.
    Thinking about the street makes me think about the hospital and how I criticized Paul for running headfirst into a one-sided fight that I thought was a setup. At least he went out fighting. For all I know he might still be out there while I’m stuck here…
    I’m starting to get scared.
    The dripping noise is getting louder and faster.
    Thought I felt something moving on the bed.
    Thought I saw a flash of light.
    Am I hallucinating now?
    Am I going out of my fucking mind? Going crazy in the dark? Need to keep focused, so I try to remember Ellis’s face. But the harder I concentrate, the less I see. I’m scared I’ll forget what she looks like. The face I see now isn’t her, it’s a combination of the faces of the feral kids we found in the school this morning… or yesterday morning… or whenever the hell that was.
    Leg hurts.
    Just want to scratch that fucking itch.

20
    THE DOOR FLIES OPEN, and Mallon barges into the room. He’s carrying something with both hands and holding the light beneath it. The combination of searing light and dark shadows stops me from seeing anything. He doesn’t look at me, must be focused on whatever it is he’s going to do to me. He turns his back and puts something down on the chair; then he puts the lamp on the floor in the corner of the room.
    What’s that smell? Christ, it’s beautiful. Smells like hot food… some kind of soup, I think. But it can’t be, can it? Can you imagine a smell? Is this another trick my tired mind’s playing on me? Mallon turns around and moves closer. He’s left a tray on the chair. There’s a bowl on it with steam snaking up, and next to it is a plastic bottle full of water. My stomach starts to growl and churn.
    “You must be damn hungry,” he says, his deep voice filling the room. I stop myself answering with the words on the very tip of my tongue, remembering at the last second what he is and what his kind have done to people like me. “You look hungry. You must be starving.”
    He leans over me, and I instinctively strain against my chains to get to him. Maybe this time I’ll reach him…
    My arms and legs hurt too much, and I quickly drop back down. Bastard doesn’t even flinch. He knows I’m not going anywhere.
    “You smell of piss,” he says, laughing at me and shaking his head. “You’re in a bad way, big man! Lost, all alone, chained up, and soaked with piss!”
    I can’t help trying to lunge forward again, but the pain’s intense, and this time I hardly move. He looks me in the eye and raises his hand. I screw my eyes shut and tense up, ready for him to hit me-but the pain doesn’t come. I feel him tugging on the wide strap across my forehead. He loosens it slightly, then steps back. I still can’t lift my head up, but at least I’ve got some side-to-side movement now. The freedom is bliss.
    Mallon picks up the tray and sits down on the chair opposite. He sniffs the soup or stew or whatever it is, then takes a spoonful and holds it up to his lips. He stops just before he eats it.
    “You want some of this?”
    Fucker knows how much I want it. He’s playing games with me again, and I have to resist. I won’t give him the satisfaction of a response. Won’t lower myself to speak to him. I watch his every move as he blows steam away, then takes a mouthful. He closes his eyes and shakes his head with pleasure, deliberately overdoing it for effect.
    “Oh, that’s good… You know, Danny, it’s getting harder and harder to find food like this these days. I’m betting it’s been a long time since you’ve tasted anything as good as this soup.”
    He eats more. I want him to stop. Please don’t eat it all…
    “It’s chicken, you know. It’s out of a can, of course, but man, you can still taste the meat. I don’t even know if