Dog Blood

Tillotsen, but no sign of Ellis.
    I get up and turn around. Julia is standing behind me.
    “Whoever it was,” she warns, “forget them.”

31
    I’M SCAVENGING DOWNSTAIRS FOR food, hunting through deserted kitchens and bars that have already been ransacked countless times before, hoping to find an overlooked stash of supplies to supplement the crappy rations I’ve had since I got here. At the back of a counter, tucked away behind a lifeless cash register, I find three small packets of peanuts. I swallow the contents of the first in a single mouthful, then do the same with the second. I shove the third into my trouser pocket for later. There’s precious little time to think about food these days, but when I do get to eat I realize just how much I’ve missed it. Maybe one day I’ll get to eat a proper meal again, if I survive the next couple of days, that is.
    There’s a half-open door behind the bar I hadn’t noticed before. I lean inside.
    “Who the hell’s that?”
    I back out of the low-lit storeroom quickly, startled by the voice from the darkness. The door lets some light in, and I can see someone in the corner, sitting wedged between two piles of empty boxes.
    “Sorry, I…”
    The man looks up and shakes his head. I recognize him from last night. His name’s Parsons.
    “Doesn’t matter, my friend.”
    I’ve only been awake for a couple of hours, but already the drawn-out tedium of waiting to fight is getting to me. The idea of a conversation-any distraction-is appealing.
    “What are you doing in here?”
    “Keeping out of the way.”
    “Why? You pissed Julia off or something?”
    “Show me someone who hasn’t.”
    I know what he means. Being around Julia reminds me of working for Tina Murray, my sour old bitch of a supervisor back at the PFP. Wonder what happened to her…?
    Parsons gestures for me to come closer. I do as he says, then slide down the wall and sit next to him. It’s stiflingly hot in the social club this morning now that the sun’s up, but the dark storeroom is refreshingly cool.
    “So are you ready for this?” I ask. “Ready to go out there and start fighting?”
    “’Course I am,” he answers, almost too quickly. “Can’t wait to start killing again. Can’t wait to see them panic when we get given the word.”
    There’s an awkward silence.
    “You don’t sound convinced.”
    The silence continues as he thinks about what I just said.
    “I’m not. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I know what’s got to be done and I know this is probably the only way to make it happen. It’s just that…”
    “You don’t want to die?”
    “Exactly.”
    “Me neither,” I admit. “Who does?”
    “No one in their right mind. They’re all talking about this battle like it’s a holy war or something, and it’s doing my head in. I don’t want to be stuck in the middle of the city when they level the place like they did London.”
    “But it’s got to be done. You can’t deny that.”
    “I know… I’m just nervous, you know?” he admits, keeping his voice low. “I can’t stand all this hanging around. You know what it’s like when you know you’ve got to fight, you just want to get on and do it.”
    He’s right. It’s a relief to find someone else who’s willing to speak candidly about how they’re feeling. Most everyone else is too busy spouting propaganda and bullshit bravado to dare admit that they’re apprehensive about what’s coming. They talk like I imagine Brutes think-focused on the kill at all costs.
    “You been here long?” I ask.
    “Got here about half a day before you.”
    “And were you at that convent place with Sahota?”
    He nods his head.
    “We’ve all been through that. Quite the eye-opener, eh?”
    Parsons stares into space, thinking hard. I sense there’s more he wants to say, but he’s not sure whether he can speak. Perhaps hethinks I’m testing his dedication to the cause? I study his tired face. He looks about ten years older than me, and I wonder what it is we have in common that made us both suitable fodder for Sahota’s organization.
    “So did you believe any of it?”
    “What?”
    “All that stuff the Unchanged were spouting at Sahota’s place? Breaking the cycle and all that crap?”
    I don’t answer immediately. Can I trust this man? Now I’m wondering if he’s the one testing my allegiance.
    “Some of it,” I answer, being deliberately vague. “What about you?”
    “I agree with most of it up to a point.