“Training.” He opens the safe and straps two handguns onto his side. His dark-gray uniform emphasizes his muscular build, and he catches me staring.
Trying to pass it off, I move forward but nosedive to the floor. Did I seriously just trip over the dog? Wow. I roll onto my back. He offers his hand and pulls me upright with a smug look. I groan as embarrassment crawls up my face in the form of a deep, crimson flush.
“Now look. Whatever you do, stay on my inside. I have to know where you are at all times. Don’t wander off. Follow me, walk, and breathe.” He starts to move toward the door when he stops suddenly. He looks closely at me then rummages through his bag. He hands me a pair of sunglasses with large, reflective lenses that look like they will swallow half my face. “Take these and wear them outside.” His voice is callous and indicative of his training. The tough-guy persona grates on my nerves. “Do you think you can handle that?”
“Sure, no problem,” I say, remembering the last time we ventured out. After clarifying those details, we depart down the dark corridor.
Holding my shirt over my nose, I brace for the stench of the decomposing body, but it’s been moved.
Thank God.
The courtyard’s full of people. I get shoved from my left side, knocking me off-balance. They smack, push, and yank while trying to get on the old dirty work buses that take them to their jobs each day. How on earth do those things still work? They look like wrecked sheet metal on wheels.
I walk beside Cole, and Zeus follows.
Turning toward the hospital, I feel the weight of multiple eyes resting on my back. People stare at me, or us—I’m not sure. Catcalls and whispers from citizens distract me. I duck my head and keep my eyes lowered to avoid attention.
“Nice disguise. Too bad you can’t disguise she’s a whore.” A man emerges from the shadows in the alley with a knife in hand. He licks his lips, making my skin crawl. He reaches out to grab my arm when Zeus growls, low and menacing, at him. The man pulls back and raises his knife, but Zeus doesn’t back down. He shows no fear. His hair stands up straight on his back and runs along his spine.
In one swift motion, the man cuts his knife through the air, narrowly missing the dog. Zeus jumps on him with a violent bark and shakes the knife out of his hand. His jagged canines dig in deep and force a cry out of the man lying on the ground. Cole picks up the knife and puts it at the man’s neck.
“Come near her again and I’ll slice your throat.”
A mixture of fear and bitter resentment cross the man’s bearded face. Cole removes the knife, leaving the man to crawl away. He turns toward Zeus and rubs between his ears.
“Now that’s more like it. I can tell you’ve been practicing your scary face.” Cole laughs.
Yes, thank you, Zeus.
Cole grabs my arm to push me forward. “We better keep going.”
Sometimes I grab his shirt to keep from stumbling over trash or dead bodies. He jumps down into an alley, holds his arms up, and catches me while I take the leap. Zeus hops down behind without effort like a graceful gazelle. The walkway narrows between the buildings, and the only place I can go is behind Cole. So, I walk blind.
Sewage pipes below emit an unpleasant aroma, and the walls tower over us on each side, making me claustrophobic. After a rat skitters over my foot, I slam into Cole, knocking my glasses to the litter-ridden pavement. He turns and pushes me against the wall.
“What are you doing? I thought we went over this before we left. You can’t do that.” He speaks with anger. “I could really hurt you.”
Here I am again, in the darkness. The walls surround me on all sides. I beg and claw the walls, but he slams the door closed again. My eyes squeeze shut as I try to hum a simple tune. Praying the sound will make it stop.
I open my eyes. Cole stares at me with sweat dripping off his forehead. His face is stern, as if waiting for me to answer his question.
“Sorry…”
“I bet.” He bends down, picks up my glasses, and hands them to me.
Boxes and broken furniture block our path, and we climb over piles of trash. The alley opens up to another street. Across from me looms the entrance to the hospital. Guards stand watch from the surrounding buildings and people flood the street. They part for Cole as we cross. Their faces show mixed expressions, ranging from fear to hatred. There’s older people and children without brands.
They must’ve been born here.
He opens the door and leads me into the lobby. It smells like crap mixed with flowers. The walls, made of cement blocks, are painted a dull gray that goes on endlessly. Drywall from the ceiling crumbles onto the cement floor, leaving a dusty powder that mixes with whatever else lies there. My feet stick to it. My slipper comes off and my foot touches something wet. I reach down to grab it when I realize I’m standing in a puddle of old vomit. Just when I think I’ve been through the worst, something else causes me to feel ill again. Then I puke right next to the pile I just stepped in.