The soldier pushed himself angrily off the wall, hooked Benny under the armpit, hauled him to his feet, and flung him toward the door. “That’s it. You’re out of here. And I’m going to teach this monster some damn manners.”
“No!” shouted Benny. He slapped the soldier’s hands aside and shoved the man in the chest with both hands. The move was backed by all of Benny’s hurt and rage; the soldier flew backward, skidded on the damp concrete, and fell. The baton clattered from his hand and rolled away.
The creature in the cage howled and once more lunged through the bars, trying this time to grab the fallen soldier’s outflung arm. The guard snatched it out of the way with a cry of disgust. Spitting in fury, the soldier rolled sideways onto his knees and reached for the baton.
“You made a big damn mistake, boy. I’m going to kick your ass, and then you’re going to watch me beat some manners into—”
There was a sudden rasp of steel and something silver flashed through the air and the moment froze. The soldier was on his knees, one hand braced on the ground, the other holding the baton. His eyes bugged wide as he tried to look down at the thing that pressed into the soft flesh of his throat. The soldier could see his own reflection in the long, slender blade of Benny Imura’s katana.
“Listen to me,” said Benny, and he didn’t care that his voice was thick with emotion or that it broke with a sob. “You’re not going to do anything to me, and you’re not going to do anything to—”
“To what? It’s a monster. It’s an abomination.”
Benny pressed the tip of the sword into the man’s skin. A single tiny bead of hot blood popped onto the edge of the steel
and ran along the mirror-bright surface in a crooked line.
“It’s not a monster,” said Benny. “And he has a name.”
The soldier said nothing.
Benny increased the pressure. “Say his name.”
The soldier’s face flushed red with fury.
“Say it,” snarled Benny in a voice he had never heard himself use before. Harsh, cruel, vicious. Uncompromising.
The soldier said the name.
He spat it out of his mouth like a bad taste.
“Chong.”
Benny removed the sword and the soldier started to turn, but the blade flashed through the shadows and came to rest again, with the razor-sharp edge right across the man’s throat.
“I’m going to come back tomorrow,” said Benny in that same ugly voice. “And the day after that, and the day after that. If I find even a single bruise on my friend, if you or any of your friends hurt him in any way . . . then you’re going to have a lot more to worry about than monsters in cages.”
The soldier glared at Benny, his intent lethal.
“You’re out of your mind, boy.”
Benny could feel his mouth twist into a smile, but from the look in the soldier’s eyes it could not have been a nice smile.
“Out of my mind? Yeah,” said Benny. “I probably am.”
Benny stepped back and lowered the sword. He turned his back on the soldier and went over to the cage. He stood well out of reach this time.
“I’m sorry, Chong,” he said.
Tears ran down Benny’s face. He looked into those dark eyes, searching for some trace of the person he’d known all his life. The quick wit, the deep intelligence, the gentle humor. If Chong was alive, then those things had to still be in there. Somewhere. Benny leaned closer still, needing to catch the slightest glimpse of his friend. He could bear this horror if there was the slightest chance that Chong was only detached from conscious control, if he was like a prisoner inside a boarded-up house. As horrible as that was, it suggested that a solution, some kind of rescue, was possible.
“C’mon, you monkey-banger,” Benny whispered. “Give me something here. You’re smarter than me . . . you find me. Say something. Anything . . .”
The thing’s gray lips curled back from wet teeth.
“. . . hungry . . .”
That was all the creature could say. Drool ran down its chin and dropped to the straw-covered floor of its cage.