TO MUTTER IT SEEMED that night would never come, but finally the professor left for the day. Ableson finished cleaning up the office area and walked to the cage, handing Mutter two short chains.

“Put one set around your ankles and one around your wrists.”

Mutter stared at the shackles. He wouldn’t even be able to stretch his legs.

“I’m sorry but the professor insisted.” When Mutter still hesitated, Ableson continued, “It’s the only way. I have to know that you won’t run before I let you out on your own.”

“How can I prove I’ll obey if you give me no choice?” Mutter’s excitement had vanished.

“It was the best that I could do. We don’t have to go.”

The thought of not leaving the cell almost sent him into a panic. He attached the chains around his ankles and wrists. At least he’d get fresh air and a different view. It was better than nothing.

“Bend down.” Ableson opened the cage. He held a collar and leash in his hands.

This was familiar. Vickers had often made them wear collars before the fights. He bent and the Almighty slipped it around his neck, leaving it loose which was a nice change. Vickers had always tightened it so he could barely breathe.

“Let’s go,” said Ableson.

Once outside, Ableson waited patiently as Mutter tipped back his head, inhaling deeply. It had rained recently. The odor of damp earth and flowers filled his mind along with the scent of water and rabbits, a lot of rabbits. He yearned to run and hunt. Catch a rabbit and tear into it. He stepped toward the woods, and stumbled, the chains around his feet tethering him.

“Small steps.” Ableson gave a slight tug on the leash and Mutter followed.

As they walked around the grounds, Ableson pointed out places of interest—Conguise’s home, the Guards’ sleeping quarters, the House Servants’ quarters, etc. Mutter didn’t care, but he grunted every now and then so Ableson thought he was paying attention. He sniffed, focusing on what lived in the forest and crawled over the lawn at dusk and dawn.

Too soon, they headed back to the lab. He almost pleaded for a little more time, but he knew better than to push his luck.

Once inside, Ableson removed the collar and leash. Mutter entered his enclosure, his shoulders drooping.

“Here’s the key to the restraints. We’ll go again tomorrow. I promise,” said Ableson.

He removed the chains. “Thank you.” The small gift of breathing the fresh air and feeling the earth under his feet meant more to him than he could express.

“You’re welcome.” Ableson took the key and left for the evening.

Mutter dropped on the pile of blankets, his large body sizzling with unspent energy.

“How was the outside?” whispered a soft voice.

He sat up. No one but the Almightys had ever spoken to him in here. “Who’s asking?”

“Name don’t matter no more.”

“Where are you?” He moved to the front of his cage. It was a stupid question since he couldn’t see inside any of the other enclosures, but the voice didn’t seem real. It was so quiet, almost a thought instead of a sound.

“A few down from you, I think. I don’t see good anymore but they probably put you where they kept the others like you.”

“What others?” This Voice had been here longer than him. This Voice could answer questions. “You tell me what you know about the others and this place and I’ll tell you about the outside.”

“Okay. You first.”

Mutter hesitated.

“Please. I’ve been in here for a long time.”

There was desperation in the Voice’s tone. Mutter had only been here a few days and he’d been going crazy caged all the time. He went back to his bed, shut his eyes and described the outside, reliving every scent, sound and touch.

“I miss the sky,” said the Voice when Mutter finished.

“Ask Ableson. Maybe he’ll take you outside.” He wanted to pull the words back into his mouth. The Almighty might revoke his walks if the others asked too.

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“No. He won’t. I’ve changed too much.”

“What do you mean by that?” Cold sweat dripped down his back. There was something not quite right with the sound this creature made.

“They don’t think I can speak because they can no longer hear me. I’m glad that you can now,” said the Voice.

He moved all over his cage, trying to peer into the other cell. It was impossible. “Are you a Guard?”

“Not exactly. I was a Guard, but now….I’m not sure what I am.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’ll see soon enough. If you want, I’ll tell you what I know about the others. The ones who were here before you.”

“Yes.” He needed to know what had happened to them, especially if they did something that caused them to be sent back to the shelter.

“There were two others while I’ve been here. There may have been more. They were Guards, like you. They were given shots like you and me. All of us. They changed just like you’re changing.”

“Changed? I’m not changing.”

“You are. We all are. You just don’t know it yet.”

“I’m fine. I feel great.” He pressed his fingers into his ribs. They had healed fast even for a Guard.

“The others did too. They felt strong and hungry. Always, always hungry.”

His stomach rumbled. He was eating more now than he’d ever had in his life, but he was still hungry. “What happened to them?”

“They died.”

“The Almightys?”

“No. Not how you mean, anyway. The others felt good and then they got sick and died. There was nothing the Almightys could do for them.”

“How did they die?”

“In pain, like we all die.”

“Sure, but how?” His instincts had warned him from the beginning that there was something not right about this place, but now, they screamed for him to get out, flee before he died.

“They changed but didn’t change right. It happens to most of us.”

“I’m not changing.”

The Voice was silent. Mutter sat on the bed. He wasn’t different. He was healthy, but he’d been healthy his entire life except for that cold.

“Will you tell me about the outside again tomorrow?”

He was a bit pissed at the Voice. It had promised answers and had given him nothing but worries and questions, still he couldn’t deny this small request. “Yes.”

The next few weeks fell into a pattern. In the morning his blood was drawn, sometimes he was given a shot. Then he had breakfast. About once a week he was taken to the lab for tests and then there was lunch, dinner and finally his walk.

He was starting to like it here. He had plenty of food and a safe place to sleep. The Almightys hadn’t asked him to do anything else he didn’t want to do. The only issue was the lack of freedom but Ableson was working on that. The Almighty had already allowed him to stop wearing the wrist restraints. He still wore the ones around his ankles, the collar and leash, but Ableson promised that soon those would also be gone.

He yearned to race through the woods and swim in the canals but he settled for exercising in the cage. He paced and did sit-ups and push-ups, anything to burn the fever in his blood. He’d convinced Ableson to extend the walk to an hour a day. It wasn’t enough, but it was better than before. Then, after Ableson returned him to his cell and left, he’d tell his story to the Voice.

That night once he had finished, the Voice said, “I’ll be gone in the morning.”

The Voice was so faint now that he had to strain to hear it. “You can’t die tonight. Ableson is going to take me into the woods tomorrow.” It was a lie but if the Voice made it through another night, he’d make up something.

“Mutter, I’m afraid.”

He moved to the front of the cell and sat on the floor as close to the other cage as he could get. “Death is peaceful.” He didn’t know that, but his mother had looked peaceful when she’d died.

“It’s not death that I fear. I don’t want to be dumped in the sewer.”

“You’ll be dead. You won’t care.”

“I’m afraid of the ones who have gone before me.”

“They’re dead too. Nothing to fear from the dead.” Still, a chill ran down his spine.

“I’m not so sure that they were all dead when they were moved.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Almightys can’t hear well,” said the Voice.

“You said that the Guards remove them. We have great hearing. They wouldn’t have taken them if they weren’t dead.”

“There was vibration with some. I felt it through the floor. I think some were…kind of asleep.”

“No. You’re wrong, the Guards would hear them breathing.”

“I don’t think so. Some of us can sleep so deep our breathing almost stops. Later, we can awake. I think they used that to escape.”

His heart thudded. What the Voice was saying was impossible. “Can you do that?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“That’s what you’re doing tonight?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll be free. You can see the outside again.” He was happy for his friend, but he wanted to go too.

“The others…they were dangerous, like you’ll be.”

“I’m not changing.” But he’d started to wonder. He had loads of energy, more than ever before but that could be due to the consistent, good food. However, a full belly didn’t explain how his senses almost hummed with their own life.

“Stop lying to yourself.” The Voice was louder, harsh with anger. “You are changing. You are turning into something lethal, something very dangerous.”

“I’m dangerous now.” He flexed his fists, wanting to hit the Voice until it stopped talking.

“Not like you will be. Not like what might be waiting in the sewer.”

“If, and this is a big if, they were alive they’ll be long gone by now. The tunnels will lead out to freedom.”

“But I’m slow and big and…they might think tasty.”

“Then don’t go.” It was selfish but he didn’t want to be alone in here. The others in the cages didn’t talk to him. He was sure that they listened to his stories because there was always movement in the other enclosures as he spoke, but none of them ever said a word.

“I have to. You should too.”

“I can’t slow my breathing—”

“No. Escape. When you’re out at night.”

“How? I’m in restraints.” The collar and leash wouldn’t stop him. Ableson’s skinny, little arms wouldn’t stop him, but the chains around his legs, those would stop him.

“Break them.”

“I can’t. I already tried.”

“You’re stronger now, as you change. Try again.”

He hesitated and then grabbed the chains and pulled. His arms ached but nothing. He dropped the shackles on the floor. “See, I’m not stronger. I’m not changing.”

“Keep trying. Or find a way. Escape.”

He dropped on his bed. “I wish you’d stay.” It was the closest he’d come to asking.

“I can’t.”

He’d expected that answer. Pleading never changed anything.