When I was found in the alley, I couldn’t make out who had lifted me from the trash heap. My eyes were caked with layers of filth, sealing them almost completely shut. But I could never forget the voice of my savior—it was Jimmy’s.

“Oh, you don’t look as dead as the others,” Jimmy’s voice broke through the darkness. “Shame I can only bring one of you back. Alright, little one, let’s get you cleaned up.”

I remember being bundled in something warm and soft before being washed in a tub. Jimmy scrubbed my fur and eyes clean with soap and warm water, dissolving the crusted filth that had blinded me. For the first time in days, I could breathe without the stench of decay clinging to me. Afterward, he dried me off with a towel, swaddled me in a blanket, and held me close like I was something precious. Like my life mattered to another being.

“What do you think we should name him?” a different voice asked. It wasn’t Jimmy’s—it was lighter, softer. When I opened my eyes for the first time, I saw Alan’s almond-shaped, dark brown eyes gazing down at me, filled with curiosity and a warmth I had never known.

“Everyone has to do their part on the ship, right?” Jimmy said with a grin. “How about Page? He could be everyone’s little helper—always ready when you need him.”

“Yeah, I like that name,” Alan said, a smile spreading across her face. “Page… Page…”

*****

“Page, are you there? You have to wake up.”

A sharp, acrid odor tore into my nostrils. The jolt shot through me like lightning, forcing my body into motion. My body shuddered from the jarring sensation. My eyes blinked against the sudden flood of light, and the first thing I saw was Flynn’s face, his eyes wide and whiskers twitching with visible relief.

“Oh, good! You’re alive,” he said, holding a vial so tiny it looked as though it had been crafted from a single shard of glass, perfectly suited for a rat’s nimble paws. “Curious?” he added, when he caught my stare. “Just a bit of wake-up juice…”

“Do I even want to know what’s in it?”

Flynn’s chuckle was light but amused, his tiny shoulders shaking. “Oh, just vinegar. Simple and effective.”

A sudden, acrid tang erupted in my mouth, making me gag. I hissed, my fur bristling as I spat, trying to rid myself of the lingering foulness. It wasn't the vinegar, but the bitter residue of the Soul Cleanser that Marlow had thrust into my throat.

“There's no time to joke around!” Marlow scolded. “We need to go!”

“He’s right. We need to get out of here,” Flynn urged, nudging my side with surprising strength for his size.

On shaky legs, I rose and took in the devastation around me. Lee continued his wild circuit around the room, always one step ahead of Dr. Starkey and Alan, their outstretched hands always just missing him, swiping at empty air. The room was a battlefield—overturned shelves spilled jagged shards of glass, shattered vials glistened in puddles of unknown liquids, and torn fabric littered the floor and toppled furniture lay in ruin.

Then I saw it—the wraith. It was slithering across the debris-strewn floor toward the dark corner where Ziggy lay in a basket. His bandaged legs sprawled limp, his head lolled back, and a faint snore wheezed from his open mouth, unaware of the encroaching threat.

There was no sense in trying to fight the wraith; every blow would slip through it like punches in a fog. Gritting my teeth, I gathered what strength remained in me and sprinted toward Ziggy, my paws skidding over shards of broken glass and splinters strewn in my path.

“Ziggy! Ziggy, please wake up!” I shouted, propping myself against the basket and leaning over Ziggy. I gave him a slap. “ZIGGY!”

With a sudden start, he blinked awake, lazily swiping his tongue over the drool at the corner of his mouth. When his eyes met mine, his face slowly brightened. “Page! You’re alive! I thought you were a goner. That was a big…a big…kaboom!”

“Yes, I'm alive. But I don’t have much time to explain,” I said, frantically. “You need to get up and follow me.”

He blinked, trying to focus. “Of course, my dear brother… I'll go wherever you go…” His voice trailed off and his head lolled as he began to doze off again.

“ZIGGY!” I cried more desperately now. “Please, wake up! There’s no time—we need to go!”

He glanced down at his bandaged legs, and said, “I'm not sure if I even have the strength.”

Ziggy yawned, fighting to keep his eyes open. Slowly, he dragged himself out of the basket, wincing as he limped toward the door. But before he could reach it, his body betrayed him. His legs gave way, and he crumpled to the floor; the vet’s sleeping drug was still coursing through his veins and had pulled him into another deep sleep.

The wraith crept nearer to his limp body. Rusty charged forward, the razor blade in his paws flashing in a deadly arc as he lifted it over his head then down. The blade sheared through the wraith’s bony arm. The creature hissed. Thick, tar-like ooze gushed from the gaping wound, staining the floor in sticky pools as the wraith reared back, momentarily disoriented.

Rusty raised the blade for another swing, but a sudden force slammed into him, sending him flying across the room. The razor blade skittered out of reach.

“Oh, great! Now we have rats too?” Dr. Starkey exclaimed, exasperation etched into her face. She groaned in irritation as she swung the broom high, ready to strike Rusty's motionless body again.

She froze mid-swing as Lee lunged at her, clamping his teeth onto the hem of her pants. Digging his paws into the floor, he tugged with all his might, a low growl rumbling from his throat. His small frame strained against her momentum but managed to halt her just in time, pulling her off balance.

“Ah! Bad dog!” she shrieked, swiping the soft bristles of the broom at Lee’s head in a desperate attempt to dislodge him. Her movements were hesitant, more a light tapping than a forceful blow, as she couldn’t bring herself to hurt him.

Alan gently scooped up the sleeping Ziggy, holding him close, his small body nestled in the crook of her arm. She reached out with her free hand, her fingers aiming for my neck, but I slipped out of range. Letting out a weary sigh, she tucked Ziggy into the basket with care and turned her attention to me. As I kept myself just out of her reach, I spotted Marlow dashing toward the abandoned blade and Flynn hurrying to Rusty, only to be knocked aside by Dr. Starkey, now freed from Lee, with her broom.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

The wraith—it was on the move. It slithered toward Rusty.

Dr. Starkey waved her broom in sweeping arcs, trying to shoo Flynn out the door. She didn’t see the dark form slinking mere inches from her feet. Flynn dodged her strikes, rolling to the side and weaving around her legs in a frantic attempt to slow her down and buy a moment to reach his brother. But his efforts came too late. The shadowy creature reached Rusty first, dissipating into a swirling vapor and vanishing into his open mouth and flaring nostrils.

Rusty jolted upright, like a puppet yanked by invisible strings. His eyes, empty and black as a starless abyss, swept over the surrounding chaos and destruction. Then, he rose to his feet and began to march. As I tracked his course, I realized where he was heading: straight for the small table where Alan had left the black stones.

“Stop him!” I ordered.

Lee stepped in front of Rusty, a snarl escaping him, his fangs bared in a vicious display.

“Don’t hurt him!” Flynn’s plea rang out.

But Lee wasn’t the one to draw first blood. Rusty ran up the side of the canine, his wiry body a blur, and latched onto Lee’s back. The dog spun wildly, twisting and bucking, but Rusty held fast. His claws tangled in Lee’s fur, and then he lunged for an ear, sinking his teeth deep.

The dog let out a piercing, anguished cry. The rat thrashed his head, tearing a piece of flesh with its furious motion. Then Rusty leapt off his back and scurried out of sight.

Lee stumbled to the wall, his body shaking and whimpering as he leaned against it. Blood trickled from the torn edge of his left ear.

“Good God! That rat’s rabid!” Dr. Starkey exclaimed, crouching beside Lee to inspect the wound. “It’s done a real number on his ear.”

Then, her tone changed. Action replaced concern. She rose to her full height and spun on her heel, gripping the broom with white-knuckled force, her eyes searching around the room for her target.

I saw him first. Rusty was climbing up the leg of the small table, clawing his way closer to the black stones. I bolted forward, but I didn’t get far. A strong hand clamped onto the back of my neck and yanked me back.

Alan lifted me off the ground and shoved me into the cage, slamming the door shut.

Let me out! You've now idea what you're up against! But my words fell on her human deaf ears.

“It's going to be alright, Page,” she said, soothingly. “We'll be heading back home soon. So, try to relax.”

Relax?! I couldn't relax. I just couldn’t! Pacing the cramped enclosure, my thoughts whirled, frantically seeking an escape. All I could do was press my face to the small window, and watch the scene:

Rusty had climbed onto the table, his outstretched fingers brushing against one of the black stones. A low hum resonated as the device began to glow a soft green light. His hands moved rapidly over its surface. He leaned into it whispering into its glow. As he worked, Flynn advanced from behind. He wrapped his arms around Rusty’s neck and pulled him back.

Rusty wrenched himself from Flynn’s hold and swung a wild punch at him, missing only by a whisker as Flynn nimbly dodged. The two collided again, a flurry of claws raking and teeth snapping inches apart. Just when it seemed Rusty was about to gain the upper hand, the vet swept the broom forcefully across the table. The blow sent both rats tumbling to the floor, their fight abruptly broken.

Groaning, Flynn struggled to lift himself from the floor, his injured leg bending unnaturally beneath him, forcing him to collapse again with a grimace of pain. Meanwhile, Rusty, unshaken, calmly brushed the dust from his fur and began stalking forward, his black soulless eyes zeroing on Flynn. Before he could strike, Lee’s powerful jaws snapped around Rusty’s tail. With a fierce shake, he hurled the rat aside, sending him crashing into an overturned shelf.

The blow seemed to barely faze the rat. He rose again, shaking off the impact as if it were nothing. His cold, black eyes remained locked on Flynn, who was still struggling to get up on his feet. Slowly and purposefully, Rusty moved toward him, closing in for the kill.

Marlow emerged from behind the fallen shelf, his hands steady as they gripped the razor blade. There was no hesitation when he swung, the blade arcing through the air and biting deep into the nape of Rusty’s neck. Rusty let out a strangled cry and staggered forward, landing on all fours as a shudder rippled through his body.

Marlow didn’t stop. He swung the blade again.

“Nooooo!” Flynn let out a heart-wrenching scream filled with such anguish that even I felt the sting of his pain in my chest. He watched in helpless horror and devastation, fully aware he was powerless to stop the Wise Keeper.

I’d seen brutality before—had even participated in it. Catching rats, tearing them apart, it was instinctual, something excusable in the natural order of things. But this was something else entirely.

Blow after blow rained down, scattering dark flecks of blood across the floor, until, at last, the head severed completely from the body. It rolled to a stop at Flynn’s feet, its glassy eyes staring into nothingness. The wraith was now gone.

Marlow stood there, breath ragged and chest heaving, the blade slipping from his grip to the blood-streaked floor. His gaze fell upon Rusty's headless body, his face crumbling with sorrow and regret.

“I’m sorry,” he started to say, a tremor shaking his voice as he spoke. “But there was no other way… No Soul Cleanser, no chance to bring him back to the nest safely. Nothing else could have saved him. Nothing…”

“Filthy rats!” Dr. Starkey shouted, thrusting the broom at Marlow. With forceful jabs, she drove him out the opening flap of the tarp sheet that served as the door. Spinning on her heel, she turned her attention to Flynn. She shoved him toward the exit next. He stumbled, his limp worsening as the broom's bristles nudged him out.

Meanwhile, Alan knelt beside Rusty’s body, her expression troubled as she examined the bloody scene. “That was… strange,” she said. “Why would a rat attack another rat, much less use a razor blade to decapitate it?”

Dr. Starkey sighed, shaking her head. “The rats have been acting crazier than usual lately. My advice? Stay away from rat vendors. You never know what you’re getting.”

Dropping the broom, the vet gathered Lee in her arms, his trembling body fragile against her steady grip. Soft, pitiful whimpers escaped him, and blood continued to trickle from his wounded ear, staining her white sleeve with thin, red streaks. She strode toward the pile of cages—once a neatly stacked tower, now a scattered mess from Lee’s earlier antics. Carefully, she eased him into one and clicked the door shut.

“And what’s the plan for the dog?” Alan asked.

“I'll have to take a good look at his ear and fix him right up,” Dr. Starkey replied matter-of-factly. “And then it's off to the Shelter for the both of them.”

“Both of them?”

Dr. Starkey's eyebrow shot up as she gestured toward the incredible mess around them. “Yes, both,” she snapped. “Just look at what they’ve done! They’ve wrecked my home, and now, to make matters worse, there are rats crawling about!”

Alan’s eyes hardened, and she shook her head. “You can take the dog but not Page,” she said firmly. “He’s coming back with me.”

“I don’t think that’s wise,” the vet cautioned. “He could be infected. If you take him back, you risk spreading it on the ship. It’s safer to isolate him in the Shelter and monitor his condition.”

Alan and I locked eyes through the tiny window of the cage. Don’t let her take me to the Shelter, I pleaded.

“He seems fine now,” Alan said evenly. “Look at him—he’s much calmer. And his eyes… they were black before but now they've turned back to normal.”

Dr. Starkey’s wide brown eyes narrowed as she leaned closer, scrutinizing me through the window. I swallowed back the hiss rising in my throat. She had wanted to cut me open! And now, she wanted to dump me in that dreaded Shelter.

“Well, fine,” she said after a pause, shrugging dismissively. “Your call. But if you take him back, it’s on you if something happens.”