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of embarrassment.”
    “If all the animals are like that one , you won’t have to worry about it,” Floyd said. A woman shrieked. Floyd’s eyes jerked toward the sound.
    A little boy had fallen into the pit and was lying on the sand. The crowd laughed and shoved the woman backwards as she tried to launch herself in to save him. The child sat up and blinked at his surroundings. He seemed dazed and unsure as he stood up and regarded the crowd’s attention.
    He walked over to a cage and fell backwards as a couple dogs hurled themselves at the door, snapping their jaws. His eyes cleared instantly and he began to cry. The black-clad men did nothing to help him as they looked on with bemusement.
    “Bastards ,” Floyd said
    “Center your chi Floyd. We’re samurais!” Chet said.
    “Time to —Heep—roll the dice again!” the speaker yelled and dropped the dice into the bowl. “Cages four and five!”
    Floyd heard the hinge of his cage click , and he dove headlong through for the sobbing child. He couldn’t hear the roar of the crowd and didn’t waste a moment looking to whatever crazed animal was about to tear him apart.
    He reached the boy within seconds and scooped him up one-handed by the ragged clothing . He flung him with one fluid movement upwards into the crowd.
    A man caught the boy and was about to throw him back into the pit when Floyd raised his shotgun and fired. His bullet exploded through the man’s chest, and he fell backwards, dropping the boy onto the safety of the wood planking. Floyd held his gun towards the crowd that now shied away from him.
    “The next person who makes to drop him down here will get a bullet in the head!” Floyd screamed at the crowd.
    Nobody made a move towards the child who was crying louder than ever. His mother ripped through the throng and grabbed her boy and, clutching him to her chest, waded back into the throng.
    Floyd turned back to help his friend and paused. A small, skeletal Chihuahua was w chewing on Chet’s boot. Chet was looking down at the dog dumbfounded. A few chuckles were heard from the crowd.
    “What the hell Floyd?” Chet said. “This thing is smaller than my foot.”
    The crowd was laughing louder now. The dog hopped backwards, pissed on the sand and went back to chewing Chet’s shoe leather.
    “Very funny ,” Floyd said. “Looks like we got the easy end of things tonight.”
    “Good thing too. You left me high and dry over here,” Chet said. He picked up his boot and stepped down on the dog, crunching it under his heel. “Sweet mercy,” Chet whispered.
    He picked up the dog carcass and tossed it up to the speaker, who was laughing along with the rest of the crowd. The speaker handed the dog to one of his cronies and wiped his hands on his pants.
    “Please go back to your —heep—cell boys,” he guffawed. “Well done taking care of that one!” He indicated to Chet. “I think I will call you the—heep—Chihuahua killer!”
    More laughter rolled from the crowed as Chet and Floyd went back to their cell. The cage door clicked shut, and they sat down in the dust.
    “Well you wanted a name , and you got it,” Floyd said smiling.
    Chet grimaced. “At least we know your gun works. Do you think we’ll get some of that food tonight?”
    “I don’t know ,” Floyd said. “So far there are two men and one three ounce dog being prepared. We might get something, but chances are it’ll be something that used to walk upright.”
    The speaker stopped laughing enough to roll the dice for the third round. The game continued into the night.
     

Chapter 9
     
    Chet and Floyd stared suspiciously at the hunk of meat that was handed through the bars of their cell during the night’s feast. It has long since cooled off, and the fatty deposit that smelled and looked so pleasing to the eye a couple hours ago had now congealed. It stank.
    “I’m pretty hungry Floyd ,” Chet said. “I think I’m going to eat it.”
    “I don’t think you should.