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ring. “With this, you’ll see. Are you ready?” Ruth nodded, dolloping small squeezes of toothpaste down each brush. Juliana opened the door. The spaghetti sauce gave the man on the floor a ghastly ring around his mouth. His hair was patchy, some of it long, some torn away leaving ugly scabs, some stubble in other spots, like a forest trying to recover after a fire. He was full now and quiet but he still growled and stood up to pace as far as the restraints would let him move in the small room.
    “As long as we keep our voices soft and we move slowly, they don’t get too agitated after eating,” said Juliana in a sickly sweet voice. She slid the bowl out of the room with her foot, her eyes never leaving the man’s face. “Loud noises or people getting too close will make them angry and want to fight.”
    “Aren’t we cleaning them?” asked Ruth.
    “Yes,” said Juliana, “but I never said this was going to be easy. We have teething toys to distract them from biting us. I’ve found that they don’t really know what they are biting, just that they need to bite something . They’ll go after other humans first, but if they aren’t hungry, they seem just to be driven to bite and don’t appear to care what they bite, including themselves. We still have to be careful, even with the teething rings. And it’s a completely different story if you ever have to— ever have to handle them when they are hungry. Let me go first.” She searched the tray and found a toothbrush that was labeled “Owen” with a permanent marker. The ink was rubbing off and the bristles flared like they had been scrubbing a floor. They were probably hard to replace.
    “Is his name really Owen?” Ruth asked.
    Juliana shrugged. “Maybe? Some of them I know because their families brought them. But some of them, like Owen, I found wandering and starving. I have to call him something. He looked like an ‘Owen’ to me.”
    Ruth’s scalp prickled with discomfort. It was like naming a rescued dog. She wondered if anyone missed this man anymore. If anybody left would have recognized him and known his real name. Juliana entered the room and held the large teething ring in front of her. Owen scrambled toward her, his arms stretched toward her, fingers trying to grab her clothes, her hair, anything. The restraints stopped him halfway across the room.
    Juliana cautiously slid the ring between his teeth. Owen clamped down around the tough plastic and Juliana let go of the far side as he jerked it away. Ruth was fascinated, despite herself. It made her think of the circus her father had taken her to when she was little. The lion tamer had frightened her and she’d watched the whole act through the cracks between her fingers. Owen chewed on the ring with one side of his mouth, a splatter of drool dripping onto the floor every few seconds. Juliana adjusted the arm restraints so that he couldn’t grab.
    “It’s okay, you can come in now,” she said. Ruth picked up the soapy water and the rags, tucking her own kit under her elbow. She stood beside Juliana as she wiggled the toothbrush between Owen’s teeth on the side that wasn’t clamped down on the ring. “I do my best,” she said without looking around, “but some of them are developing bed sores or getting sick anyway. There must be something I’m missing.”
    Ruth worked at gently cleaning the scrapes on his head and holding him steady for Juliana. Owen growled and tried to snap when Ruth hit tender spots, but the the teething ring kept him from biting. “I’m not sure what to tell you. I don’t want to add to what is already a huge amount of work,” said Ruth.
    She wondered if she ought to be helping Juliana at all. The whole thing was insane. Still , her inner voice whispered, if you weren’t around, you’d hope Charlie ended up somewhere like here instead of shot or starved or freezing. The least she could do is make sure that their existence wasn’t one of physical suffering