Little Dead Monsters by Kieran Song Page B

first.”
    “There’s nothing to know,” Dog said, his mouth full of warm crusty bread.
    “There’s plenty,” Ryker said. “I’ve been trying to understand you and I think I have most of it figured out. Whereas Tiberius’s success in the pits was out of love—poetic but pathetic in my opinion—your success is because of your animal instincts. Your fights are raw and savage; such a joy to watch. If you strip away all of life’s clutter: love, friendships, money; you’re left with the true meaning of life — Survival.” Ryker tore off a piece of meat with his teeth and smiled while he chewed, taking pride in his own philosophical ranting. “You’re the embodiment of what I envisioned the pits to be —  a twisted version of Darwinism where it’s kill or be killed.”
    “Did you invite me here just to eat chicken while you play therapist?”
    “I want to know what makes you afraid,” Ryker said.
    “Nothing.”
    Ryker looked at Dog with a scrutinizing eye before agreeing. “I can see that, but it’s only a matter of time. In the Arena, everyone learns to fear something.”
    “I doubt it,” Dog replied as he finished the last scraps of his meal.
    When they were both done, Ryker had the slaves clear the plates and he motioned for them to follow him to the rear entrance. “I want to show you something Dog,” he said as he opened the back door in the kitchen leading to the yard. Once again Dallas’s gun jammed Dog in the back and he had no choice but to see what Ryker was up to.
    In the center of the yard was a haggard looking man on his knees and tied to a wooden post. His face was bruised and swollen while tears and snot dribbled down his face. At the sight of Ryker, he began to beg.
    “I’m sorry, please, don’t do this.”
    Ryker walked over to his prisoner and crouched down so he could look into his red, wet eyes. “Tears are so useless at this point,” he said.
    “I didn’t mean to hurt him,” the man said. “It was an accident. It just happened.”
    “Consider all this an accident too,” Ryker said as he walked back to Dog. “I trusted that man there. I paid him well to be one of my guards. That job didn’t last very long. Do you know what he did?”
    Dog shook his head.
    “He betrayed my trust,” Ryker spat. “I gave him a job when no one else did. You know how hard it is for a child molester to get work these days? That was a mistake on my part, allowing him to work in a place filled with children. I’m sure you can fill in the blanks as to what this man did.”
    “Sick,” Dallas chimed in. “Absolutely sick.”
    “How’s what he did any different from us kids dying in the pits?” Dog asked.
    “I paid for those kids,” Ryker cried out. “I paid for them to fight and die an honourable death. Instead, this selfish prick ruined my merchandise.”
    Ryker walked over to the porch and picked up a red jerry can and lugged it back and handed it to Dallas. Dog smelled the gasoline from where he stood.
    “Dallas, would you mind doing the honours?”
    “Pleasure boss,” Dallas replied as he gripped the can by the handle and walked over to the screaming prisoner.
    “God, don’t do this! Please don’t,” he pleaded.
    “Sorry, I’m not god, and even then I’m pretty sure he’s not too fond of your kind either,” Dallas said as he started splashing the gasoline over the man.
    “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” the man gasped in between sobs, but he was drowned out by the sloshing sounds of the gasoline thrown into his face. He spluttered and spat out the liquid from his mouth.
    When Dallas was finished, Ryker reached into his pockets and pulled out a lighter.
    “So Dog, this is my second gift for you tonight,” Ryker said. “I will give you the freedom of choice. You can decide whether this man lives or dies. What will it be? Thumbs up or thumbs down?”
    The man was reduced to an oily slobbering mess and Dog closed his eyes and tried to drown out the screams. He thought