Little Dead Monsters by Kieran Song

Author:Kieran Song [Song, Kieran]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-06-05T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Four.

Now that Garret wasn’t there anymore, Dog felt alone in the gym. He almost lost his drive to come here at all. It was then that Dog realized this fact: as much as he used the weight room to strengthen his body, he also used it to impress Garret. He wanted the old man’s approval.

The new guard they posted at the doorway seemed more interested in his phone than Dog’s workout routine, but that suited Dog just fine. He wasn’t in a mood to speak to anyone anyway.

The gym was one of the few places in the building that had a mirror but Dog always avoided looking at it. The truth of it was this: he was afraid of the man who would look back at him.

Dog was a monster in the Arena, slaughtering everyone they tossed his way. They called him many things in the pits: a demon, an animal, a barbarian, a destroyer, the list went on and on. What terrified Dog the most was that if he looked at his own reflection, he would see those very things. He finally had something to be afraid of — himself.

Some days, he was tempted to have a glance at the mirror, but he never did. Instead, he focused on the weights and the machines to strengthen him and train the monster inside to be faster and stronger, to be a more efficient killing machine.

Garret’s absence in the gym was glaring.

“You did good kid,” Garret had said. But did he? Dog got Garret, his only friend, killed, by asking him to save the boy...and it was all for naught.

Dog wanted to scream, but he held himself together. He couldn’t risk having the guard, who was well distracted by his phone, take notice him now. He came to the gym today for one thing, and one thing only.

“I’ll leave something for you taped underneath the bench press.”

He walked over to the flat bench and sat down on it. To avoid any suspicion, he did a set of bench presses first, performing his usual routine of ten reps with two heavy cast-iron plates strung onto each side of the bar. As he set the bar back on its resting place and returned to an upright position, he glanced at the guard, who completely ignored him.

Dog reached underneath the bench and felt a fabric pouch. He ran his fingers along its surface and made note of the packing tape holding it in place in two spots, which he slowly peeled off — doing his best not to make any apparent sounds — while watching the guard closely. When the pouch was finally free, he shoved it into his old sweaty towel and rolled it up. He completed another rep on the bench, and then walked over to the guard, calm and composed.

“I’m done here,” Dog said, clutching the smelly towel firmly in his hands.

The guard nodded, his eyes still fixated on his phone. “Let’s get you back then.”

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