He woke in a ring-size concrete chamber. The ceiling was twenty feet high and there was one steel door on the other side of the chamber. There were odd pieces of clutter, a brick, a foot long pipe, a stone, a gallon tin of fruit pie filling—what?

That stuff is probably booby-trapped. Leave it alone.

He was feeling kind of sick and stiff. So he stood and paced, and began doing some floor exercises, then switched to shadow boxing, and eventually began running intervals.

No water and no paste.

I’m hungry.

There were many obvious audio video ports in the ceiling along with the flood lights that illuminated the room in a deathly shade of gray. He made himself comfortable as far away from the door as possible, in front of which was scattered the junk. He sat and thought of pleasant things: of Tina before she tried to kill him; of Fierce Woman before she divorced him; of Big Mamma before he gave her to his Neanderthal ally; of Duty before she dumped him; of Addy before she tried to control him with The Bible; of Joan before they dragged her away…

Ma Wolf I miss her!

Yes Sir, Sarge, nodding out…

Just as he was beginning to doze off the door opened and three naked Middle Eastern guys came into the room. Two of them had suffered gunshot wounds, and the other had fragmentations scars and burns.

All three were cuffed. There was a brief buzzing sound and the cuffs fell to the floor.

I think I know what this is about. This must be a U.S. Government facility. These are undeclared POWs, terrorists.

The three naked men advanced on him: one with a stone; one with a brick; and the tall beady-eyed one with the foot long half-inch pipe.

Your tactical options are pretty limited dummy—no, that’s a dumb move…

He ran directly at the small guy with the burns and fragmentation scars who was armed with the stone. This fellow was on the far left and he threw his stone which just bounced off of Jay’s shoulder. Jay clothes-lined the little man but missed. The guy had ducked and spun. Jay was now cornered near the door, but he did have the #10 can of fruit. As the men came at him in an open-V formation with the pipe-man back at the point Jay threw the can like a medicine ball into the small man—who went down—as the brick cracked on his forehead.

They all three charged him now. He dropped the brick-guy with a soccer kick to the knee and the other two were on him. The little guy was hugging him low trying to take him down while the beady-eyed pipe-guy thrust at his face with the pipe, trying to put his eyes out or knockout his teeth. Blood was beginning to blind him from where the brick had torn open his forehead…

Mother, why are my nails clipped, my fangs dull?

My balance is off—where is my tail?

“Aahhhrrrrrr!”

…He could smell the blood; his blood, somehow metallic. These were mean meat-puppets coming to kill him. He dropped an elbow on the small one under him and grabbed the cold heavy bone that the other one was thrusting at him. He was somehow thrown to the floor of this cave. He scrambled on all fours faster than any two-legged meat-puppet could possibly run into the back corner of the den. He turned, cornered, as the wounded meat-puppets picked up their things and advanced behind their mean bone-poking pack-leader.

I am the big hound, the top hound!

This is my den—my food is you!

Then he heard her behind him, slathering her hideous snarl; foaming at the lip as her fangs dripped and she prodded him from behind with her great moist snout! The matted hair on his back sprang up and his lips drew back quivering to reveal his fangs. They hesitated but then came on.

They took your mate, the one with the sweet downy fur. Now they have come to take the meat from your bones!

Eat your fill, but bring me their hearts!

Yes Mother!

He spread his claws and snarled, then bellowed his slathering howl as he sprang at them—then off the wall—then around them—then onto the back of the little one. The others turned to meet his attack, but he backed up with it whimpering between his paws as he tore the soft pieces from it and clutched it to his belly. He then tore out an eye and popped it into his mouth to wet his cracked lips, as his howling had of a sudden made his mouth dry. He backed up farther into a corner of the cave—no, your den, Mother’s den!

As they advanced he grabbed his still-living prey by its scrawny ankles and swung it over head smashing its head against the wall.

The big mean meat-puppet then came at him with its poking thing while the other cringed. He leaped sideways still dragging his prey, and then swung it around as a weapon, bearing down on the retreating meat-puppet pack-leader as he struck it with the failing arms and empty head of its pack member. He got closer and struck the mean meat-puppet with the body of the other small one, which stunned it.

Pounce on the fresh meat first—like your musky father who mounted me when the world was young—the first on the falling kill!

He was then on it tearing out its throat and biting off its snout as he ripped away it’s mating parts. He dearly wanted to eat this one but the other smashed him between his shoulders with the big hard thing. He turned on it and roared his fury as he tore out its eyes with his claws and then ripped out its throat with his fangs. The big one without the snout was yet crawling, looking for its mating parts.

Just eat the hindquarters son. Save the organs and ribs for me—and the blood-filled heart.

Yes, Mother!

He pounced on the crawling thing and began to feast. The rump and ham flesh did not taste too bad. It was a bit tough though, and he had to use his incisors to rip and tear it into manageable strips.

Now I know why you like eating them alive Mother. They taste so good like this.

Something does not smell right.

He heard a hissing and looked around.

He saw nothing but the hissing continued. The torn cheek fell from his hand as the

strange smell began to make him drowsy. He tried to fight it, standing and pacing in anger. Then the floor rushed up to meet him…