Page 24 of Michael
He looks down at me with a mix of concern and disapproval, seemingly startled that someone would dare stand up to him. “Are you sure about this?” he presses.
I place my hands on my hips and make a bold statement. “Michael, I grew up on Skid Row. I’m sure I can handle a few dead rats.” If that doesn’t convince him, I don’t know what will.
“All right,” he says under his breath, showing palms in surrender.
Finally, he opens the door.
My heart is thumping wildly in my chest as I step into the room. The minute I’m in, the stench of blood and putrefaction is unbearable. I cover my nose with my forearm fast, but it does nothing to stop the smell from filling my lungs.
It’s a slaughterhouse of carnage. Everywhere I look there are dead rats; some have been dismembered, some have been crushed, others have had their heads bashed in. The walls are smeared with blood and entrails, and there’s an eerie stillness pervading the air.
I take a few steps forward and try to make sense of what I’m seeing. This must be the work of the kodi—it killed every rat in here and left no survivors. But why? What did these rodents do to deserve such ruthless treatment?
My musings are interrupted by Michael’s voice: “We should get out of here.” He turns towards me, his face hardening as he notices my horror-stricken expression. He grabs me by the arm and pulls me away from this macabre scene, guiding me back towards safety with one hand and shielding me from further shock with his other.
I can only nod in response—speechless at what I saw inside—before we make our way out together in silence. But just as we’re about to step outside this chamber of torture, I spy movement in the corner of my eye.
“Don’t move,” I whisper, my voice barely audible amidst the shadows of the room.
Michael turns towards me, his face a mask of confusion. “What is it?” he asks hesitantly.
I remain still and only point with my gaze to the corner of the room. “Look,” I manage to get out in a low murmur.
He follows my gaze:
Through the cracks of an old desk, a small creature feasts on its latest prey. It’s the size of a cat, but with a long, striped tail and long needle-like teeth.
“There he is!” he whispers in sheer awe.
“Holy hell! I forgot the kennel!” I seethe.
Fast as lightning, the kodi darts out of the desk, straight into a crevice in the wall.
“It’s okay. I’ll get him.” Michael creeps up to the corner—unbelievably brave for someone who’s about to take on a vicious little monster.
“You can’t be serious...” I try to stop him, but it’s too late. The man has lost his mind.
“Look how sweet he is,” he croons, hovering over the hole. “Oh… But you’re the sweetest little kodi, aren’t you? Yes, you are.” Boldly, he reaches towards the kodi’s secret refuge. “Come here, kitty. Come on…” His hand inches closer until there’s almost no space left between him and the kodi.
The kodi wriggles its way out of the small hole, a unique mix of dark grey and black stripes on its small, furry head. Its big blue eyes sparkle, and its small snout twitches as it studies Michael with curiosity. Its tiny ears stand at attention, while its long whiskers tremble with each breath. Suddenly, the tiny creature hisses. It flashes its pointy fangs, sinking them deep into Michael’s finger.
“Ouch!” Michael pulls his hand away in a split second. His face contorts in the rawest pain as the kodi retreats to its shelter with demonic speed.
My eyes fly open and my heart sinks as I see the deep gash the kodi left across the middle of his index finger. “Oh, my goodness! Michael, are you hurt?” I exclaim anxiously, stepping closer to him.
But he just laughs and shakes his head. “It’s just a minor cut,” he says, uncovering his hand to reveal that miraculously, the wound is nothing more than a scratch, a faint mark along his finger.
“But it was bleeding before!” I stammer, confusion building up inside me. “I saw...”
“Don’t worry. See? It’s nothing,” Michael says with a faint smile, holding out his unharmed finger as proof. He stands up uttering a light groan, his broad shoulders slumped in relief.
“We should go,” he proposes in a low voice.
My answer is a silent nod as I follow him out with heavy steps.
When we’re back in the hallway, Michael slams the door shut behind us. He takes a deep breath of fresh air before turning to face me again, his eyes now clouded with warmth and concern for me.
I feel like he wants to say something, and his lips part to speak, when I finally figure out the next step.
