Blood on Sand

THE SHOW MUST GO ON

It was like the sand he was lying in had crept into his mouth; his tongue had turned into superglued sawdust. He tried to smell the air again and again, but nothing had changed—still just his blood on sand. Zoe had been there for hours, maybe for a whole day... or two. Maybe he was dead?

If this was death, then he really wanted life. Even when life was shitty, it was better than the darkness. His lungs didn't work as they should. The darkness had pushed inside. It was taking up too much room for his lungs to function. He hadn't thought they could get any smaller, but they kept on shrinking. It felt like someone was sitting on his chest, but no one was. He was all alone. Or was he alone?

He heard footsteps. No, it wasn't footsteps. Or was it? He thought it was, but he'd already heard footsteps a thousand times since waking up. Maybe he was dreaming.

There was a sound.

No, it wasn't a sound.

It was a sound, a metallic clunk followed by a terrible screeching that seemed to force itself into his head where it sunk its claws into his brain. Harsh light stabbed his eyes; he had to squeeze them shut to protect himself from the painful onslaught. So this was it. The waiting was over. Zoe had thought he would be glad, but he wasn't.

As rough hands grabbed hold of his upper arms, he knew that nothing good would come of being dragged out of the darkness and into the arena. He didn't want to die, but he was too weak to fight. Why didn't he want to die anymore? An image of Wojtek danced before his eyes, just for a split second, but it was enough.

Everything would've been so much easier if he hadn't cared.

****

Osmond hauled Zoe out of one of the side chambers on the ground level of the theatre. Wojtek tried not to look at the tracks Zoe's feet left in the sand. Why the fuck did they have to take Zoe? He didn't move a muscle. The entire pack was watching. Rushing to Zoe's side would only be seen as a weakness so he remained in the same spot and glared at them.

This was something that had to happen. Wojtek might not like it, he might actually hate it, but he couldn't stop it. Zoe looked scared. The last time they'd been in this situation there'd been nothing but determination in his eyes. Now they were wide and filled with dread. His forked tongue came out for a second before disappearing again. His gaze bounced between Osmond and the audience, no one could miss the tension in his body.

With a grin, Osmond let go of his hold, and Zoe fell to his knees in the middle of the arena, a cloud of sand puffing up around his legs. He faltered, and for a moment, Wojtek thought he'd tip over. Anger burned through his body; he guessed Osmond would've wanted Zoe to crawl on the sand before his feet. Fucker.

Time seemed to stand still.

Zoe didn't move and neither did Wojtek. The crowd was quiet, and the harsh spotlights shone on them. Wojtek almost felt like a spectator even though he knew he was the main attraction.

He watched Zoe, saw the severed tail, and winced at the sight of the exposed muscles and the protruding bone resting on the sand. At least he'd stopped bleeding, that was good. He'd seen a lizard once who didn't stop bleeding—they'd lost him the day after. It couldn't be good to get sand in the wound, though. He needed to end this.

In that moment Zoe's gaze fell on him, and Wojtek couldn't help but smile. Zoe stilled. His gaze stopped bouncing, his shoulders slumped, and with a short nod he tilted his head and bared his throat. Wojtek took a few steps closer, feeling Zoe's gaze upon him the entire time. He was covered in sand, dust, and dried blood, but his scales were still a vivid green. The ropes cutting into his skin made Wojtek want to roar. Did they have to bind him so fucking tight? He saw the raw flesh where they'd chafed his body, and feared there was worse he couldn't see. He filled his lungs with air, smelled the fear, the anticipation, sweat, blood, and sand. It was time to get the show on the road.

****

Zoe's eyes never left Wojtek's. It felt fitting that it was Wojtek who would kill him. A week ago Zoe had tried to force him, but he hadn't wanted to. Now Zoe didn't want him to, but Wojtek would do it. Strange how things can change in just a few days and still be as they always had been. Zoe bleeding out on the sand, and Wojtek giving the audience a show. If he'd been able to, he might have laughed.

He wished he could've had more time, wished he could've slept more nights in Wojtek's shrine of orchids, wished he could've seen home one more time. He wished he'd done more in life, loved more, laughed more... killed less. He'd hoped there would be a time when he could've been with someone like Wojtek without being owned by him. He simply wished he'd been given a little more.

It didn't matter now. He would die at Wojtek's hand, and that would have to be okay.

"You want me to kill him?" Zoe startled at Wojtek's voice.

The crowd's cheer boomed. The sounds so different from every other time Zoe'd been there. The growls, snarls, and bellows were now human. It made it all the more barbaric to Zoe. Wojtek was going to kill him in human form—execute him, and what for? He didn't think there were any bets tonight.

"Is that what you came here to see?"

More deafening sounds travelled through the spring night. "Kill him. Kill him. Kill him," they chanted.

"Isn't he allowed to defend himself? Isn't the thrill of a fight what brought you here tonight? Isn't it a show you want?" Wojtek's growl only egged the audience on. Zoe wished he'd just get on with it. He wouldn't fight. He was too weak even if he'd wanted to, and without his tail, he'd have a hard time keeping his balance. It didn't matter, though. He didn't want to hurt Wojtek. He wouldn't fight. He would give Wojtek his last breath, his last heartbeat, his last drop of blood as it ran out onto the sand.