The wide-open doors unleash a foul smell from inside the building. My stomach churns as the overpowering stench of rotten blood pours out. This odor is nothing like the salty sweet smell of regular plasma. Whatever this stuff is, it crawls up my nose like corrosive acid.

Rat threatens me with a cocky, “Ah ah ahhh, kid. Don’t cha go tryin’ to run away.” His voice has lost the devilish growl. “I’ll have ta’ snap them pretty little knees of yours.” Obvious joy pulls his leathery face into a sarcastic smile that has me aching to carve him up pumpkin-style. Crow is too busy working to join in Rat’s game of threating me. He swipes his finger four times and Hayden drops off the side of the truck. There’s still no sign of life when he pours out over the filth...

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