Her ear was hurting. The blood had trickled down her neck and beneath her collar. She could feel it had stopped flowing now and congealed into a dark, sticky mass.
But when it stopped, the pain began. A dull ache, like a toothache but behind her ear, throbbing.
She opened her eyes.
The clock ticked over to 12.20. Should she shout out now? Would anybody hear her? Her voice was already hoarse. She had shouted and shouted and shouted, but nobody came.
Nobody came.
The dogs were still watching her, their dark eyes red-rimmed and evil.
One of the rats had nearly gnawed through the wire of the cage. She could see its sharp teeth in the pink mouth, pulling and tugging at the wire, its black whiskers and brown nose pulled back in a snarl as it attacked the cage. The rest still writhed and shimmered, one mass of dirty brown hair, pink feet and sharp claws.
It was the sounds she noticed most. As if, by cutting her behind the ear, Allen had sharpened her hearing. The ticking of the clock, counting the seconds she had left to live. The panting of the dogs as they stood and stared at her through the wire mesh. The rustle of mud-soaked fur on fur as the rats rubbed against each other’s bodies. The sharp metallic scrape as one rat gnawed at the wire.
And the sound of her own fear. She could hear she was afraid. The little whimpers. The rasp of her breath. The slight trickle of the blood down her neck.
The hiss of a speaker. A voice speaking to her. Not Allen’s voice, a Chinese voice. ‘You have forty minutes to choose before I release them both. Which cage do you choose?’
Which do I choose?
She looked at the dogs and then at the rats.
Which do I choose?
A drop of sweat trickled down her forehead and stung her eye. She blinked.
Which do I choose?
And she screamed again, hoping against hope that someone, somewhere, could hear her.