Gobby lies on the ground in the alley while Drogo looms over him and crows circle above them in widening spirals. His body convulses violently – from the outside it looks like a severe epileptic seizure, but inside something very different is happening. Inside his mind eight mental maps appear – prototypes of actions formed in earlier critical situations.

  Each cell contains a behavioral model built on three elements: the type of critical situation, the factors needed to read it – number and type of people, location, surrounding objects – and the sequence of actions that worked before.

  Normally, when Gobby encounters danger, his mind selects one of these models almost instantly. It works like a game interface – a selection arrow moving like a mouse cursor between options, activating the model that matches the situation.

  But this time something goes wrong.

  The selection vector jumps from one model to another but never commits. Switching happens – activation never does. Inside his mind Gobby keeps clicking again and again, trying to trigger a response, but none of the behavioral programs start. The speed of these attempts accelerates until it reaches its limit. One of the mental maps cracks. Then another. Soon the structures collapse, breaking apart like pieces of a puzzle.

  The system disintegrates.

  His consciousness fractures.

  Outside, Gobby suddenly freezes, but inside his mind everything falls into darkness. From deep within that darkness fragments begin to surface: a white hospital; a green lawn where people walk – some wearing white coats, others blue uniforms; a doctor speaking to a boy; a mother crying with her face hidden in her hands while a father tries to calm her; a corridor where a huge man walks past, his shadow stretching across the wall; a small boy quietly turning a Rubik’s cube in his hands.

  Young Gobby.

  Then another flashback appears, slower than all the rest, as if time itself hesitates. Small hands release the Rubik’s cube. It slips from the fingers and falls toward the floor. When it hits the ground it shatters into pieces, and at that exact moment a child’s scream tears through the darkness – long, piercing and filled with terror.

  In the alley Gobby screams with the same sound. His body jerks violently as he tears his hands free from Drogo’s grip and clamps them over his ears.

  Drogo’s essence trembles and whispers with excitement. Yes… this is it. The scent is getting stronger.

  Drogo’s pupils widen. Hunger rises sharp and physical. Saliva gathers in his mouth and begins dripping onto Gobby’s face and neck.

  Suddenly Gobby stops screaming and becomes completely still. A defensive mechanism activates. A thin sheen of moisture spreads across his skin, his muscles tighten and compress, and the air inside his body seems to grow dense.

  Inside his consciousness the darkness shifts again. The fragments of memory, the broken pieces of thought and even Gobby’s own form become wrapped in thin branching vines that emerge from the darkness. They curl gently around everything, holding the chaos together.

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  From somewhere deep within that darkness a calm voice speaks, Don’t be afraid. I’m with you.

  Above them, in the alley, Drogo can no longer restrain himself. His planning, his rituals, the careful preparation for the feast – all of it disappears. Only hunger remains.

  He tears open Gobby’s clothes and presses his hand against the boy’s chest. The body beneath his palm feels dense, unnaturally firm.

  Now he will rip the heart out. His fingers push deeper into the flesh, forcing their way in. Just a little more and they will close around the heart. One violent pull – and it will be his. Gobby’s body twists in pain beneath him.

  A heavy blow. Glass cracks and shatters, fragments scattering across the pavement. Drogo’s eyes snap open for a moment before his entire body collapses forward, all his weight falling onto Gobby. Behind him stands German. He is covered in dirt, shaking, a broken bottle neck clenched in his hand. Somehow he found the strength to strike back.

  Before Drogo can regain consciousness, German forces himself forward and pushes the man off Gobby. Every movement costs him strength. He grips Drogo’s hand and tears his fingers away from Gobby’s chest one by one, pulling them free with desperate effort. His arms burn, his breath shakes, but he keeps going. Then he lifts Gobby onto his back, throwing the boy’s arms over his shoulders while his legs drag across the pavement. Step by step German carries him out of the alley.

  When he sees people ahead, he realizes they are almost safe. At that same moment the adrenaline begins to fade. A sharp wave of pain shoots through his leg – it is probably broken. Gobby hangs heavy and unconscious on his back, unbearably heavy. Then a sound comes from behind him.

  A groan.

  Drogo.

  Instinct cuts through the panic. If he hesitates, they will end up back in that alley. German forces himself forward through the pain and drags Gobby out onto the center of a busy road. Car horns explode around them as drivers slam on their brakes. German manages only a few more steps before the pain overwhelms him and he collapses together with Gobby in the middle of the road.

  Cars screech to a stop. Doors open. People rush toward them, shouting and trying to help.

  Back in the darkness of the alley a large shadow stands leaning against the wall, watching everything. Drogo’s yellow eyes burn with fury – his feast has been interrupted. Through clenched teeth he hisses, You little vermin… I will devour you in front of your friend. Then he turns and his shadow disappears deeper into the alley.

  Gobby hears a familiar sound – quiet sobbing. He slowly opens his eyes. His mother is leaning over him, her head resting against his chest, her hands covering her face as she cries. Feeling him move, she lifts her head, wipes her eyes and throws her arms around his neck.

  Thank God… you’re awake.

  Gobby hugs her weakly and asks, Where am I? What happened?

  She does not let him go. You and your friend were attacked by a maniac. You barely survived.

  A dull pain spreads through Gobby’s head and fragments of memory flash through his mind. He pulls away from his mother and opens the hospital gown on his chest. Five circles mark his skin. The flesh around them looks torn, but the wounds themselves have already closed.

  Seeing what he is doing, his mother says, The doctor said everything is fine. They don’t understand why he left those marks or how he made them.

  But he pierced me… he tried to rip out my heart.

  When they brought you here, the doctor only saw the marks. He didn’t mention any wounds. Maybe it only seemed that way to you.

  What about German?

  Her expression darkens slightly. He was less lucky. Broken ribs, a broken leg and many bruises. But he’s alive.

  A dull hum fills Gobby’s head again and the pain returns. He raises his eyes to his mother and says with unusual seriousness, Tell me what happened in the psychiatric hospital when I was little.

  What are you talking about?

  Gobby looks at her even more seriously. Stop. I need to know what happened.

  His mother understands that this conversation can no longer be avoided. She takes his hand and quietly says, I have to warn you… this may not be easy for you.