Free Revolution No. 9 by Neil McMahon

and causing death within a few hours. It was treatable if caught in time, but that required sophisticated equipment.
    Monks had no accurate way to measure how close Mandrake was to a crisis, either. But his gut told him that even if he had insulin, even if he could deal with all those factors and stabilize the boy’s condition, it would only be for a matter of days. And something as simple as a cold or an infection could quickly destroy the precarious balance.
    He was staring at Mandrake in the room’s dim light when he heard the lodge’s door open, then footsteps cross the main room. The old wooden floor telegraphed the sounds, a series of creaks and hollow thumps.
    Monks moved quietly to the bedroom doorway and peered through the hanging blanket. The newcomer was Marguerite, apparently done with Captain America. She was kneeling at the fireplace, setting a metal cook pan on the glowing coals.
    She stood, shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, and paced, her head bowed as if in concentration. After half a minute, she went to the table and poured a glass of wine. She drank it down in a few fierce swallows, then poured another.
    It seemed that she was troubled.
    Monks went back to his chair. A few minutes later, he heard her footsteps approach the bedroom. She stepped into the doorway, carrying a tray with a covered plate and a mug. But she did not come in. It occurred to Monks that she was staying beyond the radius of his fetter, as if he were a vicious dog.
    â€œI warmed you up some food,” she said.
    He hadn’t eaten since lunch, and the savory smell ofroasted meat started his belly growling. But he was not yet ready to succumb. It added to the mean edge he was harboring toward his captors.
    â€œYou don’t feel strange about serving dinner to somebody who’s chained to the floor?” he said.
    â€œLook, this wasn’t my idea.” She kept her head half turned away, as if to hide behind the long hair that covered the side of her face.
    â€œThat’s what the Nazi camp guards claimed after World War Two. Watch a movie called Night and Fog sometime.”
    â€œYou don’t understand, man,” she said, dropping back into the defensive mode that he had seen earlier.
    â€œI’m afraid I don’t.”
    â€œFreeboot’s not like other people.”
    â€œI understand that .”
    â€œI mean—he doesn’t go by the same rules.”
    Monks thought about pointing out that people who made up their own rules tended to be called “felons,” but he decided to back off—not out of compassion, but in the hopes that he might be able to win her confidence and use it to his advantage.
    â€œYou’re the only one here who seems to give a damn about him,” he said, nodding toward Mandrake.
    â€œIt’s not that they don’t care. It’s just that everybody’s…wrapped up in other stuff.”
    â€œSo I’ve gathered,” Monks said.
    Monks got the water cup and sat on the bed, coaxing Mandrake to drink. Marguerite hesitated a little longer, then walked in and set the tray on the table.
    â€œIf you want to crash, I can take over that,” she said.
    â€œI’m all right for now.”
    She went to the doorway, but lingered, one hand resting against the jamb.
    â€œI couldn’t believe what you did back there,” she said. “Tasting pee.”
    â€œPracticing medicine’s not always pretty.”
    â€œIt freaked Freeboot out totally,” she said. “It was like you read his mind. He’s terrified of diabetes. He had an uncle who went blind. The doctors didn’t help him any.”
    Monks registered the information. That probably figured into why Freeboot had reacted so strongly.
    â€œSometimes there’s nothing that can be done,” Monks said.
    It took him another minute to get an adequate amount of water into the little boy. Marguerite was quiet, and he thought she