The only exit was a metal door with a round knob. I strained my ears, trying to gather any clue as to where I might be. Nothing but the buzzing of the dim fluorescent light above me, casting the dusty room in its lurid glow. I scanned the empty walls, raised my pounding head to look up at the ceiling. A square ventilation grille was set right above me, but I had no delusions of escaping through the vent. My bleary eyes caught a red light in a dark corner. I blinked rapidly, trying to focus. A camera, and it was recording. Which meant that someone could be watching.

I heard the sharp sound of footsteps before I heard the lowered voices. Dropping my chin, I shut my eyes just as a key jangled in the doorknob. The metal door banged open a moment later.

“He’s still out,” said a gruff voice.

“Well, wake him,” another man said in a bored tone.

Someone stalked up to me, wrenched my head back by a fistful of hair, and ripped the rag from my mouth. I didn’t want to react but gulped one breath. Then a slap hit me so hard across the cheek my head snapped to one side, the sound loud and resounding in the chamber. My ears rang with it. The spike of adrenaline that shot through me made my head swell with heat, my fingertips tingling. The thug tried to hit me again, open-palmed, but I twisted, wrenching my shoulders in their sockets, and he smacked my jaw and neck instead. The sting of it brought my mind into sharp focus.

“He’s awake, Da Ge.” The oaf smirked, revealing teeth stained yellow from smoking. I could smell it on him.

Da Ge approached, his thin frame towering over me. “What were you doing outside the temporary hospital ward?”

“You mean the holding pen?” I spoke to the concrete floor. “Where they were letting sick meis die?”

“Who the fuck cares?” Da Ge drawled. “What were you doing there?”

“Just meeting my friends.”

“You’re dispensing meds. Undernet says that whatever you’re doing is working.” He cracked his knuckles. “That some of those wretches are actually recovering.”

I raised my head and stared into Da Ge’s face, saying nothing. He had mean, ruthless eyes and cutting cheekbones, reminding me of a shark.

“What were you giving them?”

I didn’t reply, and in a blur, he punched me in the face, and my head slammed back against the metal edge of the chair. Blood spurted from my nose; I could feel my cheek swell beneath my eye.

I coughed, then spat at their feet; blood ran into my mouth and dribbled onto my shirt. Rage filled me, and it tasted of blood and bile. I couldn’t feel any pain, only a tightness in my face.