I finish it, as much as I can take, then roll the corpse toward the sucking sound and feel the current grab him and pull his foot from my hand and he’s washed down to a lower place. I find the wall and use it to guide me back around the hole and out the way we came. It’s too dark to know how bad I look, how much blood is coating my mouth and cheeks and chin and neck, but I’ve looked at myself in the mirror before so I have a pretty good idea. When I find some light I’ll clean up a little. Not that it’ll require a great deal of grooming.

Standards down here being what they are, a man only has to do so much to pass as human.

There’s not much to know.

A guy living in the sewers, what do you need to be told that you can’t figure out for yourself?

Figure he fucked up somewhere along the way. More than once. Figure he’s got enemies. Many. Figure he’s got reasons for not just running far away. One reason is, he’s got nowhere to go. Never been out of the City. Another reason is, he has certain minimum requirements as far as living conditions.

Anonymity. If not crowds to get lost in, then a place where no one cares who you are or what you’ve done.

Darkness, he needs. Night is best, but protection from solar UV rays will do. Too many of those and he erupts in a welter of pustules and wet scabs. Seen pictures of guys with severe eczema? Picture that in your mouth and ears and nose and on your eyes. That’s what the sun does.

And people, he needs. Not to practice his social graces, but as a food supply. Blunt, but there it is. Not like I’m hiding anything. No food supply, he starves in short order, goes crazy just before he dies, crazy strong and crazy fast and woe betide the motherfuckers in his immediate proximity when it happens.

Sound like something’s been left out of the equation?