I came to the crates again. They were full of grenades and blankets. Nights were cold in the city, and these supplies were intended towards scout tower, eventually to the patrol which would stick around to spend the night. Their kitchen was located in basement of second building where smells of cooking were let through the system of pipes which led to the roof. They masked all their functions, even those in hygienic needs. I closed the crates and moved to find toilet. The stench of feces led me to the place where duties are been done. Door opened in screech with a flash of tiles covered with someone’s blood, even the walls kept specter of red stains. Fallen tiles were revealing concrete wall that was catching mold and green corners had moss and some dark green ooze that was dripping from it. Black dirt between tiles just gave more repulsive look to the place while sharp, punchy stench of feces pierced through my phantom mask. Only the middle cabin door was standing properly which I opened by sleeve when a wave of smell flew towards me along with a hive of flies that buzzed and circled. How can they use this toilet? – I wondered. I’m sure that Crystal would happily piss in front of the squad of horny Wyverns rather than urinate here. The can was busted, probable they broke it the last time they drowned some poor bastard. A can seat was leaned beside the ceramic which I wiped from my pants and carefully placed it back where it should be. They were insightful enough to put a nail in the door frame for me to twist it at a side and lock the busted door.
I scattered the annoying flies from the can, took down my pants and pleasantly placed my bum onto the seat frame. I think it’s not necessary for me to explain what happened next. Backpack was resting near my legs while I was reading my book. I started to list pages until my attention was disrupted by approaching noise. It sounded as a Wyvern. He was whistling some melody during his steps sounds entering in the cabin next to mine. I heard his belt clinking and zipper undoing, then he silenced for a brief moment until he took a good position. I chuckled at the dude that had no idea of me being there. He started to sing very badly on foreign language, falter in moments with non articulated sounds, which were really to scream in laughter. He gargled, coughed and croaked like something got stuck in his throat. I covered my mouth with both hands so he won’t hear me dying out of laughter. On my left side, beside the backpack, a giant rat was snuffing about. He looked at me with huge empty black eyes in hope I’ll feed him, but he figured that I wasn’t his master, so he paced along to the second cabin where funny Wyvern was heard. As he passed under the wooden screen, Wyvern started to yell and cause racket. Rat frightened him with his appearance. Dude waved his hands against the wooden divider and then it slipped on wet tiles and fell in a can with sounds of splashing and then he became silent.
– Go fuck yourself, Bitey! You scared the shits. – Wyverns spoke.
I burst in laugh, as there was no need to hold myself any longer. I started to roar of laughter making my tear flow, while confused Wyvern silently observed the wooden divider. He joined me in uncontrollable laugh, overcharging himself with it; despite he sat in someone’s shit. We needed time to come back to normal. I pulled out the blue book and ripped two pages that I started to fold, ruffle the paper in same way as the wretch soldier beside me. Occasionally we would come back to laughter and then return to scrabbling paper. Bitey was indeterminately going from cabin to cabin during uncontrollable cries; laugh and paper rustle that made his head spin. Anybody else would shoot the rat, but not this Dragon. Bitey was his touch with reality. What dogs were to people, Bitey was to him. Although unusual for a pet, the rat has shown love towards the man in his own way. Maybe he couldn’t find mines like dogs or blandish like cats, but he had soul and he presented his affection by being obedient. Whenever the funny Metalhead would ask him to return to his shelter, rat would instantly heed the command. Maybe this kind of things don’t mean nothing to some people, but to this Metalhead, he was the most valuable thing he had. He considered him as a member of the family, beside the fact he slit his real family a long time ago.