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of the room, studying the charcoal stained walls. These rooms were long-forgotten subway stations, now ridden with a thickened mass of jungle from above. The only way into it was through the rusty tunnel escape doors by the railway tracks. “Have you heard of penicillin, Trent?”
    “The old antibiotic they used a thousand years ago? Yeah, sure.”
    James coughed. “In 1928, Alexander Fleming discovered that when a sample of a certain bacteria called staphylococcus got contaminated- some mold, penicillin fungi to be precise, all the bacteria closest to the fungi began dying. You see, Trent, penicillin would infiltrate the bacteria walls, cross-build with them, pretending it is an ally and then begin damaging and breaking down the bacteria cell wall and ultimately killing it.”
    Trent shrugged, not understanding a word the older man had uttered.
    “You need an infiltrator,” surmised Eric slowly. “Where are you going to get such a man?”
    James perked his mouth in deep thought, a faded vulgar graffiti catching his eyes. It was the cartoon caricature of a penis in the form of a gun. He supposed the cum shooting out of it would be likened to bullets, “ Fuck the police ,” he read. Well, at least the generation of those days could spell. Not something he could attribute to the impoverished majority of today.
     
    *****
     
    Jared carried the deer carcass on his shoulders, taking it back to the stream to skin and butcher it. He trudged wearily over forest debris and then gladly threw the dead deer down as soon as he reached the banks of the stream. His back itched and ached again. A spasm ran up his spine and he almost cried out in pain. He pulled off his shirt and stuffed it into his mouth to muffle his cry. He braced his back against a tree, rubbing it against its bark. He would have torn out the flesh in his back if he could. The cramping lasted a while before it began to subside.
    Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, glazing it. He dropped down to the ground, crouching at his knees, panting.
    “Not a good sign, is it Wolf?” he muttered breathlessly as the dog licked his face. He put his tired face into its thick fur, hugging his animal close to him.
    He’d been having spasm attacks occasionally in the last two months; ever since his escape from a handful of ruthless poachers he accidently clashed with in the woods. They came upon each other incidentally and unlike the hunter today, it was he who was on the run as they raced after him to kill him. Their little commotion had instantly attracted the forest guards. He managed to flee from them but the poachers weren’t as fortunate. A small pursuit later, the poachers were shot dead without even as a trial.
    It was just as well he hadn’t taken Wolf with him that day. Things could have escalated for the worse had Wolf turned around to attack either the poachers or the guards. He would then have given his life trying to protect his animal.
    He looked back over at the carcass and groaned. “We need to get that cleaned before someone else discovers what we’re doing.”
    He wiped the sweat off his forehead with his shirt. If the spasms grew any worse, he would have to see a doctor . But they were expensive. It was an expense he couldn’t afford at the moment. He had to find ways to manage with the pain until then.
    Wolf licked his face and he smiled. “Yeah, yeah, I got it. Let’s get this done and get out of here.”
     
    *****
     
    He wrapped the meat as tightly as he could into giant arrow leaves. “Does it smell?” he grinned at Wolf. He held a parcel at the dog’s nose.  Wolf sniffed at it eagerly and he laughed. “I suppose it does. Let’s just hope the corporate dogs don’t have a nose as good as yours.”
    He threw the parcel into his bag along with the others and then tickled Wolf’s neck. “No one’s nose is as good as yours. You already had smelt that poacher, didn’t you? Yeah, I saw your ears perk up like you’d seen a rabbit. You knew