I swung the iron latch open and reached into the dark pen.

Benji didn’t try to get up by himself.

He leaned forward and fell against my chest, and his wet flannel pajamas soaked through the front of my sweater at once.

His whole body was jerking in small, hard shudders that rattled his teeth.

I picked him up, keeping the bolt cutters hooked in the fingers of my left hand, and rose out of the mud.

The music from the house was still pounding through the closed kitchen window above us, the bass rattling the glass.