SevenThe steady drip of water hitting the foul, stinking pool sounded to Jude like a clock ticking away the seconds, moving ever closer to his doom.
They both sat slumped against the wall, Father unconscious. He had been so for some time. Jude remembered the moment it had happened, the sudden blur of fists, the way his father had punched the first assailant, then the second. He did not think he had ever seen his father deliver such a flurry of well-placed and devastating blows as he did in those few exchanges. But then a third assailant hit Father around the back of the head with something very heavy looking. A mad few minutes, violence bursting like an over-ripe fruit, blood-red, flesh dripping with long trails of blood.
Jude put his face in his hands, breathed through his fingers. They
