Excerpt
The thoughts nagged at him. And now he knew something was terribly wrong. That bastard had tricked him. That was no film crew up there. But what was it?
The floors here were stone–and cold to his naked feet. He shivered. In the dim light he saw the walls were also formed of stone blocks. He was reminded of the dungeons he had seen in his comic books as a child.
The corridor narrowed and they came to a row of heavy wooden doors, set six feet apart in the stone walls on either side of the corridor.
“Where the hell are we? What’s going on,” Terry yelled at his escort.
“Shut up or you’ll feel this,” said one of the thugs, raising a big, black night stick menacingly. The simpering little toady produced a ring of keys and opened one of the doors revealing a bare stone cell. The only concession to comfort being a pile of straw in the corner. There was no light, no furniture, no water. Not even a privy.
“Inside–and keep quiet or I’ll come back and give you a dose of this,” said the hulk. Terry had no option. He bent his head to pass through the low door which was slammed and locked behind him. He sat down on the straw wincing as it prickled his buttocks and genitals.
God! What had he got himself–and Charlie into. This cell was out of the dark ages. There was only a glimmer of light coming in through the little grille in the door. Surely no prison could ever have been so dismal.
He got up and went to the door. “Charlie,” he called softly.
“Shut up, you. And this is your last warning. Another peep and I come in there with this.” The hulk, who must have been waiting in the corridor for him to speak, waved the stick before the little grille. Terry subsided, returning to his pile of straw.
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