It was early afternoon when the telegram came. There was no earth shaking reverberation to announce the transition, just a knock at a perfectly normal door.
Gagged and bound, Arthur struggled, desperately working to free himself enough to escape. The task was made more difficult because the floor upon which he lie—the trunk of a midsized car—heaved and bucked…
The first sound Hanz was aware of was that of a high-pitched siren, blaring loudly around him.
Cracking his eyes, he looked around slowly. The light was blindingly bright, and for some reason his head hurt.
Steam was rising from the streets, slowly crawling skyward in the chilled morning. The only sound came from the fall of his boots upon the pavement, echoing loudly off the tin walls of the empty warehouses that lined the narrow streets.
His hearts were pumping loudly; he could feel them beating in his chest. He glanced around nervously, hoping no one noticed, and then realized he was alone.