Probing in darkness with his tongue, Holbeck was pretty sure his gums were shrinking.
Pulled back into light, he watched with a grim, detached fascination as old scars ran wet, opening again like painful memories.
Barlow, the warden, rolled an orange around one broad, thick hand.
"This all can stop, " he said, "you know what we want."
He thrust his hand forward. Sharp citrus scent filled Holbeck's nostrils, an acidic life-giving tang.
Holbeck stared mutely at his body, daubed purple with weeping blotches.
His silence: rewarded with being thrust back in the hole.
A phosphor glow burst in the darkness, a shower of lights coalescing; approaching.
The filmy, translucent form of Sara shone before Holbeck.
Peace, my love, she whispered. Great dark wings enfolded him, sighing.
Say nothing. You will be rewarded.
Hope filled him, and she was gone.
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