Captives

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Rodger Mintel awoke to the worst pain of his life. His whole body burned as if a swarm of mutant ants was eating him inch by inch.

He tried to scream but couldn’t hear his voice, only the dull ringing. His eyes didn’t seem to be working, either.

Maybe he wasn’t awake, after all. He couldn’t move his legs or arms, or his hands. All that seemed to be working were his nerves, and every fiber of his body was screaming at top volume.

He endured the torture for what felt like hours, but it could have been only minutes, or even seconds.

A few fragmented thoughts somehow got through the gauntlet of fire consuming his body. One of them was the memory of a rusted ship moored to a pier under a dark sky. Lightning forked through the flashing red vines that branched and twisted along the shore.

The pain again took hold, the images fading into bright flashes of red. He tried again to open his eyelids, but they wouldn’t respond. He couldn’t even grit his teeth.

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