"Hey Anthony," Albert shouted angrily, "what the hell are you doing?"
Anthony looked down and stared at the rugby ball clasped tightly in his hands. He looked back at his red faced brother waving furiously for him to throw the ball. Several burly men were thundering towards him, undoubtedly ready and willing to tackle him to the ground in the most excessive, and violent manner possible.
But Anthony was distracted; something was glinting in his eye from far, far above. He had caught the curious glimmer from the corner of his eye and it had thrown him off the game. It wasn't a plane, he was certain of that. It had been too bright, too glaring. It almost seemed like a star, shimmering vibrantly in the middle of the day.
"Anthony! You arse!" Albert screamed, finally wrenching Anthony from his daydream. Suddenly not giving a God damn about the game Anthony simply spun on the spot and tossed the ball with full force at Albert. Much to his amazement, the ball did not simply hurtle towards his brother and smack him in the face, as he really hoped it would. Instead the ball seemed to arc unnaturally and pick up speed. The ball was launching itself into space and within seconds was merely a speck on the distance.
As Albert and Anthony watched the ball vanish into the clouds with astonishment, Anthony was crushed to the ground by the weight of several hefty rivals.
"Jesus! Did you guys not..." but Anthony found the words punched out of his lungs by yet more weight. He struggled, trying to grasp for freedom through the sweaty, heaving mass. But as he fought, it seemed only to make the remaining space smaller and tighter. The dying gaps of daylight were squeezed out and suddenly he found himself pinned down in the darkness.
A few seconds passed before Anthony suddenly realised he was still trapped deep beneath the earth. For a moment he tried to struggle and wriggle his way to freedom, in the vain hope his dream had been the reality and he was still back at college with Albert. But he soon realised this was folly, and his mind was simply playing tricks on him. Albert was long dead and soon, very soon, he would join his twin.
Anthony halted his struggles and lay, listening, trying to discern if anyone was still trying to free him. But for now, all he could hear was his own shallow breathing, and the unnervingly rigorous beating of his heart.
The hot air choked Anthony's lungs. He honestly couldn't tell how long he'd been trapped in this rocky tomb; there had been periods of startling lucidity, interspersed with a more comforting fogginess and the occasional freedom of a dream. The moments of clarity made time stretch interminably, with nothing to judge its passing. Anthony couldn't even tell which way the rock fall had left him lying. Was he actually face down now, or lying upright? He couldn't be sure. He suspected had actually been tossed to the side and hoped that meant he was lying underneath an overhang. That was surely his only chance of survival should someone attempt to free him. Of course, if Atkins were getting men to remove the rocks, why, Anthony reasoned, would it be to save his sorry arse? It would be to get to the other side, to get into the bloody tunnel Krank had spent months protecting.
The one thing Anthony had tried to avoid was trying to second guess what was happening and why. He figured he'd sooner drive himself nuts with conspiracy theories and wacky ideas that actually work out the truth. All he knew was he'd been screwed several ways from Sunday, and, if he did survive this shit he'd sort out the fuckers who'd set him up on this wild ride.
Thud!
Anthony twitched. That sounded like a rock falling. He couldn't discern the direction. Usually he had a keen sense that could pinpoint a sound to within a metre of its origin. Right now, he was so disoriented, he wasn't even sure which way was up.
Crunch!
Now that was definitely coming from behind. He was certain he could hear voices now too. Yes! There were definitely voices and they weren't that far. Well, whoever the fuckers are, he reasoned, there's nothing I can do about it. I'm twisted, stiff and dehydrated. I couldn't even fart or curse their mother for giving them life, let alone put up a decent fight. Whoever they are, I just hope they have water and, dear God, a mattress would be mighty fine too, thank you very much, don't mind if I do.
The voices were building in volume and proximity; though Anthony could still not discern any specific words. The sound of rock cracking against rock was also getting more frequent. He couldn't help but flinch, despite the shock of pain it shot through his muscles, whenever he heard a cascade of rocks clatter and tumble. Each time he thought they would be clattering and tumbling right onto his head. Lights out sir!
"Put your bloody backs into it!" A voice suddenly echoed into his previously private chamber with a rude and disconcerting clarity.
"Oh shit," Anthony hissed. Hearing that voice he at least knew the name, and face, of his likely saviour, but it was not the voice he had been praying for. Quite the opposite. Because if Atkins were to capture him in this sorry state, he would undoubtedly soon wish those rocks had simply crushed the life from him. Anthony wasn't afraid of torture, nor was he afraid to die. But Atkins had a reputation. He was a theatrical, callous, sick son of a bitch. He was employed, not to extract information, but to scar, horrify and spread terror.
Strands of weak light fell upon Anthony's face, as more rocks were removed. He twisted his neck and squinted, near blind, at the blurry, silhouetted figure that emerged and filled up the pillar of light that had sprouted. Despite not being able to discern the bastard properly, Anthony knew only too well that the figure was Atkins and that the wiry son of a bitch was grinning.
"Bishop," Atkins started with a definite tinge of smug satisfaction, "whatever are you doing lying in such a ghastly place?" With a sly laugh, the figure vanished. "Men, extricate commander Bishop. Do be careful, he may have some broken bones." There was a brief pause. "If he doesn't, do feel free to furnish him with a few, as you see fit."
