The tunnel ended in darkness beyond the reach of Pierce’s lantern. He examined his immediate surroundings. It was makeshift, but solid. How the men dug through the winter God only knew. “Unless they dug this in the summer. Or fall. Indian Summer.” Pierce thought this through as he slowly made his way below the road that separated the stockades from the camp. At uneven intervals, the tunnel was reinforced with scraps of wood and boards. A wire wound its way across the ceiling and through more boards. He took care to note the position of nailed boards, lest he need to make a retreat, and scratched the earth to either side as a marker. He came upon scraps of food and as he looked even closer, footprints. Mixed among the footprints of men were that of a small bird. He leaned forward to examine the curiosity when a cold wind brushed past his face. The breeze carried a low moan and the sounds of shuffling feet. Pierce froze. He turned his head back and shone

the lantern behind him. It, too, ended in darkness. Pierce sat still and studied the sound. The breeze, now past him, had stopped. Though the sound approached him from the front, Pierce deduced that it was the rush of air escaping from the open stockade’s floorboards and was sucked forward by the opening of its counterpart on the other side.

He contemplated his situation and realized he’d come too far.  He dimmed the lantern and began to slowly back pedal. The shuffling grew closer. The moans were soft: the sound of anguish. Pierce continued his slow retreat. He could turn around, he thought, yet he couldn’t bring himself to turn his back to the sound of an unknown, low moaning and shuffling. He heard the occasional bump against the boards as it made its way towards him and Pierce felt his heart beating inside his chest. Instinctively, he increased his pace and just as suddenly, a sharp pain ripped through his back and stopped him cold. He fought the urge to yell and, in an instant, he was hurtled back through time. He was swaying high above the heads of the village Elders out on the Wadi. The pain from the hooks in his chest and back fighting for control. And yet, the more Pierce focused on the pain, the less acute it became and the more clarity he achieved. Pierce focused on the pain. He reached out and pulled himself forward. The shuffling ahead grew louder, and a dark shape slowly began to appear against an even darker backdrop.

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