The vehicle plunged slowly through the cold winter night. As it moves steadily on toward it's destination, the bumps in the road throw me to and fro across the scummy backseat. I remembered that I should be afraid. Then I recalled what I knew, and what I did to get that knowledge. That small comfort guided me through my delirium. It is gone now. I am simply numb now. I do not hurt, I only ache.
The driver's eyes were hollow, and cold as stone. He stared impassively at the road, squinting over the brim of his cap. His companion sat in the seat beside him, and he would talk to the driver, and smile at me.
They did not bear shackles. They were not tied to chains. These were willing servants, not simply expendable slaves. They were young, and reckless. They were brothers, and lived in my neighbourhood before everything happened.. They used to come up and talk to me in the street when I was young, and when the Man came to take me away they smiled and waved at me.
Walls of brick and stone rise high above me, and as we drove they were seen no more. Trees, thousands of them, decorated the countryside, and a light snow drifted down from the heavens.
We stopped, and I exited the vehicle. I had no wish to escape, to fight, to run. The First of the brothers exited, and smiled again at me. We saw eye to eye, he was not very tall. He did not speak, he only stared at me and then lit a match.
The Second of the brothers got out as well and moved to his brother's side. They stared, their bodies stiff as planks, at me. They cast long shadows in the moonlight, and as they turned and shifted they crossed over into each other. The First's shadow was long and stick-like, the Second's fat and horizontal. The scene was still, yet I could feel something in the air. I looked back to the shadows, and then I lost consciousness.
They had all disappeared in the shadow of the Third.
