Prologue

When I awoke, it was to discover that the comfortable bed which I had been lying on had been replaced by metal decking. There was a steady pounding, and someone was shouting at the top of his lungs to be let out.

Let out? What does he mean by that? I opened my eyes and answered my own question. All around me were metal walls, floor, and ceiling . . . and a pair of slick, black shoes above which were a pair of black pants legs.

Apparently, whoever had put me here had decided that putting two people in a six-by-six room was better punishment, for the shouting and pounding were being caused by the owner of the black shoes and pants legs.

I had ignored them at the time as I was intent on finding out where I was. I looked at their owner now. The man was dressed from head to toe in black. Even the shiny, leather jacket was black.

Rising slowly from where I had been lying on the floor, I started toward him; and he spun to face me. His expression became one of pure shock . . . shock that anyone was in the room with him. He had thought he was alone here. And maybe he had been until I arrived. But then that took me back to the questions of where I was and how I had come to be here.

With sudden surprise, I realized that I was reading his thoughts. Knowing this. I searched his mind for his name. It finally presented itself to me . . . Jonathan Willaway.

I stopped. The shock had been replaced by fear. It was not just a tiny glimmer of fear, but rather, a full-blown blaze of stark terror. He had now backed himself as close to the far wall as he could get. As I started toward him, he resumed his earlier activity with renewed fire.

I, for my part, turned and made a search of the room for any door or other way out of here. Not even a crack showed in the metal. I leaned against one wall to think. But with Willaway making such a fuss, I could not concentrate.

Moving over to him, I turned him around to face me as gently as was possible. It took all the strength I possessed to keep him from breaking away and continuing the uproar.

At this moment, thanks to the physical contact I had initiated, I could feel nothing from him except the indescribable terror. The walls were closing! We had to get out!

The walls were closing? I turned and saw the same stationary metal walls I had seen before. It occurred to me then that the reason he was so terrified was that he was claustrophobic - afraid of small, closed-in places.

When I turned back, he was looking at me with eyes so full of fear and a plea for help. I had never been able to resist against that kind of look. Since I had not been able to find a way out. I decided that the next best thing would be to disprove the idea that the walls were going to close on us.

I led him, with a small resistance, to the opposite wall and placed his hands against it. I then stood just behind him. thus preventing a retreat; and placed firm, but gentle hands on his shoulders.

He was shaking as I asked him, "Willaway?" he looked back at me. "Is it moving?"

He was still unnerved, but a bit calmer, and still shaking a bit, "No." He answered softly after a moment's hesitation, a slight quaver in his voice as though even uttering the word would nullify it and make them continue their movement.

I released my grip, and he turned to face me. He was definitely a bit calmer now, but still jumpy. "How do you know my name?" He seemed to be focusing on that tiny unknown to keep his mind clear and off of the enclosure we were in. A good idea, so I answered him.

"I can hear your thoughts." I answered as I leaned against the opposite wall once more to think. It did not occur to me that this would be strange to him, but perhaps it should have since he was so obviously Human in species.

"You're a . . ." He seemed to be searching his mind for the word.

"Telepath?" I provided with a small smile, glad he was relaxing as he focused away from the fact that we were still confined. I had piqued his scientific curiosity.

"Yes." He answered, moving a step closer to me. His fear was temporarily forgotten in the light of this new discovery, but I knew that would not last long once he had a chance to re-focus on the room.

"Yes, I am." I answered, standing from my lean against the wall and once more approaching him, laying my hands gently on his shoulders. "And I promise to tell you a lot more. But first, I need you to calmly" I stressed the word "help me look for a way out of here, okay?"

He nodded, now reminded of his surroundings and a bit shaky once more but steady enough for the moment. I smiled encouragingly, let go of his shoulders, and we began our search.

That was when the Voice jolted Willaway into the nearest corner. I jumped. "You will give us what we want." it boomed.

Blink. What the hell was it talking about? My attention completely focused on it for the moment. "What do you want?" I asked the Voice, eyes searching the metal walls for any sign of listening or watching devices with no success.

"You know." it answered.

Whoever this was, they were certainly delusional! If I'd known, I certainly would not have wasted anyone's time asking such an inane question! "No, I don't!" I shouted back. "I don't know who you are, how I got here, or even where 'here' is, for that matter! So how in blazes could I possibly know what you want!" I was incensed! What presumption! Who the hell did this thing think it was!

"You know," the Voice insisted ominously, "and you will give it to us, or you will watch him die. Slowly."