They passed by the first building at a brisk pace, Jack was expected to follow the officer as he strode through the compound. He tried to keep up on his shaky legs; the two remaining officers pulled him along each time they buckled beneath him. The sun was intense, the black clothes drawing it to him as they passed over the hard lumpy dirt with each step; there was no grass inside the high wooden barriers. Angry shouts could be herd from inside, they were unrelenting, it sounded chaotic.
The leader turned to Jack with a sick smile on his face as he eyed the mans discomfort.
"This is where the traitors live," he had snarled, his English perfect despite the accent. The soldiers gave no indication of hearing what the man had said; Jack assumed they would speak their native language only.
Each building lay next to each other, creating a long rectangular bulk of concrete stretching off into the distance. The barriers ran parallel to them on every direction; and in places small huts were positioned next to the perimeter. Look outs, Jack assumed, as he continued to scope out the area. When the first building stopped there was a hundred yard stretch of nothing before the next began, the pattern was continued until the structures ended.
Nothing but wood and concrete; and the sun baked dirt. A place of limited resources, Jack realised; to cause discomfort. The only thing which struck him as odd about the setting was the fact that the guards would experience this too. Obviously they would be given comforts, but he still imagined working here to be more of a punishment than career.
Through the second building music could be heard. Jack thought he saw the glimpse of a television through one of the low small windows but he couldn't be sure. It was the only one, which had windows, and so he assumed this was where the guards would live when off duty. The atmosphere around it seemed relaxed and non threatening, just people and their way of life.
As they passed the gap between the second and final building Jack felt a chill slowly work its way down his spine. There were more huts here, with guards stood at the windows staring out into the land, their riffles ready in their arms. The building was smaller too, he realised, wondering if it was significant of something. What scared him the most was how silent the air seemed to have become - there was no sound other than the soft pat of his feet on the ground, followed by the crunch as the heavy boots of the soldiers followed suit. Fear crept up through his stomach as he realised there was a reason for their bringing him here. Was this going to be his home?
He shuddered at the thought, his imagination playing games with his nerves as he wondered how it could possibly be so quiet. They arrived at a brown scratched door when the general turned around suddenly and stopped dead in his tracks. Jack almost walked right into him, he was so lost in his thoughts. One of the guards grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and pulled him back a pace - no prisoner should be too close to the officer.
The man stared at Jack coldly as he continued to unnerve him. What happens next? A small smirk crept on his face as he knocked loudly on the door three times and it was quickly opened. Another two men came out, looking almost identical to the others with their shaved heads and expressionless faces. Had they all been brainwashed, Jack thought oddly?
The officer stepped to the side and nodded his head, Jacks thoughts were pushed out of his mind as a man grabbed each arm and roughly pulled him into the building. The door was slammed shut behind them and Jack tried to shake the hands off him, suddenly scared of what would happen next. The building consisted of a corridor, with metal doors lining the walls. It was almost pitch black, but there were dim wall lights between ever door bolted to the dirty walls. Cells, Jack wondered, as he was dragged towards the end of the building, now kicking and yelling as he fought to free himself.
The men were strong but didn't react to his struggle as he'd expect, they just continued to pull him along until they reached a door at the very end of the building. A code was entered and the door snapped open. His struggling had weakened but the opening of the door revitalised his efforts as he began to thrash away; he didn't want to do this - he didn't want to be here at all. He was shoved in the back hard and tripped over his own feet, toppling forward into the cell. He hit the cold floor hard and the door was closed behind him instantly.
No was nothing he could do now, he was trapped.