The first hour was uneventful as most of the other prisoners confined themselves to a particular group or just went about their day silently. No one paid much attention to Tom, except for one officer. He introduced himself as Eric Still. He was tall and thin with cropped hair that had a vaguely German style surrounding it. He wore a rimless monocle that glinted in the sunlight and gave him a sinister air.

"I see you're the new fellow," he said jovially, "It's always nice to have new faces around here."

"Yes, I suppose you've been here for a while," replied Tom

"2 years it's been, such monotony and loneliness," he said with a reminiscent look on his face.

"Sounds awful, escape must have crossed your mind at least once,"

"Yes, I'm sure the overwhelming desire to escape will come to you soon, I got the so called 'escape fever' within the first few hours, you can't be far off,"

"I was taken prisoner a few weeks ago but I didn't really get around to escaping because I was hit in the shoulder, so I thought I was better where I was, but it's got to be worth a try, right?"

"Yes, you get a feeling of gratification, even if it goes wrong and not to mention the fact that it takes your mind off the dreary existence you now have to bear." There was a slight smile on Eric's face. "I can help if you want, they've got their eye on me but they've no suspicion surrounding you. It would be quite easy."

Tom thought for a moment. Eric seemed nice and it had to be worth a try. He might even get back to the other side of the lines. The thought cheered him immensely and Eric agreed to help him plan an escape. They went into a hut and Eric began to talk through the time it took for a guard to complete an entire circuit of the camp and the time he would have in order to get over the wire and away. It was a very simple plan, but it was plausible. Tom would escape tonight.

They left the hut and Eric left him alone so as not to seem suspicious. Tom was leaning against one of the huts smoking when a lone figure walked over and leant on the wall next to him. He was just above average height and startlingly thin, which had been a recent development as his uniform fit but was made for someone used to 3 square meals a day.

"Afternoon," he greeted, "I see you've met Eric."

"Yes, he seems alright, I'm Tom by the way."

"I'm Archer, I just came to give you a word of advice. It's best you don't make too many friends, people tend to disappear in events that look like suicides or murders but - oh never mind, I shouldn't scare you."

"What do you mean?"

"I shouldn't say too much, they're only suspicions."

"But the officer said to report anything like that, as if it was normal,"

"I know, it shouldn't be, but the lone survivor of the apparent suicides said that it was unlike any feeling he'd ever felt, he had been perfectly fine but, then tried to hang himself from the rafters. It seemed to be spur of the moment. He could hear voices though. Voices of the dead. And the dead talk too much."

Tom listened in shock. This was going to be grimmer than he thought. He now realized that it was early autumn and Archer was wearing a scarf despite the warmth and lack of wind.

"That sounds awful, does it just happen to anyone?"

"It's only happened to those in hut A3, once you hear the voices, there's no turning back."

"That's my hut," Tom said shortly.

"Yes, I'd say you'd be wise to get out of here, personally, I wouldn't trust Eric but he's probably your best chance."

"Why not? He seems perfectly fine,"

"I have my suspicions." Archer turned and walked off. Tom saw no point in following him, he was probably just trying to scare him.

The evening came and they were given a rather frugal meal of an unknown meat in an oily liquid that was unpleasant at the very least. There were small bones in the bottom of Tom's mug. He noted that Archer was absent. Weird. At least he was getting out of there.

He met Eric after the evening roll call, and they talked quietly, waiting for the bell that signalled lights out. A few hours passed, and the few other members of their hut were silent and still, so Eric slowly left his bed and put his ear to the door. He motioned for Tom to follow. They opened the door silently and dodged the sweeping arms of light projecting from the 4 towers at the corners. Eric grabbed him and pulled him flat against the side of a hut as a guard walked past about 10 feet from them. They approached the wire.

"Climb, quick," Eric whispered urgently.

"What about you?"

"I'll be fine here, waiting out the war, you shouldn't have to stay in this shit hole, go," he said more urgently.

Tom gave him a lingering glance of sympathy and turned to the task of climbing the wire with as little noise as possible. He reached the top and had an anxious moment as his breeches caught on the wire, but this was momentary, and he was soon on the ground. He was free. He darted towards the bushes and as he did, an unseen hand gripped his arm in a vicelike grip, checking his progress.