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reached out a hand to help him
to his feet.
    ‘Who are you?’
John screamed, refusing the hand and pushing away from the men along the
cheaply carpeted floor. It felt raw under his shaking hands.
    The man who had
offered his hand turned to the other and a confused look passed between them as
if they had no answers to give even if they could. The large one then opened
the door beside them. ‘Please,’ he said and gestured to the empty room as if it
were a luxury hotel that John would be a fool to resist. It was dark. John
could see nothing. He panted, but accepting this destination, which could have
been a lot worse, he began pushing himself up against the wall. The corridor
remained blocked as the two men simply stood, one with his arm still
outstretched in a welcoming gesture as though he were a concierge hoping their
guest would enjoy their stay.
    ‘All will be
explained,’ said the other man, the first words he had spoken. ‘All will be
explained, just not by us, and not right now. Mr. Johnson, this is for your own
safety.’ John stared at the blackness of the room. A thin veil of light was
creeping in as reluctantly as John. It did indeed look like a cheap hotel room.
The raw carpet continued inside where a bed could be seen. It shimmered in the
pale light. But it wasn’t the bed that interested him or the apple red carpet
that stretched out into the darkness. It was the bars of shadow that faded into
vision as his eyes grew accustomed to the light. They lay across the bed as if
the bed itself was a prison.
     
    The rest of
that first night had been a cacophony of repeated yells and pleas. The two men
had left. No further words were spoken as he had entered the room at his own
pace. There had been no more shoves; there had been nowhere else to go. The
larger man had indicated a light switch and after a seconds pause had moved towards
it. But John had reached his arm out, grabbed his wrist and thrown it aside
with an almost repulsed look in his eye. He looked at them to see the two
silhouettes backlit by the light of the corridor as he stepped slowly into his
black cocoon. At that precise moment he didn’t even want an explanation. This
is where he was, he had to accept that, and he had silently walked into the
moonlit room to sit on the bed. His head in his hands.
    The men had
left without a word as John stared vacantly at the floor through his fingers.
There were no tears and for the first twenty minutes no movement or sound.
Sleep did not come that first night as his shrieks and banging against the door
began in earnest for four solid hours. The room grew naturally brighter via morning
sunlight from the one small, barred window.
     
    By the fourth
day of no contact, let alone an explanation, sleep came easier. Continual
banging at the door and screaming his lungs out for someone, anyone, to speak
too had worn him down; there was nowhere else to go but sleep. The nights had
been waking nightmares filled with thoughts of family. He could see Jessica and
Jennifer, two beautiful girls now without a father. Would there be explanations
for them? He doubted it. It was these endless thoughts and unanswered questions
that minimised sleep for the first seventy-two hours. By the fourth day sleep
begun to descend however hard he fought it. His eyes were heavy. Repressed
thoughts of the other guy he had seen, the one who appeared so familiar, had been
shadowed in his subconscious. This was a path he did not want to follow. He
once more pushed these thoughts aside to spend precious energy on wondering
whether he would see his wife at least one more time.
    As his mind
began to shut down, and welcome sleep was finally allowed to settle, voices
from outside the door could be heard. He was straight up.
    ‘Someone needs
to go in,’ said a faint voice. The metallic door was strong but sound found a
way in. ‘Has he asked for anything?’
    ‘Just an
explanation.’
    ‘Can you blame
him?’
    Further words
were spoken but faded