This time I'm given no leniency. The cultists search for any other weapons—a search that's borderline groping—before they drag me by my shoulders somewhere. I can only assume that's to the town hall, because I can't see a thing.
The fight is lost, but I convince myself that I'm only waiting for a better opportunity. Zeke watches silently, but his words turn over and over in my head. All I need is to let him through, and I will be free. But at what cost? At the very least, more murder.
I don't want to die more than I don't want to kill, but while there's hope, I hold on.
I expect to be thrown to the same basement as the last time—instead I'm brought to the trunk of a car: a dusty place that adds the smell of gasoline to the stench of dust on my sack. We ride for a short while, but when we stop and the trunk opens, no one hurries to get me out.
