(ARLO)
A muscle jerks in Miles' cheek. "I mean, I trust that you'll do what is expected of you. No. I won't trust you for real, Arlo. Not after the shit you pulled on me."
"I have a feeling that you don't trust people whether or not they kidnap you," I say and he looks at me warily without arguing. "What do you think our odds of getting out alive are?"
He grimaces. "Not great. We have to try though."
I agree pointing to the pile of clothes on the cot. "What do you want me to do?"
He hesitates for a bit then says, "Grab a coat if you can find another. We need to create two fake dummies."
I head over to the boxes and begin to dig through the clothing. I wonder how many men have been kept prisoners in this cellar. It is an unsettling thought. Will my clothes end up being dumped alongside the ones in the boxes if Dalton kills me in cold blood?"
