Thirty-Seven
The door clanged shut behind Jackson, the light switching off a second later and plunging him into darkness. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the sliver of moonlight coming in through the tiny barred window set high in the wall above the cell’s single bunk. A toilet in one corner and a tap jutting out of the wall beside it were the only other items in the cell.
He sank on the bunk, back against the pitted concrete wall, stifling a groan when every muscle in his body protested the movement. Butcher’s people had not been gentle in their questioning. They’d asked him the same questions repeatedly, using different phrasing in an effort to trip him up as they sought to find out everything he knew about the cure.
Not that he’d had much to tell them. He was no scien
