Sam’s head slumps forward. Now, there is no more moaning coming from his taped mouth. No more painful gyrating of his skinned head. The blood drips from his face onto the packed gravel floor, and even that will cease very soon.
“Please forgive me, Sam,” I whisper.
Then a noise. A scraping sound, like rock moving against rock. I once more thumb the lighter, ignite the tall, orange flame. What I see is as unbelievable as it is frightening. A door-sized section of the wall is opening up, revealing a room or a tunnel on the opposite side. There’s a light coming from the space on the other side of the wall. It silhouettes the man or creature that is standing in the center of the open door. When he takes a step forward, and the orange light of the flickering flame strikes his face, I recogni
