The cargo doors slammed shut, and the darkness inside the truck became absolute for a moment before Soren's eyes adjusted to the thin lines of light bleeding through the gaps in the metal panels.
The smell was the first problem. He breathed through his mouth and moved quickly, pulling Evan by the arm toward a corner of the cargo bed that was marginally cleaner than the rest. The other occupants shifted to make space without being asked, the automatic, exhausted accommodation of people who had long since stopped having opinions about their surroundings.
Evan's head was a mess. The rubber baton had done its work thoroughly, leaving a pattern of swollen welts across his scalp and a cut above his temple that was still seeping. Soren pressed two fingers against the skull behind each ear, chec
