CHAPTER FORTY FIVE
Time Unknown
Whereabouts Unknown
Someone slapped him across the face.
“Wake up, mister! Wake up.”
There was going to be hell to pay.
For what seemed like hours, Luke had faded in and out of consciousness, resisting his body’s urge to wake up. He knew very little. They had made a run for it over the Caspian Sea. They had been shot down. They hit the water.
And he was alive.
He was on a cot somewhere, and in pain. The cot was narrow and uncomfortable, with a hard backing—like a prison cot. His eyes were covered by some kind of bandage, so he couldn’t see. It was impossible to toss or turn, even if he wanted to—his body seemed to be fastened to the cot somehow.
He realized he was not in his right mind. He assumed he was in Iran, likely to be tortured and executed j
