The cold light of the neon tubes revealed mercilessly what was slowly pushing through the surface. Sam let go of the green button and staggered back. The black box lazily swung its cable back and forth, bumping Sam's shoulder. She hardly noticed it.

Stunned and with hands crossed over his mouth, Sam looked at the completely disfigured body of a human being.

Milky liquid dripped back into the tub and onto the dark stretcher on which the figure rested. Sam could only guess what aggressive liquid had to be in the tub. The meat, which still adhered to the bones, had taken on a deep, dirty-brown color, and the ivory-colored bones stood out in numerous places, shins, head, and lower ribs.

In the depths of her mind, she heard a soft, malicious giggle.

"Not now," she moaned pleadingly. Wild she looked around. But there was nobody there. Fate? God? Devil? Or ...? Sam writhed in convulsions and blew out burning bile. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and forced herself to look at the monstrosity again.

Clearly a human, or rather, what was left of him. The body was small, like that of a child. Sam fervently hoped that the child was already dying, or at least in deep unconsciousness, when Summersby lowered it into the depths of that aggressive fluid.

Clattering, a lump of decomposed tissue dissolved and sank to the bottom of the tub. Sam overpowered a huge nausea. She turned her back on the tub and spied a masonry arch in the right corner of the opposite wall. The passage was covered with a heavy purple curtain. Again this disgusting laugh sounded. She pressed both hands against her ears and screamed "Stop." The laughter stopped.

Sam frowned. What abominations would they expect behind the curtain? What did Summersby do to the abducted children? Finding Sam's hope of being alive and uninjured vanished. As if in a trance, she stared at the heavy curtain. Without taking his eyes off him, she groped in the air for the black box. Her numb fingers closed around the plastic case and she pressed the top, red button.

Soft rippling and gurgling noises arose as the plate lowered itself with its sad load to the bottom of the tub.

Sam could not bear to leave the disfigured body of the unknown boy or girl on the surface.

As if in a trance, she moved toward the arch. She stopped short of the purple cloth. A musty odor poured from the material, as if the curtain had been placed here thousands of years ago. She was unsure if she could muster the strength to step through it. Probably her legs would fail the service and Summersby would find her as solid at exactly this point. Sam took a deep breath and stepped through the arch.

Sam was sitting on her bed, legs outstretched. She leaned on her arms and calmly met the two guards who opened the door to Sam's cell. The two were visibly disappointed not to be able to brutally tear Sam out of her sleep. Cheated on their pleasures, they ripped Sam off her bed.

"Go on, go ahead, you know the way."

Sam scrutinized the two and was willing to be in the middle. They took her to the common room. Where else?

In the soft light of the inflamed torches, seven naked women stood crowded together. Most of them stared anxiously to the ground. Few let their eyes flit between the heavily occupied gallery and the guards in the room.

"I'm probably late." Sam sneered in Brutus' direction. Brutus returned her gaze. No emotion could be read on his face.

"Go on, Scherenlady, take off your clothes, take a shower, you stop the traffic."

From the upper rang echoed laughter. Brutus' joke probably met the taste of the average prison guard.

Sam folded his arms defiantly. "No."

Brutus laid his hand on his baton with a lithe movement. His colleague, who had applauded Sam when he had seen her naked in front of her sink, placed a hand on Brutus' forearm. "Let it be good, the lady has just washed herself thoroughly."

Brutus stared at Sam. "Undress yourself."

Sam measured him arrogantly from top to bottom. "No."

Brutus shrugged equably. "What the hell, will get the men." He turned away.