He thrashed violently in the frigid water, his eyes shut, his head throbbing.
They had him dangling upside down, submerged in a metal tank, both his feet and hands bound by thick coarse rope.
They… the hooded figures in the white featureless masks.
Suddenly, a jolt. His body tensed. He felt an achingly slow movement upward before the cool autumn breeze crashed against his wet face.
He gasped, greedily sucking down as much air as his burning lungs could handle. He knew they’d be sending him back down into the tank any second now.
Christ, if he only knew why.
The Weekday One Hundred 