"Jack Baird Windrush." The words whispered through the night. "Do your duty, Jack Baird Windrush."
When the words faded, a bearded face leered at him with hate in its eyes.
Jack started up with tight beads of sweat already formed on his forehead and streaming in rivulets down his back. Looking into the darkness, he struggled to control his breathing. Jack had never liked confined spaces. Living in the open air was best for him, and here he was in claustrophobic darkness surrounded by nightmares. He took a deep breath. Where was he? Under the ground; he was under the ground somewhere, and there was great danger of a kind he had never encountered before, together with some new and terrible sorrow.
Jack closed his eyes, opened them again; nothing had changed. There was darkness and confine
