* * *
It was the soft scuffing of feet on the concrete floor outside his cell that awoke him from his dream.
He twisted his head around inside the hood, craning his neck, trying to gauge whether it was food time or beating time. Maybe it was a trick, another mock execution, or maybe this time it was going to be the real thing.
The clank of the bolt on his cell door being retracted made him involuntarily tense his muscles, bracing himself for whatever degradation they had in mind for him this time, except that this time there was no violence, no shouting, no cold water, no rubber hoses, only silence and the occasional whisper and slow careful movements of persons'unknown. He felt the handcuffs being unlocked before he was unceremoniously lifted to his feet and told to stand. They dressed
