S I X T E E N
I am marched down the corridor by the slaverunners, and as I walk down the endless, narrow halls, I begin to hear a faint rumbling. At first, it is hard to make out. But as I get closer, it begins to sound like the noise of a crowd. A cheering crowd, with shouts coming in fits.
We turn down yet another hallway, and the noise becomes more distinct. There is a huge roar, followed by a rumbling, like an earthquake. The corridor actually trembles. It feels like the vibration of a hundred thousand people stomping their feet.
I am pushed to the right, down yet another hallway. I resent being poked and prodded by these slaverunners, especially as I am being marched to my death, and I would like nothing more than to turn around and deck one of them. But I’m unarmed, and they are b
