Here we are on a cold Iowa evening ready to type and few lines of text for more on the story called
A Hidden Trap. I have new details so without further adue...
Mort awoke to the same box he was trapped in. Everything had a layer of ice on it. He shivered and bumped his head on the wall next to him. He could hear muffled voices; then suddenly the side panel of the cell came open, bright blue light shown in behind two figures dressed in black overcoats.
"He looks dead," one spoke.
"He's not. We get paid handsomely for this one. Pull him out and stow him with the others. We're almost there." the other commented.
Mort was picked up like a rag doll and thrown clear across an open bay slamming against a steel wall. He groaned at his aching muscles and slowly gained his composure to stand up. Standing next to him was a tall man in his thirties with a scraggly beard.
"Don't talk til we land," the man whispered.
Mort just nodded and tried to understand what was going on. He felt a heavy pounding on his head and held his hands up to steady himself. He surveyed his surroundings and nodded to other people along the wall. They were all in chains except him, who had just come out of being put under.
The sound of the ship vibrated against the wall and Mort couldn't believe he had been suckered into such a trap. What did Cynthia have to prove by putting him on a prison transport vessel to God knows where? Of all places she could have sent him and she chooses this to live out his debt of the measly eight hundred dollars.
Well I think that's enough to wet the appitite for further adventures. Love to chat more, oh maybe more tomorrow. See ya next time.
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