Mistry Behind Chalcones

CHAPTER 12

At last... The sack and mask were off. For the first time in his life, the air had a sweet smell. The light from the florescent bulb pierced through his eyes and left him blinded for a second. Then three silhouettes appeared in front of him. What the men were saying was a bit inaudible, but he clearly understood the language was foreign.

Amos was sure he had been tranquilized some hours ago. He had an irritating pain on his neck, his hands were tied to the back of the wooden chair a file that kept on hitting the bulb consistently made his head feel like exploding.

"Amos! Amos! Amos!" A man in dark glasses called him. "How many times have I called you?" He asked with a evil smile on his half visible face. Amos was confused and still in shock, having woken up to find himself tied to a seat. The figure in front of him came closer, now he could see the mans face clearly.

"What! How? You are... I saw your..." He said as he shook his head and closed his eyes. He must have been dreaming. This wasn't real. "How many times did I call you?" The man asked again. Amos was too shocked to answer. "Answer me," the man demanded with a deafening tone. He was a psycho. Amos eyes were locked onto the man, his mouth agape. The other two men had vanished.

As a retired soldier and once a platoon commander, the first lesson he had been taught in the army Barracks was always to survey the immediate environment. His mind veered for a second away from the shock. The room was a torture chamber. The walls full of blood. Either the men were planning to kill him or get some information from him.

Before he could ponder on his escape stratergy the door opened and the second of the three men entered. "No! I think am dreaming," he exclaimed. What he had seen was either a miracle or he was in dream land.

Who had Amos seen?