A soft feminine voice spoke to him. "You're wounded? They hit you?"
"Yes." His thick lips wouldn't let go of the word.
"You want to escape—even now?"
"Yes."
"You may die if you don't give yourself up."
"No, no."
He tried to stumble toward the exit.
"All right then. Not that way. Here, this way."
Heavy footsteps thudded toward them. A few yards away, a flashlight flicked on.
Hands were guiding him. He was aware of being pushed and pulled. A door closed behind him. The glare of the flashlight faded from his vision—if he still had vision.