He looked familiar, but she couldn't quite place him and then he said:"Hello Sylvia" and the rich baritone was immediately recognizable."Brad" she cried as she ran to him and threw her arms around him and gave him a big hug, "Is it really you?" In the flesh, Syl, in the flesh."She had walked him back to her office, gave him a cup of coffee, and then they started throwing questions at each other, "Have you seen..." and "Whatever happened to..." and "Did you hear about...". She and Brad had gone steady during her freshman year and then he had suddenly dropped out and disappeared and she had not seen him since. The years had not been kind to him; his hair had gone grayish, his lean trim body had fleshed out in all the wrong places, but they'd had some good times together and she had thought of him from time to time."What brings you into my cave?" she had asked."Nothing special," he said, "Except for you, of course. You were always special as far as I was concerned. I've always known. The first drawer kissed open. A black typewriter rested on a block of paper. A small box sat next to the typewriter filled with dozens of passport photographs. Towards the back of the drawer, a shotgun, heavy and cold. In surprise, he dropped the flashlight which broke upon hitting the floor. The bottom drawer had been locked as he tried to pull it free.He found his way to the door and entered the pitch-black hallway. The yellowing florescent lights flickered. He refused to venture back through the main corridor, into the arms of the guards. His footsteps echoed.He trudged into the belly of the complex. The lights guided him a few steps at a time. The spaces he had passed and the spaces ahead faded into blackness. Surrounded by these black poles, he stood frustrated in the dim light. He had come too far to turn around. The hallway narrowed just wide enough for Tariq to fit. As the lights from behind went off, he expected the lights ahead to turn on. But he was caught in darkness,.
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