Temmins twisted the occasional stalk of bamboo protruding from Randal’s body, pouring salt down into the stalk with a funnel. The wound would burn. He would ask his usual questions. Then proceed to the next random bamboo stalk, twist, pour, and repeat, sometimes adding a stifled, gleeful giggle to the mix.

“Who are you?” Temmins asked again. “What did you want when you attacked Giresun? Who are you working with? Where are your other teammates?”

Then there was a distant explosion. This died away to a low rumble that quickly grew louder. Randal forced himself to return to his senses.