The guards had stopped dancing. One of them let out a shout. As I dropped to my knees, I tried to pry Numa’s hands from my throat, but they were like iron. My eyes rolled upward, and all I saw was black. I felt a sudden blow from my left. I fell onto the floor, my throat free. I coughed violently, but I was being crushed by the body of a guard. Scrambling desperately I slid out from underneath. I wheezed and gulped for breath, staggering under the table. That was when I saw the filthy, bloodied feet—prisoners’ bare feet, shuffling in the dirt along with the guards. I looked up into a chaos of fighting. Three of the prisoners were free. Despite their ragged appearances and emaciated bodies, they were punching the guards, grabbing their weapons, biting, scratching, using every tactic at their disposal. Through the shifting bodies I could see the other prisoners, still on the bench. Nico was huddled with them, trying to work their bonds free with the metal shard. I leaped across the room and took the shard from Nico.
