Nina
Sam regained consciousness for the second time on cold concrete.
Her view was sideways, looking at old wooden steps—four treads with a handrail leading to a small landing. From there a longer set of wooden stairs ascended past the low ceiling and out of sight, presumably up to a door. There was a kerosene lantern on the landing, casting a weak glow onto the gray masonry walls. The air was thick with mold, dust and mildew. Somewhere, water dripped. Further above, heavy rainfall measured a steady beat.
“Get up,” Nina said from behind her.
Pain flared in Sam’s chin where she had been hit the second time. Rotating, forcing her stiff, cold muscles to obey, Sam worked her way to a sitting position and looked at Nina.
For some reason Sam couldn’t fathom, the young woman was naked; dirty and pale, her rain-slicked black hair stuck to her head. The skinny thing was shivering. A pile of clothes, including tennis shoes and socks, lay off to one side at the base of bare wooden shelves.