By Peter B. and Art Intelli
Chapter Seven: The Trial of Strength
I spent the next few days under the ever-watchful eyes of the Baldies. My body ached from hard labor — hauling firewood, scrubbing tires, and fetching supplies. Still shackled at the wrists and ankles, I could do nothing but obey. Viktor in his cage was never fed. Brought water once a day. Maybe.
At night, my chains padlocked to a tree, I dreamt about possible escapes, but every plan seemed doomed. Viktor was caged. I was in irons. The bikers were ruthless, their camp well-guarded. Fuzz, in particular, seemed to delight in watching me. He enjoyed it to see me struggle as I worked against my chains, always smirking from the shadows.
Then, one evening, after another grueling day, Q-Ball gathered the gang around the fires and made an announcement.
