The sound of many feet coming toward them filled the hallway. In a flash Pat reached out and closed the door, but he left his foot in the side of the opening. Jim started to yell to warn Pat as the door slammed shut. Pat clamped his hand over Jim’s mouth and shook his head. To Jim’s amazement, the door stopped when it reached Pat’s foot. They could see through the three-inch crack.
An army of captives, six persons broad, marched past them through the hall. Their heads were bowed. An armed WE guard walked beside their ranks at every tenth row. Jim tried to look at every face. Were his dad, John, and Gary in this crowd? The lines kept coming, and his eyes couldn’t keep up.
Pat tapped him on the shoulder and pointed and then mouthed, “Your dad.”
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