December 12th, 1941: Somewhere in Eastern Russia The screams woke him up again to a room dimly lit by flasks full of glowing liquids. As usual, Declan had to backtrack to remember where he was. But the memories stopped abruptly before his arrival in Siberia. He knew that he had done something to piss the Soviets off, otherwise he wouldn’t have been shipped into sub-zero temperatures in the back of a freight train cargo hold. Shortly after he and the other dozen exiles were emptied from the car, he had been drugged. He woke up strapped to the table he was on. Epilogue: END