The rhythmic grinding of metal on metal was the sound the boy awoke to as he recovered his consciousness. He sat in pitch darkness with his arms bound behind him. The touch of cold metal on the skin of his wrists and upper arms told him that the restraints were more than his muscles could overcome.
"Kyle? Are you there?" The younger of the brother spoke first, searching for the comfort of a familiar voice. "Johnny? Can you see anything?" The voice came from somewhere ahead of him, its source veiled in shadow. "I can't see a thing." The two lapsed into a nervous silence.
The rhythmic grinding came to a suddenly screeching halt and the two lurched forwards in their restraints.