We heard the heavy wooden bar on the outside slide into place with a dull, final thud.

Then came the metallic rattle of the chain and the distinct snap of the padlock.

We were trapped.

The darkness was immediate and absolute.

“Adrian?” I whispered, my voice shaking slightly in the cold air.

“I am right here,” his voice came from a few inches away.

I felt his hand brush against my sleeve, then wrap firmly around my forearm.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

“No,” I said, taking a deep breath to calm my racing heart. “I’m fine. Just cold.”

We stood still for a moment, letting our eyes adjust to the pitch blackness.

The air smelled strongly of rotting wood, salt, and old engine oil.

High above us, a narrow transom window let in a faint, gray sliver of the foggy night sky.

It was barely enough light to see the vague outlines of stacked wooden crates and old canvas tarps.

“We need to get out of here,” Adrian said, his voice tight.

He walked toward the door we had just entered and shoved his shoulder against the thick wood.