The morning sirens began blaring, and Kurt's eyes opened.
For a few seconds, he lay still on the thin mattress, staring at the cracked ceiling of his cell as the sirens echoed through the prison blocks. Metal doors slammed somewhere down the corridor and boots thundered across steel walkways.
Today.
He sat up slowly, rubbing his face with both hands, then the stubble on his jaw.
Today was the day.
Outside his cell, guards barked orders. "On your feet! Auction stock moving in five!"
Kurt leaned toward the narrow slit in his door. Through it, he could see prisoners being dragged out of their cells and shackled by their hands and legs. The ones the rich bastards upstairs would pay top credit for.
High-value worms, they were called, and he wondered how many of them even knew where they were going.
