Just ten seconds after they started their journey to the hospital, there was an explosion less than fifty metres away. The bomb that Richie was holding. Cevil felt the ambulance shudder. The stretcher wobbled and he was almost thrown off. He never expected that the stretcher would be so bad in balancing. KJ found himself clutching the side rail latches of the stretcher. Perhaps that was another reason why the stretcher wobbled. Cevil couldn't figure out what had happened. All he knew was that he felt worse now. He felt his blood being drained away from him. He felt the ambulance stop after the shudder happened. He stared at KJ, which he understood the eye contact immediately.
"What happened?" KJ asked. The ambulance corps shrugged; he had no idea either. He got to his feet and went in front, questioning the driver. But he didn't have a chance to.
Cevil felt himself hurled onto the ground. Cevil simply toppled over the side rail latches and onto the ground. The stretcher fell too, but slower than Cevil and the world turned around at the same time. He was squeezed between the stretcher and the bench, lying on the floor. His forehead was knocked against the bench, the stretcher knocked onto his back. At the same time, he heard cries. One of the voices was KJ's. The whole ambulance was thrown onto one side, landing on the road with a loud crash. The oxygen mask was still attached to Cevil's face tightly. Despite everything that's happened, Cevil was surprised he managed to stay conscious and alive even after losing such an amount of blood and after this happened, whatever it was.
A truck had crashed into the ambulance.
Cevil got to his knees, with his hands supporting. He was trembling from head to toe. It felt impossible for him to stand up. He still felt dizziness, the wound that had stopped bleeding had started to bleed again. That meant more blood was lost. There wasn't a sound from the ambulance. He looked around and saw KJ and two ambulance corps lying still, they seemed to have passed out. The rear door suddenly burst opened. Six men – with black mask, only revealing their eyes hurried into the ambulance. "Who are you?" Cevil managed to yell. They ignored and carried him. He didn't know what was going on, but he had sensed it was something terrible. Unfortunately, he hadn't had the strength to struggle. He tried struggling – he swung his hands and legs as they were about to carry him, but to no avail. They made his hands stretch out above his head and one of them carried it. The second one carried his legs, and they made their way to the car. Cevil tried kicking away their hands too, but nothing helped. Cevil lost hope, even when he heard sirens which came from a distance. There were two cars parked at the roadside, he was hurled into one of the cars – Vellfire in black. Only three entered with him. The other three seemed to still be in the ambulance. The car had already sped off before the doors were entirely closed. The windows were tinted, with curtains covering it, too. He was forced to sit in the last row, where three seats were available, so that the other two could sit beside him.
Cevil sat there, helplessly. He could feel the breath of the two men beside him. They were big-sized and seemed to be muscular. Cevil threw himself forward, heading to the door. One of them caught Cevil in the collar of his shirt, pressed Cevil forward onto his own legs, then he felt a rope tied around him, with his hands trapped inside. After the rope, he felt something bare, something solid – a chain, was tied around him, for safety. "Hey!" Cevil managed to shout, but weakly. He had not much energy left. No one spoke. He shook his body furiously but stopped after a few seconds. He was wasting his energy. The same one lifted his legs up, which Cevil kicked away. It was something he shouldn't have done. The man got angry. He saw Cevil's shirt being cut into half, like a coat. Then, he tore the bandage off and pressed on Cevil's wound incredibly hard. The sound of cries filled the entire car. It was loud and deafening, but the driver didn't stop. He just took a glance through the mirror and smiled briefly. "It would be worst next time." To Cevil's surprise, the man muttered in English, although in poor accent, then the man stopped pressing on Cevil's wound and began wiping his bloody hands with tissues. "Disgusting," he murmured. Cevil was still crying in pain while his legs were tied up together. The wound was hurting, he felt worse. He was angry, he was confused, he was in pain, but he could do nothing. He felt something knock him on the head and he lost consciousness.
It was almost completely dark. The only light came from a candle, no more than one inch. There were no windows – Cevil couldn't tell whether it was day or night. A square room with four corners, and a steel door at one end. It was completely silent in the room. It was freezing in there. Cevil couldn't explain. He thought it was spring, but later he noticed many temperature-sensors beneath the ceiling. It was probably around fifteen degrees in the room. Thanks to the unknown German girl, his shirt was cut by her, exposing his bare chest and stomach into the cold air. Worst of all, the wound was left as it was when he was shot. He felt it burning and freezing in the cold air. He found himself lying on the bare, cold earth. The coldness and the blood he lost had drained his energy. He had no idea how long he had been lying here, it could be hours, or maybe even days or weeks. The blood stain on his stomach had dried and was hard and in pieces. He crawled towards the candle at the other side of the room, lifting his stomach, afraid of getting it scratched on the floor. He rubbed his eyes, and realized that his hands were untied, but his legs weren't. He lay in front of the candle and curled himself into a ball, buried his head into his knees, and wrapped his knees with his hands. Nothing helped. It was still freezing cold. He was only wearing sweatpants, although made of cotton, but it didn't help. He realized his shoes were gone; he was barefoot. It had only been three minutes, but the fire had gone off. It was the only light supplier, and now the room was completely dark. Cevil remained in the same position, he wanted to sneeze and cough, but somehow, he didn't — it was too cold to do anything, he thought he would be frozen into an ice statue if it continued like that for another hour. He lay on the ground for some time, it could have been minutes, hours, days or weeks.