Due Process by Jane Finch

him.  He tried again the other way and the same thing happened.
                  “Are you trying to be funny?” he had asked them.
                  One of the men had a buzz haircut and looked like a forces guy, maybe marines from the size of his shoulders.  His clothes were smart and sturdy, black trousers, white shirt, laced boots.  The other guy looked more like an ex-fighter, with a bent nose and a bullish forehead. In contrast his clothes consisted of torn jeans and a well-worn sweatshirt. The buzz-cut grabbed Tony’s arm and dragged him off the bench.
                  Tony had yelled out.
    “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”
                  He started to struggle, trying to pull his arm away from the iron grip. Then the boxer had him by the other arm.
                  “Just keep it quiet,” hissed Buzz cut.
                  Tony had no intention of keeping anything quiet, and kicked out at the boxer’s knee, making him yell in pain. But the iron grip remained. They were big men, and Tony was not, and they easily lifted him off his feet.  Boxer punched him in the stomach for good measure. He tried to call out, but the boxer was holding something over his face.  Then he had passed out.
                  Now he lay in the dark on what felt like a mattress.  There was an odd smell that he couldn’t quite place, and a dim light glowed along the bottom of a door near his feet.  He had no idea how long he had been unconscious, or where he might be.  Most importantly, he had no idea why.
                  He heard low voices and assumed the two men were in the adjacent room. He strained to hear what they were saying, but could not understand anything. The pounding in his head was louder than their muffled voices.  He tried tentatively to sit up but quickly laid his head back down on the mattress. Even in the darkness the room was spinning.
                  Tony struggled to clear his head and try to make some sense of what had happened. Why on earth had he been taken against his will and who were the two men who had chloroformed him and brought him here? And where exactly was this place?
                  None of it made any sense.  The pain in his head became unbearable and he passed into unconsciousness.
     
     
    When he opened his eyes again he felt like he had slept for days.  The sharp pains in his head had subsided and were now a dull ache.  His stomach still hurt when he moved, but otherwise he thought he could risk sitting up.  He slid his feet over the side of the mattress and sat upright. The mattress was on the floor, no bedstead, so his knees nearly touched his chin.  Slowly he pushed himself up and stood shakily and waited for the room to stay still.
                  He thought it seemed a little lighter, so perhaps it was daylight outside. Now he could see a window behind the mattress with dull, damp curtains hanging limply.  He screwed up his nose. The curtains smelled musty. That must have been what he smelled earlier.  He moved them aside and saw bars at the window.  Outside was a square of grass and a wooden fence. He couldn’t see anything else from where he stood. But at least he knew it was during the day, and he was somewhere quiet. Maybe the countryside. He strained to see further and noticed the branches of a few trees.
                  There was no sound from the room beyond. Perhaps his captors had left.  He walked steadily to the door, gripped the handle, and turned.  It was locked, which was no surprise.  He rattled the door and put his shoulder against it and pushed, but it would not give a centimetre.  He returned to the window and pulled the curtains right back, and then turned and looked around the room.  It was small, about six feet square.  The mattress lay on the floor along one wall, and along the opposite wall stood a