The room was cold and dark with broken furniture randomly scattered about. There was a pedestal in the midst of it all seemingly standing undisturbed. Atop it a tattered book. The cover read ¨The Lives¨. I opened it and began to read the first page the words seemed almost illusionary   ¨҉ ҉T҉H҉E҉R҉E҉ ҉A҉R҉E҉ ҉N҉O҉ ҉S҉E҉C҉R҉E҉T҉S҉ ҉W҉I҉T҉H҉H҉E҉L҉D҉¨҉  . I wasn't sure what it meant but I read on. The next page seemed to start the story but instead of the usual chapter 1 it read ¨Life One Arram¨ My reading was interrupted by a man's voice shouting from outside ¨Just give us the book John. Give us the book and you can go¨  My eyes scanned the room for an exit or a way out. I ran for the back door tripping over a rug that uncovered a small wooden door. Panicking, I hesitated before opening the door and climbing inside. The room was lit by a dim lantern hanging from a hook in the middle of the room. I searched around for some sort of weapon. No weapon in sight.In one corner I saw crates labeled ¨Rations¨ There was a small rickety bed in another corner. A desk with maps and  books scattered about. The men outside had just busted in the door upstairs. A few moments passed and they were the longest few moments of my life. There was a sudden symphony of screams and thuds. What was happening? Could someone be fighting them? No, there had to be at least 20 of them; nobody could take on that many. The only thing between me and whatever was up there was a small trap door. As if reading my mind the trap door creaked open…