“I didn’t say get ready to go swimming,” the mime said.

“All your clothes.”

Gus wanted to sneak a look at Shawn to see what he was going to do. But he didn’t dare. He was afraid he’d find courage in his friend’s eyes, and then he’d refuse to do what the mime was demanding, and then they’d both be dead. He bent down and quickly stripped off his shorts, covering himself with both hands as he straightened up.

“Now kick them over here,” the mime commanded, and Gus did. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a blur of movement that must have been Shawn also following the order. The mime scooped up all the clothes with his free arm, then gestured with the gun. “Into the stall.”

“Could we go into separate stalls?” Shawn said. “Because they’re really only meant for one person, and I don’t think we should be doing a lot of touching in our present condition.”

The mime didn’t answer. He lowered the gun to where Shawn had strategically placed his hands.

“You know, one stall sounds fine,” Shawn said. “It’ll be much warmer that way.”

Shawn and Gus scurried into the middle stall and slammed the door shut behind them. Gus turned the latch firmly, locking them in.

“Oh, yeah, that will do a lot of good,” Shawn said. “No one’s ever gotten through one of these before.”

“You want me to leave it open?”

Shawn didn’t. Each stood pressed against a stall wall, trying to pretend the cold metal wasn’t lowering their body temperatures with every passing second.

“Are you almost done with our clothes out there?” Shawn finally called out.

There was no answer.

“Maybe you could finish up with our underwear first?” Shawn suggested hopefully.

Still no answer came.

“What do you think he’s doing out there?” Gus whispered.