Zing and Zang trembled in the darkest corner they could find. Their surroundings were dismal. Dark, bleak, cold, musty. Water poured from a pipe into a deep cistern. Moisture clung to the walls.
“What on earth. . . ” started Zang. He couldn’t find any more words.
“Well,” pondered Zing, “They’ve sent us back in time, as they warned us. Good thing we’re invisible.”
As they watched and listened, storing everything in their memory banks, they sensed the fear. They watched the furtive glances, and heard the murmuring voices. Whatever was going on here filled them with terror.