By Immobilesub Adam’s legs were getting sore. Actually, it was more his calves and feet that were feeling most under pressure. Worse than that, it wasn’t as if he didn’t know how long he’d been stuck there – he knew exactly how long it had been. Six hours, and twenty-eight minutes give or take a minute or two. He’d had other things to concentrate on at first, so he wasn’t sure of the precise time at which this marathon had started. By his reckoning, that meant another hour and a half, if he was lucky, before an end might be in sight. Ninety minutes wouldn’t be that bad, not compared to what he’d been through already. No problem at all; piece of cake; walk in the park. Walking! Ha! That was funny; that’s exactly what he couldn’t do. Even though his legs ached as though he’d been walking all day, he’d not in fact taken a single, untrammelled step since he got here nearly two days earlier. Catching sight of the clock again he sighed loudly, suddenly irritated by his predicament; anxious t...
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