She finished the beer and started to lose track of their conversation. Greg offered to walk her out to her car, and she thought that it might be a good idea since he was very nice, so she let him guide her out of the club, and she couldn't remember if she'd already put her guitar back into her car, but she supposed it didn't matter because she doubted she'd ever play it again, though she should sell it instead of just leaving it there, but she might have put it in her car, there was no way to know for sure, and Greg wasn't really walking her in the direction of her car, which seemed bad at first but less bad when she decided that she shouldn't be driving anyway, because that would be reckless and irresponsible, and Greg was very nice to be taking care of her like this, and she felt bad that she didn't want to play music again, and he was so nice that he fastened her seat belt for her, just like she was his daughter, Olivia wished she had a daughter, just one, no need to get carried away, oh that was funny but she couldn't make her mouth laugh, she wanted to close her eyes and sleep forever but that would be rude but it was too late she'd already closed her eyes and she couldn't open them and she didn't want to open them and Greg sure was nice to her.

* * *

Olivia opened her eyes.

She was swaying back and forth.

Not from being drugged. She was in a cage suspended several feet above a cement floor, with her legs dangling free. There was almost no room to move—at her heaviest weight a few years ago, she probably wouldn't have fit in here. The top of the cage pressed against the top of her head. Her shoulders touched the sides.

She could turn her head. When she did, she saw that the windowless room contained a dozen cages, four rows of three, hanging by thick chains from the ceiling. More than half of the cages were occupied.

A wooden chair and a stepladder were in the far corner, next to a door.

The woman in the cage next to her was pale. Emaciated. Her eyes were open and she was looking at Olivia, but it was unclear if she was actually seeing her.

The other women—and they were all women—appeared to be dead. Three of them were dead without question. The other two might have been unconscious, but probably weren't. All of them were nightmarishly thin. Almost skeletal. One was literally skeletal.

The smell of rot was so overpowering that she had a coughing fit that lasted for almost a minute.

When she stopped coughing, Olivia screamed and screamed.