“I know where the Chest is,” I say.

“Seriously?”

“So stupid of me,” I whisper. “Sam, if you could pick just one place in this entire hellhole where you’d absolutely refuse to go, where would that place be?”

“In the pit with the howling beasts,” he answers without a second’s hesitation.

“Exactly,” I say. “Come on, let’s go.”

I lead him back up the corridor that’ll empty out at the cave’s center; but before we’ve left the cells behind, a door clangs open and Sam jerks his hand to stop me.

“Look,” he says.

The nearest cell door stands wide-open. Two guards enter. They speak angrily for ten seconds in their native tongue, and when they exit they’re clutching the arms of a pale, emaciated man in his late twenties. He’s weak to the point of having trouble walking, and Sam’s grip tightens as the guards shove him forward. One of them unlocks a second door, and all three disappear through it.

“Who do you think they have locked up in there?” he asks as I pull him forward.

“We gotta go, Sam,” I say. “We don’t have the time.”

“They’re torturing humans, John,” he says when we finally reach the central hive. “Human beings.”

“I know,” I say, scanning the mammoth room for the quickest route down. There are Mogs everywhere, but I’ve become so used to passing by them that they no longer bother me. And besides, something tells me I’m about to find far scarier things than scouts and soldiers.

“People with families who probably have no idea where they’ve disappeared to,” Sam whispers.

“I know, I know,” I say. “Come on, we’ll talk about it when we’re out of here. Maybe Six will have some sort of plan.”

We sprint around the spiral ledge and start down a tall ladder, but find it’s nearly impossible to do so while holding the person’s hand above you. I look down. There’s still a far way to go.

“We have to jump,” I say to Sam. “Otherwise it’ll take ten minutes to get all the way down there.”

“Jump?” he asks incredulously. “It’ll kill us.”

“Don’t worry,” I assure him. “I’ll catch you.”

“How the hell are you going to catch me if I’m holding your hand the whole time?”

But there isn’t time to argue or debate. I take a deep breath, and leap from the ledge a hundred feet above the cave’s bottom. Sam howls, but the continuous clatter of manufacturing drowns out the noise. My feet hit the unyielding stone, and the force knocks me backwards; but I keep a firm grip on Sam, who lands on top of me.

“Never again are we doing that,” he says, standing.