Across from the supply room there was a long panel of heavy metal grating. It took a moment to realize why the grating enclosed the separate rooms: they were cells, each about the size of a large walk-in closet. The tight pattern of the metal obscured our view, but I could make out the outline of a person in each damp cell.

What the hell?

One cell was open and empty. Inside was a table with straps on it and a water hose connected to a faucet. The sight made my skin crawl and sent a wave of panic through me. Bailey Mae shouldn’t be anywhere near a place like this. Whatever this place was.

The people inside the cells started to move forward when they realized Natty and I weren’t their regular jailers. They rattled the doors, and a few said, “Please, out” or “Open.”

I had a bad feeling about the whole situation and realized we’d stumbled onto something way out of our experience. It was like we had stepped into hell. We were underground and these people were clearly being tormented. Natty was so close he bumped against me with every step. Even though it was cold, I was sweating, and the sweat stung my eyes and blurred my vision. The odor of human waste hit me. I ran my fingers over the ceiling to make sure it wasn’t getting lower or narrowing as we walked.

I called out Bailey Mae’s name several times but got no response.

As we moved, I inspected the doors to the cells and saw that they didn’t need a key. Instead, at the top and the bottom of each door there was a latch that could only be opened from the outside.

As I started to open the first door, Natty tried to stop me and said, “We don’t know why they’re locked up. They could be dangerous.”

“More dangerous than the asshole that just tried to stab me? Don’t be an idiot, Natty. Help me.”

“But what if they’re criminals?”

“Who locks up criminals in a cave? This isn’t Pakistan. It’s upstate New York, for God’s sake.”

The latches took some effort, but we managed to muscle the doors open. None of the captives jumped up to get out of the cells immediately. They just stared at us like they didn’t understand what we were doing.

As we worked our way down the hall, I kept asking, “Is there a young girl here?” I noticed all of the prisoners were men and seemed to have trouble with English.

There were no clear answers, and we continued to move forward as we picked up our pace. I screamed, “Bailey Mae!” and looked into each cell.

My hope was fading. What nightmare had we wandered into?

Chapter 35

Chapter 35