I sprint through the labyrinth of dark and narrow corridors. The electricity is out, so I rely on the sixth sense of navigating in darkness that Eko taught me.

No one challenges me or tries to stop me; the guards must all have gone out to fight. It feels strange to run down these long black hallways alone, listening to my own echoing footsteps.

I turn a corner, and starlight filters in through a high window. The silence is fractured by two dozen frantic voices pleading for help.

Prisoners! Women and kids. They reach out through the bars of their cell with desperate hands, and beg in a dozen different languages for food and water.

I sprint three or four steps past their cell and then stop and slowly turn back. I was once a prisoner in this very dungeon. I had the same empty stomach and the same desperate eyes. Even in my haste to find P.J., I can’t ignore their suffering.

The massive door to their cell is locked and bolted, and the ancient steel bars are more than two inches thick and deeply rooted into the stone floor.

As I stand there examining the lock from the outside, the women and kids wave even more desperately, their voices rising in panic. I figure they’re probably misinterpreting my hesitation as a lack of interest.

One thin little girl of eight or nine catches my eye. She’s not moving or shouting, just squinting up at me with terrified eyes.

I figure I must look pretty scary with battle scars all over my body and blood running down my face. I reach up and wipe away some blood with the back of my hand, and give her a tiny smile.

Her eyes grow still wider in horror. It dawns on me that she’s not scared of me, but for me.

I duck quickly to one side, and a club as big as a baseball bat smashes into the metal where my head was a second ago. The blow would have killed me.

I dive away as a hulking guard takes another vicious swing and just misses. I bounce off a side wall, somersault high over his head, jump on his back, and slap on a choke hold from behind.

The big man bucks like a bull and snaps like a gator, but there’s no escape. He runs backward into a wall, trying to knock me off, but I take the hit and increase the pressure. He soon sinks to his knees, gasping.

His face starts to turn red and he goes into final contortions. As he twists wildly, I get a look at the side of his face. I know this man!

He was the biggest of the trio of guards who led me to the candirú chamber. His struggles lessen, and I can tell he’s at the edge of blacking out from lack of oxygen.