The resonant crash from outside our cell actually shakes the floor.

I stand near the door in my orange jumpsuit, my body tense.

What the heck is that? Charlie says from behind me.

He's sitting on the bottom bunk in the cramped, concrete cell.

It's okay. I say without turning.

It'll be okay.

Charlie shouldn't be here. I mean, none of It'll be okay. Charlie shouldn't be here.

I mean, none of us should be here.

The experiments they do on us are barbaric.

Some of them are downright cruel.

I've seen a guy's neck snapped by a killer statue.

I've seen a woman bit in half by a giant, talking lizard. I've even seen

Bigfoot break a man's legs with a single hand. No, none of us should be here, but we are. Charlie,

though, he's another story. He's helpless, the most gentle person I've ever met.

No way he did what they said he did.

And if he did, it was an of mice and men situation.

He's a pretty big guy, bigger than me, but he seldom uses his strength. He's got reddish-brown hair, a freckled face,

and broad shoulders. He's still young in his late 20s. Another rumbling crash comes from outside the

cell. It's getting closer. The door is made of solid metal. There's no window, no way to see out.

I back up. When the noise first started, I heard men and women shouting. I heard footsteps outside and some screams. Now,

there's just the occasional shaking bang. What is it, Logan? Charlie asks again. I look at him, seeing that he's digging the fingernails of his right hand into the back of his left. He does that when he's scared.

It's okay, Chuck. Something smashes into the door from the outside. I jump back to the rear of the cell, and Charlie jumps up from the bed, crowding behind me like a scared

...