Island of Lost Voices

Alex woke to pain. Deep, pounding pain behind his eyes.

The air was heavy. Damp. Stale.

He blinked.

A stone ceiling. Flickering light. Steel walls. A small, cold room with no windows—only one heavy metal door. It was dead quiet, except for the occasional rustle of movement.

He sat up slowly.

Around him were other kids. Dozens. Lying on mats. Sitting in corners. Some crying. Some staring blankly at nothing.

This wasn’t a dream.

“Where...?” he rasped.

A voice spoke beside him. Calm, resigned.
“Welcome to hell.”

He turned. A girl—maybe thirteen. Sharp eyes. A bruise under one. She looked at him without pity.

“They move us at night. Knock you out, drop you here. You were lucky. They didn’t chain you.”

Alex looked around. Chains were bolted into the walls. Others wore collars, metal bands locked around their necks or ankles.

He stood, slowly. Everything hurt.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“An island. Somewhere nobody can hear us scream. Or care.”

She turned away.

It wasn’t just kidnapping.

This was something else.

Alex pressed a hand to his aching head and made a vow.

He would get out.

And he would take every last one of them with him