One of the electrical panels buzzed as if it had a short and they stayed away from it. Looking at the map he had made, he knew they were getting close...as they turned the corner. Up ahead, he could see the bulkhead door. Going up to it, he listened and the cracked the door to look around when he heard nothing inside. He stepped out into hallway that led to the cell area. Slipping along the wall, he peeked around the corner and saw the dozen marines relaxing while inside the thirty cells were the. His feet anchored themselves painfully under the metal girders as his torso forced itself further forward. Finally, balancing dangerously over the edge he stopped moving. He was silent. Before him were the noises of freedom. Each birdcall, each dog's howl, and each child's cry seduced his torn mind. From behind him came the voice of oppression. Whereas once he had held it to be the kindest chirp in existence it now grated against his nerves with the force of a metal brush. "Jack," the voice,. More

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