“We keep the high-security cases down here,” Dr. Kenneth said, walking slowly down the hall.

“The ones who aren’t supposed to exist.”

He stopped in front of a cell near the very end of the corridor.

The door was solid steel, except for a small, sliding metal viewing port at eye level.

“He was brought here ten years ago,” Dr. Kenneth said, his hand resting on the metal slide.

“The paperwork lists him as Patient 409.”

“But his real files are locked in a safe only Julian Bellamy has the key to.”

My chest felt so tight I could barely draw breath.

“Is he… is he okay?” I asked, my voice cracking.

Dr. Kenneth did not answer.

He reached out and slowly slid the metal viewing port open.

A faint yellow light from inside the cell spilled out onto his face.

“See for yourself,” he said quietly.

I stepped forward, my boots feeling heavier than lead.

I pressed my face close to the cold steel of the door and looked through the small glass pane.

In the corner of the small, grey room, a man sat on the edge of a narrow cot.