"Stolen Voices"

The sun was fading on the horizon, painting the sky over the Outer Banks shades of orange and red. JJ Maybank sat leaning against the hood of his truck, a cigarette in his mouth, watching Haillie—his girlfriend of four years—laugh with Pope and Kiara, who had just dragged John B into a mud pit. A typical Pogues night.

But tonight, something was in the air. Tension, anxiety… something was coming.

"Hey, JJ! Look at that!" Pope called, pointing to an old, barely visible path through the woods. "I found it on some old maps—it supposedly leads to some abandoned fishing base from the '80s."

Haillie frowned. "Maybe we should just stay out of this thing that looks like a scene from a horror movie?"JJ threw his cigarette to the ground and crushed it with his boot. “And that’s exactly why we need to check it out, honey.”

--

They pushed through the thick bushes, mud squelching underfoot, and the air smelled damp and something… rotten. Finally, they reached a rusty chain-link fence and a small building made of corrugated iron. It looked like a regular shed. But the door was ajar.

“JJ, something’s not right here.” Haillie grabbed his hand. He squeezed it gently, but everyone could see his fingers trembling slightly.

They entered. Dark, quiet, only the sound of their own breathing and the echo of their footsteps.

Suddenly, Kiara tripped over something. They saw a grate in the floor. JJ pulled the handle, and it creaked like something out of a fucking B-movie. They began descending the stairs that no one should have built here.

And then they saw it.

An underground room. A large one, lit by old, flickering industrial lights. And inside… cages. Dozens of them. Children. Teenagers. Locked up like animals, some unable to even move. Scars, dirt, fear in their eyes.

Haillie covered her mouth with her hand. JJ stiffened.

"Fucking hell… they're fucking human traffickers…" he hissed through his teeth.