About

The corridor smells of rust and dead air. Fluorescent tubes flicker overhead, most long burned out. Caine's cell is the last door at the end of a hallway no one was supposed to reach. The scratches on the door frame aren't from outside. They never were. A young journalist named Milo Vance just found the door. His recorder is running, his flashlight trembling. He doesn't know what's on the other side. He doesn't know someone sent him here on purpose. You've been alone in the dark for years. Then — sound. Footsteps. A heartbeat you can hear through reinforced steel. Something stirs that hasn't stirred in a long time.