"Come here." I waved Ethan to me while still holding Henry's hand, and when he came to my side and crouched down, I grabbed his wrist and flipped the coin.
Gold, back of my hand; past of Ethan Hendricks; the countless hands covering the woman on the coin gave her eyes and ears free.
I stand beside Ethan, who seems out of place, sporting a suit in this devastated big laboratory.
On each side of the room are cells, while in the middle of the room, there are ceiling-height walls with desks and destroyed computers and machines on them.
Each cell has glass walls that provide a view of the insides; the walls, floors, and even the toilets are padded, like one would imagine in a psychiatric ward.
I look at my grandmother, who is surrounded by young and good-looking men with weapons, as she checks each cell with a male occupant in it.
"He can't possibly be here," Ethan notes.
My grandmother doesn't answer until she finishes looking at each male corpse.
