Cora turns around. The tunnel, as far back as Cora can see, is filled with hungry ghosts. Like a field of gray flowers, their heads gently bob and sway, their shapes growing hazy the farther back they go. Hundreds of them. And for a single moment, Cora does not see their withered faces and empty eyes. She sees the faces in Officer Wang’s photographs, back when they had skin and eyes. The hundreds of girls torn apart, stripped of their dreams and then their bodies, suffering even in death. Cora wipes her face on her sleeve, then tightens her grip on the tanks and moves forward, the parade of
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