Page 51 of Damaged

Don’t panic. Don’t panic.

Think.

I pull out my phone and put the hotel into maps. It takes a while but eventually loads. It’s only 0.7 miles away.

My shoulders sink in relief. Okay. I’m not going to die, but I am an idiot. I’d get a cab if they weren’t all at a standstill. I start walking the way the car was headed.

Unfortunately, it’s not a straight 0.7 miles. There are two rights and a left. Easy enough. But after five minutes of walking, the map zooms out and saysrecalculating route.

What? My directional arrow isn’t pointing the right way now. It’s telling me to walk back the way I had just come. I try to memorize the streets in relation to where the hotel is on the map, but they’re in Arabic.

If it wasn’t for this dehydration headache, I feel like I’d have this figured out. I’m proud that I don’t panic.

I stay smart and don’t follow my maps app down what looks like a back alley with nothing but three young men silently gambling while crouched on milk crates.

New note to self: When lost in a place like this, only venture where there are other women. I stay on the busy roads, and while it takes me longer to get closer to the hotel, I eventually figure it out.

I see my hotel a few blocks ahead.

I’m almost there when the world suddenly goes sideways. There’s a sharp pain in my arm as I’m yanked off the street and into a cooler alley.

I see white skin, black tattoos. A hand covers my mouth, but I recognize this attacker immediately. It’s the Russian. My head spins. I shout, but the sound is muffled.

He tries to pull my arms together behind my back with one hand while his other still covers my mouth.

He doesn’t have a good grip. I move my mouth over the edge of his gloved hand so it’s between my teeth and bite down.

He yells, and at the same time I throw my elbow back as hard as I can. I can feel from the hard bone that I get him right in the ribs.

He “oofs” as the air leaves his lungs and his grip loosens. I turn around to try to get back on the busy street he snatched me from, but he’s blocking my path. I don’t try to dart past him. I don’t think.

I just lift my sandaled foot and bring it down as hard as I can on his ankle. This time he doesn’t grunt.

He screams and whips a knife out from his belt. He swings the blade towards me in an arch, and I can feel the air it displaces on my chest. He missed by an inch.

I turn and sprint down the alley he pulled me into. The concrete is wet, and the alley is strung with clotheslines stretching from the buildings on either side of the street.

“Help!” I yell.

I keep running and save my breath. I take a right and a left. Still, these alleys are empty of people. I see sand burning bright from the sun. An exit. A street. I sprint towards it, and when I exit the alley, I realize it’s not a street.

I’m in a construction site. A giant one. There’s no time to retrace my steps if I’m being chased.

I don’t know where to hide. There aren’t many choices.

I look left and right. There’s a narrow trench that was probably dug for pipes. I run fifty yards and jump in.

If the Russian chooses to investigate the site thinking I hid, he’ll find me. My only hope is he thinks I’m still running.

My eyes start to water as I hear footsteps crunch on the dirt a few minutes later. I can tell it’s him. They’re slow, searching. Eventually, I hear them stop close by.

I picture the knife blade. My blood loosening this dry dirt and turning it to mud. I want to scream so bad that I put my hands over my mouth. Then I hear a ringtone. It’s obnoxious, like those of old flip phones.

He answers and starts to speak in Russian. He’s furious and talks fast. I can hear the phone snap shut and then his footsteps recede.

I’m left in silence. Almost. There are the sounds of distant traffic. Kids shouting somewhere. I’m in the middle of a city of millions yet hunted and alone.

He might’ve left, but I think it’s just as likely that instead of searching this entire site and risking me sneaking off when he’s peeking under a bulldozer, he’s going to wait until I think he’s gone and pop my head up.

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