Page 17 of Little Dove

She shrugs. “I think so, when I was a baby, but I don’t remember that. People love babies, but when you start getting older, understanding, and talking back, the ease of it is gone, and most foster parents don’t want to deal with that. So I got moved around a lot. There was one lady, Jenny, that was always kind to me. I was seven, I think, when I went to live with her. She was only fifty-two, but she had a heart condition that no one knew about. She passed away while I was at school one day. She laid down for a nap and never woke up. I found her and was smart enough to call the police. I went to a new home that day. After that…” She shrugs and looks back down at the table, avoiding my gaze.

“Amara,” I begin, but stop when I see her eyes narrow suddenly. Then her body jerks forward.

“Of course! How could I miss that?” she declares, unfolding from her seat and running her hand along the side of the table.

She comes to a stop just to the left of me, at the junction where the surface of the table meets the leg. Her hand moves again, and then I hear a faint click. I spin around in my chair to watch the wall next to the surveillance cabinet swing open to reveal a dark cavern behind it.

Amara gives an elated cheer as she gets to her feet. “Looks like we found our secret exit.”

I follow her over, pulling out my phone and turning on the light to peer inside. The air is musty, but there’s the slightest breeze, which means there has to be either an exit door or a vent down there somewhere. My light doesn’t reach very far, but I can make out the shapes of cobwebs, some trash, and papers on the floor of what I assume is a hallway. To the left is nothing but an old steel wall, rusting now from the trapped moisture.

I look up at the ceiling and breathe a sigh of relief, seeing that it is also steel and looks well reinforced. There’s no way this thing is caving in, save for a natural disaster, and even then, I don’t think it would take any damage.

To the right, I see a light switch and quickly flick it on.

I look down the long, dimly lit tunnel and then glance at Amara. “Want to check it out?” I ask her.

She hesitates, looking into the darkness once again before she takes a deep breath, straightens her shoulders, and nods.

Her reaction intrigues me, but before I can question it, she says, “Let’s have a look.”

I’m anxious to know if there’s another way out of here, but we’ll be talking about that reaction soon enough.

7

AMARA

I tryto quell the fear rolling inside me as we step into the darkened space. The low lights keep it from being pitch black, but they aren’t as bright as the ones in the main room. Still, I can’t stop myself from trembling as I step in further, Lazaro’s hulking body blocking the light filtering in from behind us.

Get a grip, Amara.

Lazaro moves so that his phone light is pointing down the hallway, and I relax a bit. Okay, I can do this. If I’m honest, having him behind me is almost comforting. I’m not alone, which means the demons in my mind can’t take hold. Yes, I have this. I’ll be fine. I will not freak out.

I start walking, careful not to step on anything. We might want to look at it later. We continue for a short distance, and then I see it—a dip in the wall on the right.

“What’s that?” I ask as I turn, trying to make out what I’m seeing in the shadows. Damn, I really wish it was brighter in here.

Lazaro’s phone lights up a recessed area in the wall, with two doors kitty-corner to each other. Both doors are the style that make you turn a wheel to open them.

“Looks like their operation was even larger than we thought,” he muses. “Let’s check them out.”

It suddenly occurs to me that someone might have died down here. I really hope we’re not about to find a body or anything. I shudder at the thought. Nope, my nightmares are already vivid enough, thanks.

Lazaro hands me his phone, and I hold it up for him as high as I can so he can clearly see the doors. He starts with the one on the right, grunting as he works to turn the wheel.

“Bastard is probably seized,” he groans, straining until finally it gives way and creaks open. “I’ll go first,” he says, taking the phone back and pulling the door the rest of the way open.

Again, the air is stale, musty, and this time a bit earthy. I wrinkle my nose at the smell. Lazaro’s light flits around the pitch-black space before he finally turns to look at the wall near the door. After a moment, he walks toward it and flicks a light switch.

It’s suddenly much brighter than the hallway. I blink as my eyes adjust, then follow Lazaro inside.

“Wow,” I breathe, taking it all in.

It’s far smaller than the main room but has a similar layout. Fewer beds, no kitchen area, and the bathroom is on the left instead of the right. Toward the back are four workstations, with a smaller version of the big machine in the main room to their left, taking up the entire back wall. A smaller conference table sits to my right instead of in the middle of the room, and just like out there, there are a few loose papers and empty file folders.

I move toward them, picking them up, but it’s nothing that makes sense. One paper has a date on it.

“Nineteen forty-nine,” I say aloud.

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