Page 81 of Captured Heart

With every ounce of strength I have left, I position the pallet against the wall. I toss the flashlight into the backpack, then pull the straps onto my shoulders, tightening them before I step onto the pallet. It creaks under my weight, unstable and threatening to collapse.

I reach up, my fingers brushing the top of the wall. My arms ache as I dig my nails into the edge, trying to pull myself up. My feet scrabble against the concrete, slipping on the smooth surface. All those hours in the gym prove to be useless because getting up this thing is a nightmare.

“Come on.” My muscles scream in protest, but I push past the agony. “You can do this.”

I take a deep breath, planting my feet firmly on the pallet and jumping as high as I can. My fingers grip the top edge, but therough concrete scrapes against my skin, threatening to tear my grip away.

“Shit! Don’t let go. Don’t. Let. Go.”

I kick against the wall, using the momentum to haul myself up. My arms tremble, burning with exertion, but I manage to get my chest over the edge. I press my stomach to the top, twisting my body to swing one leg over.

It doesn’t work, though. My foot slips, and for a heart-stopping moment, I dangle precariously, the ground spinning below me. I dig my nails into the concrete, the pain sharp but grounding. With one final push, I heave my semi-lame body over and lower myself feet first. My weak fingers give out, and I lose my grip, collapsing onto the other side in a heap.

The impact knocks the wind out of me, but after taking in a few breaths, I manage to roll to my feet. My palms sting, raw and scraped from the climb, but I’m becoming accustomed to every part of me being in pain. My heart thunders as I scan the street, looking for the black van, any sign of Victor’s men.

There’s nothing.

I still feel so exposed, though. I wish I had some kind of disguise, but the hoodie is all I have to hide my face. Pulling it over my head, I tighten and knot the drawstrings to secure it. I take off, turning into the first street like Alex said.

“Look for the blue sedan on Maple Street. I chose that one because it’s the easiest to get into.”

“You want me to steal a car?”

“You’re borrowing it. You’ll give it right back. Besides, it’s the best cover. You could drive right past them, and they wouldn’t know because they’re not looking for a car.”

The blue sedan is right where Alex said it would be. I open the bag and find the small flashlight, a screwdriver, and a slim jim.

“Slide the slim jim between the window and the door. Feel for the lock rod and pull it up.”

My hands shake as I follow his instructions, sweat dripping down my temple. My eyes bounce around every two seconds, searching for the danger I know is so close by. I’m fearful of every sound, every rustle in the bushes behind me. The lock finally pops, and I climb inside.

“Push the seat back and keep the door closed while you hotwire it. You have to be as inconspicuous as possible.”

I hold the flashlight in my mouth, the beam wobbling with each shaky breath. Alex's voice echoes in my head, calm and instructive.Strip the wires without cutting them and then connect the right ones. Don’t panic.

My fingers tremble as I peel back the rubber casing on the wires, exposing the shiny copper beneath.

There are three wires: red, yellow, and black.I work carefully, just like Alex said.Use the edge of the screwdriver to scrape away the insulation without severing the wires entirely. The red and yellow ones are for the ignition; the black is the ground.

Sweat beads on my forehead and drips into my eyes, stinging and blurring my vision, but I don’t stop. I twist the exposed ends of the red and yellow wires together, my breath hitching when I see a faint spark. It’s working. At least, I hope it is.

I glance over my shoulder, my heart racing at every shadow, every small sound outside the car. My fingers fumble, but I manage to touch the twisted red and yellow wires to the black one, just like Alex said.

Nothing.

“Come on,” I whisper-shout with frustration, my voice muffled by the flashlight clenched between my teeth. “Come. On.” I try again, twisting the wires tighter this time and holding them together with a little more pressure.

Still nothing.

Panic claws at my chest, and my hands start to sweat, making the wires slippery in my grasp. Focus. Steady. One more try.

I strip the wires a little further, ensuring the copper is fully exposed. Taking a deep breath, I connect them again, pressing harder this time.

The engine roars to life, so loud and sudden it startles me. Relief floods through me. I let out a small cry of victory and quickly muffle it with my hand. I’m so close to crying, but I use every mechanism I can to keep it together. My whole body sags against the seat for a brief moment before the urgency of the situation snaps me back into action.

“Okay, you got this.”

I drop the flashlight onto the passenger seat, push the wires aside, and shift the car into reverse, backing out of the driveway as quietly as the ancient car will allow. The adrenaline coursing through me is the only thing keeping me from breaking down.

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