Page 80 of Captured Heart

I crouch, my muscles coiled and ready for action as I watch the camera. The second it’s fully turned, I sprint, my bare feet pounding against the gravel, small stones cutting into my soles. The camera’s already turning back, and I’m only halfway there. I grit my teeth, willing myself to go faster. My legs and lungs are on fire, but I’m almost there.

“Hey!” a guard shouts, his voice cutting through the night. “Stop!”

I don’t look back. Adrenaline surges through me. I leap onto the fence, the metal cold and biting against my palms. I pull myself up and over, but my foot slips on the way down, sending me crashing to the ground. Pain shoots up my arm, but I push myself to my feet and keep running.

“Two blocks down, next to a gray and white Murkox building, you’ll see an alley to your right. It’s dark, but it’ll give you cover. I left a bag there for you behind the dumpster. It has everything you need.”

The streets are eerily silent as I race toward the red Murkox sign I can see in the distance. My breaths are expelled in ragged gasps. My heart pounds rapidly, echoing in my ears as I reach the building. I turn into the darkness, slowing to catch my breath. I swallow hard, trying to moisten my throat. It’s as dry assandpaper. Using my palm, I apply pressure to my ribs to ease the cramps stabbing my side.

I move deeper into the alley. The stench hits me first, a pungent mix of rotting garbage, sour milk, and something metallic, like rust or old blood. The faint, distant sound of scurrying mice makes my skin crawl, and I swear I hear the flutter of wings. Maybe a bat...or maybe it’s just my imagination playing tricks on me.

It’s so dark. I can’t see anything. Placing my hands on the wall, I feel my way down the alley.

I wince when something sharp pierces my foot. “Shit!”

I lift my leg and pull out what feels like a shard of glass. It’s not too deep, though. I continue moving to the end of the alley until I feel the cool metal of the dumpster.

Still feeling my way, I move around it and find the backpack Alex promised. I yank it open, rummaging blindly until I feel a flashlight. I use it to help me dress, pulling on the sweatpants and a pair of sneakers. Alex said it was Morty’s. They’re a little big, but they’ll do. The rough fabric scratches against my skin as I tug the drawstrings tighter, but I don’t have time to care.

The sudden screech of tires cuts through the silence. My pulse quickens. I switch off the flashlight and press my back against the cold, damp wall of the alley, listening intently.

A car door slams. Voices drift through the air, sharp and urgent.

“She couldn’t have gotten far!” one of them yells. Sounds like Smith. “She’s on foot.”

“Check the alleys,” Bowman orders. “Check every parking lot, every vacant building. Check everywhere. We’ll keep circling in the van. Go. Now!”

Panic seizes me as I hear the engine rev, and the tires peel away. I see the flickering of headlights as they pass the entrance of the alley, illuminating the trash and grime for just a moment.My eyes dart around, searching for cover, and the only thing I see is the dumpster in front of me.

My nose wrinkles at the thought, but there’s no other option. I lift the lid, gagging as the overwhelming stench of decaying food and stale liquids wafts out. I hold my breath, hoist myself up, and drop inside. My knees sink into something soft and wet, and I try not to think about what it might be.

The lid closes above me, sealing me in darkness. The air is suffocating, thick with the smell of rot and mildew. I press the sleeve of Alex’s hoodie over my nose and mouth, trying to filter out the worst of it.

Footsteps echo near the entrance of the alley. I freeze, biting my lip so I don’t make a sound. My breaths are shallow, barely there, as I strain to hear over my rapidly pounding heartbeat. Something furry scurries over my hand, and it takes everything in me to keep the scream trapped in my throat. The faint beam of a flashlight flickers through the small cracks in the dumpster, casting eerie streaks of light.

The footsteps draw closer, crunching over broken glass and scattered debris. My stomach knots as I imagine Smith yanking the lid open, his face twisted in triumph as he drags me out. But then, the steps stop.

A voice grumbles, irritated. “Fuck!”

A strange calmness washes over me as the footsteps retreat, growing fainter with each passing second. My muscles ache from staying so still, but I don’t dare move. Not yet.

I count to sixty. Once. Twice. When the only sounds are the distant hum of the city and the occasional bark of a dog, I lift the lid just a crack. The alley is empty.

Cautiously, I climb out of the dumpster, the sour stench of rotting food clinging to me like a second skin. I suppress a gag as I pull a slimy banana peel from my hair, its sticky residue clinging stubbornly to the strands.

“Ugh! Gross.”

I toss it away before wiping my hands on the sweatpants. I switch the flashlight on again and then I see it.

The wall. A towering, solid concrete barrier at least ten feet high. My stomach sinks. Alex said it wasn’t too high, but I don’t think he thought about the fact that I’m a good few inches shorter than him. And not nearly as strong.

There are no footholds, no ladders, nothing to help me scale it. The streetlight casts faint shadows along its surface, and the sound of a distant car spurs me into action.

I step closer, running my hands over the rough surface, hoping to find some imperfection, something to grab onto. It’s smooth and cold, offering no mercy.

“Come on, Kate. Think.”

I flick the flashlight around the alley, looking for anything useful. There’s an old pallet leaning against the dumpster. It’s warped and splintered, but it’ll have to do. Holding the flashlight between my teeth, I drag it over to the base of the wall, the rough wood scraping against the ground.

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