Page 4 of Captured

Once she’d assured herself there was no sign of another pack that could pose a threat, Flea made her way down to the bridge arched over the open space between her and her destination. The old railing had broken off and been lost to the levels below, leaving nothing but a narrow walkway over what looked like empty space. As deep as they were, almost no sunlight penetrated except for rare spots when the star was directly overhead, and the levels below were even dimmer than the current one she was on, so the opening was nothing more than a black pit.

Taking a deep breath and checking the area around her once again before leaving the shelter of the wall she’d hugged, Flea darted across. Four long strides got her to the edge of the bridge, another four had her cresting the top, before a last jump saw her clearing the opposite side. She stumbled when her feet hit the sidewalk, a little too close to the edge for her peace of mind as she caught herself and finished her dart to the wall of the building.

Plastering herself against it, she tried to quiet her heaves for air as she checked for any sign that someone had noticed her. It was nerve wracking, being so cautious after weeks of carelessly moving about, but she couldn’t let herself get cocky.

By the time her breathing had slowed and she could hear past the pulse in her ears, she was ready to move. She made her way around the side of the building, half her attention on the space around her and half on the lookout for her mark.

It didn’t take long to spot the little white oblong with six tiny stick legs next to the third boarded window. She’d never claimed to be an artist.

Lips quirked in amusement at her drawing, her eyes moved to the wall above her, tracing the route she’d memorized long ago. Stretching for the first handhold, she frowned down at her boots when the wide lip wouldn’t catch in the little niche she needed to boost herself to the next. It had been love at first sight when she spotted the chunky black things in the corner of the room they’d taken her to for new clothing when they deemed her rags unsuitable, but they weren’t the best choice for climbing.

Letting out a sigh, Flea crouched and tugged at the ties, pulling them loose before slipping her feet free. She winced at the cold soaking through her socks, working quickly to tie the laces to the back of her belt where the boots would be out of her way. She debated for a moment before removing the socks too, not willing to risk slipping or snagging.

Rolling her shoulders as she stood, she blew out a breath and began again. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t put her skills to use in the time she’d been in the Center, her body knew what to do from years of practice. Reaching from one hold to another, fingers and toes digging into tiny divots in the wall, Flea climbed.

Her muscles were trembling by the time she passed the windows on the third floor. These weren’t boarded over, many of them retaining broken bits of glass, but she knew better than to climb inside just yet. The stairs had collapsed years ago, leaving the bottom three floors separated from the top three. It was one of the reasons she’d chosen the building as one of her hiding spots.

Pushing herself on as sweat beaded along her spine, Flea focused on the next hold. Controlled push with her leg, questing fingers curled into place, lift leg, test toehold, repeat. Her coat protected her arms from scraping the building, but the tights she’d been wearing when she ran weren’t thick enough to last long against repeated abrasions. She felt the flesh of her knees tear, but the sight of the windowsill above her kept the pain at bay.

Heaving herself through the open window, Flea pulled her legs inside, rolling to her back to lay sprawled on the floor as she panted. She’d cleaned the glass away from her entrance when she’d chosen the building, otherwise she’d have been risking more cuts as she rested, but she allowed herself the luxury to wallow for a moment.

She’d made it.

A grin pulled at her lips as she stared up into the darkness.

“Next time, pass on the desserts and keep in practice Flea.”

Her voice filled the room she lay in, mocking her even as she chuckled. Rolling to her knees, she pushed herself up, hand reaching out for the wall she could barely see in the light coming from behind her. The interior of the building would be pitch black, but her feet knew where to go. Fingers trailing along as she counted her paces, she left the room, walking down a hallway past similar empty offices. Switching to the interior wall at the corner, she passed three more doorways before slowing.

Smooth wood met her questing fingers before they lowered to find cool metal. The doorknob refused to turn when she tested it, assuring her the room was still locked. The building had been ransacked long before she found it, doors left open or busted in as desperate people hunted for supplies, but she’d been lucky to find this one with little damage to the frame. It hadn’t taken much to reenforce it and make it able to be secured once again.

Raising a hand to her head, Flea poked through her thick locks until she found the thin slip of metal hidden there. No one seemed to grasp the usefulness of such a tool in the levels above, but she’d been sure to keep a few on her once she found them.

Pulling the pin from her hair, straightening it from its curved shape only took a moment. Picking the lock took a bit more concentration in the dark, but Flea had the door swinging open in less than a minute.

The scent that met her nose assured her no one else had entered her space. There was the lingering smell of her under the must that had grown in the enclosed room after months of disuse, but no traces of anyone else.

Her foot slid forward as her fingers kept contact with the wall. Imagining the room the way she’d last seen it, she scooted to the side before moving to the back of the space and kneeling in the corner.

Even in a locked room inside a building that was difficult to enter, she hadn’t trusted leaving her things in the open. Moving the little wooden crate she’d used as a table, she felt the floor beneath until she found the lip that allowed her to pull up one of the tiles. The hiding hole beneath was filled with extra bits she’d collected. A spare shirt, a bottle, a knife, and most importantly, a handheld light.

She spared a thought for the lantern she’d lost when she was taken by the soldiers. It had been a wonderful thing, with a recharging handle and multiple settings, that she’d traded a week’s worth of food and a bottle of medicine for. It’d been invaluable and her greatest treasure.

But her heart still surged as her fingers curled around the smooth metal of the light hidden inside. Pulling it out, she covered the end with her free hand and clicked it on. Her skin glowed red before she parted two fingers to let a crack of light spill into the room.

Tension she hadn’t noticed melted away. She had a couple thin blankets in the corner that she’d pieced together from scraps, along with a collection of useless but interesting odds and ends she’d found, but the light and the bottle were the two things she’d needed most.

Slipping across the room to close the door, she stuffed a bit of fabric under the edge before taking her hand off the light. It was battery operated so she had to be careful how much she used it, but just having a few moments to look around was worth the waste.

Flea set the light on the crate before untying the boots from her belt. Shrugging off the coat and adding it to her little pile of supplies, she settled onto her blankets with a smile.

She had what she needed. She could start over. She was free.

That was all that mattered.

Chapter Four

Gra’ar

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