Chapter 9: The Chase Begins
The harsh beams of flashlights cut through the courtyard darkness, dancing wildly across the brick walls and bouncing off the metal recycling bins. Shouts echoed from the street entrance—rough, commanding voices demanding to know which way the girls had gone.
"They found us," Eleanor whispered, her face draining of color as she jumped to her feet. "Jonathan’s security team. They must have tracked the toll tag on my car."
Clara grabbed Maeve’s hand, adrenaline surging through her veins.
"We have to move, now!" Clara urged, pulling Maeve toward a low wooden fence at the back of the courtyard that led into a residential alleyway.
"Wait," Maeve said, planting her bare feet firmly on the ground. She pulled the brass key out of Eleanor’s hand with surprising swiftness. "If they are looking for us, they'll check the main roads and the hospital. But I know the old drainage tunnels under the city. They run right beneath the hospital basement."
Eleanor stared at the homeless girl, astounded by her sudden tactical resourcefulness born of years surviving on the merciless streets.
"The drainage tunnels?" Eleanor gasped. "They're filthy, dangerous—"
"They're the only way we don't get caught," Maeve interrupted sharply, her eyes flashing with fierce determination. "Do you want to hide, or do you want to win?"
Without waiting for an answer, Maeve squeezed through a rusted gap in the wooden fence, disappearing into the pitch-black opening of a concrete storm drain. Clara didn't hesitate for a second, ducking her head and following right behind her. Eleanor stared into the dark abyss for a fraction of a second, then gathered the fabric of her dark skirt and scrambled through the fence after her daughters.
The descent into the underworld was instantaneous. The sounds of the city faded into a dull, echoing roar, replaced by the constant dripping of water and the stale, metallic scent of damp concrete. Maeve moved through the labyrinth with practiced ease, her instincts guiding them through the pitch-black tunnels while Clara used the flashlight app on her phone on its lowest, dimmest setting to illuminate just enough ground to keep from tripping.
"How do you live down here?" Clara whispered, her voice echoing strangely off the curved concrete walls.
"You learn to see in the dark," Maeve replied softly, her footsteps echoing ahead of them.
After twenty minutes of brisk, exhausting walking through the damp maze, Maeve stopped abruptly in front of a heavy iron maintenance door bolted into the wall.
"This is it," Maeve whispered, pointing to the rusted keyhole. "Locker 402 is just on the other side of this wall, inside the old hospital archives."
Eleanor stepped forward, her hands trembling as she took the brass key from Maeve’s outstretched palm. She slid it into the heavy iron lock. It turned with a loud, echoing clack that sounded like a gunshot in the confined space.
May you like
As Eleanor pulled the heavy door open, a beam of light from inside the room revealed a figure standing right in front of them, blocking their path.
***
