Grounded

Chapter 21

Chapter 21

For an hour, I travel east, until the sounds of traffic and footsteps above fade to silence. When all is quiet for several minutes, I tentatively climb one of the shafts and peek through the grate. All clear. I crank the cover and crawl out, relieved to emerge on a corner of sidewalk between two buildings with foreclosure signs and dirty windows. They look abandoned.

Closing the cover, I scramble to the dumpster in the alley and toss my bag behind it. Then I remove my boots and jacket and the remnants of the sewer that cling to them. I throw the soiled clothing away and tighten my ponytail.

"Don't move," comes a gruff voice from behind me.

I smell him before I see him, a strong chemical smell, stronger than alcohol. Slowly, I turn toward the voice. The man is tanned to the shade of leather, with a prickly beard and patchy gray hair that looks like he cut it himself with a knife. His eyes are hidden behind dark sunglasses. His clothing is either gray-colored or dirty, I can't tell which, and a red handkerchief is tied around his left bicep. He takes a step toward me. I flatten my back against the dumpster to keep my distance.

"You're in Red Dog territory, girlie," he says, tapping the red cloth tied on his arm. "You best crawl back into that hole and move along."

"I—I just need to find Oakdale Rehabilitation Center," I stutter.

He cocks his head to the side and slides his lips back from his yellow teeth. "Huh. See, I find it hard to believe a person takes the sewer to the deadzone in order to visit a sick relative in the heart of Crater City. You're plenty far from Oakdale Rehab and no one comes here unless they're a vagrant or a scamper. Judging by the label on those jeans, you ain't no vagrant."

"I'm lost."

"I'll give you five seconds to get back into that sewer or—"

"Or what?" I say defiantly. I can't go back. It's too late for that. The tickle wakes and stretches at the back of my brain, it snakes its way to my shoulders. No! What happened with Helen and the Greens when we escaped CGEF was Korwin's doing. I've made my peace with it, but Korwin has more control. He knew he wouldn't kill anyone. If Maxwell is to be believed, I could kill this man, fry him like an ant under glass. I can't risk it. Violence is wrong. I don't want to hurt anyone.

A flash of steel passes by my face and then a knife is at my throat. "Your five seconds are up." His face juts forward until his wrinkled lips are less than an inch from me. The blade presses into my neck. "I'm sure someone in the pack could use a new bitch."

And then his calloused hands have my wrists. He binds them with a cord that cuts into my flesh and pushes me forward by the neck. I tremble at the feel of the knife pressed into my back. The tickle cascades down my arms of its own accord and lingers near my fingers.

He leads me to a warehouse across the street. The door opens before we get there, and a man in patchwork clothes limps toward me, laughing. He looks just as sinister as the man who has my neck, with the same red cloth tied around his arm.

"Where'd you find this one, Hambone?"

"Walked right into our territory," my captor says with a laugh.

Patchwork chuckles darkly. "Finders keepers." They usher me deep into the building. It smells of urine and something else—the chemical smell again. Hambone walks me to the middle of the concrete expanse. By the time my eyes adjust to the dim light, I'm surrounded. There are filthy men everywhere. Twitchy, shifty-eyed men who close in around me. They seem to smell my fear, laughing and taunting me.

"Please, I beg you, I need to get to Crater City," I say. "I didn't mean to come into your territory. I'm lost."

"Riiight," Hambone says. He pushes my hair off my shoulder.