Ghost Bird | ✔

Forty-Seven

"Now," Cecile declares. "We have one more stop—your final destination on this road trip."

"A restaurant that sells only comfort food?" I guess hopefully.

Cecile snorts, still focused on the road. "Guess again, Sang."

"Ice cream store?" I try, my voice as high as my hopes.

"No. Now, stop guessing. You're giving me a headache."

I suppress a snort at that. She has a headache?! Welcome to my world, honey.

Falling silent, I close my eyes and get as comfortable as possible. The gentle motions of the van and Cecile's driving are lulling. It doesn't take me long to fall into a deep, much needed sleep.

When I wake, everything is different.

I don't know where I am.

I don't know how I got here.

I don't know what this is.

I don't know what is going on.

I don't know anything.

And I hate it.

I fight back panic and calm myself down. Slowing my breathing and heart rate, I survey my surroundings.

My ankles are merely zip-tied while my hands are in cuffs that are chained around a metal pipe. The room is concrete—concrete walls, concrete floor, concrete ceiling. There are no windows, the light comes from a dim bulb too high up for me to reach. What scares me most, though, is that there is no door. Either that or the small drain in the center of the floor that has dried blood coating it.

I have none of the weapons on me. None of the bombs either. But I do have the gear that I hid. A Kevlar saw in my combat boots, a shim in my hair, and my bandana which is now around my neck. My hair is still in the braid that Gabriel put it in, tied by a hair tie that could be useful.

Now, I can get out of the cuffs and the zip-tie, but I still have to figure out how to get out of the room.

Reaching my hands up, I retrieve the shim, a long metal pin of sorts. I insert it into the keyhole of the cuffs and jiggle it around until I hear the click. Reading pays off. It's a tricky endeavor, getting the saw out of my boots with zip-ties, but, after a while, I pull it out.

A Kevlar saw is not a saw in the typical sense. It is a strong metal cord with handles on either end. I guess it is kinda like a cheese saw. I snort at the thought, but it is true. I pinch one side of the saw with my toes and grip the other side with my hands. With quick, careful movements, I saw through the ties and am free of my binds.

Leaping to my feet, I press against the walls, looking for some sort of hidden door. I don't find anything, though. No switch, no button, no lever, nothing. Dismayed, I continue the search before my eyes drift to the drain.

No, Sang. That would be stupid.

But, I need a way out...

You could get stuck and die in there! I argue with myself.

You could die if you stay here. Look at the blood on that drain. Look at it!

Shh! I see the blood. Fine.

Shaking my head to clear it, I quickly pull out the shim and try to pry up the drain. Upon closer inspection, though, I realize that others have been here before and tried the same thing. There are tiny scratch marks in the metal.

I slide the shim back in my hair with a grunt of annoyance. Raking my hands through my hair, I don't care that I am messing p the braid. For whatever reason, the feeling of my nails scratching my scalp helps me think and focus. I chew on my lip and stare at the drain.

Slowly, I reach a hand up and pull the rubber band out of my hair. I quickly wrap the rubber band around the metal grate and pull it through itself and stick the end of the saw through it. I pull on the saw and the rubber band pulls it back. Grinning, I set to work. It doesn't take long to cut through the first metal. I work faster, realizing that there will be no way to hide my method of escape. Then again, there is no door here.

I furrow my brows. I must be missing something. Shaking my head, I refocus on the drain. With a stomp, the drain breaks away and falls. After a few seconds, there is a faint sloshing splash. Suppressing a shudder, I lower myself into the drain.

I just barely fit. My hips and shoulders are screaming in pain and I can't take any deep breaths or my ribs feel like they are collapsing. I've never felt claustrophobic before. Now, I'm trying not to have a panic attack. When you are in the dark, in a tiny pipe, wiggling your way down to the unknown, and smelling the terrible smell of the sewer, you begin to panic.

But I continue.

I have endured a lot. So, so much. A stupid pipe is not going to be the end of me.

I get stuck in several spots and have to stop and try to catch my breath. I'm not ashamed to admit that there are tear stains on my cheeks. If you knew what it was like in those first few hours, you would understand.

What I hate the most is probably the lack of progress. It takes a long time to get a short distance. I can't climb or slide or fall down, I have to wiggle and inch my way down this forever pipe.

But now, now I am so close. So, so close. The smell of the sewer is even stronger and there is a faint light at the end. Finally, I am free from the pipe. I fall to down, down, down. I fall into the sewer with sickening sound.