Chapter 3 - The Rat in the Walls
I did not put the babies down.
I had spent my entire life surviving on the forgotten edges of this city.
I knew the warehouse district better than anyone.
I threw my phone straight at Mr. Davis's face and bolted in the opposite direction.
"Get her!" someone yelled behind me.
I sprinted down the narrow, trash-filled alleyway, holding the two tiny infants tight against my chest.
My lungs burned with the cold air, but I did not stop.
I ducked behind a rusted dumpster and scrambled toward an old, broken ventilation grate in the brick wall.
I had used this hidden tunnel to hide from neighborhood bullies for years.
I slid through the jagged opening on my back, scraping my shoulders on the rusted metal.
I pulled my legs in just as the tactical team rounded the corner with bright flashlights.
The babies were whimpering softly, their tiny bodies shivering against my cold skin.
"Shh," I prayed silently, rocking them as gently as I could in the cramped space.
"Please be quiet."
The beams of their flashlights swept across the alley, illuminating the dumpster.
Mr. Davis walked right up to the ventilation grate.
He shined his light directly into the darkness, missing my face by mere inches.
One of the babies let out a sharp, sudden cry.
Mr. Davis stopped walking, his flashlight snapping back to the grate.
"I found her," he announced smoothly.
He reached his hand through the metal bars to grab my jacket.
Suddenly, a hand clamped firmly over my mouth from the absolute darkness behind me.
Someone yanked me violently backward into the deep shadows of the building.
May you like
I tried to scream, but a teenage boy leaned close to my ear.
"Keep quiet if you want to live," he whispered.
