RISK & REWARD

16 | 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯' 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯

UH oh. Uh oh. Unceremoniously, I scramble after Slade, glancing back over my shoulder at the dead junkyard.

Who else is in here?

I look straight again, and nearly panic when I realize Slade has gotten a good several feet ahead of me. She's cutting silently through the heaps, moving at a smooth, stealthy crawl.

Meanwhile, I'm almost falling on my face every few seconds trying to keep up. I cringe every time I hear the sound of metal squeaking and crunching underfoot but Slade seems more concerned with getting out of here as soon as possible.

The fence leers closer with every second, but it still seems so far. My hearing feels distorted; I can't tell if I'm hearing myself climb over scrap metal or if it's the sound of someone else far behind me clambering in our direction.

Judging by the way Slade's tilting her head every few seconds, I don't think she can either. Still, she doesn't break pace; we're scrambling empty-handed for what feels like way too long trying to get to the fence.

Slade's already cutting away at the wire when I catch up to her. She's knelt on a colorful pile of metal, knife scraping against the wire.

"Can I help? I have —"

"Watch our back." Slade doesn't look up at me; she keeps sawing away at the fence, drawing out these unbelievably ugly squeals every time her knife slides against it. Her tone is authoritative; she's not fucking around right now. I can practically feel bottled-up adrenaline radiating off of her.

"Nothing." I keep my eye on the junkyard. "You're good, you're good."

No response. I hear another quiet squeal, and then a sharp zzzzing. Slade puffs out a breath.

"One done."

"How many more?"

"Dunno."

Slade keeps cutting, I keep watching. I'm waiting for any sign of movement, any sign of life in the heaps.

I don't get a sign of life, at first. I'm starting to think that, maybe, I didn't really see anything moving; maybe it was just a trick of the light. The car had been rounding behind me; it could've just been a weird reflection or glow on the trash heap.

Both Slade and I hear the groan of metal underfoot, though, and both of us practically jump at the echo. Behind me, though, Slade curses, voice low.

Another metallic groan. Closer, now, though I still can't see anything.

"Slade?" I ask, still scanning the heap with wide eyes even as she whirls around and starts sawing at the fence more hurriedly than before. "This is normal. Right?"

No response.

"Right?"

My only answer is the steadily-more-frantic squeak of metal on metal.

"Hey!" Same voice as before, floating over from the far wall. "I see you!"

Slade's head twists back; I drop lower, heart leaping into my throat a moment before a beam of light cuts through the hazy dark, illuminating the thick shape of a figure standing on a metal heap maybe two hundred feet away.

Bushy hair, what I assume is a dark, baggy hoodie. That's all I can see.

I have no time to think about that, though, because then Slade's suddenly standing beside me, and I hear the rattle of the fence as she grabs onto it.

Slade says "climb" at the same time that I hear the short blast of a siren.

My hands are shaking and my whole body feels like it's connected to a live wire as my feet move on their own, locking into the crosses of the fence as I grab onto thick wire and pull.