Awake

TWENTY ONE

If you're fortunate enough to have never broken into a giant crate filled with possible slave-traders, you may be surprised to find that it's easier than it sounds. At least, getting in isn't astoundingly difficult.

As I crept towards the entrance of the building, I felt the strange calm that had filled me after I decided to rescue the girl draining away.

Years of babysitting experience - plus two little brothers under the age of ten - had instilled me with several ingrained responses to children. One of these was knowing that it was never, never ok to let them smell your fear. They're like evil dogs that way. No matter how bad the situation, you have to be the adult. You have to be calm, and you have to be in control, or they get scared too. I reminded myself of this as I considered crumpling into a ball and wailing. What was I doing? Why wasn't I running in the opposite direction?

Without the small (sulky, yes) but extremely young face in front of me, I was a lot less certain that breaking into a scary metal-shed-box-holding-pen-thing filled with possibly heavily-armed people was the right thing to do. It's times like this that Jake would actually be useful. He's all for ambushing innocent people in nightclubs, but the second you're about to make a life threatening decision he's at home trimming his stubble, or polishing his biceps or whatever it is he does when he's alone.

The entire compound was still and dark, the spotlights casting scattered columns of white light in the dust. I gnawed at my lip, glancing at the fence. I could leave. I could just run away. At the thought, something inside me seemed to rise up. No. I thought of the man on the ferry, Jake unconscious on the floor, then the girl's small hands gripping the bars. I wasn't running again.

The certainty that I couldn't leave her didn't really make me feel any braver. Instead, I felt like an animal caught in a trap. I tried to control my breathing, pressing my lips together, clenching my fists. I needed to come up with a solution. I needed to be the adult. I needed to be strong.

I peered around the corner of the building. The entrance was visible. It was a large, metal door with a grille in the center. Yellow light shone out through the cracks, flickering slightly. The voices were slightly louder. I crept a bit closer, and hesitated. What was I doing? What was my plan? I didn't have a magic assault rifle, unlike some. If worst came to worst, I supposed I could throw red-hot shard fragments in their faces - but whilst that might be maiming, it probably would just make them even more homicidal. The best option was definitely stealth.

I edged a little closer, and immediately stepped on a sharp pebble buried in the dirt.

FUCK, I mouthed silently, stopping myself from yelping just in time. It was worse than stepping on Lego, and believe me, that happens a lot at my house.

Ok, stealth would be challenging, but I didn't think my chances of knocking someone unconscious and stealing their uniform were very high. That's if they even had uniforms. I reined my slightly hysterical thoughts back in line. They wouldn't have uniforms, what was I thinking? They were criminals, not fast food workers.

I moved to the door and hesitantly brought my eye up to the grill, attempting to peer inside. The gap was tiny and the grill slanted downwards, so I could only see the floor. It was concrete - long and narrow. A corridor. I could see filthy walls and two sets of closed doors on either side. At the far end was another metal door - also closed. I could only see the bottom half, but considering the layout of the building, I bet it had a bolt on it, and was the one the girl was behind.

I gnawed at my lip so hard I tasted blood. Ok. Home stretch. The dirty yellow bulb in the center of the corridor was flickering and buzzing slightly. I strained my ears in an attempt to hear what was going on in the rooms to either side.