Chapter 23
Kara’s eyes snapped open. Her heart was racing, every inch of her tired body sore and bruised. The air around her was thick,
humid, cloying, and for a second she didn’t know where she was, almost couldn’t breathe. Panic flared, and she tried to sit
up but found the effort almost impossible. A dull throb pulsed through her head and her limbs felt unnaturally heavy.
“Matt?” Her voice was rough, disoriented. She coughed, a dry, hacking sound. She could barely process the noises around her:
the distant drip of water, the faint buzz of a faraway generator, and the overwhelming stillness.
“It’s okay.” Matt’s voice came from beside her, soft, steady. His arms tightened around her. “You’re okay.”
Kara blinked, tried to focus. Matt’s back was pressed into the corner of the concrete wall; she was spooned into him. Her
head rested on his arm, which felt oddly comforting, but now that she was awake, she realized that Matt had to be uncomfortable.
She herself felt like she’d been run over by a truck.
“I’m fine,” she said, trying to convince herself that this was all normal, that they would get out of this situation, though she felt anything but fine.
Her head was spinning, her muscles stiff.
The realization hit her like a punch—they had slept.
They had actually slept while trapped in some abandoned flooded warehouse in Georgia, a hundred miles or more from where
they’d been abducted.
With a wince, she pushed herself up, vertigo threatening to pull her back down. Her limbs ached like she’d been stuck in one
position for hours. Her mouth was dry, her empty stomach gnawing at her.
“We need to get out of here,” she said, her voice barely more than a hoarse rasp.
“We will.” Matt shifted, and she saw pain flash across his face.
“Your ankle—is it okay?”
“Fine.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“It’s a dull throb,” he said. “Honestly, every one of my muscles feels bruised, and I had a dream—or nightmare—about a juicy
cheeseburger just out of reach.”
She moaned, but smiled, just a bit.
He took a long look at her, his eyes dark but resolute. “You’re right, we can’t stay here much longer. We will get out.”
“And get a cheeseburger?”
“I promise.”
Kara forced herself to stand. Her legs were weak, as if they had forgotten what it was like to be used. She stretched, feeling
the tension in her shoulders, the cramp in her stomach. “I can’t believe we slept,” she muttered, her gaze drifting across
the room. The faint light that filtered through the grimy windows barely illuminated the factory floor below.
Matt glanced at his watch. “It’s 7:10 a.m.”
“Wow,” she said. “That long?” Time felt like it had completely lost all meaning. Maybe they hadn’t slept. Maybe they’d fallen
unconscious again.
“The windows face west,” Matt explained, looking around. “So it’s still pretty dark out from our angle.”
Kara’s hands clenched at her sides. “This whole thing is driving me kind of crazy.” She glanced out at the catwalks. She’d
figured it out last night—how to use the catwalks and beams to get down to the flooded floor below. But her mind was a mess,
and she was trying to sort through all the possibilities to find the solution again.
“You’re fine,” Matt repeated. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into him for a brief moment, his embrace grounding
her. Kara felt the tension in her chest loosen. The reality of their situation was still there, but with Matt by her side
she had confidence they’d get out of this.
She gave him a light kiss. “We have to get moving.”
Matt let out a breath. “Alright, let’s do this.”
She looked at him, searching his face for the kind of reassurance she knew he couldn’t give. “You sure about this?”
“No, but we’re only getting weaker. We need water, at the very least. And now that we disabled the cameras, Reid’s partner
will come back. Neither of us is in a position to fight, and if she has a gun, we’re really screwed.”
Kara scanned the factory floor, the web of catwalks hanging from the ceiling across from them, stretching like an endless
maze of rusted metal. “I’ve thought about what might happen if the catwalks break. If we fall . . . it’s about two stories
down. That’s not enough to kill us, unless we hit our head on the machinery. Still, we could break something.”
“We may be able to use the equipment to help,” Matt said. “Cross the catwalks, then drop down onto a machine. Whatever decision
we make, it’s going to be dangerous.”
Kara squeezed his hand and started toward the nearest catwalk. “If we don’t make it, Matt—”
“We will make it,” he said firmly, cutting her off. His confidence made her heart thud in her chest. “I’ll go first.”
“No,” she said. “I’m lighter.”
“What does that have to do with it? If the catwalk holds me, it’ll hold you.”
“Matt, I’m doing it,” she insisted. “First, your ankle is messed up.”
“So?”
How did she convince him? “Want to flip for it?”
Now he smiled. “You have a coin?” Then he said, in all seriousness, “Okay, you go. But listen carefully, Kara. If you get
down there and I don’t, you get out of this place. Promise me?”
“I’m not promising anything like that. I’m not leaving you behind.”
“Kara—”
“You wouldn’t leave me. I’m not leaving you.”
“Just—”
She kissed him. “Shh.”
Kara knelt and inspected the metal. She couldn’t just walk out from the control room onto the catwalk, it was about two feet
away. She would need to jump, which was a risk even if she wasn’t concerned about sabotage. She took one of the monitors they’d
pulled from the wall when they were looking for a way to communicate with the outside world, and carefully tossed it onto
the walkway. It hit hard, bounced, then fell off, plopping into the water below with a thud and splash.
This catwalk went straight across from the control room to the opposite wall, where there was a ladder down to the floor.
She hoped to get all the way across, but if there was any danger or threat of collapse, if she could get just halfway, there
was a conveyor belt she could drop onto, the top of it only a few feet from the bottom of the catwalk.
Now or never. She walked to the door, then ran and jumped onto the catwalk, grabbing the handrails as it swayed back and forth.
But it held. She heard Matt swear behind her.
She turned, gave him a thumbs-up, then she started across the metal grate, her tennis shoes giving her traction.
The catwalk continued to sway, but it held.
She stepped carefully, her mind running through all the booby traps they’d already encountered.
The staircase that chewed up Matt’s ankle. The falling ceiling. The elevator.
Her confidence grew as she progressed, but still she moved slowly, purposefully.
Suddenly, the support chain to her left broke, hit her arm, then made a deafening sound as it clanked against the metal and
hung from where it was attached to the rail. It jerked heavily, made the entire structure wobble. She froze. The catwalk creaked
ominously.
“Kara, get back here!” Matt called.
“No, it’s okay.”
She took another step. Good. Another. Only twenty more feet and she’d reach the top of the conveyor belt. Her first opportunity
to get off. She glanced back at the end of the swaying chain and it looked clean, as if it had been sawed off.
Maybe she should go back. But it was only another few feet . . .
Suddenly, three chains broke simultaneously in front of her, and Kara screamed as she lost her balance, tilting sideways and
down. She would have fallen to the floor below, but her hands clutched at the rusted edges of the walkway, holding on as she
dangled above the factory floor, a chasm of dark, murky water. How deep was it? Would she fall, hit her head, drown? Was it
so shallow that she’d break her back?
Matt shouted her name, but the sound was muffled by the ringing in her ears. Focus, Kara. You need to focus.
The catwalk groaned, and her world tilted again.
Kara looked frantically around, the top of the conveyor belt too far from her.
She didn’t have the strength to use the catwalk as makeshift monkey bars to get over to it, but the edge of the belt was directly below her, sloping out of the huge machine.
If she could reach it, maybe—just maybe—she could avoid a deadly fall.
With a burst of energy, she shimmied down the broken catwalk, muscles straining, until she could drop onto the conveyor belt,
now only six feet below. She hit it hard, sending shockwaves of pain clear through to her bones. She gritted her teeth, forcing
herself to roll down the belt, not off the side. She tumbled, slid, then hit the water-covered floor with a thud.
She gasped, her body screaming from the impact, but she pulled herself up out of the water and stood on shaking legs. The
water reached her knees.
“Kara? Kara!” Matt shouted.
She couldn’t respond at first. She started to laugh and cry at the same time, tried to respond to Matt, but couldn’t quite
catch her breath.
“Are you okay? Kara, dammit!”
“Yes!” she managed to shout. She waved her arms above her head in a sign that she was okay. She took a deep breath. “Nothing
broken!”
“Go,” Matt called down to her. “Get help.”
“Like hell,” she said. “I’m not leaving here without you. Remember?” She looked up to where the catwalk was hanging down like
a crooked ladder. “Can you use the catwalk as a slide? Shimmy down or something?”
She squinted to watch Matt. He was standing near where she’d jumped onto the catwalk. He wouldn’t be able to reach it now.
“Matt, check out the other catwalk, but be careful. Find a way to drop down. Please,” she added almost to herself.