“You’re risking everything,” I said. “Why?”
Torres’s expression hardened. “Because Cunningham is parading around like a hero while you rot in here. Because I told them what I saw, and they laughed in my face. And because Matthew always said you were the finest officer he ever served under.”
“Matthew?” I blinked.
“My brother,” Ben explained. “Torres was his friend from the Academy.”
The pieces clicked into place. “You planned this together.”
Torres nodded. “We have a way out, but it won’t be pleasant.”
“How?” I gestured to my missing leg. “I can barely walk.”
“You won’t have to,” Ben said, producing a key. The lock clicked open.
Torres slipped into the cell carrying a bundle of rags. “Put these on. Quickly.”
As I changed with Ben’s help, she explained in whispers. “There’s a waste disposal run before dawn. Kitchen scraps are collected in barrels and taken outside the city.”
My stomach dropped. “You want me to hide in garbage?”
“It’s the only way,” Ben insisted. “The barrels aren’t checked… the smell keeps the guards away.”
“And once you’re out, I’ll be waiting with a cart,” Torres added. “We have to get you to the docks before sunrise.”
I stared at them, these two risking everything for me. “If you’re caught—”
“We won’t be,” Torres said. “But we need to go now.”
The corridor remained empty as Ben helped me hobble toward the service area, my crude cane thumping softly against stone. Each step sent pain through my stump.
The kitchen waste area was lined with large wooden barrels. The stench hit me—a putrid mix of rotting food and waste.
“That one,” Ben pointed to a barrel near the door.
I stared at it, my last shreds of dignity threatening to desert me.
“Go on,” Torres said gently. “I’m sorry, sir.”
With grim determination, I approached. Ben removed the lid, revealing a nauseating slurry of kitchen scraps.
“We added extra vegetable peelings on top,” Torres explained. “The bottom is… well…”
“I get the picture,” I said grimly.
Ben helped me position myself at the edge. “Once you’re in, don’t move or make a sound. The waste collectors will load you onto their cart. When it stops, count to one hundred, then push the lid off. Torres will be waiting about a mile down the road. Ifsomething goes wrong, head east toward the harbor. There’s a ship calledThe Siren’s Calldeparting at dawn. The captain owes my dad a favor—he’ll take you on.”
I nodded, fighting the urge to vomit at what came next.
“Thank you. Both of you.”
“Don’t thank us yet,” Ben said. “You’re not free until you’re out of Sunada.”
Free? I’ll never be free again.
With a deep breath, I steeled myself. Ben and Torres helped lower me into the barrel, putrid slop engulfing me inch by agonizing inch. The rotting matter squished beneath me, seeping through my clothes, the stench overwhelming.
When I was fully submerged, Torres gave my shoulder a final squeeze and passed me the makeshift cane Ben had given me—it just barely fit inside the barrel. “Good luck, sir.”
