He knocked once. Again. Then harder.
No answer.
He scanned the lot. Roy’s truck wasn’t there.
Fear closed around his heart.
He went back to his truck and started calling everyone he knew Mia might have gone to see. One by one, the answers came back the same.
No.
No.
Haven’t seen her.
By the time he ended the last call, the truth had settled in his bones.
Something had happened to Mia.
Mia woke slowly,her body stiff. She squinted at her watch.
Was it 2 a.m. or 2 p.m.? Time had lost its meaning.
How long had she been asleep? Waking every hour barely counted as sleep at all. The cold was worse than the dark, seeping into her bones, stealing what little warmth she had.
It didn’t matter. She was still trapped in a metal box.
The silence pressed in. No voices. No music. Just her own breathing, too loud in the dark.
Her throat felt raw. Dry.
She swallowed and tasted metal.
Someone will come, she told herself.They had to.
She started building menus in her head, dish by dish, ingredient by ingredient. Anything to keep the bad thoughts at bay.
She pressed her nose to the old metal seam again and inhaled.
Fresh air.
She discovered that early on. Thin, faint, but there.
She shifted, her hand sliding across the floor.
Cold. Wet.
She froze, then pressed her palm down again. The concrete was slick along the edge, with a shallow puddle pooling where the metal met the ground.
For a second, her stomach roiled. It smelled faintly of rust and something old.
She dipped her fingers, hesitating, then brought them to her mouth.
The taste was metallic. Bitter. Wrong.
She swallowed anyway.
Her throat burned, then eased just a little. Not enough to feel better. Just enough to keep going.
