She worked the other foot loose more quickly after that and then sat there for a moment, bent double and breathing hard, while the refrigeration units droned around her and the hanging carcasses swayed faintly on their hooks.
The sound was awful–a constant deep mechanical hum undercut by occasional icy hisses from the vents and the soft, almost polite creak…creak…creak of metal hooks carrying dead weight. Every now and then something dripped and froze with a tiny brittle click.
It smelled even worse than before now that she was more awake. Not just blood and cold meat–though there was plenty of that. There was also the sour stink of old fat, the chemical tang of industrial cleanser, the coppery reek of slaughter, and underneath all of it that stale, dead smell of frozen flesh that had been hanging too long.
Kiera swallowed hard against another wave of nausea.
Don’t think about it–just concentrate on getting out of here! Your hands might be tied but at least your legs are free. Use them to carry your ass to the exit, girl!
She forced herself to her feet.
The concrete floor was slick beneath her boots, and she nearly fell at once. The wall at her back had leeched whatever warmth remained in her body and every muscle in her legs felt stiff and shaky. Still, she managed to stand.
“All r-right,” she whispered to herself, her teeth chattering. “All right. N-now find the d-door.”
That should be simple, right?
Wrong. The warehouse was bigger inside than it had looked from the outside—much bigger. Huge rows of hanging canthor carcasses made aisles and corridors between them, and the ceiling vanished into darkness overhead where the rails and hooks ran in endless lines. The refrigeration vents blew slow ribbons of freezing mist through the dim overhead lights, making the far end of the place look vague and dreamlike and strange.
It was like wandering through a maze made of death.
Kiera started forward carefully, hands still tied in front of her, peering around the nearest row of split carcasses.
The canthors hung there head—down and skinned, their flesh a terrible slick greenish—white under the harsh lights, their two necks ending in severed stumps or frozen slack—jawed heads depending on how far along Higgs had gotten with butchering them. Dark green blood marbled the concrete beneath them in frozen fans and puddles.
Every time Kiera brushed too close to one, the cold flesh bumped lightly against her shoulder or arm and she had to fight the urge to scream.
Keep it together, girl—just keep it together and keep going, she told herself.
She turned left. Then right. Then left again. Where was the exit?
At first she told herself she was heading toward where the outer wall ought to be—toward where the main door must logically be—but after a while the rows all looked the same. Hanging carcasses. Metal rails. Green—black frozen blood. White vapor drifting through the hard electric light and the reek of frozen death in the air.
She tried to retrace her steps and somehow ended up farther into the freezer instead.
“Shit,” she whispered. “Wh-where the h-hell am I?”
Her voice sounded tiny in the huge, freezing space but she kept walking. What else could she do?
If she stayed still, she would freeze faster. That much she knew. Better to keep moving, keep blood pumping, keep trying.
But as she wandered, the cold seemed to seep deeper and deeper into her bones. Her feet ached and her fingers had gone beyond pain and into that frightening waxy numbness that made them feel useless. Her lips felt stiff. Every breath hurt her lungs.
And despite the cold—despite how impossible it seemed—she was getting sleepy.
Not really sleepy, she told herself. Just tired. Exhausted. Drugged maybe. Cold.
But isn’t that how freezing to death starts? a frightened little voice in her head whispered. Don’t people get sleepy right before the end? Isn’t that classic hypothermia?
That thought woke her a little.
No. No, she was not going to curl up in a corner and go to sleep in Higgs’ murder freezer.
She had to keep moving…keep thinking. But lost in a maze of frozen carcasses, that was easier said than done.
She stumbled around another row of hanging canthors and almost slipped in a patch of green blood. Catching herself on the nearest hook rail, she stood there panting for a moment and trying not to cry.
Oh God, would she ever get out of here? Her head still hurt from where she’d banged it in the cart. The pain came in dull throbs behind her eyes and every so often the edges of her vision went a little gray and swimmy.
