a shock, then he started moving again, faster than before. Seth chased the other man’s heels. As they ran, the Dumpster lid slammed shut.
Incoherent screams poured from inside the closed container. The high-pitched cries sounded as if Jules were being tortured. “Pleeeasse! Help! Ahhhh!”
The wails sliced through him. He added a burst of speed but still lagged behind Jones, who moved so fast he became little more than a blur.
Gareth leapt into action, trying to push the lid up. Jones reached the Dumpster and shouldered the useless patrolman out of the way.
“Fine, you try,” Gareth muttered under his breath and spun around, bumping into Seth.
With a glare and a thought to have a chat with Gareth’s supervisor later, Seth closed the last few feet to the Dumpster and started to tug at the lid.
It didn’t budge. Almost as if it were locked in place.
Seth quickly traced his hand around the container’s lid, searching for a lock or at least a weak spot. Finding none, he caught his partner’s eye. On opposite sides of the bin, they both reached to pry it open at the same time. Despite their efforts, it remained firmly in place.
Their hard work was rewarded with only mounting frustration and lines crisscrossing their palms from the lid’s sharp corners.
“Help! Let me out!” Jules banged on the side of the container. The Dumpster walls shook and gonged with each blow.
“We’ll get you out, Jules,” he yelled reassuringly. “Just hang on. The top’s stuck.”
“I can’t find what’s keeping it closed,” Jones called out from the opposite side.
Jules shrieked incoherently, taking large sobbing breaths between each cry for freedom.
“Just another minute, Jules. Hang on, precious.” Seth leaned even closer to the corner of the container, until his nose rubbed against something wet. Wiping the muck from his face, he turned and shouted at Gareth, who stood idly off to the side with one hand covering his nose. “Call for backup, Gareth! Move your ass!”
“No!” Jules yelled the single word before she loosed a cry filled with anguish and terror. A sound so piercing, it dug into his psyche. It echoed from inside the bin, drawing out the horrified scream. Seth knew he’d hear that shriek again and again in his nightmares.
The cry cut off with alacrity. The silence that followed was more haunting than the scream itself. Almost as if there was someone in there with Jules. And that person had silenced her.
A cold lump formed in Seth’s belly in the nanosecond that followed, then he and Jones renewed their attack on the lid. Digging his fingers between the shallow opening of the molded plastic corner and the cold steel of the Dumpster, Seth’s flesh scraped away near his fingernails but he didn’t relent.
At least when she screamed, he knew she was alive. Anything could have happened in there. In his mind, he riffled through a myriad of horrendous scenarios—heart attack, stroke, seizure, aneurysm, fainting. Although fainting would have been preferable compared to the others.
Then, as if by magic, the lid sprang free. One moment it seemed cemented in place and the next the lid flew up into the air like a rock flung from a slingshot. It slammed against the brick wall near the back door of McGivern’s before crashing to a halt, half on the curb and half on the blacktop.
“Wow. Remind me not to piss you guys off,” Gareth said, breaking the silence.
“Too late,” Seth and Jones replied simultaneously.
Leaning over the Dumpster beside Jones, Seth peered inside.
Jules lay facedown on the heap of trash. Rotting food, torn black trash bags, and crumpled white foam containers with shoe prints in them were scattered around her.
Jones pole-vaulted over the side of the Dumpster and jumped in before Seth could move. The rookie slid his fingers against the side of her neck, checking her pulse, then rolled her over.
“What are you doing?” Seth demanded, his basic first aid training kicking in.
Incoherent screams poured from inside the closed container. The high-pitched cries sounded as if Jules were being tortured. “Pleeeasse! Help! Ahhhh!”
The wails sliced through him. He added a burst of speed but still lagged behind Jones, who moved so fast he became little more than a blur.
Gareth leapt into action, trying to push the lid up. Jones reached the Dumpster and shouldered the useless patrolman out of the way.
“Fine, you try,” Gareth muttered under his breath and spun around, bumping into Seth.
With a glare and a thought to have a chat with Gareth’s supervisor later, Seth closed the last few feet to the Dumpster and started to tug at the lid.
It didn’t budge. Almost as if it were locked in place.
Seth quickly traced his hand around the container’s lid, searching for a lock or at least a weak spot. Finding none, he caught his partner’s eye. On opposite sides of the bin, they both reached to pry it open at the same time. Despite their efforts, it remained firmly in place.
Their hard work was rewarded with only mounting frustration and lines crisscrossing their palms from the lid’s sharp corners.
“Help! Let me out!” Jules banged on the side of the container. The Dumpster walls shook and gonged with each blow.
“We’ll get you out, Jules,” he yelled reassuringly. “Just hang on. The top’s stuck.”
“I can’t find what’s keeping it closed,” Jones called out from the opposite side.
Jules shrieked incoherently, taking large sobbing breaths between each cry for freedom.
“Just another minute, Jules. Hang on, precious.” Seth leaned even closer to the corner of the container, until his nose rubbed against something wet. Wiping the muck from his face, he turned and shouted at Gareth, who stood idly off to the side with one hand covering his nose. “Call for backup, Gareth! Move your ass!”
“No!” Jules yelled the single word before she loosed a cry filled with anguish and terror. A sound so piercing, it dug into his psyche. It echoed from inside the bin, drawing out the horrified scream. Seth knew he’d hear that shriek again and again in his nightmares.
The cry cut off with alacrity. The silence that followed was more haunting than the scream itself. Almost as if there was someone in there with Jules. And that person had silenced her.
A cold lump formed in Seth’s belly in the nanosecond that followed, then he and Jones renewed their attack on the lid. Digging his fingers between the shallow opening of the molded plastic corner and the cold steel of the Dumpster, Seth’s flesh scraped away near his fingernails but he didn’t relent.
At least when she screamed, he knew she was alive. Anything could have happened in there. In his mind, he riffled through a myriad of horrendous scenarios—heart attack, stroke, seizure, aneurysm, fainting. Although fainting would have been preferable compared to the others.
Then, as if by magic, the lid sprang free. One moment it seemed cemented in place and the next the lid flew up into the air like a rock flung from a slingshot. It slammed against the brick wall near the back door of McGivern’s before crashing to a halt, half on the curb and half on the blacktop.
“Wow. Remind me not to piss you guys off,” Gareth said, breaking the silence.
“Too late,” Seth and Jones replied simultaneously.
Leaning over the Dumpster beside Jones, Seth peered inside.
Jules lay facedown on the heap of trash. Rotting food, torn black trash bags, and crumpled white foam containers with shoe prints in them were scattered around her.
Jones pole-vaulted over the side of the Dumpster and jumped in before Seth could move. The rookie slid his fingers against the side of her neck, checking her pulse, then rolled her over.
“What are you doing?” Seth demanded, his basic first aid training kicking in.
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