“Help me,” Came the
whisper from within.
“Who are you?” I
called, peering warily down the dark street. For a moment there was no answer.
Then---
“Help me,” The same broken
little cry pealed out from somewhere hidden, barely audible, yet clothed in
desperation. Stricken, I pulled out my phone, the only light I had on me.
Turning the brightness up to the max, I started forward down the little back
street where crunched cement was piled against old concrete walls. I tried to
muster up some moisture in my mouth.
I’d seen this scene
before in a hundred movies: the Good Samaritan walks nobly down a dark road to
save some innocent little creature, usually a beautiful girl who turns out to
be the ring-leader of the muggers who then leap out from behind random object
to bring the hero to his bitter end.
It’s a trap, I know it’s a trap.
But for some reason I
kept walking, hoping feebly that it wasn’t. To be safe, I pulled my driver’s license
and Visa out of my wallet, so at least my identity would be safe even if they
got my cash. I shoved them into my inside coat pocket, zipping it. There was a
large blue dumpster towards the back of the alley. A faint thumping from inside
made me hurry, in spite of my fears.
“Help me…” The cry
was weaker.
“Are you inside here?”
I called out, banging my fist against the dumpster. There was no answer. Swallowing,
I push up on the lid. It was locked down. I fiddled with it, feeling as if a
thousand demons were breathing down my neck as the darkness seemed to grow. My
left thumb consistently patted the touch-screen of my phone, keeping that
little light alive.
Hurry up, hurry up.
A safety pin from my
dry-cleaning slip helped me get the lock undone at last. I lifted the dumpster
lid, feeling my stomach twist as I shone that eerie glow down upon its
contents.
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