But I wasn’t going to the beach. I turned left, my tire surely about to give out any second. I hoped and prayed it would last, just until I got to Oliver. It wouldn’t be much longer. I could see the Port of Miami up ahead, one of the cruise ships having just pulled in to drop off its sleepy passengers. It must have gotten delayed for some reason, coming in late at night, using its horn as it docked.
A horn that blared out a loud and unmistakable sound.
I knew he’d be at the port. As I pulled up to the security gate, I got a flashback to Oliver talking to me about meditation, and how Will showed him the secluded spot at the Port by cargo bay seven.
This had to be it. Oliver had to be here.
But first, I had to get through the guard.
“Hello, sir. Reason for your visit tonight?”
“I’m pursuing a kidnapping suspect.” I wasn’t going to hold any punches. I showed the guard my ID as he leaned out of his booth, scanning my ID, concern in his brown eyes.
“A kidnapping suspect? Here?”
“Yes, he’s a young man driving a beat-up red Toyota. I have reason to believe he’s here and he’s holding a hostage.”
The man, probably no older than Oliver, looked nervous about allowing me past the gates and into the port. “You’re not an official police officer, though…”
“Listen, mate, I need to get through. This is life or death. Call the cops and speak to whoever ‘official’ you bloody hell want to, but you have to let me in.”
“I need to speak to my manager abou—”
“Oh for fuck’s sake.” I couldn’t waste any more time speaking to managers or security guards. Let the guy call the police, I’d deal with that later.
I stepped down on the gas and my car’s wheels spun in place before I rocketed forward, breaking through the flimsy wired gate. The guard shouted loud behind me, but I kept driving, my eyes peeled for cargo bay seven.
Three.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
I slammed on the brakes and skidded to a stop. There were stacks and stacks of large cargo containers. There were red ones and blue ones. Black ones and white ones, checkered ones and yellow ones. All of them stacked on top of the other, like totems designed for a modern god.
With all those colors, there was only one green one. It was at the bottom of the farthest stack, next to a docked cargo ship.
I ran. Gravel kicked up behind me. I couldn’t tell if the sirens I heard in the distance were moving closer or getting farther away.
I turned, almost falling over with the momentum. “Oliver!” I reached the front of the cargo container. To my right, I could see a path that must have led to the meditation spot Oliver had told me about. The path was hidden by overgrown bushes and led away from the cargo containers.
“Oliver!” I pounded hard on the metallic wall. “Oliver!”
No one replied. No one answered.
Please be alive. Please be alive.
A crowbar rested a few feet away from me. I rushed to grab it. The cold steel pressed against my palms as I gripped it and steadied my stance. There was a lock placed on the bottom of the door. I swung the crowbar down with every ounce of force I could muster, envisioning Will’s head as the lock.
It cracked open. I kicked it away and bent to grab the handle. I pushed upward and the door followed.
“Oliver.”
My heart plummeted. I ran to Oliver’s crumpled-up shape. He was curled up in the center of the container. The heat and humidity inside the container was intense. All around us were stacks and stacks of unlabeled containers.
“Olly, Olly, I’m here, you’re okay.”