In her world, night had rules.
And no one came to the dump at this hour for good reasons.
Instinct screamed danger.
She slid behind a stack of old tires, curled into a tight ball, barely breathing.
Headlights cut through the darkness.
A spotless black car stopped nearby, unreal against the filth, like a spaceship landing on a dead planet. The lights snapped off. For a second, there was only rain… and lightning.
A door opened.
A woman stepped out, wearing a long raincoat, her dark hair plastered to her head. She didn’t walk with confidence—she moved with urgency, the kind that fears being seen.
Clutched tightly to her chest was a bundle wrapped in cloth.
A chill ran through Dana that had nothing to do with the cold.
The woman glanced around nervously, then stopped beside a hollow between piles of industrial waste. She looked down at the bundle, hesitated, whispered something the wind swallowed—
And then, as if it burned her hands, she dropped it.
The bundle landed among black trash bags.
The woman quickly piled smaller bags on top, dragged a soaked cardboard box over it, then ran back to the car. The engine roared, tires splashed through mud—
And she was gone.
Leaving only rain.
And silence.