Wasteland

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Her destination loomed in front of her: an odd concrete structure, standing alone in the trash-filled lot. At a glance, it seemed unoccupied. As she neared it, Esther gave a final look in all directions; then she grabbed the low brick wall and vaulted over. Despite the searing heat of the early November morning, it was cool and dim inside. Esther blinked to get her bearings, then took off again.

The sound of her breathing, harsh and ragged, was the only noise; it seemed to echo in the vast space. She sensed this and cursed herself. Clamping her lips together, she tried to hold back the sound, to breathe so as to not to draw attention to herself. But it was impossible to do this without slowing down. She gave up and put on extra speed instead. She had been running a long time and as she gulped air, her lungs burned and a sharp pain gripped her side. But she was almost at the safe place and then she would have time to rest.

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