I stuffed my toes and looped my fingers into chain-link holes and pulled myself up, trying to move as quickly as possible, thanking God the whole way that there was no razor wire or even barbed wire to contend with at the top. The fence was tall and kind of unstable, and I swayed, gripping so hard my fingers were white, as I hoisted my leg over the top and stood, straddling the fence. I started to get dizzy from the height, but reminded myself I didn’t have time for dizzy. And I sure as hell didn’t have time to fall off this thing.

I swung over the fence and scurried down the other side, dropping into the dirt when I got about three feet off the ground.

I was in.

And now that I was in, it seemed like finding the truck would be an impossible task. Made even more impossible if Chris was actually successful in getting it released to us. I doubted he ever would, but he’d surprised me with his abilities before, and if they were bringing the truck out to the parking lot for him, I was screwed.

I walked several feet down the aisle I’d landed in. Like I’d thought, most of these cars were shells, missing tires and bumpers and engine parts, doors open to reveal gutted insides. The truck would not be back here.

I turned myself so that I was facing where the trailer had been—I could no longer see it from where I was—and started jogging between the cars, passing up aisle upon aisle, until I got to what looked like new stuff. Colors jumped out at me where license plates hung. I closed my eyes, trying to clear my mind and focus.

Candy cane and mustard. Brown, brown, brown. That was what I was looking for.

I opened them, and again the entire rainbow pushed in on me. Bits of candy cane here, mustard there, brown everywhere.

God, this seemed impossible.

I decided to look at trucks only. If it wasn’t a truck, I let my eyes skip over it, flinging its plate colors out of my way. I’d thought that would make this easier, but practically every other vehicle there was a truck. Red, blue, white, white, silver, red, red—the colors of the vehicles themselves making it even harder to concentrate on the plates.

I wound my way down four aisles this way, until I heard voices coming from the direction of the trailer, which was much closer now. Time was running out. I pushed myself harder. Run faster, concentrate better. Hug the cars, stay out of sight. Keep moving, but pay attention. I was sweating. And my head was starting to throb.