The Girl in My Dumpster Was the City’s Missing Child

The Man Under the City

The tunnel smelled like damp stone and machine oil. Small lights along the walls gave off a dull red glow. Far ahead, a train horn echoed, vibrating through the floor.

Emma stumbled once, then again. “Noah, my legs… I’m really tired.”

I scooped her up, muscles protesting. “I’ve got you.”

I wasn’t just walking; I was following half-forgotten directions. Years earlier, I’d written a story on people living under the city—tiny communities built in forgotten maintenance rooms and old freight lines. One man had guided me back then, a mountain of a person who went by one name: Duke.

I aimed for the place I remembered—a side tunnel off the main run, guarded by shadows and scrap wood.

A voice came out of the dark before we reached it. “You’re either lost or in trouble, Carter. Which is it?”

A figure stepped into the weak light. Layers of coats, boots patched with tape, beard like steel wool. The same steady eyes I remembered.

“Hey, Duke,” I said, adjusting Emma on my shoulder. “I’d say both.”

He eyed the girl. Something changed in his expression—softened, but got more serious at the same time. Down here, kids were rare. Kids meant danger.

“You brought the news with you this time,” he said. “Saw your face on a screen somebody wired up.”

“She’s not what they’re saying,” I replied. “She’s what they’re hiding.”

He’s seen a lot,” Duke said. “You know that’s not as simple as it sounds.”

“I have proof,” I said. “I just need time and a way to move without getting tracked.”

He looked at Emma again. “Does she have anything on her that isn’t from a thrift bin?”

I glanced at the taped wrist. “Yeah. A bracelet that probably cost more than this whole tunnel.”

Duke grunted. “Then you’re glowing on a map somewhere.”

He led us deeper into the maze—past a barrel fire, past makeshift beds, past a mural someone had painted on the concrete to look like a sunrise. We ended up in an old utility room full of wires and old switches.

Emma was asleep before I set her down on a pile of blankets.

“What’s the plan?” Duke asked, handing me a dented mug of coffee.

“Hartley BioPharm keeps internal memos on a private network. I know a place where I can get in through a back door,” I said. “I need to prove what they did. What they tried to do to her. And I need to do it before they make us disappear for real.”

“And where’s this magic computer?”

“Community tech center up in North Harbor,” I said. “My sister used to run their servers. I still remember one of her admin logins.”

Duke thought for a moment, rolling my problem around in his head. “I can get you to the north side on an old maintenance cart. But it’ll cost you.”

“I’ve got some cash.”

He shook his head and nodded at my wrist. “The watch.”

I looked down. A simple but solid watch, my father’s last gift. The only luxury I owned.

I looked at the sleeping child on the blankets.

I took the watch off and placed it in Duke’s huge hand. “Done.”

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