★★★★★ "Astounding, outstanding and makes the maze runner series in comparison seem like elementary school games."
In 2051, the United States has fallen. The Western Allied States is the new power in North America, and ruthlessly eradicate any threat to the union. Traitors are executed without trial, their children seized for a secret program.
Runaway teenager Liz wants nothing more than a normal life, but the government’s hunters have other plans. Abducted off the streets, she’s spirited away to a facility deep in the Californian mountains. There, Liz wakes in a cage – and she’s not alone.
Beside her, eighteen-year-old Chris stands wrongfully accused of treason. The two are now volunteers in the Genome Project – an experimental program to enhance the human race. Stripped of their rights, they will soon learn the true depths of human cruelty. The two must work together to survive, but even then, their chances are slim. Of course, only the lucky get to die.
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Chris looked up as a door clicked open. Halt stood in the doorway, a triumphant grin stretching across his thin lips. His eyes feasted on the two of them, shining with a wild exaltation.
“It worked,” his voice was raw with emotion. He stepped into the room, two guards following behind him before the door swung shut. “The genomes are expressing – a few at least. Muscle density factor, reaction time, agility, it’s all there…”
As the man rambled, Chris struggled to pull his mind back to the present. He wrapped his arm around Liz, pulling her tight against him. A shiver went through her and he glanced down, his gaze catching in her crystal eyes.
Then she turned, facing Halt. “What have you done to us?” She croaked.
Halt drew to a stop across from them. He blinked, looking almost surprised, as though he had not expected them to speak. His smile faded as he crossed his arms. “We have enhanced you, my dear. Made you better… made you useful,” he almost spat the last word.
Chris met the man’s iron gaze. “Why?” He gestured to the Chead. “Why would you do this? Send us in here to die?”
Shaking his head, Halt moved around the room towards the unconscious Chead. “To see if you would survive,” he answered, looking back at them. “To see if we had succeeded.”
His words whispered around the room. Chris’s chest contracted and he struggled to breathe. Rage boiled through his veins. He clenched his fist, but pain seared from his knuckles where the Chead had held him. Glancing down at his hand, he saw it was already beginning to swell.
A shiver went through him.
It would have killed me.
“You changed us,” Liz was speaking again, her voice barely audible. “Did something to us… while we slept. How?” Her voice cracked at her final question. She trembled in his arms, though whether from rage or some other emotion, he could not tell.
Chuckling softly, Halt moved back towards them. “It was a simple matter, in the end. A little retrovirus, some genetic mapping of various species – chimpanzees, wolves, felines, eagles, and so on. Isolating the desirable genes took time, as did altering their repetition sequences to be accepted by human cells,” he shrugged. “But, well, the results were worth the effort. And the best is yet to come.” An awful grin spread across the doctor’s face.
With Halt’s words, Chris mind finally caught up with events. Revulsion twisted in his stomach as he realised the truth – that the Chead had not been weaker than those on the television. No, it was he and Liz who had changed.
And it was Halt who had changed them.
A scream built in Chris’s chest as he looked at the doctor. An awful sense of violation wrapped around his throat. He clenched his fist again, felt the pain, but the injury was nothing to the desecration of his body. He felt defiled, like something had been taken from him, stolen by the doctor.
As the pain built in his hand, he drew back his lips in a snarl.
Halt watched them, his expression unchanged, but his hand drifted towards his watch. An awful tension hung in the air as Chris’s rage gathered strength.
Then a groan came from across the room, and Halt’s eyes flickered towards the Chead. Chris followed his gaze and saw the boy had rolled onto his side. He moaned again, then started to cough. His eyes fluttered but did not open.
“It’s still alive,” Halt sounded surprised. He turned back to Chris. “Kill it.”
“What?” Chris blinked, staring at the doctor in disbelief.
“Kill it,” Halt repeated. “That monstrosity is not worthy of this earth. Kill it, Christopher. Prove you are superior.”
“No.” Chris blinked, surprised by his own resolve. Releasing Liz, he faced Halt, determined to defy him. “I won’t.”
Halt slowly shook his head. He held up his arm. The watch flashed on his wrist, an unspoken threat. “Do not waste my time, Christopher. Kill the Chead, and we can move on from this unpleasant business.”
A peal of laughter came from beside Chris. Turning, he saw Liz’s eyes flash as she took a step towards Halt. “No, Halt. We won’t. We’re not your creatures, your slaves to do with as you please. Whatever you’ve done to us, we’re still human.”
Halt did not move. His eyes flickered for a second to Liz, then back to Chris. “I will give you one last chance. Kill the Chead. Now!”
“You’re the monstrosity, Halt,” Chris replied.
“Very well, Christopher.” Halt looked at Liz again. “If that is your decision…”
Reaching down, he pressed his finger to the watch.
Chris closed his eyes and braced himself for the pain. Sucking in a breath, he waited for the familiar fire to encircle his throat, to sap the strength from his legs, to lock his muscles in knots of agony.
But it never came.
From his right came a high-pitched scream. Chris spun, his eyes snapping open as the breath caught in his throat. Beside him, Liz crumpled to the ground. The colour fled her face as she clutched desperately at her throat. Her feet drummed against the soft floor and a strangled scream escaped her gaping mouth.
Then she fell silent, her last gasps of air stolen away.
Chris threw himself forward, desperate to reach her, but strong arms grasped him around the waist and hauled him back. Without thinking he lashed out with his elbow, catching the guard in the face, and the hands released him. He glimpsed the man falling backwards, the other stepping towards him, but he was already at Liz’s side, reaching out a hand, grabbing at her wrist.
A jolt of electricity flashed between them, and Chris was hurled backwards across the floor.
Coming to rest a few feet away, Chris groaned and struggled to sit up. Across from him, Liz writhed against the soft floor, her back arching, her mouth wide and gasping for air. Her fingers clawed at the skin of her throat, tearing at the collar’s metal chain. But there would be no dislodging the steel links.
Halt stepped between them, a grim smile on his serpent lips. “Seventy-five milliamps,” he shook his head. “Enough to cause severe muscle contractions, respiratory failure, death.”
Behind him, Liz was as pale as a ghost, her throws of agony already growing weaker. Her mouth opened, gasping like a fish out of water. Yet somehow her crystal eyes found his. Shining with tears, they pierced him, conveying her silent command.
Don’t give in!
A sob rattled up from Chris’s chest as he closed his eyes, unable to watch any longer. Bowing his head, he cradled his shattered fist. Despair rose within him, threatening to overwhelm him.
“Please!” His sob rang from the one-way mirror.
A sudden stillness came over the room. Lying on the ground, Chris did not move, unable to look, to witness the consequence of his defiance. So long as he did not look, he could deny the truth.
Liz couldn’t be gone, couldn’t be dead.
But in his heart, Chris knew he had to face the truth. Blinking back tears, he sucked in a breath and lifted his head.
Liz lay where she had fallen, her limbs splayed out at random angles, the tangles of her hair caught on her face. The collar shone from her neck, the blinking red light unlit.
Staring at her broken body, a pit opened within Chris, a gulf of despair that threatened to swallow him whole. A desperate sob tore from his throat, a cry of anguish, a plea for life. Lifting himself, he began to crawl towards her. He could feel his strength failing, the last drops of energy falling from him, but with a final lung he reached out and grasped her wrist.
With barely a whisper, Liz’s chest moved. A soft cough came from the fallen girl as her eyelids shifted, blinked.
“What?” Halt snarled.
Behind him, the door clicked again, as Doctor Fallow pushed her way into the room.
“Enough, Halt,” Angela almost tripped over the words as she spoke.
Halt stared back at her, his eyes wide, his surprise already turning to a wild rage. She knew she had crossed a line, defying him now. This time there were no other doctors to back her up – the others were all tending to the surviving candidates from the PERV-A strain of the virus. She shivered, thinking of the room full of candidates, their bodies ravaged by the virus. It had proven far more deadly than the B strain retrovirus the others had been subjected too.
“Excuse me?” Halt sounded almost bemused.
“I said, that’s enough,” Angela repeated, mustering her courage.
A few moments ago, she had been driven to act. Watching Halt’s cruelty, his determination to bend the candidates to his will, had pushed her over the edge. Whatever good she hoped might come from her work, it was not worth this. It was brutal and pointless and wasteful, a display that did nothing more than serve Halt’s ego.
And she could not bear to watch the girl die. Angela could not shake that feeling of kinship, could not help but see her own youthful self in the girl’s eyes.
So she had acted. She had superseded Halt’s controller from within the observation room, disabling the collars inside the room. As supervisor of the Praegressus Project, her watch had precedence over every other controller in the building – even Halt’s.
This isn’t right, the words whispered in Angela’s mind as she glanced at the boy and girl. They’re just kids.
Biting her lip, she straightened, preparing herself to face Halt’s rage. “There was no point to it, Halt. They passed the test. The project is a success. But this,” she waved a hand to indicate the girl, “this display is pointless. I won’t allow it.”
Halt shifted on his feet. A strange calm seemed to have come over him. “You won’t allow it?”
Angela found herself retreating a step, though the doctor had not moved. “No,” she shook her head. “I’ve disabled their collars.”
“You forget yourself, doctor,” Halt still spoke in a soft voice. “These displays of insolence… are becoming problematic.”
“They are my candidates, Halt.”
For a moment, Halt did not reply. His grey eyes studied her, sweeping across her body, cold and calculating. Angela lifted her chin, facing him down.
At last Halt nodded. He waved to the guards. “Get them up. Return them to their cell.”
As the guards moved across to Christopher and Elizabeth, Halt turned back to Fallow. He stood deathly still, poised in the centre of the room as the guards shepherded the two experiments from the cells. His eyes did not blink, never left Angela’s face. Finally, as the door clicked shut behind the guard, he stepped towards her.
Now Fallow found herself retreating from the rage in the man’s eyes. But after two steps she found herself pressed up against the mirror, the cold glass at her back, with nowhere to look but the eyes of the doctor.
Before she could move, Halt’s hand flashed out and caught her by the throat. His fingers clenched tight as she opened her mouth to scream, stealing away her voice. His lips drew back in a scowl as he leaned in.
“How dare you?” Halt hissed.
With a sudden, violent push, Halt slammed her head back into the glass. Stars spun across Angela’s vision and her knees went weak. Pain lanced from her skull as Halt pulled her back towards him, until their faces were less than an inch apart.
“If you ever defy me again, I will see you in a cage with your precious candidates,” Halt grated.
Red exploded across Angela’s vision as he slammed her into the mirror again. Then the fingers released her, and with a muffled sob she slumped to the ground.
Halt looked down at her, open contempt in his eyes. “The experiment will continue,” he said. “You will see that the final doses are administered to the candidates. Those still unconscious will remain in their comas until our research has been completed.”
Darkness swept across Angela’s vision, rising up to claim her. But through the creeping shadows, she heard Halt’s final proclamation.
“Succeed, and I might just let you live.”
Clang.
Chris slumped to the ground as the cell door slid closed behind them. Liz staggered past him and toppled onto Ashley’s bed. The guards had practically carried her this far. Despite coming out better than Chris in the fight, the collar had left its mark. The damage ran deep, and each inhalation brought about an awful cough and rattling to her chest.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t much better.
Whatever Halt had said about success, Chris had still lacked the relentless strength of the Chead. When it had caught him, no amount of skill, training or mutated muscle had been enough to save him from its grasp.
Thank God for Liz, he thought, looking across at her.
She lay sprawled across the bed, her face half buried in the pillow, her back rising with each laboured breath. Every few seconds she would groan, but otherwise she lay still.
Getting to his hands and knees, Chris crawled across to Sam’s bed and pulled himself up. Under the circumstances, he didn’t think the others would mind if they borrowed them. Both beds were neatly made up, the covers pulled tight, the presence of their two friends wiped clean.
Minutes slipped by as he lay there, his face throbbing where the Chead had struck him. After a time, the clang of the outer door carried down the corridor. Idly, Chris wondered if someone had come to finish the job the Chead had started. There was no one else inside the prison block now. The other cells were empty, the faces that had once lined the corridor either dead or gone.
No, whoever it was had come for them.
Unable to summon the energy to move, Chris lifted an eyelid and looked out into the corridor. A woman stood outside the bars, her hands fiddling nervously with the hem of her lab coat. For a second he thought it was Fallow, before he realised she was too young, her hair blonde instead of brown. A guard stood beside the woman, looking bored.
“I’m… I’m to give you a round of antibiotics,” she squeaked.
On the opposite bed, Liz did not so much as stir. Stifling a groan, Chris rolled onto his side. “Really?” he coughed. “You people are all of a sudden concerned for our wellbeing?”
The woman gave a nervous nod. “Could you, could you get to the back of the cell, please?”
Chris blinked. If he hadn’t been in so much pain, he would have laughed. Instead he looked at Liz, then back at the doctor. “Sorry, lady. But I don’t think we’re going anywhere.”
“But… but you’re meant to…”
Closing his eyes, Chris lay back on the bed. “Just get it over with. Have the guard ready to press his little button, if it makes you feel better.”
The woman hesitated another second, and then nodded. A buzzer sounded and the cell door slid open. The little doctor hopped into the cell, a packet of syringes held in one hand, a vial of clear liquid in the other.
Briefly, Chris contemplated the thought of resisting. After everything they’d been through, he distrusted even this harmless-looking woman. Who knew what new horror might wait in the vial. But a hollow feeling sat in his stomach, an awful, helpless weakness that sapped him of the will to resist.
After all, what was the point in fighting now? It was too late – they’d already lost, already been damaged beyond repair.
Chris slumped into his pillow and watched as the woman moved across to Liz.
“She’s unconscious,” she sounded surprised. “I thought… I thought the experiment was a success.”
On the bed, Chris shrugged. “You’ll have to ask your boss about that,” he paused, his thoughts drifting. “Where are our friends? What’s happening to them?”
The woman was busy preparing her syringe, and it was a moment before she answered. It wasn’t until she leaned over Liz that he heard her whisper. “The others are being kept in their comas,” she breathed. “To make the change easier.”
Chris watched as the woman inserted the needle into Liz’s back and pressed down the plunger. Then she was moving towards him, the needle disappearing into a bag marked biological waste. Another appeared as she raised the vial.
Turning away, Chris winced as the needle pinched his back. The cold tingle of the injection spread between his shoulder blades as the woman stepped back. To his relief, there was no pain, and the cold sensation quickly faded away.
Chris looked up as footsteps retreated through the cell. He watched the woman reach the door and turn back, her eyes catching in his. “I’m sorry.”
Then she was gone.
Frowning, Chris shook his head, resigning himself to whatever fresh torment had been in the injection. He was certain now it had not been antibiotics. Something in her face as she looked back, in those final words, warned him.
At least this time there was no pain.
A gurgled breath came from Liz’s bed, drawing his attention back to the girl. She had rolled onto her back now, her mouth wide and gasping. Her eyes were closed, her brow creased as though she were struggling to wake. Fingers clenched at the sheets and the veins stood up against her neck.
Chris’s heart lurched and a sense of urgency gripped him. Careful to protect his broken hand, he rolled from the bed and crawled across to the other set of bunks. Pulling himself up beside Liz, he reached for her as she started to thrash. A wild arm swung out, catching him in the face, and a foot struck a pole, making the bunk shake. Another awful gurgle came from her chest.
“Liz, Liz, stop,” Chris breathed, struggling to calm her.
But with growing fear, he realised what was happening. Liz was choking, drowning in the fluid filling her lungs.
Ignoring the agony in his hand now, Chris reached out and caught Liz as another convulsion took her. He pulled her close, fighting to hold her, to turn her on her side. Desperate fists beat against him, and pain rippled up his arm as she struck his hand. Gasping, he twisted, narrowly avoiding a wild swing of her knee.
Fighting back his pain, Chris heaved, pulling Liz onto her side. As she rolled, he saw her eyes were wide now and staring, though it was clear she still lay in the grips of unconsciousness. Bloodshot veins threaded the whites of her eyes, and a trickle of blood ran from her nose, staining the white of her pillow red.
As she settled onto her side, a ragged gasp tore from her lips. Her chest rose, the gurgle fading to a whispered cough. She gulped again, wheezing in the cool air, as though still unable to get enough oxygen. Reaching out, Chris tilted her head forward slightly, memories of high school first aid returning.
Moving her upper arm, he placed her hand beneath her head, then pulled up her knees. Liz’s breathing gradually eased, the gurgle slowly fading as her airways cleared.
Finally, Chris let out a long sigh, satisfied for the moment she was safe. Holding her in place, he sent out a silent thanks that Liz was so small.
Weariness swept through Chris like a wave. He looked across at Liz and smiled. Her eyes had closed again, her lips parted just a fraction, while a wisp of hair fluttered on her face with each exhalation. The sharp throb of his hand was quickly returning though, cutting through the last dredges of adrenaline. He stifled a groan of his own, eager not to disturb Liz now she had settled.
He saw her again in the padded room, thrashing on the floor, felt again the awful helplessness. He shuddered and pushed the image away.
Only Fallow’s intervention had saved her, saved them both.
Fallow.
The woman’s face drifted through his thoughts. She had been in this from the start, had admitted her role in the facility while they lay in the clean room.
You are the culmination of my life’s work.
Was that why she had saved them, had stopped Halt in the padded room? Or was there more? Had the woman’s conscience gotten to her?
Chris struggled to concentrate, but cobwebs tangled with his thoughts, and he could make no sense of the questions. His body throbbed, the ache of a hundred bruises dulling his mind. Beside him, heat radiated from Liz, banishing the cold of the cell. Distantly, he felt the pull of sleep.
His eyes fluttered open, catching a glimpse of Liz. The pained twist of her lips had faded, revealing a softness in her face, the kindness of the girl hidden within. Her breathing had quieted now, and her eyes quivered beneath her eyelids, lost in some dream.
The weight of exhaustion slowly dragged Chris’s eyes shut again. He knew he should move, should return to the other bed. But the strength would not come; his last ounce of energy had fled.
Within seconds, the soft whispers of sleep claimed him.
Light burned at Liz’s eyelids, dragging her back from her dreams, back to the pain. It washed over her like rain, a tingle that burned in every muscle, every fibre of her being. Gritting her teeth, she willed the agony to fade, to release her from its fiery grip.
Slowly, the pain died away, slipping from her body, until only embers remained.
Liz sucked in a breath, then suppressed a groan as the ache returned, now an icy frost spreading through her lungs. Whatever damage the collar had inflicted, it had spread to every fibre of her being. It would take more than one night to heal.
Liz froze as movement came from beside her. Cracking open an eye, she found Chris asleep beside her. For a moment she frowned, the beginnings of anger curling in her throat. Then a dim memory came to her, of water all around her, of drowning in a bottomless ocean, of fire in her chest as she breathed the salty water.
Then Chris’s firm hands on her shoulders, pulling her up, dragging her to the surface. And the relief of fresh air, filling her lungs, of oxygen flooding her body.
Her anger faded, replaced by a warmth that swept away the pain. She looked at Chris, watching the soft rise and fall of his chest, the flickering of his eyelids. Silently, she remembered her fear as the Chead had beaten him to the ground, the terror that had risen within her. But rather than panic, it had filled her with purpose, with the need to act, to save him.
A low moan came from Chris and he wriggled beneath the thin blanket, drawing closer. She sighed as his heat washed over her, and watched as his eyes slowly cracked open.
“You know, when I said I’d give you a chance, I didn’t mean it as an invite…” she teased, a playful smile tugging at her lips.
She caught him as he flinched away from her. Taking a gentle hold of his good hand, she pulled him back, drew him close, until only an inch separated them.
“Don’t,” she murmured, basking in the heat of Chris’s body. “Don’t.”
His hazel eyes stared back at her, streaked with a bloodshot red, but clear and filled with… something. She leaned in, trying to make out what, and her mouth brushed against his. A jolt of energy surged through her at the touch, and then she was kissing him.
She felt Chris tensed against her, and for a second thought he would pull away.
Then his hands were in her hair, and he was kissing her back, his lips hard against hers. A tingle came from her hip as a hand gripped her. Adrenaline throbbed in her chest, spreading to swallow her. She reached out, her arms wrapping around Chris, pulling him closer, leaving no escape. Goosebumps prickled her skin as fingers slid to the small of her back.
Leaning her head back, Liz parted her lips, her tongue flicking out to taste him. The scent of him filled her nostrils as his tongue found hers, and they danced to a rhythm all of their own. Her mind fell away, drowned by the blood rushing from her racing heart. Her pain was forgotten, replaced by threads of pleasure winding through her body. Her skin was aflame, burning wherever his fingers touched.
Reaching up, she slid her fingers through his hair, pulling him deeper. A hunger filled her, a need that grew with every heartbeat. A moan slipped from her lips and she gripped him hard, desperate now.
Chris flinched in her arms and she paused, remembering his broken hand. For a moment they slowed, but their lips did not part, their tongues still touching, tasting. Liz wriggled in under his arm, her chest pounding like a drum as his good arm wrapped around her.
Liz drew back then, sucking in a breath of air. Opening her eyes, she looked at him, saw the smile tugging at his lips. She shivered, a memory rising from her past, the horror of the day before returning. A sour taste filled her mouth, the pain returning. She blinked, and a tear streaked down her cheek.
“What are we doing, Chris?” she whispered.
Chris pulled back, his eyes sad. Reaching up, he wiped away the tear, then kissed her on the forehead. “What do you mean?”
Liz shook her head. “What’s the point?” she choked, closing her eyes, the darkness welling within her. “They could kill us tomorrow, mutate us beyond recognition, burn the last traces of humanity from us–”
She broke off as Chris kissed her again, quick and hard. Separating, he looked her in the eye. “We can’t let them win, Liz,” he whispered. “They’ve taken so much from us already, used us, stolen our humanity. But they can’t take our spirit, our hope. It’s like a flame inside me – barely a flicker now, but it keeps me going. It’s mine. It’s ours. And I won’t let them take it.”
“Haven’t they already?”
Chris only smiled. “Not yet. It’s like Ashley said - they’re only human. They’ll make mistakes.” The fingers of his good hand found hers, and squeezed. “When they do, we’ll be ready.”
Staring into his eyes, Liz could almost bring herself to believe.
Almost.
Still, he was right. They couldn’t let their captors win. For the moment, they still had each other. She would not let them take that from her too. Leaning in, Liz gave herself to the flame burning inside her. Their mouths locked and she pressed hard against him, her hands sliding beneath his shirt. A wild hunger filled her, her kisses turning ravenous. His arms went around her again, gripping her with a new fierceness. His lips left hers as he pulled away - then they were pressed against her neck, igniting flames wherever they touched.
She groaned, her neck arching backwards, her fingers tight in his hair.
His hands slid beneath her shirt, trailing across her back, tingling wherever they touched. The warmth inside her spread, and she began to tremble. Lost in her passion, she leaned in and nipped at his neck.
Liz smiled as Chris gave a little yelp. His hands continued to roam, though they had not yet gone far enough for her liking. Reaching up, she slid her fingers through the buttons of his shirt and began to undo them. Beneath, a fine layer of hair covered his chest. His skin burned beneath her fingers.
Chris’s mouth found its way to the small of her throat, and with a rush of impatience she helped him with her own buttons, knowing his good hand was already occupied. His lips slid lower, his tongue darting out, tasting her, even as his hands etched invisible trails across the soft skin of her back.
Clutching hard to his arm, Liz stifled a moan as Chris paused. His fingers froze on her back, his mouth’s progress coming to an abrupt halt.
Opening her eyes, Liz looked down at him. He stared up at her from between the folds of her breasts, fear sparkling in his hazel eyes. Her stomach twisted as a trickle of ice slid down her back.
“What?” she whispered.
“There’s… there’s something wrong… There are… lumps…” Chris replied softly.
Liz’s cheeks burned, but her fear fell away. Laughing softly, she shook her head. Her hands slid through his hair, drawing him in, until his lips brushed across her.
Chris gave a low groan, then shook his head again. “No,” he pulled away, “not… not those,” the hackles rose on Liz’s neck as he looked at her.
The heat slowly drained from Liz’s face. “What?”
“On your back,” Chris said, his breath harsh. “There’s… something on your back.”
Fear flooded Liz, and the passion in her chest spluttered and died. Sitting upright, she craned her neck, straining to see. Her movements grew frantic as she fumbled at her shirt, tugging at the collar, desperate to rid herself of it. Chris reached for her, tried to calm her, but she pushed him away. She heard fabric tear, and then the shirt came loose. Throwing it aside, she twisted her neck again and looked.
Beside her, Chris’s face flushed, and his eyes flickered with desire. But she no longer cared, had eyes for only one thing now. Her naked back shone in the fluorescent lights, the lumps clear now. They bulged in the centre of her back, one on either side of her spine, midway between her arms and hips.
A pressure built in Liz’s chest and escaped as a low whine, a muffled scream. An awful horror swept through her, a raging anger at the doctors, at their violation of her body. Another shriek built, but she swallowed it down, blinking back tears.
Her eyes burned as she looked at Chris, saw the fresh tears in his eyes.
“Where does it stop?” she whispered.
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