Chapter 50
The shadow that fell over them had been silent, unexpected. Marilyn screamed, crossed her arms uselessly over her chest. One shot, two, and she’d been drenched in the blood of her househus. A demon of a man stood before her, gun in hand, knife in the other.
“I know who you are,” he said. “No one’s gonna wake up. Not now. Not ever.”
Grief and loss drowned out her fear. She just shook her head, laid down quietly on the floor, the wetness of blood a mere nothing. She took Danny-Allen’s hand, gripped the motionless fingers, still warm, and looked into his dead and staring eyes. What happened after, was nothing. Nothing mattered, not now.
Su’ama shuddered away from that memory. She’d experienced it all, the horror and hollow of Marilyn’s heart. Pain, which she was decidedly unaccustomed to. She was a Flipper. She lived her small, so-important life here in the University, where they were going to solve the mystery of the past; they were going to save the human race.