Page 32 - DeepRestFlipFinal
P. 32
NICHOLAS BOOTHMAN
But then, a glint of light. A reflection. From
something metallic.
A lens.
Someone was there. Watching.
She scrambled into her car, locking the doors with
a frantic click. She started the engine, her hands
gripping the steering wheel, knuckles white. She
pulled out of the parking lot, her eyes darting to the
rearview mirror.
Nothing. Just the empty campus, bathed in
moonlight.
But the feeling persisted. The cold, prickling
sensation on the back of her neck.
She was not alone.
And the whisper of a cure had just become a
scream for survival.
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