Chapters (57)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Foreword
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Praise for Linwood Barclay
- Also by Linwood Barclay
- About the Publisher
What was that luv text supposed to mean? Okay, he was a nice guy. Sandra liked him. But she felt him pushing a little too hard. Or was it just her? Was she resisting a little too much? Here was this decent guy, with a nice job, and a mortgage-free house—with a mother in it, mind you—and he was really interested in her. Shouldn’t she be happy about that?
The car slowed. Sandra peered through the windshield and saw they were approaching a four-way stop. There were Arrivals closing in from the three other directions. And it looked as though they were all going to get to the stop at the same time.
“How’s it going, Gracie?” Sandra said aloud.
“Very well. You will reach your destination in five minutes.”
The four Arrivals stopped within milliseconds of each other. Sandra watched with interest as the car approaching from the opposite direction moved on first, then the one from the right, then Gracie. Halfway into the intersection, a woman on a bicycle zipped across their path and Gracie hit the brakes.
Bicycles and skateboards and scooters were still allowed. Arrivals were expected to know how to deal with them, even if conventional cars were banned. As the Arrival continued on, Sandra glanced behind her to see the fourth car move out.
“Impressive,” Sandra said. “You didn’t hit the cyclist, and all the cars moved through the four-way with military precision. How did you know when it was your turn, Gracie?”
Gracie explained, “The car approaching from the north arrived first, one second before the car approaching from the east, which arrived two-tenths of a second before us, and the car approaching from the west stopped one-tenth of a second after us.”
“So you all just instantly calculated that, like you were all talking to each other.”
Gracie did not reply. At first, Sandra wondered whether Gracie was being rude, then realized she had not actually asked a question, or issued a command. She’d made a comment. Arrivals were not programmed to respond to comments. You didn’t want your car joining in on conversations, offering political opinions.
Ahead, the Garrett Island Community Center came into view.
Sandra took another deep breath, glanced at her watch. The ferry full of media types, if it hadn’t already, would dock momentarily. A fleet of Arrivals was waiting to bring them here, about a ten-minute drive.
“It’s going to be okay,” she whispered, reassuring herself. “It’s going to be—”