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Back No Going Back: a Novel Save as PDF
Chapters (84)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Part 1
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. Part 2
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. Part 3
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. Part 4
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. Part 5
  60. 53
  61. 54
  62. 55
  63. 56
  64. 57
  65. 58
  66. Part 6
  67. 59
  68. 60
  69. 61
  70. 62
  71. 63
  72. 64
  73. 65
  74. 66
  75. 67
  76. 68
  77. 69
  78. 70
  79. 71
  80. 72
  81. Acknowledgments
  82. About the Author
  83. Also by Sheena Kamal
  84. About the Publisher

There’s a flash of green in my periphery, but when I look, it’s gone again. Someone swears at me as I bump into them. Pushing past the outraged faces, the sharp elbows and wandering hands, I reach the alley. I know where I am. Just through here I can make it to the next street over, and away from the noise and sea of bodies.

“The system isn’t broken—”

As I move deeper into the alley, I feel a hand on the back of my jacket pulling me into a doorway. Instinctively I drop to the ground, bracing my hands on the filthy concrete and lashing straight up and back with my right leg. But I slip forward, and the kick is shortened. There’s a howl of pain as I catch a man in the knee. My aim had been for the groin.

“It was built. This. Way.”

“Hey!” someone shouts. I get to my feet and stumble forward, looking for any kind of weapon. There’s a broken hockey stick nearby that I just manage to get my hands on when I hear someone behind me.

I turn, the hockey stick raised.

An older woman wearing a vivid red poncho cringes back. Her crooked eyeglasses fall off her face. “Honey, it’s okay,” she says, bending to look for them. “I saw that man pull you. He’s gone, don’t you worry. I saw him run away. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

She’s right. The glasses are closer to me than they are to her. I return them to her.

“I can wait here if you want to call the police?”

“No, I’m fine. Thanks.”

“Really, it’s no trouble. There are predators everywhere, and we need to stick together to catch these bastards! Imagine preying on an innocent woman at a rally! People are . . . I just don’t even . . . are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes, thank you,” I say, still trying to get over being called an innocent woman.

She insists on giving me her phone number just in case I want to file a report later. “Maybe there’s a paramedic around to help you with those hands,” she says, looking at the scratches down my palms from when I dropped to the ground.

“No, really, it’s nothing.”

She wants to be helpful but doesn’t know what else to do. I say bye to my good Samaritan to let her off the hook. Then I stand in the entrance of the little alley and scan the crowd, still marching. The green I’m looking for is long gone.

“The system isn’t broken—”

“It was built this way!”

“Water is life!”