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Back The Last Christian
Chapters (58)
  1. Cover
  2. Other Books by This Author
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright
  5. Dedication
  6. Acknowledgments
  7. Prologue
  8. 1
  9. 2
  10. 3
  11. 4
  12. 5
  13. 6
  14. 7
  15. 8
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. 12
  20. 13
  21. 14
  22. 15
  23. 16
  24. 17
  25. 18
  26. 19
  27. 20
  28. 21
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. 25
  33. 26
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. 29
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. 32
  40. 33
  41. 34
  42. 35
  43. 36
  44. 37
  45. 38
  46. 39
  47. 40
  48. 41
  49. 42
  50. 43
  51. 44
  52. 45
  53. 46
  54. 47
  55. 48
  56. 49
  57. 50
  58. Author’s Note

A hand encircled her head from behind and pressed a handkerchief over her mouth. Her scream was muted by the odd-smelling cotton, her mouth full of fabric and chemicals. Instinctively, she threw her right elbow back into the chest of her assailant. The handkerchief loosened over her mouth, then pressed against her again as a man shoved her forward into the bathroom, his right hand holding the handkerchief and his left twisting her arm behind her back. Her ankle buckled, bringing muffled cries of pain. She tried to hold her breath and push back, but the force against her was too great. With one last effort she started to buck with all her strength, then her legs went wobbly. She slumped to the floor.

42

I leaped out of the car and ran to the train station. Two hours earlier I had ignored a tap from an unfamiliar Grid address. By the time I accessed it and got the message from Ben, I had half an hour to meet Abby.

The train pulled in, and passengers began getting off. I looked to my left, then to my right. A woman with long black hair stepped down from a coach. I moved in her direction, then stopped. It wasn’t Abby. I turned and looked the opposite direction. I didn’t see her. A passenger got off a coach to my right. I waited a few moments. Another passenger stepped down to my left.

I paced anxiously. Within minutes the platform was empty save for employees disembarking and a man and woman enjoying a lingering embrace. I strode a hundred feet to my left, glancing into each entrance to the train. I raced back down the platform. The entrances were all empty. I looked back up the platform. At the front of the train, a security guard disembarked.

“Hey!” I shouted.

He turned.

“Do you know anything about a woman who was due in from Boston? Five ten, long black hair, tan. Could she still be on the train?”

“No. Train’s empty.”

“Did anyone get off early that wasn’t supposed to?”

He shook his head. “Not that I know of. You can—Oh, wait. I think we were short one after our last stop. Must have got off in Baltimore.”

“Would they know the name inside?”

“No. That just happens.”

Why would Abby get off in Baltimore?

I tapped Ben. There was no response. Not even a message indicating when he’d be available. I returned to Lauren’s. Abby hadn’t miraculously shown up there. I waited. One hour. Two. Three.

I tapped Ben again. And again. Still no response.

Something had gone wrong. Twenty-four hours before receiving my brain transplant, I was on my own. Was my going to the NTI lab part of a plan to eliminate all of us? Or was it, as we had strategized, going to save us?